Classic Poem

What impression God and reason
Had on some abandon'd times,
Was made evident by treason,
And the most flagitious crimes.

England lay dissolv'd in slumber,
Toil and emulation ceas'd,
Till the malice, strength, and number
Of her foes were all increas'd.

Eat and drink, and die to-morrow,
From the cottage to the helm,
Till the blessed man of sorrow
Was not heard in all the realm.

This was deem'd a fit occasion
For the Papists to be bold,
For the children of evasion
To come sneaking from their hold.

What a plan of devastation,
That the dev'l alone could start,
How at once to crush the nation
In the bowels, head, and heart!

There is no such great perdition
In the story of mankind,
Not by craft and superstition,
Yea, and cruelty combin'd.

God, in a stupendous manner,
Bade a spendthrift nation home—
Let us therefore fix the banner
On the high cathedral's dome.

Play the musick—call the singers—
Open wide the prison door—
Make a banquet for the ringers—
Give to poverty the store.

Fire away the joyful volley,
Deck your houses, bless your wine;
Triumph o'er the Papists folly,
Who their God would undermine.