Zion in Distress 2, Title page – Poem
Zion in Diſtreſs: Or, The ſad and Lamentable Complaint OF ZION AND Her Children.
Wherein are demonſtrated the Cauſes of Her miſerable Calamities, and Her Faith in God, touching her perfect Redemption, & the latter Days Glory.
Alſo ſhewing The dreadful controverſie God hath with the Beaſt of Rome, and Mother of Harlots, and all Adverſaries and Nations of the world for Zion's ſake.
Lam. 1.12.
Is there any ſorrow like unto my ſorrow?
Verſ. 17. Zion ſpreadeth forth her hands, and there is none to comfort her.
London. Printed in the Fatal Year.
THE AUTHOR To the Reader.
Courteous Reader,
IF theſe enſuing illiterate and homeſpun-Poems come to thy hand, let me crave this of thee, viz. Diligently and impartially to peruſe them; and do not cenſoriouſly judge, nor prejudicially condemne the plain and ſimple-hearted Author thereof: Neither doe thou ſlight them becauſe of the lowneſs and meanneſs of the ſtile that they run in: But eſteem them rather for the honeſty of the matter, then for their Elegancy; more for their Vertue, than for the Variety of Scholaſtick Expreſſions. I never learned the Art of Rhetorick, nor courted the Univerſities. Neither have I ſtudied to deliver my ſelf in that ſtile that might tend either to the pleaſing of the Mind, Fancies, Or vain Humours of any; nor to delight the Ear, but to affect the Heart; not to ſtir up the Mind to Mirth, but to move the Soul to Mourn. And if, Courteous Reader, thou art a Chriſtian, one that art truly and really born from Above, of the free Woman, and brought up vertuouſly in the Heavenly Family; if ſo, I am perſwaded that I need not inforce many Arguments to induce thee to a kinde acceptance of what I preſent thee with, becauſe it treateth of the ſtate of Her whoſe Womb did bear thee, and whoſe Paps have ſpiritually giv'n thee ſuck. Shall thy dear Mother be in a miſerable languiſhing ſtate and condition, and not her own dear Children incline with all diligence to her mournful Complaints? God forbid. If I have miſrepreſented the ſtate of ZION this day, in any thing, I humbly crave pardon: I have writ according to the meaſure of Light received. The Subject is Divine, and I confeſs too high and good to be ſo low and badly handled; too worthy for ſuch an unworthy VVorm to meddle with. Such as it is, I here preſent to you: I have, with Mary, done what I could; you muſt not expect a mans Head upon a Childs Shoulders. And if it prove acceptable in your eyes, I matter not how I and it are cenſured by others: It cannot ſpeed worſe then She doth for whoſe ſake I have writ theſe Lines. This onelyonly I intreat of thee. Let Zions Captivity be thy Miſery, and never adde thou to her Afflictions: So ſhall I be thine for ever, in all Chriſtian Service.
Farewel.
Let Zealots carp at Homer, if they will,
And barke like Dogs, until they barke their fill:
True Proteſtants will not offended be;
'Tis onelyonly Popiſh Imps will ſnarle at me.
To his Friend the AUTHOR.
WHat Muſe is this doth thus poſſeſs thy brain,
That leads thy Genius to ſo high a ſtrain?
Muſt thy aspiring thoughts needs now rehearſe
Thy Mothers Groans in ſuch a kind of dreſs?
What, Poet-like, thy ſelf deliver now?
Is Proſe too mean, to let the World know how
She is oppreſt by Rome's black helliſh Crew,
How in her Blood they did their hands imbrew?
Let thy Endeavour … prosper; let them prove
To be Rome's ſhame: A Token of thy Love
To thy diſtreſſed Mother, (now the ſcorn
Of black-mouth'd Imps, the Sons of Satan born.)
Aspiring Soul! What from her Sorrows clime
To a Prophetick Spirit in thy Rime!
Fore-telling how ſhe ſhall delivered be
From all thoſe Bloody▪Hounds, whom thou do'ſt ſee
God will deſtroy; and will thy Mother make
Heavens Glory & Earths Joy, for his Name ſake.
Jehovah bleſs thy work, this Book, though ſmall,
And make it prove a Preface to Rome's Fall.
Vale.