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: