for England's good And if he please will Seal them with my Blood. O Blessed God destroy this black design Of Popish Consults it's in thee we trust Our Eyes are on thee help O Lord in time Thou God of Truth most Merciful and Just Do thou defend us or we perish must Save England Lord from Popish Cruelty My Countrey bless Thy will be done on me Mans Life 's a Voyage through a Sea of tears If he would gain the Haven of his Rest His signs must fill the Sails whilst some Men Steers When Storms arise let each man do his best And cast the Anchor of his hopes opprest Till Time or Death shall bring us to that Shore Where Time nor Death shall never be no more Laus Deo. Amen From my Prison in the Tower August 15 1681. Stephen Colledge Great Essex Ah thy groans methinks I hear What ne're a Friend hadst thou not one Friend near Noâ—e none to help in vain it was to cry When there were none but Savage Monsters nigh Since thy great Soul could not inticed be Noâ— wouldst conceal their cursed cruelty They make a bloody Tragedy of thee Surpriz'd lest all should be discovered Unto this Dev'lish Policy they were led And to conceal their horrid Plot they try Those wicked Arts which do it justifie Confirming it to all Posterity Though thy Assassinates like men appear Their curst attempt shew'd least of man was there Incarnate Devils certainly they were Ah cruel Tyrants destitute of shame To murder both thy Body and thy Name Could not thy Blood their hellish thirst suffice But must thou die a double Sacrifice What! cut thy Throat with such barbarity And when thy Soveraign also was so nigh The Royal Prison though a Tower strong Was no defence nor refuge to thee long Thou careful wast how to preserve thy life And yet didst fall by a curst Romish Knife Thy Head almost cut off and yet they cry That thy own hands did act the Tragedy â—â—t now we hope it plainly will appear Who the vile Actors who the Murderers were May I not borrow now as many do Some proper lines made on an Essex too Shall such a Noble Peer fall thus by Rome And shall I not drop tears upon his Tomb Shall none who loved him move for a Vote Ye Lords and Commons ye are bound to do 't A Vote that all on that same day o' th' year On which he fell shall mourn or shed a tear Or else be judg'd a` Papist It were wise T' erect an Office in my Childrens Eyes For issuing forth a constant sum of tears There 's no way else to pay him his Arrears And when we 've drien'd this Ages Eyes quite dry Let him be wept the next in History 1683. Renowned Great Lord Russel next 〈◊〉 Is markt out for this direful Tragedy Scarce had I dry'd mine Eyes for loss of one But they another Hero fall upon A braver Lord scarce ever lost his Head Nay few like him hath England ever bred From a most Noble Stem he did Spring forth And had a Spirit â—uited to his Birth Had I not wept so many tears before For him whole Rivers from mine Eyes might pour Had I an Helicon in either Eye The thoughts of Russel soon may draw them dry Great Soul too great for our inferior praise You for your self the Noblest Trophies raise Your Love to Sion and your Native Land Shall mention'd be ev'n while the Earth doth stande My loss and England's too who shall repair Great God! his hardned Enemies do not spare 'T was by the Blood of these Great Men I see England was freed from Rome's curst Tyranny T' avoid the Odium of their cursed Plot Which notwithstanding ne're will be forgot Another was contriv'd wherewith they thought The innocent to insnare who should be brought Thereby to ruin and then hop'd to see Sion and her best Friends would ruin'd be This was the Second part of Rome's design To work the overthrow of me and mine And these two Champions standing in their way With bloudy hands they villanously slay The first inhumanely was Murdered The other they did publickly Behead They charged him indeed with odious Crimes And many others too in those black times Crimes he to th' last did utterly deny Whose Noble Soul their malice did defie But Villains swore and he alas must die O Heav'n and Earth be ye astonished How fain would they have struck off my poor Head Yet of my Blood that they themselves might clear Good Protestants the scandal on 't must bear 1683. Sydney dear Sydney treacherously fell Whom I esteem'd a Prince in Israel Those Laws that were intended for defence Were wrested so thou couldst not have from thence Any relief but thou must likewise dye Although on thee no guilt at all did lye Jury and Judge dealt so inhumanely What hadst thou done what cause of death in the For Sion 't was 't was for thy Love to me Thy Principles were such Hell could not bear The thoughts thereof though publisht they ne're we Thou wast too Just and hadst such piercing Eyes Those Hellish Statesmen doubted a surprize And therefore made thee a third Sacrifice 1684. By Popish Arts many more ruin'd were Poor Holloway likewise fell into the snare B'ing from th' Western World a Prisoner brought By those who