Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/370

Lord what a Hurry was there here one Night,
The Irish come, they Burn, they're now in sight;
A city Taylor swore, with Fear grown Wild,
He saw a huge Tall Teague devour a Child;
We have no Nuncio in our Councils now,
Nor pamper'd Jesuites with our Heifers Plough:
Infallibility himself does run,
The Garden's Weeded, and the Moles are gone;
The barbarous French too that Thuanus quotes,
Of old so diligent in cutting Throats:
Which as Example to Posterity,
To Night you'll here this dreadful Mirrour see,
Must be remember'd in their Progeny:
A spurious Race now on our Seas are steering,
And beat us by the way of Buccaneering;
Not Gold to Lawyers, to th' Ambitious Power,
Not lusty Switzer to a lustful Whore:
To Gamesters Luck, to Beauty length of Days,
Nor to a wrincled wither'd Widow Praise;
Could give such Joy as to our Country-men,
To see great Orange seize his own again:
This glorious Chace, no doubt, you'll all pursue,
Mean while our Author begs a Favour too;
You that his Merit and Distress have known,
To guard him from the Criticks of the Town:
That this will be the Poet's Prophecy,
The Poets all were Voters formerly;
To incourage then give ours to Night his due,
His Tale is somewhat Bloody, but 'tis true,
A moral Truth shown to an honest End,
And can the Good or Wise of neither Sect offend:
Fancy and Stile far as the rest excel, }
In our deliverance Year let no Tongue tell, }
Poets the only Curst, on whom no Manna fell. }
Plead therefore that they may by Cæsar's influence breath,
And mix a Lawrel with his Oaken Wreath;
So shall his Glory flourish to the height,
Then every Pen in leaves of Brass shall write: