Iter Boreale
Attempting Something upon the Successful and Matchless March of the Lord General George Monck from Scotland to London in the Winter, 1659
1.
The day is broke! Melpomene, begone;
Hag of my fancy, let me now alone;
Nightmare my soul no more; go take thy flight
Where traitors' ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount Caucasus and bear thy part
With the black fowl that tears Prometheus' heart
For his bold sacrilege; go fetch the groans
Of defunct tyrants, with them croak thy tones.
Go see Alecto with her flaming whip,
How she firks Nol and makes old Bradshaw skip.
Go make thyself away — thou shalt no more
Choke up my standish with the blood and gore
Of English tragedies: I now will choose
The merriest of the nine to be my Muse,
And, come what will, I'll scribble once again.
The brutish sword hath cut the nobler vein
Of racy poetry; our small-drink times
Must be contented and take up with rhymes.
They're sorry toys from a poor Levite's pack,
Whose living and assessments drink no sack —
The subject will excuse the verse, I trow;
The venison's fat, although the crust be dough.
2.
I, he who whilom sat and sung in cage
My king's and country's ruin by the rage
Of a rebellious rout; who weeping saw
Three goodly kingdoms, drunk with fury, draw
And sheathe their swords, like three enraged brothers,
In one another's sides, ripping their mother's
Belly, and tearing out her bleeding heart;
Then, jealous that their father fain would part
Their bloody fray and let them fight no more,
Fell foul on him and slew him at his door;
I that have only dared to whisper verses,
And drop a tear by stealth on loyal hearses;
I that enraged at the times and Rump,
Had gnawed my goose-quill to the very stump,
And flung that in the fire, no more to write,
But to sit down poor Britain's Heraclite,
Now sing the triumphs of the men of war,
The glorious rays of the bright northern star,
Created for the nonce by Heav'n to bring
The wise men of three nations to their king.
Monck! the great Monck! that syllable outshines
Plantagenet's bright name or Constantine's.
'Twas at his rising that our day begun;
Be he the morning star to Charles our sun.
He took rebellion rampant by the throat,
And made the canting Quaker change his note.
His hand it was that wrote (we saw no more)
Exit tyrannus over Lambert's door.
Like to some subtle lightning, so his words
Dissolved in their scabbards rebels' swords.
He with success the sovereign skill hath found
To dress the weapon and so heal the wound.
George and his boys, as spirits do, they say,
Only by walking scare our foes away.
3.
Old Holofernes was no sooner laid
Before the idol's funeral pomp was paid
(Nor shall a penny e'er be paid for me:
Let fools that trusted his true mourners be),
Richard the Fourth just peeping out of squire
(No fault so much as the old one was his sire,
For men believed, though all went in his name,
He'd be but tenant till the landlord came),
When on a sudden, all amazed, we found
The seven years' Babel tumbled to the ground,
And he, poor heart, thanks to his cunning kin,
Was soon in cuerpo honest Dick again.
Exit protector. What comes next? I trow,
Let the state-huntsmen beat again. " So ho! "
Cries Lambert, Master of the Hounds, " Here sits
That lusty puss, the Good Old Cause, whose wits
Showed Oliver such sport. " " That! that! " cries Vane,
" Let's put her up, and run her once again!
She'll lead our dogs and followers up and down,
Whilst we match families and take the crown. "
Enter the old members. 'Twas the month of May
These maggots in the Rump began to play.
Wallingford anglers, though they stunk, yet thought
They would make baits by which fish might be caught,
And so it proved — they soon by taxes made
More money than the Holland fishing-trade.
4.
Now broke in Egypt's plagues all in a day
And one more, worse than theirs. We must not pray
To be delivered — their scabbed folks were free
To scratch where it did itch — so might not we.
That meteor Cromwell, though he scared, gave light,
But we were now covered with horrid night.
Our magistracy was, like Moses' rod,
Turned to a serpent by the angry God.
Poor citizens when trading would not do
Made brick without straw and were basted too.
Struck with the botch of taxes and excise,
Servants (our very dust) were turned to lice —
It was but turning soldiers, and they need
Not work at all, but on their masters feed.
Strange caterpillars ate our pleasant things,
And frogs croaked in the chambers of our kings;
Black-bloody veins did in the Rump prevail,
Like the Philistines' emrods in the tail.