fiercely his destruction sought Who at the place of Execution Delivered his Bible unto one Of his Relations wherein he had writ The following lines which I do here transmit ' Owner hereof prize this and bless the Lord ' That yet to England doth his Word afford ' Had I liv'd longer hopes I should have had 'T' have seen times mend but now expect them bad ' Truth will not do for much of it I wrote ' And for 't I die much rather than the Plot. ' Did you know all you 'd say I did my part 'To free you from designed Popish smart And now alas behold my dismal case Great Flouds of sorrow follow on apace Many Religious Pious Men of worth Are rendred vile not fit to live on Earth Observe Rome's policy who contriv'd it so That Protestants should Protestants undo Conscience must now be basely shackled Against its Light impos'd on and misled And truckle like a Slave unto all those Who did Christ's Regal power in man oppose Either their Consciences must wounded lye Under despair for their Apostacy Or if they were resolved and sincere They loss of Goods Contempt and Scorn must bear Be sent to noisom Jayls or to Exile Which many chose rather than to defile Their precious Souls and treacherously dis-own Or yield the power of Christs righteous Throne Up to Usurpers who audaciously Cry All is Caesar ' s due and so deny God over Conscience has the Soveraignty No wonder they Laws violently break down That all our Civil Rights are overthrown That our Just Properties they take away And our most Ancient Liberties betray Since they the Glorious Monarchy of Heav'n
1. Sion 2. Her Children 3. the Beast and Where overthrown 4 The two Witnesses Rising 5. Pope and Jesuit 6. Enemies of the Church all Flying 7. Angels destroying them Distressed Sion RELIEVED OR The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness Wherein are Discovered the Grand Causes of the Churches Trouble and Misery under the late Dismal Dispensation With a Compleat History of and Lamentation for those Renowned Worthies that fell in England by Popilh Rage and Cruelty from the Year 1680 to 1688. Together with an Account of the late Admirable and Stupendious Providence which hath wrought such a sudden and Wonderful Deliverance for this Nation and Gods Sion therein Humbly Dedicated to their Present Majesties By Benjamin Keach Author of a Book called Sion in Distress or the Groans of the True Protestant Church Licensed and Entred according to Order LONDON Printed for Nath. Crouch at the Bell in the Poultrey near Cheapside 1689. To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary by the Grace of God King and Queen of England c. Dread Soveraigns May it please your Majesties MOST graciously to cast your Princely Eyes And to accept of this small worthless Mite From one whose Soul 's enamour'd with the sight Of seeing you brought to Great Britains Throne Which Angels do delight to look upon Methinks I see the Cherubs clap their wings Singing sweet Anthems to the King of Kings That such a King and Queen are set on high In glorious Power and Soveraign Majesty No marvel 't is since by Angelick Power You 're both preserved to this happy hour For sure he 's blind who can't discern most clear T was by Heavens Conduct you were both brought here Such a stupendious Providence before Was never known and never may no more Be seen again in this Great Northern Isle Which fills our hearts with joy makes us smile What a distressed and for lorn estate Was this now glorious Kingdom in of late Poor England alas did bleeding lye For many years inslav'd by Tyranny And Sion too was in the same condition Weeping with bitter groans and deep contrition Let me a little freely now dilate Upon Great Britains miserable state When first on her you cast your Royal look And her Salvation likewise undertook A glorious Enterprize which Heaven did bless With such amazing and admir'd success Sick sick as heart can hold the Kingdom lies Filling each corner with her mournful cryes Sometimes she burns as when a Fever heats Anon Despair brings cold and clammy sweats No rest she gains or if she do she dreams Of Massacres Fires Blood and direful Theams She no Physicians finds Bold Empiricks Are from St. Omers sent to try their tricks Who wicked crafty counsel take together To poyson her 't was this that brought them hither Nay hold says Petre we 'l first let her blood That 's fit for her and will do us most good Her Blood 's infected so corrupt I see Naught else can cure her Northern Heresie But let us first prescribe a Golden Pill To ease her that she may suspect no ill But may conclude we choice Physicians be The Pill that they prepar'd was Liberty Curiously gilt it was and tasted well But when 't was down she in t ' an Ague fell Then these State-Mountebanks do her assure Jesuits-Powder will effect the cure Yet still she 's sick and seiz'd with stronger fits Which made most think these Drs. all were Cheats Their Physick was of such a composition It made the