Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A35206
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Londineses lacrymæ Londons second tears mingled with her ashes : a poem / by John Crouch.
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Crouch, John, fl. 1660-1681.
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1666
(1666)
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Wing C7299; ESTC R29669
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3,641
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12
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LONDINENSES LACRYMAE LONDONS Second Tears mingled with her Ashes A POEM By John Crouch Non Priamus tanti totaque Troja fuit CRONOGRAM Vrbs LonDon CoMbVsta fVIt M.DC.LXVI London Printed for T. Palmer at the Crown in Westminster-Hall 1666. Londinenses Lacrymae A POEM THou Queen of Cities whose unbounded fame Shadow'd thy Country and thy Countries Name London that word fill'd the vast Globe Japan Saluted Londoner for English-man 'T was thy peculiar and unrivall'd pride At greatest distance to be magnify'd When thy next Christian Sister scarce do's know Whether there be another World or no When the false Dutch more known in Forreign parts Buy scorn with gold Merchants of wealth not hearts Good Heavens good in the most severe Decree Must London first burn in Epitomie And then in gross Must O sharp vengeance must The Glory of the World kiss her own dust Shall then this Mole-Hill and it's Ants expire By parcels some by water some by fire Or do great things like restless Circles tend From their first point unto the last their End When neither Forreign nor Domestick Wars The Distillations of malignant Stars Thunder from Heaven nor it's Terrestial Ape Gun-powder could thy total ruine shape Nor the long smotherings of Fanatick heats Which when they broke out ended in cold sweats Shall Balls of Sulphur Hells blew Tapers light Poor London to its fun'ral in one night Shall Britains great Metropolis become Alike in both her Fortunes to old Rome Whose Seat if we believe Antiquitie Is full as old though not so proud as she Surviv'd the Cornucopia of her Hills Time strongest Towns as well as Bodies kills But when her Life had drawn so long a breath Must she be mow'd down by a sudden Death Three days undo three thousand years O yes One day when that one comes shall more than this Shall make the World one fatal Hearth That Day The last that ever Hearth shall Tribute pay Though now as just as Law And they that Curse This Duty may they want both Hearth and Purse But as in three days our Jerus'lem fell And gave the World an easie miracle So three O golden Number years being gone Shall spring old London's Resurrection Now dearest City let my Pencil trace The scatter'd lines of thy dis-figur'd Face Dropping tears as I pass tears shed too late To quench thy Heats and bribe thy stubborn fate This dreadful Fire first seiz'd a narrow Lane As if the Dutch or French had laid a Train But grant they or that Boutifeu their Roy Form'd this Cheval for Britain 's envy'd Troy These might the stroke did not the wound dispense Were but the Vulcans of Jove's Providence Sin was the Common Cause no faction freed Here all dissenting Parties were agreed And let the Author of our welfare be The welcome Author of our Miserie Rather than Enemies who but fulfill Heavens just decrees more by Instinct then Skill The fierce flame gathering strength had warm'd th' Air And chill'd the people into cold despair With swift wing from it straitned Corner posts And forth-with Fish-street and fat East-cheap rosts Sunday to scourge our guilty Rest with shame Had giv'n full dispensation to the flame Now London-Bridge expected to provide Auxiliar forces from the other side Alarum'd by the fall of Neighb'ring Bells Takes fire and sinks into its stony Cells Blocks up the way with rubbish and dire flames Threatning to choke his undermining Thames Southwark shut out on it 's own banks appear'd As once when fiery Cromwell domineer'd Thames-street hastens it ashes to prevent All aids and succours from the River sent The heated wind his flaming arrows cast VVhich snatch'd both ends and burnt the middle last Now the proud flame had took the open field And after hearts were vanquish'd all things yeild Rores thorough Cannon-street and Lombardie Triumphing o're the Cities Liberty This fiery Dragon higher still it flyes The more extends his wings and louder cryes Just so that spark of Treason first supprest In the dark angles of some private brest Breaks through the Mouth and Nostrills into Squibs And having fir'd the Author's reins and ribs Kindles from man to man by subtile Art Till Rebells are become the major part Thus late Fanaticks in their Zeal of pride March from close Wood-street into broad Cheap-side Now all in Coaches Carrs and VVaggons flye London is sack'd withour an Enemy All things of beauty shatter'd lost and gone Little of London whole but London-stone As if those Bull-works of her Wall and Thames Serv'd but to Circle and besiege her flames Such active Rams beat from each opposite Wall You would have judg'd the fire an Animal VVhen strangely it from adverse VVindows ror'd Neighbour his Neighbour kindl'd and devour'd Houses the Churches Churches Houses fir'd While profane Sparks against divine conspir'd This devastation makes one truth appear How sanctimonious our fore-fathers were How thick they built their Temples long conceal'd By lofty Buildings now in flames reveal'd Then one small Church serv'd many Preists but they The truth is eat not rost meat every day Now the profane not superstitious Rout Whose faith ascends no higher than to doubt May without help of weekly papers tell Their Churches to their Eyes made visible Our Non-conformists if not harden'd may Scatter some tears where once they scorn'd to pray Now the Imperious Element did range Without Controle kept a full Ev'ning Change Where the religious Spices for some Hours Seem'd to burn Incense to th' incensed Powers At last the flame grown quite rebellious calls Our Sacred Monarchs to new Funeralls The Conquerour here Conquer'd tumbles down As Conscious of the burthen of a Crown Only the good old Founder standing low His Station kept and saw the dismal Show Though the Change broke he 's not one penny worse Stands firm resolv'd to visit his new Burse Which by her Opticks happily was sav'd And for the honour of the City pav'd Here a good sum of active Silver rais'd Th' ingenious Beggar and wise Donors prais'd All fall to work assisted by the Guard To whom and money nothing seemed hard Here fires met fires but industry reclaims Lost hope and quench'd a Parliament of flames Mean time the Neighb'ring Steeple trembling stood Defended not by Stone nor Brick but Wood Yet was secure ' cause low to let us see What safety waits upon humilitie VVhen Lawrence Three-Cranes Cornhill lofty Bow Are all chastis'd for making a proud show One Steeple lost its Church but not one Bell Reserv'd by fate to Ring the City's Knell Now the Circumference from every part The Center scalds poor London pants at heart Cheapside the fair is at a fatal loss VVants the old blessing of her golden Cross Poor Paul the Aged has been sadly tost Reform'd then after Reformation lost Plac'd in a Circle of Heaven's fiery wrath The Saint was tortur'd when he broke his Faith At the East-End a spacious sheet of Lead Rent from the rest his Altar canoped But from its