Lightning, hail, fire, and thunder Egypt had,
And England guns, shot, powder (that's as bad).
And that sea-monster Lawson, if withstood,
Threatened to turn our rivers into blood;
And — plague of all these plagues — all these plagues fell
Not on an Egypt, but our Israel.
5.
Sick as her heart can hold the nation lies,
Filling each corner with her hideous cries:
Sometimes rage, like a burning fever, heats,
Anon despair brings cold and clammy sweats;
She cannot sleep — or if she doth she dreams
Of rapes, thefts, burnings, blood, and direful themes;
Tosses from side to side, then by-and-by
Her feet are laid there where the head did lie.
None can come to her but bold empirics,
Who never meant to cure her but try tricks.
Those very doctors who should give her ease —
God help the patient! — were her worst disease.
The Italian mountebank Vane tells her sure
Jesuits' powder will effect the cure;
If grief but makes her swell, Marten and Neville
Conclude it is a spice of the king's evil.
" Bleed her again! " another cries, and Scot
Says he could cure her if 'twas — you know what,
But giddy Harrington a whimsey found
To make her head like to his brains run round.
Her old and wise physicians, who before
Had well-nigh cured her, came again to the door,
But were kept out, which made her cry the more,
" Help, help, dear children! Oh, some pity take
On her who bore you! help, for mercy sake!
Oh, heart! oh, head! oh, back! oh, bones! I feel
They've poisoned me with giving too much steel!
Oh, give me that for which I long and cry —
Something that's sovereign, or else I die! "
6.
Kind Cheshire heard and, like some son that stood
Upon the bank, straight jumped into the flood,
Flings out his arms and strikes some strokes to swim.
Booth ventured first and Middleton with him;
Stout Mackworth, Egerton, and thousands more,
Threw themselves in and left the safer shore;
Massey, that famous diver, and bold Browne
Forsook his wharf, resolving all to drown
Or save a sinking kingdom; but (O sad!)
Fearing to lose her prey, the sea grew mad,
Raised all her billows and resolved her waves
Should quickly be the bold adventurers' graves.
Out marches Lambert like an eastern wind
And with him all the mighty waters joined.
The loyal swimmers bore up heads and breasts,
Scorning to think of life or interests.
They plied their arms and thighs, but all in vain:
The furious main beat them to shore again,
At which the floating island, looking back,
Spying her loyal lovers gone to wrack,
Shrieked louder than before, and thus she cries:
" Can you, ye angry Heav'ns and frowning skies,
Thus countenance rebellious mutineers,
Who, if they durst, would be about your ears?
That I should sink with justice may accord,
Who let my pilot be thrown overboard,
Yet 'twas not I, ye righteous Heav'ns do know —
The soldiers in me needs would have it so —
And those who conjured up these storms themselves
And first engaged me 'mongst these rocks and shelves,
Guilty of all my woes, have raised this weather,
Fearing to come to land and choosing rather
To sink me with themselves. O cease to frown!
In tears, just Heav'ns, behold, myself I drown!
Let not these proud waves do it; prevent my fears
And let them fall together by the ears. "
7.
Heav'n heard and struck the insulting army mad;
Drunk with their Cheshire triumphs straight they had
New lights upreared, and new resolves they take,
A single person once again to make.
Who shall he be? Oh! Lambert, without rub,
The fittest de'il to be Beelzebub.
He, the fierce fiend cast out of the House before,
Returned and threw the House now out of door;
A legion then he raised of armed sprites,
Elves, goblins, fairies, Quakers, and New Lights,
To be his under-devils; with this rest
He soul and body, church and state, possessed,
Who though they filled all countries, towns, and rooms,
Yet, like that fiend that did frequent the tombs,
Churches and sacred grounds they haunted most —
No chapel was at ease from some such ghost.
The priests ordained to exorcise those elves
Were voted devils and cast out themselves —
Bible, or Alcoran, all's one to them;
Religion serves but for a stratagem —
The holy charms these adders did not heed;
Churches themselves did sanctuary need.
8.
The church's patrimony and rich store
Alas! was swallowed many years before.
Bishops and deans we fed upon before
(They were the ribs and sirloins of the whore);
Now let her legs, the priests, go to the pot
(They have the pope's eye in them — spare them not!)
We have fat benefices yet to eat —
Bel and our Dragon army must have meat.