Body Politick in confusion And many evidently did foresee 'T was to effect a direful Tragedy They did pretend to purge ill humours out That they their black Designs might bring about And th' evil humours which did lurking lie In divers parts o' th' Body grew thereby More strong and vigorous and did disturb What nature did before so strongly curb That wise Physicians made this wise conclusion T would wholly change the Bodys constitution From good to bad from healthy free and sound Would cause malignant humours to abound Ill ones no doubt it was design'd to nourish Tho' for a while some good ones it did cherish Thus may a Medicine which is safe and good As Liberty is if rightly understood When ill prepared and unduly given Prove dangerous as any under Heaven And pity 't is this universal Pill That has wrought wonders was design'd so ill But ah what shall she do th' Impostors Art Her head doth poison and corrupt her heart Must she O must she die O hear her groans Hear Sions too O hearken how she moans There is no help but from the God of Wonder 'T is he alone that 's able to bring under This Foe to Nature which is grown so strong And hath her vital parts opprest so long All her Physicians weep and secretly Were heard to say poor England now must die Unless th' Almighty by his own right hand Work Miracles to save our sinking Land. But who 's the Instrument will rise up for her Who is the Man whom God delights to honour To bring relief when all her hopes were gone Great Sir 'T was you Jehovah fixt upon No sooner heard she your victorious Name But she reviv'd and cheerful soon became But ah the Winds were cross this made us fear We n're should have your long'd for presence here And when we heard you were upon the Seas Our hearts rejoyced yet had not perfect ease We doubted still what dangers you might meet In that most Glorious and Renowned Fleet Yet still our Prayers more fervent were and more To see your Royal Person safe on shore And all the time in England you have been What strange amazing wonders have we seen A poor sick Land divided by Christs power Made whole and all united in an hour United so as joyntly to combine To own this just and glorious design O're us long hung a black and dismal Cloud From whence we fear'd a dreadful storm of blood Yet when it brake nought but sweet dews distill This this may sure our souls with wonder fill To see a Mighty Army rais'd by Rome Some flie for fear and others Friends become To gain the Victory yet never fight This plain appears Gods hand to all mens sight Poor Sion who i' th' dust did prostrate lie Bewailing her approaching misery Began to rouse and on her feet to stand When you upon the English Shore did land She long expected in our Hemisphere A glorious Star would certainly appear And now he 's come she can't for bear to sing With Joy to welcom her desired King And as the Sun whose powerful reflection Gives to all Vegetables a resurrection Even so Gods Witnesses now raised are Whose bodies lay like dead so lately here For though it was in the cold Winter time We saw so great a change in our sharp Clime As made us cry The Winter now is gone Your powerful Rays in this our Horizon Made Flowers bud as in the early Spring And chirping Birds
in the Book of Fame When he is gone his Works shall never dye But still be Famous to Posterity C. N. Distressed Sion RELIEVED OR The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness FOR almost Thirty years last past have I Seen Floods of Tears flowing continually From Sions Eyes whose sad distressed state With Filial Sympathy I did relate In Sixty Six a year of expectation Came no relief but still fresh Lamentation When she was told her sorrows would be o're That year produc't more sorrow than before Which caus'd me who in Prison then did lye To sigh and sob and weep most bitterly In prospect of what I saw coming on Poor Sion e're her miseries would be gone And therefore did before that year run out Foretel some things time since hath brought boâ— Sions Distresses plainly did appear And still they did increase year after year Until the time the Popish Plot was known That Grand Intrigue of Bloody Babylon My Soul had then some ease I then did hope The day was come should quite o'rethrow tâ—â— Popâ— And bloody Whore That cursed Church of Rom That she would now receive her fatal Doom But all my hopes being frustrate I again In the year Eighty pour'd out Tears amain For at that time came forth a new Addition To Sions groans and sorrowful condition When I had thought poor Sions woes were gone What dismal Clouds o're spread our Horizon Just as I deem'd I spy'd the morning Light. How were we threatned with a dismal Night Of Popish Darkness this I did descry And mourn'd in Verse for England's misery But Sion's troubles I did most lament Whose Enemies were strong and insolent Which caused me in Christian Sympathy With bitter groans my grief to testifie In this sad manner ' WHat dismal