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- Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry - 4/10 -


A greater Miracle than this; A Visage which, with comly Grace, Did twenty _Garnets_ now outface: Nay, to the Wonder to add more, Declare unheard-of things before; And thousand Myst'ries does unfold, As plain as Oracles of old, By which we steer Affairs of State, And stave off _Britain's_ sullen Fate. Let's then, in Honour of the Name Of _OATES_, enact some Solemn Game, Where Oaten Pipe shall us inspire Beyond the charms of _Orpheus_ Lyre; Stone, Stocks, and e'ery sensless thing To _Oates_ shall dance, to _Oates_ shall sing, Whilst Woods amaz'd to t'Ecchoes ring. And that this Hero's Name may not, When they are rotten, be forgot, We'll hang Atchievments o'er their Dust, A Debt we owe to Merits just So if Deserts of _Oates_ we prize, Let _Oates_ still hang before our Eyes, Thereby to raise our contemplation, _Oates_ being to this happy Nation A Mystick Emblem of Salvation.

THE MIRACLE.

TO THE TUNE OF "O YOUTH, THOU HADST BETTER BEEN STARVED AT NURSE."

I.

You Catholick States-men and Church-men, rejoyce, And praise Heaven's Goodness with Heart and with Voice; None greater on Earth or in Heaven than She, Some say she's as good as the best of the Three. Her miracles bold Were famous of old, But a Braver than this was never yet told; 'Tis pity that every good Catholick living Had not heard on't before the last Day of Thanksgiving.

II.

In _Lombardy-Land_ great _Modena's_ Duchess [3] Was snatched from her Empire by Death's cruel clutches; When to Heaven she came (for thither she went) Each Angel received her with Joy and Content. On her knees she fell down, Before the bright Throne, And begged that God's Mother would grant her one Boon: Give _England_ a Son (at this Critical Point) To put little _Orange's_ Nose out of Joynt.

III.

As soon as our Lady had heard her Petition, To _Gabriel_, the Angel, she strait gave Commission; She pluck'd off her Smock from her _Shoulders Divine_, And charg'd him to hasten to _England's_ fair Queen. "Go to the Royal Dame, To give her the same, And bid her for ever to praise my Great Name, For I, in her favour, will work such a Wonder, Shall keep the most Insolent Hereticks under.

IV.

"Tell _James_ (my best son) his part of the matter Must be with this only to cover my daughter; Let him put it upon her with's own Royal Hand, Then let him go travel to visit the Land; And the Spirit of Love Shall come from above, Though not as before, in form of a Dove; Yet down He shall come in some likeness or other (Perhaps like Count _Dada_), and make her a Mother."

V.

The Message with Hearts full of Faith was receiv'd, And the next news we heard was _Q. M._ conceiv'd; You great ones Converted, poor cheated Dissenters, Grave Judges, Lords, Bishops, and Commons Consenters, You Commissioners all Ecclesiastical, From _M_...[4] the Dutiful to _C_...[5] the Tall, Pray Heav'n to strengthen Her Majesties Placket, For if this Trick fail, beware of your Jacket.

[Footnote 3: Maria Laura d'Este.]

[Footnote 4: John, Earl of Mulgrave, Lord Chamberlain of the Household.]

[Footnote 5: William, Earl of Craven.]

THE PATRIOTS.

WRIT ABOUT THE YEAR 1700.

I.

Ye worthy Patriots, go on To heal the Nation's Sores, Find all Men's Faults out but your own, Begin good Laws, but finish none, And then shut up your Doors.

II.

Fail not our Freedom to secure, And all our Friends disband, And send those Men to t'other Shore Who were such Fools as to come o'er To help this grateful Land.

III.

And may the next that hears us pray, And in Distress relieve us, Go home like those without their Pay, And with Contempt be sent away For having once believ'd us.

IV.

And if the _French_ should e'er attempt This Nation to invade, May they be damn'd that list again, But lead the fam'd Militia on, To be like us betray'd.

V.

As for the Crown you have bestow'd, With all its Limitations, The meanest Prince in _Christendom_ Would never stir a Mile from home To govern three such Nations.

VI.

The King himself, whom once you call'd Your Saviour in Distress, You in his first Request deny'd, And then his Royal Patience try'd With a canting sham Address.

VII.

Ye are the Men that to be chose Wou'd be at no Expences, Who love no Friends, nor fear no Foes, Have ways and means that no Man knows To mortify your Senses.

VIII.

Ye are the Men that can condemn By Laws made _ex post facto_, Who can make Knaves of honest Men, And married Women turn again To be Virgo and Intacta.

IX.

Go on to purify the Court, And damn the Men of Places Till decently you send them home, And get your selves put in their room, And then you'll change your Faces.

X.

Go on for to establish Trade, And mend our Navigation, Let India invade, And borrow on Funds will ne'er be paid, And Bankrupt all the Nation.

XI.

'Tis you that calculate our Gold, And with a senseless Tone, Vote that you never understood, That we might take them if we wou'd Or let them all alone.

XII.

Your Missives you send round about


Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry - 4/10

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