Let us devour her limb-meal, great and small,
Tithe-calves, geese, pigs, the pettitoes and all.
A vicarage in sippets, though it be
But small, wil serve a squeamish sectary.
Though universities we can't endure,
There's no false Latin in their lands, be sure.
Give Oxford to our Horse and let the Foot
Take Cambridge for their booty and fall to't.
" Christ Church I'll have, " cries Vane; Desb'rough swops
At Trinity; King's is for Berry's chops;
Kelsey, take Corpus Christi; All Souls, Packer;
Carve Creed St. John's; New College leave to Hacker;
Fleetwood cries, " Weeping Magdalen shall be mine,
Her tears I'll drink instead of muscadine. "
The smaller halls and houses scarce are big
Enough to make one dish for Hasilrig.
" We must be sure to stop his mouth, though wide,
Else all our fat will be in the fire, " they cried,
" And when we have done these, we'll not be quiet —
Lordships' and landlords' rents shall be our diet. "
Thus talked this jolly crew, but still mine host
Lambert resolves that he will rule the roast.
9.
But hark! methinks I hear old Boreas blow.
What mean the north winds that they bluster so?
More storms from that black nook? Forbear, bold Scot!
Let not Dunbar and Worcester be forgot.
What! would you chaffer with us for one Charles more?
The price of kings is fallen, give the trade o'er.
" And is the price of kings and kingdoms too,
Of laws, lives, oaths, souls, grown so low with you?
Perfidious hypocrites! monsters of men! "
Cries the good Monck, " We'll raise their price again! "
Heav'n said amen! and breathed upon that spark;
That spark, preserved alive in the cold and dark,
First kindled and enflamed the British Isle
And turned it all to bonfires in a while.
He and his fuel were so small no doubt
Proud Lambert thought to tread or piss them out.
But George was wary; his cause did require
A pillar of a cloud as well as fire:
'Twas not his safest course to flame but smoke —
His enemies he will not burn but choke.
Small fires must not blaze out, lest by their light
They show their weakness and their foes invite;
But furnaces the stoutest metals melt,
And so did he, by fire not seen but felt;
Dark-lantern language and his peep-bo play
Will-e-wisped Lambert's New Lights out of the way.
George and his boys those thousands (O strange thing!)
Of snipes and woodcocks took by lowbelling;
His few Scotch-coal kindled with English fire
Made Lambert's great Newcastle heaps expire.
10.
Scotland, though poor and peevish, was content
To keep the peace and (O rare!) money lent.
But yet the blessing of their kirk was more —
George had that too — and with this slender store
He and his myrmidons advance. Kind Heaven
Prepared a frost to make their march more even,
Easy, and safe: it may be said, that year,
Of the highways Heaven itself was overseer
And made November ground as hard as May.
White as their innocence, so was their way.
The clouds came down in feather-beds to greet
Him and his army and to kiss their feet,
The frost and foes both came and went together,
Both thawed away, and vanished God knows whither.
Whole countries crowded in to see this friend,
Ready to cast their bodies down to mend
His road to Westminster, and still they shout,
" Lay hold of the Rump and pull the monster out!
A new one or a whole one, good my lord, "
And to this cry the island did accord.
The echo of the Irish hollow ground
Heard England and her language did rebound.
11.
Presto! Jack Lambert and his sprites are gone
To dance a jig with his brother Oberon.
George made him and his cut-throats of our lives
Swallow their swords as jugglers do their knives,
And Carter Desborough to wish in vain
He now were wagoner to Charles's Wain.
The conqueror's now come into the south,
Whose warm air is made hot by ev'ry mouth
Breathing his welcome and in spite of Scot
Crying, " The whole child, sir, divide it not. "
The Rump begins to stink: " Alas! " cry they,
" We've raised a devil which we cannot lay;
I like him not. " " His belly is so big.
There's a king in it! " cries furious Hasilrig.
" Let's bribe him, " they cry all. " Carve him a share
Of our stol'n venison! " Varlets, forbear!
In vain you put your lime-twigs to his hands.
George Monck is for the king, not for his lands.
When fair means would not do, next foul they try:
" Vote him the City scavenger, " they cry —
" Send him to scour their streets. " " Well, let it be;
Your Rumpship wants a scouring too, " thinks he.
