Distressed Zion Relieved, Biography
On the Ingenious Author of the Poem called, Distressed Sion Relieved.
OUR Author heated with Seraphick Fire,
Which did his late lamenting Muse inspire.
He thereby in the highest notes of grief
Wept Tears in Verse when Sion lackt Relief
From Art high lofty strains he would not borrow.
But only did describe a Natural sorrow.
His clear discerning Soul did then foretel
Her danger, and what afterward befel.
He gave us warning to prevent the stroke,
Sins to forsake, and M…y to invoke,
Yet would not without Consolation leave us,
Nor did that Book of comfort quite bereave us,
But still assur'd us, That the Scarlet Whore
Should in a short time fall and rise no more.
What he did then predict we hope that we
Within a little while perform'd shall see,
That Heav'n on Sion's sorrows will look down,
And for her sufferings will at length her Crown.
That Sion late distrest, God will relieve,
And for her troubles comfort to her give.
These Hopes our Authors Soul do now inspire
they rouse his Muse, and make him to admire
What Great Deliverance is already wrought,
So great that it was ev'n beyond our thought.
This he in cheerful accents to us sings,
And our past sufferings to our memory brings.
The Glory of those Worthies he revives,
That for their Countrey offered their Lives.
They Popery and Slavery did withstand,
Which was ev'n ready to o're-spread the Land.
And though God did not then success afford,
Our Author doth their Gallant Names record;
And thereby hath himself obtain'd a Name
That shall be registred in the Book of Fame;
When he is gone, his Works shall never dye,
But still be Famous to Posterity.
C. N.
Distressed Sion RELIEVED, OR, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness.
FOR almost Thirty years last past have I
Seen Floods of Tears flowing continually
From Sions Eyes, whose sad distressed state
With Filial Sympathy I did relate.
In Sixty Six a year of expectation
Came no relief, but still fresh Lamentation;
When she was told her sorrows would be o're,
That year produc't more sorrow than before,
Which caus'd me who in Prison then did lye
To sigh and sob, and weep most bitterly,
In prospect of what I saw coming on
Poor Sion, e're her miseries would be gone,
And therefore did before that year run out,
Foretel some things time since hath brought bo…
Sions Distresses plainly did appear,
And still they did increase year after year,
Until the time the Popish Plot was known,
That Grand Intrigue of Bloody Babylon,
My Soul had then some ease, I then did hope
The day was come should quite o'rethrow t… Pop…
And bloody Whore, That cursed Church of Rom
That she would now receive her fatal Doom;
But all my hopes being frustrate, I again
In the year Eighty pour'd out Tears amain.
For at that time came forth a new Addition
To Sions groans and sorrowful condition,
When I had thought poor Sions woes were gone
What dismal Clouds o're▪spread our Horizon;
Just as I deem'd I spy'd the morning Light.
How were we threatned with a dismal Night
Of Popish Darkness; this I did descry,
And mourn'd in Verse for England's misery,
But Sion's troubles I did most lament;
Whose Enemies were strong and insolent,
Which caused me in Christian Sympathy
With bitter groans my grief to testifie
In this sad manner:
'WHat dismal vapour in so black a form
'Is this which seems Harbinger to a Storm
'What pitchy Cloud invades our starry Sky,
'To stop the beamings of the Worlds great Eye
'What spreading Sables of Egyptian Night
'Would rob the Earth of its illustrious Light?
'What interposing Fog obscures our Sun?
'What dire Eclipse benights our Horizon?
'Is England's Great and Royal Bridegroom fled?
'Is its Aurora newly gone to Bed,
'That scattered Clouds make such prodigious haste,
'Combine in one, and re-unite so fast?
'Clouds that so lately dissipated were,
'Do now conspire to make a darker Air.
'I mourn unpitied, groan without relief;
'No bounds nor measures terminate my grief,
'The Sluces of mine Eyes are too too narrow
'To vent the Streams of my increasing sorrow.
'Ebbs follow swelling Floods, and springing Days
'Adorn the Fields which Winter dis-arrays.
'All States and Things have their alternate ranges,
'As Providence the Scene of Action changes.
'All Revolutions hurry to and fro,
'Yet rest and settlement at length do know.