vapour in so black a form ' Is this which seems Harbinger to a Storm ' What pitchy Cloud invades our starry Sky 'To stop the beamings of the Worlds great Eye ' What spreading Sables of Egyptian Night ' Would rob the Earth of its illustrious Light ' What interposing Fog obscures our Sun ' What dire Eclipse benights our Horizon ' Is England's Great and Royal Bridegroom fled ' Is its Aurora newly gone to Bed ' That scattered Clouds make such prodigious haste ' Combine in one and re-unite so fast ' Clouds that so lately dissipated were ' Do now conspire to make a darker Air. ' I mourn unpitied groan without relief ' No bounds nor measures terminate my grief ' The Sluces of mine Eyes are too too narrow 'To vent the Streams of my increasing sorrow ' Ebbs follow swelling Floods and springing Days ' Adorn the Fields which Winter dis-arrays ' All States and Things have their alternate ranges ' As Providence the Scene of Action changes ' All Revolutions hurry to and fro ' Yet rest and settlement at length do know ' But helpless I have often lookt about 'To find some ease and Soul refreshment out ' Yet can I see no prospect of relief ' But swift additions multiply my grief ' As Pilgrims wander in their great distress ' Amongst the wild rapacious Savages In pathless Desarts where the midnight howls Of hungry Wolves mixt with the screech of Owls And Ravens dismal croaks salute the Ears Of poor Erratick trembling Passengers ' So I 'm surrounded so the Beasts of prey ' Conspire to take my Life and Name away ' My glowing Soul does melt my Spirits faint ' For want of vent I 'm pregnant with complaint ' No Age nor Generation but has known ' Some part of this my just and grievous moan ' But now I 'm far more dangerously charg'd ' By bolder Foes my sorrows are enlarg'd 'A Hellish Tribe of black Avernus Crew ' Do Blood-hound like me and my Lambs pursue ' Lord Jesus come O Christ let me invoke ' Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke ' Have all my Friends forsook me Are there none 'To ease my woes Ah must I grieve alone Sion's Friend ' What doleful noise salutes my listning Ear ' What grief expressing voice is that I hear ' Methinks the accent of this dismal cry ' Issues from one in great extremity ' The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks 'A Womans loud and unregarded shrieks ' The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed ' The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed ' Ah! who can find her out who can make known ' The Author of this Heart-relenting moan ' Doubtless though sorrow now has seiz'd upon her ' She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour ' Of Royal Stem extracted from above ' Nurs'd in the Chambers of the Fathers Love ' Espoused to a most Illustrious Prince ' Who over all has Just Preheminence ' Monarch of Monarchs ' Ah Sion is it thou ' Oh mourn my Soul Oh let my Spirit bow ' Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief ' For Sion weeps as if past all relief ' But why O Sion since thou art belov'd ' Of Heaven's Supream art thou so sadly mov'd ' Why with stretcht Arms dost thou implore the Skies ' Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes ' This makes me wonder Sion ' My forlorn Estate ' Is poor unpitied mean and desolate ' I long have wandred in the Wilderness ' Involv'd in trouble and in sore distress ' In Caves absconding from the horrid rage ' Of savage Beasts until this latter Age. ' Yet when I but attempted to look out ' The Monsters to destroy me searcht about ' The roaring Bloud-hounds greedy on the scent 'To kill or drive me back again are bent ' No interval of peace no rest they give ' Pronounce me cursed and not fit to live ' The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast 'To gore my sides and spoil my Interest ' Th' old Lion Lyonness and the Lyons whelp ' With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help ' Dogs Bulls and Foxes Bears and Wolves agree 'To rend and tear and make a spoil of me ' I that have been so delicately bred ' My Children at the Royal Table fed ' Am now expos'd to the Infernal spight ' Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight ' Hatch Ploâ—s in Hell and Rome whose black desig ' Is to stab Monarchs and to undermine 'Our Ancient Laws subvert Religion and ' Bow Englands Neck to Antichrists command ' These were Fore-runners of that dismal Doom ' Of Fire and Faggot which the Whore of Rome ' Prepar'd for English Protestants and the rest ' Who won't adore the Image of the Beast ' I am the mark these Monsters aim at all ' Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall ' If Friends or Strangers any favour show ' They straight conspire to work their overthrow 1678. ' Ah vile Conspiracy Ah cursed Plot ' So deeply laid How canst thou be forgot ' Th' Infernal Conclave ne're produc'd a
