is heard so far or lasts so long 'T is heard by ev'ry Ear and spoke by ev'ry Tongue My Hero with the Sails of Honour furl'd Rises like the Great Genius of the World By Fate and Fame wisely prepar'd to be The Soul of War and Life of Victory He spreads the Wings of Virtue on the Throne And ev'ry Wind of Glory fans them on Immortal Trophies dwell upon his Brow Fresh as the Garlands he has worn but now By different Steps the high Ascent he gains And differently that high Ascent maintains Princes for Pride and Lust of Rule make War And struggle for the Name of Conqueror Some fight for Fame and some for Victory He Fights to Save and Conquers to set Free Then seek no Phrase his Titles to conceal And hide with Words what Actions must reveal No Parallel from Hebrew Stories take Of God-like Kings my Similies to make No borrow'd Names conceal my living Theam But Names and Things directly I proclaim 'T is honest Merit does his Glory raise Whom that exalts let no man fear to praise Of such a Subject no man need be shy Virtue 's above the Reach of Flattery He needs no Character but his own Fame Nor any flattering Titles but his Name William's the Name that 's spoke by ev'ry Tongue William's the Darling Subject of my Song Listen ye Virgins to the Charming Sound And in Eternal Dances hand it round Your early Offerings to this Altar bring Make him at once a Lover and a King May he submit to none but to your Arms Nor ever be subdu'd but by your Charms May your soft Thoughts for him be all sublime And ev'ry tender Vow be made for him May he be first in ev'ry Morning-Thought And Heav'n ne're hear a Pray'r where he 's left out May ev'ry Omen ev'ry boding Dream Be Fortunate by mentioning his Name May this one Charm Infernal Powers affright And guard you from the Terrors of the Night May ev'ry chearful Glass as it goes down To William's Health be Cordials to your own Let ev'ry Song be Chorust with his Name And Musick pay her Tribute to his Fame Let ev'ry Poet tune his Artful Verse And in Immortal Strains his Deeds rehearse And may Apollo never more inspire The Disobedient Bard with his Seraphick Fire May all my Sons their grateful Homage pay His Praises sing and for his Safety pray Satyr return to our Unthankful Isle Secur'd by Heav'n's Regard and William's Toil. To both Ungrateful and to both Untrue Rebels to God and to Good Nature too If e're this Nation be distress'd again To whomsoe're they cry they 'll cry in vain To Heav'n they cannot have the face to look Or if they should it would but Heav'n provoke To hope for Help from Man would be too much Mankind would always tell 'em of the Dutch How they came here our Freedoms to maintain Were Paid and Curs'd and Hurry'd home again How by their Aid we first dissolv'd our Fears And then our Helpers damn'd for Foreigners 'T is not our English Temper to do better For Englishmen think ev'ry man their Debtor 'T is worth observing that we ne're complain'd Of Foreigners nor of the Wealth they gain'd Till all their Services were at an End Wise men affirm it is the English way Never to Grumble till they come to Pay And then they always think their Temper 's such The Work too little and the Pay too much As frighted Patients when they want a Cure Bid any Price and any Pain endure But when the Doctor 's Remedies appear The Cure's too Easy and the Price too Dear Great Portland ne're was banter'd when he strove For Us his Master's kindest Thoughts to move We ne're lampoon'd his Conduct when employ'd King Iames's Secret Councils to divide Then we caress'd him as the only Man Which could the Doubtful Oracle explain The only Hushai able to repell The Dark Designs of our Achitophel Compar'd his Master's Courage to his Sense The Ablest Statesman and the Bravest Prince On his Wise Conduct we depended much And lik'd him ne're the worse for being Dutch Nor was he valued more than he deserv'd Freely he ventur'd faithfully he serv'd In all King William's Dangers he has shar'd In England's Quarrels always he appear'd The Revolution first and then the Boyne In Both his Counsels and his Conduct shine His Martial Valour Flanders will confess And France Regrets his Managing the Peace Faithful to England's Interest and her King The greatest Reason of our Murmuring Ten Years in English Service he appear'd And gain'd his Master's and the World's Regard But 't is not England's Custom to Reward The Wars are over England needs him not Now he 's a Dutchman and the Lord knows what Schonbergh the Ablest Soldier of his Age With Great Nassau did in our Cause engage Both join'd for England's Rescue and Defence The Greatest Captain and the Greatest Prince With what Applause his Stories did we tell Stories which Europe's Volumes largely swell We counted him an Army in our Aid Where he commanded no man was afraid His Actions with a constant Conquest shine From Villa-Vitiosa to the Rhine France Flanders Germany his Fame confess And all the World was fond of him but Us. Our Turn first serv'd we grudg'd him the Command Witness the Grateful Temper of the Land We blame the K that he relies too much On Strangers Germans Hugonots and Dutch And seldom does his great Affairs of State To English Counsellors communicate The Fact might very well be answer'd thus He has so often been betray'd by us He must have been a Madman to rely On English G ns Fidelity For laying other Arguments aside This Thought might mortify our English Pride That Foreigners have faithfully obey'd him And none but Englishmen have e're betray'd him They have our Ships and Merchants bought and sold And barter'd English Blood for Foreign Gold First to the French they sold our Turky-Fleet And Injur'd Talmarsh next at Camaret The King himself is shelter'd from their Snares Not by his Merit but the Crown he wears Experience tells us 't is the English way Their Benefactors always to betray And lest Examples should be too remote A Modern Magistrate of Famous Note Shall give you his own History by Rote I 'll make it out deny it he that can His Worship is a True-born Englishman In all the Latitude that Empty Word By Modern Acceptation's understood The Parish-Books his Great Descent record And now he hopes e're long to be a Lord. And truly as things go it wou'd be pity But such as he bore Office in the City While Robb'ry for Burnt-Offering he brings And gives to God what he has stole from Kings Great Monuments of Charity he raises And good St. Magnus whistles out his Praises To City-Gaols he grants a Jubilee And hires Huzza's from his own Mobile Lately he wore the Golden Chain and Gown With which Equipt he thus harangu'd the Town Sir C s D b's Fine Speech c. WIth
Mechanicks Gentlemen of Rakes Antiquity and Birth are needless here 'T is Impudence and Money makes a P r. Innumerable City-Knights we know From Blewcoat Hospitals and Bridewell flow Draymen and Porters fill the City Chair And Footboys Magisterial Purple wear Fate has but very small Distinction set Betwixt the Counter and the Coronet Tarpaulin Lords Pages of high Renown Rise up by Poor Mens Valour not their own Great Families of yesterday we show And Lords whose Parents were the Lord knows who PART II. THE Breed's describ'd Now Satyr if you can Their Temper show for Manners make the Man Fierce as the Britain as the Roman Brave And less inclin'd to Conquer than to Save Eager to fight and lavish of their Blood And equally of Fear and Forecast void The Pict has made 'em Sowre the Dane Morose False from the Scot and from the Norman worse What Honesty they have the Saxon gave them And That now they grow old begins to leave them The Climate makes them Terrible and Bold And English Beef their Courage does uphold No Danger can their Daring Spirit pall Always provided that their Belly 's full In close Intriegues their Faculty's but weak For gen'rally whate're they know they speak And often their own Councils undermine By their Infirmity and not design From whence the Learned say it does proceed That English Treasons never can succeed For they 're so open-hearted you may know Their own most secret Thoughts and others too The Lab'ring Poor in spight of Double Pay Are Sawcy Mutinous and Beggarly So lavish of their Money and their Time That want of Forecast is the Nation 's Crime Good Drunken Company is their Delight And what they get by Day they spend by Night Dull Thinking seldom does their Heads engage But Drink their Youth away and hurry on Old Age. Empty of all good Husbandry and Sense And void of Manners most when void of Pence Their strong Aversion to Behaviour 's such They always talk too little or too much So dull they never take the pains to think And seldom are good-natur'd but in Drink In English Ale their dear Enjoyment lies For which they 'll starve themselves and Families An Englishman will fairly drink as much As will maintain Two Families of Dutch Subjecting all their Labours to the Pots The greatest Artists are the greatest Sots The Country Poor do by Example