" That foul house where your worships many years
Have laid your tail sure wants a scavenger.
I smell your fizzle though it make no crack.
You'd mount me on the City's galled back
In hopes she'd cast her rider. If I must
Upon some office in the town be thrust,
I'll be their sword-bearer, and to their dagger
I'll join my sword. Nay, good Rump, do not swagger;
The City feasts me, and as sure as gun
I'll mend all England's Commons ere I've done. "
12.
And so he did. One morning next his heart
He went to Westminster and played his part.
He vamped their boots, which Hewson ne'er could do
With better leather, made them go upright too.
The restored members, Cato-like, no doubt,
Did only enter that they might go out.
They did not mean within those walls to dwell,
Nor did they like their company so well.
Yet Heav'n so blessed them that in three weeks' space
They gave both church and state a better face.
They gave Booth, Massey, Browne, some kinder lots
(The last year's traitors, this year's patriots).
The church's poor remainder they made good
And washed the nation's hands of royal blood;
And that a Parliament they did devise
From its own ashes, phoenix-like, might rise.
This done by act and deed that might not fail
They passed a fine and so cut off th' entail.
13.
Let the bells ring these changes now from Bow
Down to the country candlesticks below.
Ringers, hands off! The bells themselves will dance
In memory of their own deliverance.
Had not George showed his metal and said nay,
Each sectary had borne the bell away.
" Down with them all, they're christened, " cried that crew;
" Tie up their clappers and the parson's too;
Turn them to guns, or sell them to the Dutch. "
" Nay, hold, " quoth George, " my masters, that's too much.
You will not leap o'er steeples thus I hope —
I'll save the bells, but you may take the rope. "
Thus lay Religion panting for her life,
Like Isaac bound under the bloody knife;
George held the falling weapon, saved the lamb,
Let Lambert in the briars be the ram.
So lay the royal virgin, as 'tis told,
When brave St. George redeemed her life of old.
O that the knaves that have consumed our land,
Had but permitted wood enough to stand
To be his bonfires! We'd burn ev'ry stem
And leave no more but gallow-trees for them!
14.
March on, great hero! as thou hast begun,
And crown our happiness before thou'st done.
We have another Charles to fetch from Spain;
Be thou the George to bring him back again.
Then shalt thou be, what was denied that knight,
Thy prince's and the people's favorite.
There is no danger of the winds at all,
Unless together by the ears they fall
Who shall the honor have to waft a king,
And they who gain it while they work shall sing.
Methinks I see how those triumphant gales,
Proud of their great employment, swell the sails;
The joyful ship shall dance, the sea shall laugh,
And loyal fish their master's health shall quaff.
See how the dolphins crowd and thrust their large
And scaly shoulders to assist the barge;
The peaceful kingfishers are met together
About the decks and prophesy calm weather;
Poor crabs and lobsters have gone down to creep,
And search for pearls and jewels in the deep;
And when they have the booty, crawl before,
And leave them for his welcome to the shore.
15.
Methinks I see how throngs of people stand,
Scarce patient till the vessel come to land,
Ready to leap in, and, if need require,
With tears of joy to make the waters higher.
But what will London do? I doubt Old Paul
With bowing to his sovereign will fall;
The royal lions from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore;
The conduits will be ravished and combine
To turn their very water into wine,
And for the citizens, I only pray
They may not, overjoyed, all die that day.
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to Caesar and to God their due.
We'll make his father's tomb with tears to swim,
And for the son, we'll shed our blood for him.
England her penitential song shall sing
And take heed how she quarrels with her king.
If for our sins our prince shall be misled,
We'll bite our nails rather than scratch our head.
16.
One English George outweighs alone, by odds,
A whole committee of the heathens' gods;
Pronounce but Monck, and it is all his due:
He is our Mercury, Mars, and Neptune too.
Monck, what great Xerxes could not, proved the man
That with a word shackled the ocean;
He shall command Neptune himself to bring
His trident and present it to our king.
Oh, do it then, great admiral! Away!
Let him be here against St. George's day,
That Charles may wear his Dieu et mon droit ,
And thou the noble-gartered Honi soit .
And when thy aged corpse shall yield to fate,
God save that soul that saved our church and state.
There thou shalt have a glorious crown, I know,
Who crown'st our king and kingdoms here below,
But who shall find a pen fit for thy glory,
Or make posterity believe thy story?