a warm debate VVho loses Error truly gains the field And he is Victor that to truth does yield VVhere e're you find it though in mean aray Subscribe and win the glory of the day O what 's the world but Shackles to the mind VVhat 's Reputation but a fleeting wind VVhy should those bawbles which the Lord abhors Become the Sacred Truths Competitors Away with all such rubs let truth take place And then the Springs of Everlasting grace VVill drop down blessings Unity increase Among my Children as the Fruits of peace Sion's Children Our common danger and the Real sence Which we have got by dear experience Of those advantages our cruel Foe Gets by our Factions will unite us so As that our Enemies shall ne'er prevail To break our League or make our courage fail But speak Dear Mother has some new affright So discompos'd you that you fear our Light Is near Extinction Tell your Sons we pray What are the Symptoms of th' expiring day Why do you Judge that Englands day of grace Draws to an Evening and declines apace Shew some prognosticks of that dismal night That threatens to succeed our Gospel Light. Sion When Sol once touches our Meridian Line It straight descends does by degrees decline Its heat grows less its dis-appearing Light Yields to the Sable of approaching night Just so the Gospel in its Altitude Once shot such beams that in this Isle ensu'd So great conversion that those former days Did feel its blest and universal Rays A general heat did warm this happy Nation From its benign and powerful operation But now it falls and from our Horizon It s vigorous influence is almost gone Thousands of Sermons lately have been preacht But very few if any sinners reacht How ineffectual is the quickening word It shines but warms not 't is but like a Sword That 's fair to sight but has not Edge at all Few prick'd at heart and scarce do any fall At Jesus feet Or have a sense of sin Confessing how Rebellious they have been It is a dismal and apparent sign That night comes on when Phoebus does decline When heat and fervour fail our hemisphere Will quickly see its glory disappear The ev'ning of the nat'ral day is come When harvest-work-men are repairing home So when quick Summons of Omnipotence Removes the Dressers of his Vineyard hence We may conclude the Gospel-morning past Because Gods Servants disappear so fast Can I when Gap-defenders fall asleep But like old Israel for my Prophets weep How can the naked and unguarded Flock Against devouring Wolves sustain the shock When of the Shepherds it is thus bereft When scarce a Moses or a Joshua's left How many active Guides most dearly lov'd By me have been in little time remov'd Scarce can I dry mine Eyes for loss of one But news arrives of many others gone Ah if my head were waters and each Eye A well of tears I could distil 'em dry Bright Lamps extinguish't and no other Lights Appear to chase the horrour of our nights Shook by concussions of my Foes I stand Whilst few are rais'd to hold my trembling hand If thus my Horsemen and Commanders dye What will become of the poor Infantry Who can support the burden of the day When such brave Hero's daily drop away Is summer past or is the harvest done That such Presages of a Storm come on Sure God as Monarchs do intendeth Wars When he recals his choice Embassadors Ah too Licentious world Come look about Before the Lord the bloudy Flag puts out When God from Sodom righteous Lot did call Sulphurious flashes did consume them all Another ground of my prevailing fear That England's black Catastrophe is near Is that as in the closure of the day The Evening-wolves do range abroad to prey So Romish Beasts in monstrous swarms do peep From their black Caverns to destroy my Sheep Such hate the tell tale-Light and therefore hide Themselves in Dens until the Ev'ning tide Their cursed products are resolves of night Like silent Curs that in the dark do bite Another Symptom of the days declension Is when the Shadows do increase dimension So when I look about I plainly see Our Ev'ning Shadows very long to be In humane bodies when the head grows hoary It notes decay of vigor strength and glory Gray hairs are thick upon our Ephraims head His Strength decays his Face is withered When Joynts grow palsi'd and the blood 's congeal'd Into a Jâ—lly can the man be heal'd When limbs grow Stiff and feeble Age does plow Its wrinkled furrows on the Patients brow When heat gives place to a benumming cold When doting fancy cares not to be told Of its approaches to a certain Grave When it rejects the Physick that would save The case is desperate for the Patient 's just Upon the point to be intomb'd in dust Even so Alas This gasping Nation lies Under the pressure of sad Maladies 'T is sick at heart yet seems averse to take That Sacred Physick whose Ingredients make Diseases vanish and would ward the blow Which will I fear produce its overthrow Ah! must our glory like a brittle Glass Reduc'd to fractions into Atomes pass So Rude a Chaos An unform'd confusion Threatning the whole with utter dissolution Once happy Isle I grieve at thy condition Where 