live The Gentry Lead them and the Clergy drive What may we not from such Examples hope The Landlord is their God the Priest their Pope A Drunken Clergy and a Swearing Bench Has giv'n the Reformation such a Drench As wise men think there is some cause to doubt Will purge Good Manners and Religion out Nor do the Poor alone their Liquor prize The Sages join in this great Sacrifice The Learned Men who study Aristotle Correct him with an Explanation-Bottle Praise Epicurus rather than Lysander And * The Drunkards Name for Canary Aristippus more than Alexander The Doctors too their Galen here resign And gen'rally prescribe Specifick Wine The Graduates Study's grown an easier Task While for the Urinal they toss the Flask The Surgeons Art grows plainer ev'ry Hour And Wine 's the Balm which into Wounds they pour Poets long since Parnassus have forsaken And say the Ancient Bards were all mistaken Apollo's lately abdicate and fled And good King Bacchus reigneth in his stead He does the Chaos of the Head refine And Atom-Thoughts jump into Words by Wine The Inspiration's of a finer Nature As Wine must needs excel Parnassus Water Statesmen their weighty Politicks refine And Soldiers raise their Courages by Wine Caecilia gives her Choristers their Choice And lets them all drink Wine to clear the Voice Some think the Clergy first found out the way And Wine 's the only Spirit by which they Pray But others less prophane than so agree It clears the Lungs and helps the Memory And therefore all of them Divinely think Instead of Study 't is as well to drink And here I wou'd be very glad to know Whether our Asgilites may drink or no. Th' Enlight'ning Fumes of Wine would certainly Assist them much when they begin to fly Or if a Fiery Chariot shou'd appear Inflam'd by Wine they 'd ha' the less to fear Even the gods themselves as Mortals say Were they on Earth wou'd be as drunk as they Nectar would be no more Celestial Drink They'd all take Wine to teach them how to Think But English Drunkards gods and men outdo Drink their Estates away and Senses too Colon's in Debt and if his Friends should fail To help him out must dye at last in Gaol His Wealthy Uncle sent a Hundred Nobles To pay his Trifles off and rid him of his Troubles But Colon like a True-Born Englishman Drank all the Money out in bright Champaign And Colon does in Custody remain Drunk'ness has been the Darling of the Realm E're since a Drunken Pilot had the Helm In their Religion they are so unev'n That each man goes his own By-way to Heav'n Tenacious of Mistakes to that degree That ev'ry man pursues it sep'rately And fancies none can find the Way but he So shy of one another they are grown As if they strove to get to Heav'n alone Rigid and Zealous Positive and Grave And ev'ry Grace but Charity they have This makes them so Ill-natur'd and Uncivil That all men think an Englishman the Devil Surly to Strangers Froward to their Friend Submit to Love with a reluctant Mind Resolv'd to be ungrateful and unkind If by Necessity reduc'd to ask The Giver has the difficultest Task For what 's bestow'd they awkwardly receive And always Take less freely than they Give The Obligation is their highest Grief And never love where they accept Relief So sullen in their Sorrows that 't is known They 'll rather dye than their Afflictions own And if reliev'd it is too often true That they 'll abuse their Benefactors too For in Distress their Haughty Stomach 's such They hate to see themselves oblig'd too much Seldom contented often in the wrong Hard to be pleas'd at all and never long If your Mistakes their Ill Opinion gain No Merit can their Favour reobtain And if they 're not Vindictive in their Fury 'T is their unconstant Temper does secure ye Their Brain 's so cool their Passion seldom burns For all 's condens'd before the Flame returns The Fermentation's of so weak a Matter The Humid damps the Fume and runs it all to Water So tho the Inclination may be strong They 're pleas'd by Fits and never angry long Then if Good Nature shows some slender proof They never think they have Reward enough But like our Modern Quakers of the Town Expect your Manners and return you none Friendship th' abstracted Union of the Mind Which all men seek but very few can find Of all the Nations in the Universe None talk on 't more or understand it less For if it does their Property annoy Their Property