Vive St. George!
1.
The day is broke! Melpomene, begone;
Hag of my fancy, let me now alone;
Nightmare my soul no more; go take thy flight
Where traitors' ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount Caucasus and bear thy part
With the black fowl that tears Prometheus' heart
For his bold sacrilege; go fetch the groans
Of defunct tyrants, with them croak thy tones.
Go see Alecto with her flaming whip,
How she firks Nol and makes old Bradshaw skip.
Go make thyself away — thou shalt no more
Choke up my standish with the blood and gore
Of English tragedies: I now will choose
The merriest of the nine to be my Muse,
And, come what will, I'll scribble once again.
The brutish sword hath cut the nobler vein
Of racy poetry; our small-drink times
Must be contented and take up with rhymes.
They're sorry toys from a poor Levite's pack,
Whose living and assessments drink no sack —
The subject will excuse the verse, I trow;
The venison's fat, although the crust be dough.
2.
I, he who whilom sat and sung in cage
My king's and country's ruin by the rage
Of a rebellious rout; who weeping saw
Three goodly kingdoms, drunk with fury, draw
And sheathe their swords, like three enraged brothers,
In one another's sides, ripping their mother's
Belly, and tearing out her bleeding heart;
Then, jealous that their father fain would part
Their bloody fray and let them fight no more,
Fell foul on him and slew him at his door;
I that have only dared to whisper verses,
And drop a tear by stealth on loyal hearses;
I that enraged at the times and Rump,
Had gnawed my goose-quill to the very stump,
And flung that in the fire, no more to write,
But to sit down poor Britain's Heraclite,
Now sing the triumphs of the men of war,
The glorious rays of the bright northern star,
Created for the nonce by Heav'n to bring
The wise men of three nations to their king.
Monck! the great Monck! that syllable outshines
Plantagenet's bright name or Constantine's.
'Twas at his rising that our day begun;
Be he the morning star to Charles our sun.
He took rebellion rampant by the throat,
And made the canting Quaker change his note.
His hand it was that wrote (we saw no more)
Exit tyrannus over Lambert's door.
Like to some subtle lightning, so his words
Dissolved in their scabbards rebels' swords.
He with success the sovereign skill hath found
To dress the weapon and so heal the wound.
George and his boys, as spirits do, they say,
Only by walking scare our foes away.
3.
Old Holofernes was no sooner laid
Before the idol's funeral pomp was paid
(Nor shall a penny e'er be paid for me:
Let fools that trusted his true mourners be),
Richard the Fourth just peeping out of squire
(No fault so much as the old one was his sire,
For men believed, though all went in his name,
He'd be but tenant till the landlord came),
When on a sudden, all amazed, we found
The seven years' Babel tumbled to the ground,
And he, poor heart, thanks to his cunning kin,
Was soon in cuerpo honest Dick again.
Exit protector. What comes next? I trow,
Let the state-huntsmen beat again. " So ho! "
Cries Lambert, Master of the Hounds, " Here sits
That lusty puss, the Good Old Cause, whose wits
Showed Oliver such sport. " " That! that! " cries Vane,
" Let's put her up, and run her once again!
She'll lead our dogs and followers up and down,
Whilst we match families and take the crown. "
Enter the old members. 'Twas the month of May
These maggots in the Rump began to play.
Wallingford anglers, though they stunk, yet thought
They would make baits by which fish might be caught,
And so it proved — they soon by taxes made
More money than the Holland fishing-trade.
4.
Now broke in Egypt's plagues all in a day
And one more, worse than theirs. We must not pray
To be delivered — their scabbed folks were free
To scratch where it did itch — so might not we.
That meteor Cromwell, though he scared, gave light,
But we were now covered with horrid night.
Our magistracy was, like Moses' rod,
Turned to a serpent by the angry God.
Poor citizens when trading would not do
Made brick without straw and were basted too.
Struck with the botch of taxes and excise,
Servants (our very dust) were turned to lice —
It was but turning soldiers, and they need
Not work at all, but on their masters feed.
Strange caterpillars ate our pleasant things,
And frogs croaked in the chambers of our kings;
Black-bloody veins did in the Rump prevail,
Like the Philistines' emrods in the tail.
Lightning, hail, fire, and thunder Egypt had,
And England guns, shot, powder (that's as bad).