's thy Repentance Where is thy contrition Thou hast been counted our Emanuel's Land The Gospel seems on Tip-toe now to stand To bid thee farewel Must thy Sun so soon Be set before it did approach to noon Must that illustrious Morning-light be gone That spread its beams through all our Horizon Must wretched Malice and prodigious Lust Must bare-fac'd pride and impudent distrust Rob thee of this inestimable Jewel How canst thou be so pittyless so cruel Unto thy self Sin is the flaming dart That cuts thy Veins and Wounds thy very heart Can Sion chuse but send out mournful cries And weep thy downfal in sad Elegies Within thy bounds my tabernacles were Built up and I did long inhabit here Thy Gospel-glory and Renown's gone forth Into all parts and corners of the Earth Thou maist be Justly stil'd the place of Vision Though made by foes an Object of derision The Joy of Saints the Protestants delight The Mark and Butt of Antichristian spite But if the Crown be ravish't from thy head And Romish Clouds thy Lustre overspread VVhat heart 's so brawny but my doleful cry Must move to pity VVhat relentless Eye Can see thy fall and not dissolve to drops Oh fleeting Joys Oh disappearing hopes Oh hastning horrour Oh invading fears Had I a sea of never empty'd tears My boundless helpless grief wide open sets The Sluces for its Streaming Rivulets The very Air drest in prodigious Forms Must groan in Thunder and must weep in Storms Nature of strong convulsions sickned is To see this horrid Metamorphosis VVhere Gospel Pastors did some Millions feed Must Blind and Sottish ignorance succeed Must all their throats be cut that won't
For to invade me with his proud Armado The Hellish Power Treason she prepares At once to blow up Commons Kings and Peers Her hellish brands without a spark of pity Consum'd to Ashes my Imperial City My Justices she does assassinate For many years she has been carrying on A Damn'd intreague for my destruction And all the ways that Satan prompts her to Contrive my fall she 's ready still to do Her spite and malice nothing will abate It 's still more deadly and inveterate Dread Providence shall ever have my thanks That has discover'd her Infernal â—ranks Yea lately she much innocent bloud hath shed And divers worthy men hath Murdered Nay so insinuating too was she That she perswaded his late Majesty To tast of her intoxicating Cup VVhich he unto his detriment drank up VVhereby the Church and State were ne're o'rethrown Only to humor Cruel Babylon These with her other Crimes considered I beg she justly may be Sentenced The Evidence summed up O Gulph of horror O profound Abiss VVas ever mischief half so black as this Thou monstrous Whore what language can express The boundless measure of thy wickedness Throughout the earth thou hast such mischief wrought As is amazing to a humane thought It would compel a heart of Stone to melt VVhen it revolves what Protestants have felt Thy bloody fury and Infernal rage Has persecuted them in every age Thou mad'st the Magistrates their Enemies And all the tortures that thou could'st devise Thou didst inflict as History to us shows Some thou didst hang by th' head some by the toes Yea Millions thou didst burn and broil on coles And others Starve to death in stinking holes Some of them thou didst cut in pieces small And Infants brains didst dash against the wall Upon their bodies thou didst tread like dung Thou hadst no mercy upon Old or Young By thy curs'd Crew were Women ravished VVho then like Butchers knockt 'em on the head Some had their Eyes and tongues by thee pull'd out Some were made harborless and forced about To wander till in VVoods and dismal Caves They found their woful and untimely Graves VVhat rocky heart but justly may admire Thy rage that made poor Children to set fire To fatal Piles in which their Parents dear In cruel flames consum'd to ashes were Thy wicked Agents have some Millions slain VVho did endure the most inhumane pain Thy Bishops Monks and Fryers could devise VVhose blood to me for speedy vengeance cries The ways thou took'st to free a Soul from error VVas unexampled flesh-amazing terror Of horrid Racks whereon a man must lye Tortur'd to death and dying cannot die Accursed Wretch didst thou not give Commission For to erect thy bloudy Inquisition That loathsom Dungeon and most nasty Cell A place of horror representing Hell Where nothing is so plentiful as tears Where Martyred Protestants can find no ears To hear their cries and lamentable moans Nor hearts to pity their extorted groans VVhere Saints in torment all their days must spend Not knowing when their sufferings will have end Thousands by thee were in Bohemia slain VVhose Carkasses unburied did remain Thou mad'st thy Vassals fall upon that Nation On no less penalty than their damnation Didst thou not promise upon that condition To give them full and absolute remission The vilest Wretch that on the Earth has stood You fully pardon'd if he 'd shed the