plac'd upon the Throne The Priests as Priests are wont to do turn'd Tail They 're Englishmen and Nature will prevail Now they deplore the Ruins they ha' made And Murmur for the Master they Betray'd Excuse those Crimes they cou'd not make him mend And suffer for the Cause they can't defend Pretend they'd not ha' carry'd things so high And Proto-Martyrs make for Popery Had the Prince done as they design'd the thing Ha' set the Clergy up to rule the King Taken a Donative for coming hither And so ha' left their King and them together We had say they been now a happy Nation No doubt we had seen a Blessed Reformation For Wise Men say 't's as dangerous a thing A Ruling Priesthood as a Priest-rid King And of all Plagues with which Mankind are curst Ecclesiastick Tyranny's the worst If all our former Grievances were feign'd King Iames has been abus'd and we trepann'd Bugbear'd with Popery and Power Despotick Tyrannick Government and Leagues Exotick The Revolution's a Phanatick Plot W a Tyrant S a Sot A Factious Army and a Poyson'd Nation Unjustly forc'd King Iames's Abdication But if he did the Subjects Rights invade Then he was punish'd only not betray'd And punishing of Kings is no such Crime But Englishmen ha' done it many a time When Kings the Sword of Justice first lay down They are no Kings though they possess the Crown Titles are Shadows Crowns are empty things The Good of Subjects is the End of Kings To guide in War and to protect in Peace Where Tyrants once commence the Kings do cease For Arbitrary Power 's so strange a thing It makes the Tyrant and unmakes the King If Kings by Foreign Priests and Armies reign And Lawless Power against their Oaths maintain Then Subjects must ha' reason to complain If Oaths must bind us when our Kings do ill To call in Foreign Aid is to rebel By Force to circumscribe our Lawful Prince Is wilful Treason in the largest sense And they who once rebel most certainly Their God and King and former Oaths defy If we allow no Male-Administration Could cancel the Allegiance of the Nation Let all our Learned Sons of Levi try This Eccles'astick Riddle to unty How they could make a Step to Call the Prince And yet pretend to Oaths and Innocence By th' first Address they made beyond the Seas They 're perjur'd in the most intense Degrees And without Scruple for the time to come May swear to all the Kings in Christendom And truly did our Kings consider all They 'd never let the Clergy swear at all Their Politick Allegiance they 'd refuse For Whores and Priests do never want excuse But if the Mutual Contract was dissolv'd The Doubt's explain'd the Difficulty solv'd That Kings when they descend to Tyranny Dissolve the Bond and leave the Subject free The Government 's ungirt when Justice dies And Constitutions are Non-Entities The Nation 's all a Mob there 's no such thing As Lords or Commons Parliament or King A great promiscuous Crowd the Hydra lies Till Laws revive and mutual Contract ties A Chaos free to chuse for their own share What Case of Government they please to wear If to a King they do the Reins commit All men are bound in Conscience to submit But then that King must by his Oath assent To Postulata's of the Government Which if he breaks he cuts off the Entail And Power retreats to its Original This Doctrine has the Sanction of Assent From Nature's Universal Parliament The Voice of Nations and the Course of Things Allow that Laws superior are to Kings None but Delinquents would have Justice cease Knaves rail at Laws as Soldiers rail at Peace For Justice is the End of Government As Reason is the Test of Argument No man was ever yet so void of Sense As to debate the Right of Self-Defence A Principle so grafted in the Mind With Nature born and does like Nature bind Twisted with Reason and with Nature too As neither one nor t'other can undo Nor can this Right be less when National Reason which governs one should govern all Whate're the Dialect of Courts may tell He that his Right demands can ne're rebel Which Right if 't is by Governors deny'd May be procur'd by Force or Foreign Aid For Tyranny's a Nation 's Term for Grief As Folks cry Fire to hasten in Relief And when the hated word is heard about All men shou'd come to help the People out Thus England groan'd Britannia's Voice was heard And Great Nassau to rescue her appear'd Call'd by the Universal Voice of Fate God and the Peoples Legal Magistrate Ye Heav'ns regard Almighty Iove look down And view thy Injur'd Monarch on the Throne On their Ungrateful Heads due Vengeance take Who sought his Aid