And that sea-monster Lawson, if withstood,
Threatened to turn our rivers into blood;
And — plague of all these plagues — all these plagues fell
Not on an Egypt, but our Israel.
5.
Sick as her heart can hold the nation lies,
Filling each corner with her hideous cries:
Sometimes rage, like a burning fever, heats,
Anon despair brings cold and clammy sweats;
She cannot sleep — or if she doth she dreams
Of rapes, thefts, burnings, blood, and direful themes;
Tosses from side to side, then by-and-by
Her feet are laid there where the head did lie.
None can come to her but bold empirics,
Who never meant to cure her but try tricks.
Those very doctors who should give her ease —
God help the patient! — were her worst disease.
The Italian mountebank Vane tells her sure
Jesuits' powder will effect the cure;
If grief but makes her swell, Marten and Neville
Conclude it is a spice of the king's evil.
" Bleed her again! " another cries, and Scot
Says he could cure her if 'twas — you know what,
But giddy Harrington a whimsey found
To make her head like to his brains run round.
Her old and wise physicians, who before
Had well-nigh cured her, came again to the door,
But were kept out, which made her cry the more,
" Help, help, dear children! Oh, some pity take
On her who bore you! help, for mercy sake!
Oh, heart! oh, head! oh, back! oh, bones! I feel
They've poisoned me with giving too much steel!
Oh, give me that for which I long and cry —
Something that's sovereign, or else I die! "
6.
Kind Cheshire heard and, like some son that stood
Upon the bank, straight jumped into the flood,
Flings out his arms and strikes some strokes to swim.
Booth ventured first and Middleton with him;
Stout Mackworth, Egerton, and thousands more,
Threw themselves in and left the safer shore;
Massey, that famous diver, and bold Browne
Forsook his wharf, resolving all to drown
Or save a sinking kingdom; but (O sad!)
Fearing to lose her prey, the sea grew mad,
Raised all her billows and resolved her waves
Should quickly be the bold adventurers' graves.
Out marches Lambert like an eastern wind
And with him all the mighty waters joined.
The loyal swimmers bore up heads and breasts,
Scorning to think of life or interests.
They plied their arms and thighs, but all in vain:
The furious main beat them to shore again,
At which the floating island, looking back,
Spying her loyal lovers gone to wrack,
Shrieked louder than before, and thus she cries:
" Can you, ye angry Heav'ns and frowning skies,
Thus countenance rebellious mutineers,
Who, if they durst, would be about your ears?
That I should sink with justice may accord,
Who let my pilot be thrown overboard,
Yet 'twas not I, ye righteous Heav'ns do know —
The soldiers in me needs would have it so —
And those who conjured up these storms themselves
And first engaged me 'mongst these rocks and shelves,
Guilty of all my woes, have raised this weather,
Fearing to come to land and choosing rather
To sink me with themselves. O cease to frown!
In tears, just Heav'ns, behold, myself I drown!
Let not these proud waves do it; prevent my fears
And let them fall together by the ears. "
7.
Heav'n heard and struck the insulting army mad;
Drunk with their Cheshire triumphs straight they had
New lights upreared, and new resolves they take,
A single person once again to make.
Who shall he be? Oh! Lambert, without rub,
The fittest de'il to be Beelzebub.
He, the fierce fiend cast out of the House before,
Returned and threw the House now out of door;
A legion then he raised of armed sprites,
Elves, goblins, fairies, Quakers, and New Lights,
To be his under-devils; with this rest
He soul and body, church and state, possessed,
Who though they filled all countries, towns, and rooms,
Yet, like that fiend that did frequent the tombs,
Churches and sacred grounds they haunted most —
No chapel was at ease from some such ghost.
The priests ordained to exorcise those elves
Were voted devils and cast out themselves —
Bible, or Alcoran, all's one to them;
Religion serves but for a stratagem —
The holy charms these adders did not heed;
Churches themselves did sanctuary need.
8.
The church's patrimony and rich store
Alas! was swallowed many years before.
Bishops and deans we fed upon before
(They were the ribs and sirloins of the whore);
Now let her legs, the priests, go to the pot
(They have the pope's eye in them — spare them not!)
We have fat benefices yet to eat —
Bel and our Dragon army must have meat.