'But helpless I have often lookt about
'To find some ease and Soul refreshment out,
'Yet can I see no prospect of relief,
'But swift additions multiply my grief,
'As Pilgrims wander in their great distress
'Amongst the wild rapacious Savages,
In pathless Desarts, where the midnight howls
Of hungry Wolves mixt with the screech of Owls,
And Ravens dismal croaks salute the Ears
Of poor Erratick trembling Passengers.
'So I'm surrounded, so the Beasts of prey
'Conspire to take my Life and Name away.
'My glowing Soul does melt, my Spirits faint
'For want of vent, I'm pregnant with complaint;
'No Age nor Generation but has known
'Some part of this my just and grievous moan,
'But now I'm far more dangerously charg'd
'By bolder Foes; my sorrows are enlarg'd,
'A Hellish Tribe of black Avernus Crew,
'Do Blood-hound like, me and my Lambs pursue.
'Lord Jesus come; O Christ, let me invoke,
'Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke.
'Have all my Friends forsook me? Are there none
'To ease my woes? Ah must I grieve alone?
Sion's Friend.
'What doleful noise salutes my listning Ear?
'What grief expressing voice is that I hear?
'Methinks the accent of this dismal cry
'Issues from one in great extremity;
'The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks
'A Womans loud and unregarded shrieks.
'The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed,
'The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed.
'Ah! who can find her out? who can make known
'The Author of this Heart-relenting moan;
'Doubtless though sorrow now has seiz'd upon her,
'She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour,
'Of Royal Stem, extracted from above,
'Nurs'd in the Chambers of the Fathers Love,
'Espoused to a most Illustrious Prince,
'Who over all has Just Preheminence,
'Monarch of Monarchs!
'Ah Sion! is it thou?
'Oh mourn my Soul, Oh let my Spirit bow;
'Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief,
'For Sion weeps as if past all relief;
'But why, O Sion, (since thou art belov'd
'Of Heaven's Supream) art thou so sadly mov'd?
'Why with stretcht Arms dost thou implore the Skies?
'Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes?
'This makes me wonder.
Sion.
'My forlorn Estate
'Is poor, unpitied, mean and desolate.
'I long have wandred in the Wilderness,
'Involv'd in trouble and in sore distress;
'In Caves absconding from the horrid rage
'Of savage Beasts; until this latter Age.
'Yet when I but attempted to look out,
'The Monsters to destroy me searcht about;
'The roaring Bloud-hounds greedy on the scent,
'To kill or drive me back again are bent.
'No interval of peace, no rest they give,
'Pronounce me cursed, and not fit to live.
'The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast
'To gore my sides, and spoil my Interest;
'Th' old Lion, Lyonness, and the Lyons whelp,
'With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help.
'Dogs, Bulls and Foxes, Bears and Wolves agree
'To rend and tear, and make a spoil of me.
'I that have been so delicately bred,
'My Children at the Royal Table fed,
'Am now expos'd to the Infernal spight
'Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight.
'Hatch Plo…s in Hell and Rome, whose black desig
'Is to stab Monarchs, and to undermine
'Our Ancient Laws, subvert Religion, and
'Bow Englands Neck to Antichrists command.
'These were Fore-runners of that dismal Doom
'Of Fire and Faggot, which the Whore of Rome
'Prepar'd for English Protestants, and the rest,
'Who won't adore the Image of the Beast.
'I am the mark these Monsters aim at; all
'Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall.
'If Friends or Strangers any favour show,
'They straight conspire to work their overthrow.
1678. 'Ah vile Conspiracy! Ah cursed Plot!
'So deeply laid; How canst thou be forgot?
'Th' Infernal Conclave ne're produc'd a Brat
'Into the world so horrible as that,
'Since Rome Usurpt the Western Monarchy,
'Which she still Rules with Fraud and Treachery,
'In forging Plots, imploying Hellish Actors;
'Ah! let us treat 'um as the Devils Factors.
'Distressed Sion O how few regard
'My sighs and tears, their Hearts are grown so ha…
'My restless Hurricanes with storms and wind,
'No ease, no peace, no comfort can I find;
''The horrid aspect of these Monsters do
'Affright my Children, some they worry too,
'Others they seize like greedy Beasts of prey,
'And to their Den the Sacrifice convey.