and then his part forsake Witness ye Powers it was Our Call alone Which now our Pride makes us asham'd to own Britannia's Troubles fetch'd him from afar To court the dreadful Casualties of War But where Requital never can be made Acknowlegment's a Tribute seldom paid He dwelt in Bright Maria's Circling Arms Defended by the Magick of her Charms From Foreign Fears and from Domestick Harms Ambition found no Fuel for her Fire He had what God cou'd give or Man desire Till Pity rowz'd him from his soft Repose His Life to unseen Hazards to expose Till Pity mov'd him in our Cause t' appear Pity that Word which now we hate to hear But English Gratitude is always such To hate the Hand which does oblige too much Britannia's Cries gave Birth to his Intent And hardly gain'd his unforeseen Assent His boding Thoughts foretold him he should find The People Fickle Selfish and Unkind Which Thought did to his Royal Heart appear More dreadful than the Dangers of the War For nothing grates a Generous Mind so soon As base Returns for hearty Service done Satyr be silent awfully prepare Britannia's Song and William's Praise to hear Stand by and let her chearfully rehearse Her Grateful Vows in her Immortal Verse Loud Fame's Eternal Trumpet let her sound Listen ye distant Poles and endless Round May the strong Blast the welcome News convey As far as Sound can reach or Spirit fly To Neighb'ring Worlds if such there be relate Our Hero's Fame for theirs to imitate To distant Worlds of Spirits let her rehearse For Spirits without the helps of Voice converse May Angels hear the gladsome News on high Mixt with their everlasting Symphony And Hell it self stand in suspence to know Whether it be the Fatal Blast or no. BRITANNIA The Fame of Virtue 't is for which I sound And Heroes with Immortal Triumphs crown'd Fame built on solid Virtue swifter flies Than Morning Light can spread my Eastern Skies The gath'ring Air returns the doubling Sound And lowd repeating Thunders force it round Ecchoes return from Caverns of the Deep Old Chaos dreams on 't in Eternal Sleep Time hands it forward to its latest Urn From whence it never never shall return Nothing
their Friendship will destroy As you discourse them you shall hear them tell All things in which they think they do excel No Panegyrick needs their Praise record An Englishman ne're wants his own good word His first Discourses gen'rally appear Prologu'd with his own wondrous Character When to illustrate his own good Name He never fails his Neighbour to defame And yet he really designs no wrong His Malice goes no further than his Tongue But pleas'd to Tattle he delights to Rail To satisfy the Lech'ry of a Tale. His own dear Praises close the ample Speech Tells you how Wise he is that is how Rich For Wealth is Wisdom he that 's Rich is wise And all men Learned Poverty despise His Generosity comes next and then Concludes that he 's a True-Born Englishman And they 't is known are Generous and Free Forgetting and Forgiving Injury Which may be true thus rightly understood Forgiving Ill Turns and Forgetting Good Chearful in Labour when they 've undertook it But out of Humour when they 're out of Pocket But if their Belly and their Pocket's full They may be Phlegmatick but never Dull And if a Bottle does their Brains refine It makes their Wit as sparkling as their Wine As for the general Vices which we find They 're guilty of in common with Mankind Satyr forbear and silently endure We must conceal the Crimes we cannot cure Nor shall my Verse the brighter Sex defame For English Beauty will preserve her Name Beyond dispute Agreeable and Fair And Modester than other Nations are For where the Vice prevails the great Temptation Is want of Money more than Inclination In general this only is allow'd They 're something Noisy and a little Proud An Englishman is gentlest in Command Obedience is a Stranger in the Land Hardly subjected to the Magistrate For Englishmen do all Subjection hate Humblest when Rich but peevish when they 're Poor And think whate're they have they merit more Shamwhig pretends t' ha' serv'd the Government But baulk't of due Reward turns Malecontent For English Christians always have regard To future Recompences of Reward His forfeit Liberty they did restore And gave him Bread which he had not before But True-Born English Shamwhig lets them know His Merit must not lye neglected so As Proud as Poor his Masters he 'll defy And writes a Piteous * Satyr in Praise of Folly