Let us devour her limb-meal, great and small,
Tithe-calves, geese, pigs, the pettitoes and all.
A vicarage in sippets, though it be
But small, wil serve a squeamish sectary.
Though universities we can't endure,
There's no false Latin in their lands, be sure.
Give Oxford to our Horse and let the Foot
Take Cambridge for their booty and fall to't.
" Christ Church I'll have, " cries Vane; Desb'rough swops
At Trinity; King's is for Berry's chops;
Kelsey, take Corpus Christi; All Souls, Packer;
Carve Creed St. John's; New College leave to Hacker;
Fleetwood cries, " Weeping Magdalen shall be mine,
Her tears I'll drink instead of muscadine. "
The smaller halls and houses scarce are big
Enough to make one dish for Hasilrig.
" We must be sure to stop his mouth, though wide,
Else all our fat will be in the fire, " they cried,
" And when we have done these, we'll not be quiet —
Lordships' and landlords' rents shall be our diet. "
Thus talked this jolly crew, but still mine host
Lambert resolves that he will rule the roast.
9.
But hark! methinks I hear old Boreas blow.
What mean the north winds that they bluster so?
More storms from that black nook? Forbear, bold Scot!
Let not Dunbar and Worcester be forgot.
What! would you chaffer with us for one Charles more?
The price of kings is fallen, give the trade o'er.
" And is the price of kings and kingdoms too,
Of laws, lives, oaths, souls, grown so low with you?
Perfidious hypocrites! monsters of men! "
Cries the good Monck, " We'll raise their price again! "
Heav'n said amen! and breathed upon that spark;
That spark, preserved alive in the cold and dark,
First kindled and enflamed the British Isle
And turned it all to bonfires in a while.
He and his fuel were so small no doubt
Proud Lambert thought to tread or piss them out.
But George was wary; his cause did require
A pillar of a cloud as well as fire:
'Twas not his safest course to flame but smoke —
His enemies he will not burn but choke.
Small fires must not blaze out, lest by their light
They show their weakness and their foes invite;
But furnaces the stoutest metals melt,
And so did he, by fire not seen but felt;
Dark-lantern language and his peep-bo play
Will-e-wisped Lambert's New Lights out of the way.
George and his boys those thousands (O strange thing!)
Of snipes and woodcocks took by lowbelling;
His few Scotch-coal kindled with English fire
Made Lambert's great Newcastle heaps expire.
10.
Scotland, though poor and peevish, was content
To keep the peace and (O rare!) money lent.
But yet the blessing of their kirk was more —
George had that too — and with this slender store
He and his myrmidons advance. Kind Heaven
Prepared a frost to make their march more even,
Easy, and safe: it may be said, that year,
Of the highways Heaven itself was overseer
And made November ground as hard as May.
White as their innocence, so was their way.
The clouds came down in feather-beds to greet
Him and his army and to kiss their feet,
The frost and foes both came and went together,
Both thawed away, and vanished God knows whither.
Whole countries crowded in to see this friend,
Ready to cast their bodies down to mend
His road to Westminster, and still they shout,
" Lay hold of the Rump and pull the monster out!
A new one or a whole one, good my lord, "
And to this cry the island did accord.
The echo of the Irish hollow ground
Heard England and her language did rebound.
11.
Presto! Jack Lambert and his sprites are gone
To dance a jig with his brother Oberon.
George made him and his cut-throats of our lives
Swallow their swords as jugglers do their knives,
And Carter Desborough to wish in vain
He now were wagoner to Charles's Wain.
The conqueror's now come into the south,
Whose warm air is made hot by ev'ry mouth
Breathing his welcome and in spite of Scot
Crying, " The whole child, sir, divide it not. "
The Rump begins to stink: " Alas! " cry they,
" We've raised a devil which we cannot lay;
I like him not. " " His belly is so big.
There's a king in it! " cries furious Hasilrig.
" Let's bribe him, " they cry all. " Carve him a share
Of our stol'n venison! " Varlets, forbear!
In vain you put your lime-twigs to his hands.
George Monck is for the king, not for his lands.
When fair means would not do, next foul they try:
" Vote him the City scavenger, " they cry —
" Send him to scour their streets. " " Well, let it be;
Your Rumpship wants a scouring too, " thinks he.
" That foul house where your worships many years
Have laid your tail sure wants a scavenger.
