Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A57563
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The loyal and impartial satyrist containing eight miscellany poems ...
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T. R. (Thomas Rogers), 1660-1694.
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1694
(1694)
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Wing R1838; ESTC R16066
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14,487
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41
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Had he taught Heretick Tiburns steps to climb Mow'd 'em down thick and left no work for time Trod on their Necks with true Ignatian Pride And brav'd 'em with the Gospel on their side Had he done this and more he should have done Rome might have own'd him for her True-born Son But he alas was Innocent and Tame Too much o th' Brother's Mettal in his frame Check't all the Praise that hope did e're create And stop't those Glories which on slaughter wait But I forget Th' Infernal Council sate And much was said about Affairs of State At length the Unanimous Sages have decreed You should their Glory raise with gen'rous speed Hail Mighty Monarch who alone art fit To mix with Hell in Council and to sit Commissioner of the Infernal State The Destinies of Kingdoms to debate To thy wise Conduct and fam'd Policy Satan with all the Royal Progeny Submits a weighty and important Cause Which if well manag'd will subvert all Laws Divine and Humane those of Nature too And therefore only fit for such as you Nor can I doubt thy gallant helping hand For tho' thy Arms were lately at a stand Tho' sprightly Rage run out of breath gave ground And thy sunk Cause felt an inglorious Wound Yet these last Triumphs do all Fears controul And now brave Thoughts gild thy enligten'd Soul Despair is gone that Lethargy o th' mind Which did thy stagg'ering Vassal's Spirits bind The drowsie Spell's dissolv'd th' Enchantment 's gone Fear 's now depos'd and Vengeance sits ' th' Throne Commands all Faculties and rules alone Hell soon perceiv'd when first this Change began Through th' horrid Vale the rising Rumour ran Fame through the deep-sunk-Vault did Echoing bound While thick'ning Shades snatch't and devour'd the sound With sudden Rapture wing'd they did resort To th' place of Rendevouz with Antick Sport And a long Jubilee gracing the Report Great Loyola's Ghost did seem to quit his pains Strutted in Bonds and Triumph'd in his Chains He laid aside his Rage and made a pause With envious Joy he mutter'd your Applause And I methinks in sweet disorder toss't Am in a Labyrinth of Wonder lost While my illuminated Eyes behold Tyranny flush't and Execution bold How is my Soul imparadi'st to see These nice Black Arts so well improv'd which I So slowly did push on By Hell I 'm glad To see the Charm survive tho' the Magitian's dead Advance Great Potentate with bold Alarms And make the World pay Homage to thy Arms Advance 'till rais'd above all sense of Good Thou dost in Jolly and Triumphant Mood Upon poor bleeding Europe's Ruins stand And with thy Armies Thunder-shake the Land Sin on to such a brave Transcendent pitch 'Till harden'd like some Covenanting Witch Ages as yet unborn may call thee curst And think thee by some Bear or She Wolf nurst Hatch't in a Storm and in some Dâ—sart bred And Mithridates-like with Poyson fed May pious Wretches and Seraphick Fools That sneakingly pretend to Holy Rules The Annals of thy Reign with Horrour read And fear thy Rising Ghost when thou art Dead May Matrons faint when e're thy Name they hear And suffer Pangs greater than Women bear May Virgins which ne're knew unchast desires While sleeping Dream they feel thy Lustful Fires May they shriek sob and cry and long complain To the proud Ravisher of their Joys in vain Thou needest not Caesar-like thy Deeds proclaim Which have already fill'd the Mouth of Fame Ambitious Villains nothing read but thee The Godly put thee in their Letany The Brave accost thee with a generous flame Ev'n England in distress invokes thy Name And when the wretched World must lose its Lord Such as Fate never shall again afford Nature shall feel the Change th' Infernal Rout Shall shake the Earth's Foundations with a shout A Pompous Train of Sprights shall upwards go To meet thy Mighty Shade They shall conduct thee in and crown thy Ghost below Legions of Fiends shall be at thy Command E'vn Lucifer himself shall proudly stand And place thee in a Throne on his Right Hand Surviving Sinners shall thy Shade implore If they but see thy Picture they 'll Adore They will rise up and say Lo this is the True Stamp of Majesty This is the Mighty Lewis this was he That Hector'd Heaven chast Monarchs up and down And made all Pow'rs alike stoop to his own While he like Jove and as secure from Crime 'Twixt Lust and Thunder did divide his time And you My Lords and Friends that are thought fit In Bloody Council with your Prince to sit You who by being his Slaves far greater are Than other Puny-Monarchs do appear Act equal to the Character you bear Let no Sex Age or Innocence be free From your quick All-Attoning Cruelty By an Herodian Provident Act Destroy Young Sprawling Hereticks blast the blooming Joy Let 'em in Mother's Tears Baptized be And Martyr'd the next Moment and when she Has seen and felt her Tender Infants dye With one kind Thrust let her away be hurl'd T' Attend her Darling Brats i th' other World Snatch Blushing Females from the Nuptial Bed And on their suffering Honour boldly tread Seize 'em all Pale and Panting in Despair With Tatter'd Vail and Wild Dishrevel'd Hair And then with Sacred Knife for Death make room And turn their Bridal-Bed into a Tomb. Lastly in Sport and at your Leisure slay Tame Aged Hereticks 'T will be rare play To Thaw their Frozen Blood and make 'em feel The Brisk Devouring Fire or Broaching Steel O 't is a Ravishing Sound More sweet and Charming than the Voice of Fame To hear th' Old Martyrs crackle in the Flame Like Hills on Mountains pil'd heap Perjury On Common Lies and Old Hypocrisie Let Faith be banish't with it Nature too Dull and Fantastick things bid 'em adieu Compassion's Cowardise and o'erthrows that State Which might subsist by Violence and hate Patience is Dullness Goodness Lethargy Mercy 's a Pompous Name for Foolery 'T is just whatever hurts you to destroy Besides in Injury there 's a Secret Joy Well acted Fury is a generous Fire And conquering Arms a Reverence inspire The Voice of Cannon best proclaims a King The Law o th' Sword does the best Title bring And hir'd Dragoons will better plead your Cause Than if you brib'd an Oracle o th' Laws The Jesuits Glory now is past the Full Priests in the Trade of sinning are grown dull And daily cancel all that Fame and Praise Which their Illustrious Ancestors did raise 'T is time the World out of its Sleep should rise 'T is time new flaming Orders to devise Which may refine gross sin to such a strain That Men may fear some Angels faln again Struck from some Loftier Orb for their disdain And in the way to Hell by Heaven design'd To visit Mortals and blast Humane-kind To Common Lust and Murderbid Adieu Such puny Toys Rome's Infant Greatness knew Such Jewels in her Cradle she did wear Let now some Manly