and Knavery Satyr upon Honesty Some think the Poem had been pretty good If he the Subject had but understood He got Five hundred Pence by this and more As sure as he had ne're a Groat before In Bus'ness next some Friends of his employ'd him And there he prov'd that Fame had not bely'd him His Benefactors quickly he abus'd And falsly to the Government accus'd But they defended by their Innocence Ruin'd the Traytor in their own Defence Thus kick'd about from Pillars unto Posts He whets his Pen against the Lord of Hosts Burlesques his God and King in Paltry Rhimes Against the Dutch turns Champion for the Times And Huffs the King upon that very score On which he Panegyrick't him before Unhappy England hast thou none but such To plead thy Scoundrel Cause against the Dutch This moves their Scorn and not their Indignation He that Lampoons the Dutch Burlesques the Nation The meanest English Plowman studies Law And keeps thereby the Magistrates in Awe Will boldly tell them what they ought to do And sometimes punish their Omissions too Their Liberty and Property 's so dear They scorn their Laws or Governors to fear So bugbear'd with the Name of Slavery They can't submit to their own Liberty Restraint from Ill is Freedom to the Wise But Englishmen do all Restraint despise Slaves to the Liquor Drudges to the Pots The Mob are Statesmen and their Statesmen Sots Their Governors they count such dangerous things That 't is their custom to affront their Kings So jealous of the Power their Kings possess'd They suffer neither Power nor Kings to rest The Bad with Force they eagerly subdue The Good with constant Clamours they pursue And did King Iesus reign they 'd murmur too A discontented Nation and by far Harder to rule in Times of Peace than War Easily set together by the Ears And full of causeless Jealousies and Fears Apt to revolt and willing to rebel And never are contented when they 're well No Government cou'd ever please them long Cou'd tye their Hands or rectify their Tongue In this to Ancient Israel well compar'd Eternal Murmurs are among them heard It was but lately that they were opprest Their Rights invaded and their Laws supprest When nicely tender of their Liberty Lord what a Noise they made of Slavery In daily Tumults show'd their Discontent Lampoon'd their King and mock'd his Government And if in Arms they did not first appear 'T was want of Force and not for want of Fear In humbler Tone than English us'd to do At Foreign Hands for Foreign Aid they sue William the Great Successor of Nassau Their Prayers heard and their Oppressions saw He saw and sav'd them God and Him they prais'd To This their Thanks to That their Trophies rais'd But glutted with their own Felicities They soon their New Deliverer despise Say all their Prayers back their Joy disown Unsing their Thanks and pull their Trophies down Their Harps of Praise are on the Willows hung For Englishmen are ne're contented long The Rev'rend Clergy too and who 'd ha' thought That they who had such Non-Resistance taught Should e're to Arms against their Prince be brought Who up to Heav'n did Regal Pow'r advance Subjecting English Laws to Modes of France Twisting Religion so with Loyalty As one cou'd never live and t'other dye And yet no sooner did their Prince design Their Glebes and Perquisites to undermine But all their Passive Doctrines laid aside The Clergy their own Principles deny'd Unpreach'd their Non-Resisting Cant and pray'd To Heav'n for Help and to the Dutch for Aid The Church chim'd all her Doctrines back again And Pulpit-Champions did the Cause maintain Flew in the face of all their former Zeal And Non-Resistance did at once repeal The Rabbies say it would be too prolix To tye Religion up to Politicks The Church's Safety is Suprema Lex And so by a new Figure of their own Do all their former Doctrines disown As Laws Post Facto in the Parliament In urgent Cases have obtain'd Assent But are as dangerous Presidents laid by Made lawful only by Necessity The Rev'rend Fathers then in Arms appear And Men of God became the Men of War The Nation fir'd by them to Arms apply Assault their Antichristian Monarchy To their due Channel all our Laws restore And made things what they shou'd ha' been before But when they came to Fill the Vacant Throne And the Pale Priests look'd back on what they had done How English Liberty began to thrive And Church-of England Loyalty out-live How all their Persecuting Days were done And their Deliv'rer