I smell your fizzle though it make no crack.
You'd mount me on the City's galled back
In hopes she'd cast her rider. If I must
Upon some office in the town be thrust,
I'll be their sword-bearer, and to their dagger
I'll join my sword. Nay, good Rump, do not swagger;
The City feasts me, and as sure as gun
I'll mend all England's Commons ere I've done. "
12.
And so he did. One morning next his heart
He went to Westminster and played his part.
He vamped their boots, which Hewson ne'er could do
With better leather, made them go upright too.
The restored members, Cato-like, no doubt,
Did only enter that they might go out.
They did not mean within those walls to dwell,
Nor did they like their company so well.
Yet Heav'n so blessed them that in three weeks' space
They gave both church and state a better face.
They gave Booth, Massey, Browne, some kinder lots
(The last year's traitors, this year's patriots).
The church's poor remainder they made good
And washed the nation's hands of royal blood;
And that a Parliament they did devise
From its own ashes, phoenix-like, might rise.
This done by act and deed that might not fail
They passed a fine and so cut off th' entail.
13.
Let the bells ring these changes now from Bow
Down to the country candlesticks below.
Ringers, hands off! The bells themselves will dance
In memory of their own deliverance.
Had not George showed his metal and said nay,
Each sectary had borne the bell away.
" Down with them all, they're christened, " cried that crew;
" Tie up their clappers and the parson's too;
Turn them to guns, or sell them to the Dutch. "
" Nay, hold, " quoth George, " my masters, that's too much.
You will not leap o'er steeples thus I hope —
I'll save the bells, but you may take the rope. "
Thus lay Religion panting for her life,
Like Isaac bound under the bloody knife;
George held the falling weapon, saved the lamb,
Let Lambert in the briars be the ram.
So lay the royal virgin, as 'tis told,
When brave St. George redeemed her life of old.
O that the knaves that have consumed our land,
Had but permitted wood enough to stand
To be his bonfires! We'd burn ev'ry stem
And leave no more but gallow-trees for them!
14.
March on, great hero! as thou hast begun,
And crown our happiness before thou'st done.
We have another Charles to fetch from Spain;
Be thou the George to bring him back again.
Then shalt thou be, what was denied that knight,
Thy prince's and the people's favorite.
There is no danger of the winds at all,
Unless together by the ears they fall
Who shall the honor have to waft a king,
And they who gain it while they work shall sing.
Methinks I see how those triumphant gales,
Proud of their great employment, swell the sails;
The joyful ship shall dance, the sea shall laugh,
And loyal fish their master's health shall quaff.
See how the dolphins crowd and thrust their large
And scaly shoulders to assist the barge;
The peaceful kingfishers are met together
About the decks and prophesy calm weather;
Poor crabs and lobsters have gone down to creep,
And search for pearls and jewels in the deep;
And when they have the booty, crawl before,
And leave them for his welcome to the shore.
15.
Methinks I see how throngs of people stand,
Scarce patient till the vessel come to land,
Ready to leap in, and, if need require,
With tears of joy to make the waters higher.
But what will London do? I doubt Old Paul
With bowing to his sovereign will fall;
The royal lions from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore;
The conduits will be ravished and combine
To turn their very water into wine,
And for the citizens, I only pray
They may not, overjoyed, all die that day.
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to Caesar and to God their due.
We'll make his father's tomb with tears to swim,
And for the son, we'll shed our blood for him.
England her penitential song shall sing
And take heed how she quarrels with her king.
If for our sins our prince shall be misled,
We'll bite our nails rather than scratch our head.
16.
One English George outweighs alone, by odds,
A whole committee of the heathens' gods;
Pronounce but Monck, and it is all his due:
He is our Mercury, Mars, and Neptune too.
Monck, what great Xerxes could not, proved the man
That with a word shackled the ocean;
He shall command Neptune himself to bring
His trident and present it to our king.
Oh, do it then, great admiral! Away!
Let him be here against St. George's day,
That Charles may wear his Dieu et mon droit ,
And thou the noble-gartered Honi soit .
And when thy aged corpse shall yield to fate,
God save that soul that saved our church and state.
There thou shalt have a glorious crown, I know,
Who crown'st our king and kingdoms here below,
But who shall find a pen fit for thy glory,
Or make posterity believe thy story?
Vive St. George!
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