'Renowned GODFREY whose immortal Glory
'Martyr'd for me shall ever live in Story;
'Let every Loyal Eye that reads it there,
'Yield to his name the Tribute of a Tear.
'Brave Soul! thy Love and Loyalty do claim
'That King and People should proclaim thy name
'As England's Victim, ne're to be forgot,
'Fastning on Rome an Everlasting blot.
'The Great Jehovah who is only wise,
'Permits thy fall as a sweet Sacrifice.
'Thy barbarous Murder has made clearly out
'That Plot which none but Infidels now doubt.
'Those bloody Varlets, black Assassinates,
'Curst Executioners of Rome's Debates,
'Drunk with Infernal cruelty, made thee
'A Specimen of England's Tragedy.
'By thee we learn what curtesie to hope
'From Romish Butchers, Vassals to the Pope
'Thou led'st the Van, first fell'st into the Trap
'From whence they hope't no Protestant should scape.
'Poor Innocent! trepann'd amongst them came
'Into their Nets like a poor harmless Lamb,
'Whilst they like hungry Tygers ready stood
'T' imbrue their Tallons in thy guiltless Blood.
'Thou little dream'dst such an Infernal snare
'Had there been laid t' intrap thee unaware.
'Tis strange (say some) what reason should ing…
'Them to make thee the Object of their rage;
'Some think 'twas 'cause the Babylonish Whore,
'Big with a Bastard long'd as heretofore
'For Christian Blood; Her Favourites made haste
'In her great need to help her to a taste
'Of choicest Liquors; thine she calls for first,
'To cheer her sinking Heart, and quench her Thir▪
'Fearing miscarriage; when her Spirits faint
'She drinks the Hearts blood of some Martyr'd Sain
'Insatiate, like the Horse-leech still she cries,
'Give, give me that, there's nought else will suffice
'My craving Paunch; my pleasure must be done
'This Heretick was a Pragmatick one,
'He knew my secret Clubs, and would reveal
'My Tragick Plots; we must prevent his Zeal,
'Let's strangle him before he does relate
'The Villanies we intend to perpetrate.
'Ah brutish Whore, of Canibals the worst,
'For this curst draught be thou for ever curst;
'In the most lasting Records let us see
'This horrid instance of thy cruelty.
'This Loyal Knight ne're injur'd thee, but stood
'Upright for Justice, and his Countreys good.
'Will nought but Blood of Protestants give ease?
'Or quench thy thirst? What mischievous Disease
'Infects thy Bowels? Must your Churches food
'Be Flesh of Saints? Your Mornings draught their Blood▪
'Fellonious Strumpet! dar'st thou be so bold
'To steal by night into thy Neighbours Fold,
'And seize my Lambs? Thy Theft and Cruelty,
'And all thy Murders shall revenged be.
'But since he's gone and Justice does pursue
'With eager steps the Assassinating Crew,
'We'l acquiesce; for Heav'n now seems to call,
'And bid tears cease, at his sad Funeral.
'Let Christians offer through the Universe
'Whole Hecatombs upon his bleeding Herse.
'And could their tears increase into a Floud
''Twere no excess; so much I prize his Bloud.
THus, thus did I in Eighty make sad moan
For that brave Hero who was dead and gone;
But Oh my Heart!—A Cordial presently,
My Spirits faint! Ah me! Help Lord! I die
Unless I have relief, I can't sustain
My sinking Soul! was ever any pain
Or sorrow equal to what I now feel?
My burd'ned mind under her weight does reel.
Oh since that year what woes have I beheld!
How have my mournful Eyes with tears been fill'd?
I then did fear what since is come to pass
As in that Treatise plainly hinted was.
Did Rachel mourn, and all relief refuse,
How then can I forbear? How can I chuse
But weep, and to lament for my sad Lot?
What Children have I lost? who now are not.
Did I for one such Lamentation make?
My Bowels now may surely throb and ake,
When I recount how many since are gone,
Who murdered were by bloody Babylon.
1681. Poor Colledge first before this Idol fell,
Betray'd to death by Evidence from Hell;
To drink his Blood there seem'd to be some strife,
Was twice Indicted; they must have his Life:
Yet they could never shake his constancy,
Hear his great Soul sing his own Elegy.