A New Martyrology, Poem 2
A POEM To the MEMORY of GEORGE Lord JEFFREYS.
I Cannot hold, hot struggling Rage aspires,
And crowds my free-born breast wit… nobl… fires;
Whilst prudent fools squeak Treason through the Nose,
And whine a quivering Vote in sneaking Prose,
My Muse soars out of reach, and dares despise
What e're below atte…pts to Tyrannize.
Tho I by some base Nero shou…d be clad
In such a Gown as the old Christians had,
In Clouds of Satyr up to Heaven I'de roul,
For he could burn my shell, but not my Soul.
Tho Nature her auspicious aid refuse,
Revenge and Anger shall inspire my Muse:
Nature has given me a complaining part,
And murder'd Protestants a resenting Heart.
Then room for bloody Jeffreys, or he'll swear
By all the Aps from St. Cadwalladar;
Prutus hur creat Cranfather, if hur enquire,
And Adam's Cranfather was Prutus sire;
Famous ap Sh…nkin was hur elder Brother,
Some Caledonian Sycorax hur Mother:
Or some she De'il more damn'd than all the rest,
At their bla…k Feast hur lustful Sir… comprest:
Thence do I th…nk this C…codemon rose,
Whose wrathful Ey…s his inward baseness shows;
His shape is all inhum…n and uncouth,
But yet he's chiefly Dev…l about the MOUTH;
With care this Brat was nurs'd, for fear it shou'd
Grow tame, and so degen'rate into good:
With City charte…s he was wrap'd about,
And Acts of Parliament for swadling-clout:
As he grew up, he won a noble Fame,
For which Squire Ketch hath sworn him publick shame.
And won't it be a pretty sight to see't,
The Hang man, Rope, and bloody Jeffreys meet?
Jeffreys who cherisht spite, as all can tell;
Jeffreys who was the darling Brat of Hell.
Oft with success this migh…y Blast did bawl,
Where loudest Lungs▪ and biggest Words win all;
And still his clenched Arguments did end
With that home-thrust, He is not Caesar's Friend.
Sometimes that jaded Ears he might release,
Good Man! he has been fee'd to hold his Peace.
Hear him, but never see him, and you'd swear
He was the Cry…r, not the Counseller:
He roars, as if he only chanc'd to find
Justice was now grown deaf as well as blind,
This D…my fi…nd, this Hurricane of Man
Was sent to butcher all i'th' West he can:
'Twas him the Popish Party wisely chose
To splutter Law, and the dinn'd Rabble pose:
They have a thousand Tongues, yet he can roar
Far louder, tho they had a thousand more,
Unto long winded Cook he scorns to go,
But Pleads, His Majesty will have it so.
He's for all Mischief set, by Nature bred;
He rails at all before him, and is fed
Hyaena like, by tearing up the Dead.
Th'unluckiest Satyrist alive, that still
Writes his own Character in all that's ill.
Of all the World most fit a Vice t' expose,
That all its Cause, Effects and Motions knows,
Stranger to none can no advantage lose.
Big with conceit the empty shape looks great.
His own dear self obligingly doth treat:
Rewards his Soul in any garb will lap,
His ductile Soul will put on any shape:
Vice hath his Patronage, and there's no fear
But Hell in time may his Protection share,
The rather'cause the God of Gold is there.
He courts loud rumour, but l…ts truth alone,
Conscious of guilt, he shuns being justly known,
And by's oft changing flyes a definition.
Learn'd, but in ill; Ingenious, but in spite;
Virtuous by accident, by chance a Wit;
Modest, when beat; in suffering valiant;
Honest, when forc'd; and moderate when in want;
True, but for interest; Civil, but for dread;
Devout for Alms; and Loyal but for bread.
Thy mushroom Greatness I dare now arraign,
For all thy Hectoring now will be in vain.
Here, take this Pass, ere we for ever part;
Then run, and then Farewell with all my heart.
The Lawyers yelling in their feign'd debate.
And the fleec'd Client's Wisdom, all too late;
The keeping Cully's Jealousie and Care,
The slighted Lover's Maggots and Despair;
A Womans Body every day to dress,
A fickle Soul, little as theirs, or less;
The Courtiers business, th' Impudence o'th' Stage,
And the defeated Father Peter's Rage;
A Clock …ork Spouse with loud eternal Clack,
A Shop i'th' Change still ty'd to What d'ye lack:
Worse than these last, if any Curses more
Ovid e're knew, or fiercer Oldham's store;
'Till not one part in Body or Soul be free,
May all their barbed Vengeance show'r on thee:
Pres…'d with their weight, long may'st thou raving lye,
En…ying an Halter, but not dare to dye:
And when Condemn'd thou dost thy Clergy plead,
Some frightful Fiend deny thee Power to read;
Madness, Despair, Confusion, Rage and Shame
Attend you to the Place from whence you came:
To Tyburn thee let carrion Horses draw,
In jolting Cart, without so much as straw;
Jaded, may they lye down i'th' road, and tyr'd,
And (worse than one fair hanging, twice bemir'd)
May'st thou be maul'd with Pulchers Sexton's Sermon
'Till thou roar out Hemp-sake, Drive on Car-man.
Pelted and Curst i'th' road by every one,
E'ne to be h…ng'd may'st thou the Gauntlet run.
Not one good Woman who in Conscience can
Cry out, —'Tis pity, — Troth, a proper Man.
Stupid and dull, may'st thou rub off like Hone,
Without an open, or a smother'd groan:
May the Knot miss the place, and fitted be
To plague and torture, not deliver thee;
Be half a day a Dying thus, and then
Revive like Savage, to be Hang'd agen.
In pi…y now thou shalt no longer Live,
For when thus sati…fi'd, I can forgive.
John Carter.