blood Of one Bohemian O stupendious rage Not to be parallel'd in any Age But by thy self 't was judg'd De Alva's crime That he destroy'd no more in six years time Than eighteen Thousand Souls were they so few In the account of this blood-thristy Crew But if the VVretch De Alva's bloudy Bill Come short in numbers yet his hand did fill It up with Torments dreadful to reâ—erse The very mention cannot chuse but pierce A Marble Heart Make Infidels relent Torments that none but Devils could invenâ— But if all this was over little still His Predecessers did inlarge the Bill For from the time thy Hellish Inquisition Did from the Devil first receive Commission By cruel torments which they still retain There were a hundred fifty thousand slain From that black season when the hellish rage Of Jesuits acted on the European Stage In England France in Italy and Spain By thy accursed bloody hands were slain Nine hundred thousand Souls or thereabout Ere many years had run their circuits out Of poor Americans by Cruel Spain In fifty years were many Millions slain The poor Waldenses whose enlightned Eye Thy filthy Whoredoms quickly did espy Thou hast with raging Persecutions rent And murder'd Parents with their Innocent And harmless Babes Thy more than barb'rous Crew Their cursed hands did in their bloud imbrew At once were Eighty Infants famished And many thousands basely murthered When some have fled into obscurest Caves Thy Villains made their hiding place their Graves What part of Europe now can make their boast And say they have not tasted to their cost Of thy malignity What shall I say Of Germany whose marty'd Spirits pray For speedy vengeance on thy cursed head That Sea of Blood thou hast in Ireland shed Cries night and day for Justice now I fix My serious thoughts upon black sixty six Thou bloudy Strumpet How canst thou repair The loss of Englands great Imperial Chair How many Rich men were to Beggars turned When that brave Isle's Metropolis was burned By thy accursed fire-brands of Hell Incarnate Devils without parallel Brave Merchants of their great estates bereft To day Rich men to morrow nothing left Their Wives and Children quite forlorn became Their substance all consumed in the Flame But to conclude I have not yet forgot Thy Powder Treason nor thy modern Plot Nor all thy dismal Villanies that were Done in the Meriâ—dolian Massacre Should I but recapitulate thy charge And speak of all thy Villanies at Large 'T would fill vast Volumes Often did I see The Lord of Life was crucified by thee When his dear members Blood by thee was shed Numberless numbers basely murthered Yet still thou hast the Impudence to say That thou art Innocent ev'n to this day Yea thou proceedest as thou hast begun And lately a great Monarch hast undone Whom thou didst so delude that he did try T'inslave us under Romish Tyranny And probably thou hadst attain'd thy end But that God did to us deliverance send And did defeat thy Hellish Enterprize Throwing thee down that Sion might arise Yea thy Espousals thou didst often break Canst thou deny it Shameless Strumpet speak Babylon I am the Mother Church and hence deny That filthy name I am indicted by The odious Epithet of Scarlet Whore Is daily laid unjustly at my door I am Christs Church his Spouse and only Love His undefiled one and spotless Dove Pray then forbear the Sentence look about To find that Whore and grand Delinquent out Bold Hereticks who never would adhear To the true Faith and Apostolick Chair Have born my just rebukes some
Brat ' Into the world so horrible as that ' Since Rome Usurpt the Western Monarchy ' Which she still Rules with Fraud and Treachery ' In forging Plots imploying Hellish Actors ' Ah! let us treat 'um as the Devils Factors ' Distressed Sion O how few regard ' My sighs and tears their Hearts are grown so haâ—â— ' My restless Hurricanes with storms and wind ' No ease no peace no comfort can I find ' ' The horrid aspect of these Monsters do ' Affright my Children some they worry too ' Others they seize like greedy Beasts of prey ' And to their Den the Sacrifice convey ' Renowned GODFREY whose immortal Glory ' Martyr'd for me shall ever live in Story ' Let every Loyal Eye that reads it there ' Yield to his name the Tribute of a Tear. ' Brave Soul thy Love and Loyalty do claim ' That King and People should proclaim thy name ' As England's Victim ne're to be forgot ' Fastning on Rome an Everlasting blot ' The Great Jehovah who is only wise ' Permits thy fall as a sweet Sacrifice ' Thy barbarous Murder has made clearly out ' That Plot which none but Infidels now doubt ' Those bloody Varlets black Assassinates ' Curst Executioners of Rome's Debates ' Drunk with Infernal cruelty made thee 'A Specimen of England's Tragedy ' By thee we learn what curtesie to hope ' From Romish Butchers Vassals to the Pope ' Thou led'st the Van first fell'st into the Trap ' From whence they hope 't no Protestant should scape ' Poor Innocent trepann'd amongst them came ' Into their Nets like a poor harmless Lamb ' Whilst they like hungry Tygers ready stood 'T' imbrue their Tallons in thy guiltless Blood. ' Thou little dream'dst such an Infernal snare ' Had there been laid t' intrap thee unaware 'T is strange say some what reason should ingâ— ' Them to make thee the Object of their rage ' Some think 't was 'cause the Babylonish Whore ' Big with a Bastard long'd as heretofore ' For Christian Blood Her Favourites made haste ' In her great need to help her to a taste ' Of choicest Liquors thine she calls for first 'To cheer her sinking Heart and quench her Thir ' Fearing miscarriage when her Spirits faint ' She drinks the Hearts blood of some Martyr'd Sain ' Insatiate like the Horse-leech still she cries ' Give give me that there 's nought else will suffice ' My craving Paunch my pleasure must be done ' This Heretick was a Pragmatick one ' He knew my secret Clubs and would reveal ' My Tragick Plots we must prevent his Zeal ' Let 's strangle him before he does relate ' The Villanies we intend to perpetrate ' Ah brutish Whore of Canibals the worst ' For this curst draught be thou for ever curst ' In the most lasting Records let us see ' This horrid instance of thy cruelty ' This Loyal Knight ne're injur'd thee but stood ' Upright for Justice and his Countreys good ' Will nought but Blood of Protestants give ease ' Or quench thy thirst What mischievous Disease ' Infects thy Bowels Must your Churches food ' Be Flesh of Saints Your Mornings draught their Blood ' Fellonious Strumpet dar'st thou be so bold 'To steal by night into thy Neighbours Fold ' And seize my Lambs Thy Theft and Cruelty ' And all thy Murders shall revenged be ' But since he 's gone and Justice does pursue ' With eager steps the Assassinating Crew ' We 'l acquiesce for Heav'n now seems to call ' And bid tears cease at his sad Funeral ' Let Christians offer through the Universe ' Whole Hecatombs upon his bleeding Herse ' And could their tears increase into a Floud ' 'T were no excess so much I prize his Bloud THus thus did I in Eighty make sad moan For that brave Hero who was dead and gone But Oh my Heart A Cordial presently My Spirits faint Ah me Help Lord I die Unless I have relief I can't sustain My sinking Soul was ever any pain Or sorrow equal to what I now feel My burd'ned mind under her weight does reel Oh since that year what woes have I beheld How have my mournful Eyes with tears been fill'd I then did fear what since is come to pass As in that Treatise plainly hinted was Did Rachel mourn and all relief refuse How then can I forbear How can I chuse But weep and to lament for my sad Lot What Children have I lost who now are not Did I for one such Lamentation make My Bowels now may surely throb and ake When I recount how many since are gone Who murdered were by bloody Babylon 1681. Poor Colledge first before this Idol fell Betray'd to death by Evidence from Hell To drink his Blood there seem'd to be some strife Was twice Indicted they must have his Life Yet they could never shake his constancy Hear his great Soul sing his own Elegy A Poem written by Mr. Stephen Colledge a while before he was sent to Oxford where he Suffered Death Aug. 31. 1681. Wrongful Imprisonment Hurts not the Innocent WHat if I am into a Prison cast By Hellish Combinations am betray'd My Soul is free although my Body's fast Let them repent that have this evil laid And of Eternal vengeance be afraid Though Racks and Gibbets can my Body kill My God is with me and I fear no ill What boots the clamours of the giddy Throng What Antidote 's against a poysonous Breath What Fence is there against a Lying Tongue Sharpen'd by Hell to wound a man to Death Snakes Vipers Adders do lurk underneath Say what you will or never speak at all Our very Prayers such Wretches Treason call But Walls and Bars cannot a Prison make The Free-born Soul enjoys its Liberty These clods of Earth it may incaptivate Whilst Heavenly Minds are conversant on high Ranging the Fields of Blest Eternity So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast My Conscience clear a Rush for all the rest What I have done I did with good intent To serve my King my Countrey and the Laws Against the bloody Papists I was bent Cost what it will I 'le ne're repent my Cause Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jaws A Protestant I am and such I 'le dye Maugre all Deaths and Popish Cruelty But what need I these Protestations make Actions speak men far better than their words Whate're I suffer's for my Countrey 's sake Not 'cause I had a Gun or Horse or Sword Or that my Heart did Treason e're afford No 't is not me alone they do intend But thousands more to gain their cursed End. And sure of this the World 's so well aware That here 't is needless more for me to say I must conclude no time have I to spare My winged hours do fly too fast away My work Repentance must I not delay I 'le add my Prayers to God