THE HISTORY OF THE Life & Martyrdom OF S t. GEORGE, THE Titular Patron of England: With his Conversion of Arabia by kil­ling of a dreadful Dragon, and deliver­ing the Kings Daughter.

By THOMAS LOWICK, Gent.

LONDON, Printed by J. Best, for WILLIAM CROOK, at the three Bibles on Fleet-Bridge, 1664.

Licensed,

June 24. 1664.
ROGER LESTRANGE.

TO THE KINGS Most Excellent Majesty.

Dread Soveraign,
I Have read so many lying Books set forth
Of great St. George w ch much obscur'd his worth,
That much I mus'd and grieved for to see
None of the sharers in the Daphnean Tree,
For King, for Patron, and for Countries sake,
Did such a glorious Subject undertake:
And their neglect only made me so bold,
Though aged now eighty and two years old,
with my old withered Hand to write upon
The noblest Subject that the world hath one,
And have with all Sincerity set down,
St. George his Martial deeds and Martyrdom:
Vouchsafe then gratious Monarch for to take
This little Poem for your Patrons sake:
For in my judgement never English King
Had greater cause than You, to honour Him:
Heroick force and Martial form withal,
Twixt King and Patron were collateral,
And that bright Orb where Mars is stellifi'd,
'Did equal influence 'twixt you both divide:
And your great daring both as boundless were
As that bold youth's, Apollo's Charioteer:
Be pleased then earths greatest Martial King,
To hear your Vassal on your Patron sing,
And do vouchsafe him your propitious eyes,
He perisheth unless you Patronize.
Your Majesties most Humble Subject, THOMAS LOWICK.
July 6. 1664.

THE Life & Martyrdom OF S t. GEORGE.

ST. George, the Patron of our English men,
Was the Descendent of a Knightly stem,
Great Arms professors, and to their great fame,
Professors all of Jesus Christ his Name.
His Father Sir Patritius was train'd
In Caesars Wars, and Martial honour gain'd:
Where ventring for the conquest of the Field,
He dyed renown'd, under his sword and Shield;
Leaving St. George, who was his only Son,
For to inherit great Possessions young;
Which he committing to a Stewards care,
Left Cappadocia his birth honour'd Air;
And with his Mother liv'd in Palestine,
Where he was School'd in rudiments Divine,
Till stealing Time and Nature lent to him
More force then Hectors in Armes managing;
And as compleat a beauty fix'd thereon,
As had the Scriptures much-prais'd Absolon;
Nor wanted in his fair external frame,
Those moral gifts should dignifie the same:
Both Wit and Valour in his beauteous shape,
In such large measure did predominate,
That he was natures Manuscript indeed,
Where her prerogatives the world might read:
And lest he should sinisterly incline,
God stor'd his bosom with such gifts Divine,
That not so fair a type of Christ was then,
As great St. George, amongst the sons of men;
And heimbellish'd, thus himself addrest,
For Martial service in true honours quest;
For which being come unto the Court of Rome,
Great Caesar noting his indowments soon,
Mov'd with his Fathers death and Martial force,
He made St. George the General of his Horse;
Where like a prodigal of life did he,
Supply that place so magnanimously,
That never Rome in all her swelling pride
Saw her bold sons led by a braver Guide;
Nor one that boldlier led the Imperial Horse
Through their proud foes with more robustous force
He charg'd them through, and charg'd them back again,
And brought his Troops where first he placed them,
And ceas'd not charging till the foes all were
Dispers'd, and run like scatter'd Herds of Deer;
Yet never Trumpet his bold Conquest sounded,
Before the listing of his slain and wounded;
Whom he still with sad sighs and watry eyes,
Would see born back to honour'd obsequies;
That his brave actions from conjunction move
Of Martial fire, and fire of sacred love.
He courts the bold Bellona with his Horse,
And snatch'd her favours with such strenuous force,
That the Iron Goddess did enamoured grow,
And her coy favours on this Champion throw;
And Mars look'd envious from his fiery star,
To see his great Competitor in War,
And jealous to see his Bellona court him,
Whilst he in field so Martially did sport him,
That his appearance 'mongst his foes was fear'd,
Like to the blazing of a Comets beard;
None was so bold to tempt an angry fate,
Or buy his honour at so dear a rate,
As to encounter this Knight hand to hand,
But spelded duty on the groaning land:
And those Commanders which through proud disdain,
Loath'd for to hear the swelling of his fame,
And spur'd with glory thirst in fears despight,
Would needs buy honours of this valiant Knight,
He sent as Nuncioes to black Acheron,
To tell th' exploits the Red-cross Knight had done;
And bid those Ghosts their sulpherous vaults to cleanse,
For those proud guests St. George would send from thence;
And those which scape with life his swords incision,
And captives laid in Provost Martials prison,
Had rather live there then again go feel,
The ponderous blows of his remorseless steel:
In brief, his great exploits and Martial glory,
Fill'd all th' Italian Confines with his story;
For great St. George had never Paragon,
But that immortal Champion which St. John
Saw riding on the white Horse from Heavens gates,
Rev. 6.2.
With power to conquer earths proud Potentates;
Yet his sweet candor during all the War,
Made many others seem canicular;
For all the darts and swords in Vulcans forge,
Like tender pitty pierc'd not princely George.
That little child Christ let the Apostles see,
To teach them meekness, was lesse meek then he;
Whose actions like learn'd Lectures taught the rude,
That love is still betroath'd to fortitude.
How then learn'd Homer didst thou so digress,
To stile thy stormy Graecian valorous?
The valiant should he like that God and man,
Which David Lion, Esaiah called Lamb:
So was St. George, who ne're did internect
A torvous look within his mild aspect;
He never was dejected nor elate,
With Protean changes of unconstant fate;
Nor did he ever vulgar Plaudit seek,
Vain glorious breath did never swell his cheek.
But my rude laudes injure his vertues glory,
Therefore I leave them and relate his story.
Whilst he and his Comrades enlarge the lands
Of their great Caesar with successful hands,
Came an Embassage from th' Arabian coast,
And thus annunciates to that famous hoast:
You Mars starr'd children of victorious Rome,
Commanded by th' Arabian King I come
To Romes great Monarch, at whose feet do bow
The greatest Potentates on earth below,
His aid and best assistance to request,
Against a Monster doth our Land infest;
Whose dreadful sight, unto the eyes of man,
Exceeds the terror of Leviathan;
And for the vastness of his size doth pass,
That monstrous Horse the Graecians made of brass,
And by his entrails works us more annoy,
Then the dissolving of that Horse, did Troy;
This Monster hath affixed wings and fins,
And flies through Air, and through the water swims,
And from his entrails he exhaleth breath,
Which doth depopulate each place with death;
Nor will our Gods or Priests give their consent,
We by removal scape this punishment;
For Jove, (as all our Priests affirm) did bring,
This Monster for to vindicate our sin;
And therefore do we offer every day,
A Maid of noble linage for his prey;
By Joves decree, whose Priest expresly saith,
Those Virgins blood must expiate his wrath;
And having had Joves preordained number,
The monster will no more our Land incumber.
But at the last their Sacriledge did bring,
Unto that fate, the daughter of our King;
Who for her birth sake hath by Joves consent,
An hundred dayes to her in respite lent;
But then as an Oblation must be ty'd,
Unto a Pillar neer the Cities side;
Upon the margent of a Lake profound,
Which doth circumplicate an Orb of ground,
Wherein this ugly Dragon hath his Den,
Within the concave of a loathsom Fen;
From whence he cometh to the Town each day,
To fetch the Virgin his oblated prey;
Which if he find not at the pillar plac'd,
His pest and ravine doth our City waste.
Now therefore Romans unto you I came,
Because to us it is divulg'd by fame,
Here is a God call'd Jesus Christ, whose power
Surpasseth all the gods that we adore,
And that his servants far more potent are,
Then Mars, Apollo, or great Jupiter;
If therefore that great God would some design,
And him invertue with his power Divine,
To kill this Dragon, and set free our Land,
His Altars should in all our Temples stand;
And that same Champion so select by him,
Shall have great honours from th' Arabian King.
Which words did make that canvass builded City
Much moved, both with wonder and with pitty:
But not a tongue durst speak of Jesus Name,
Lest his bold words to Caesars hearing came,
Until St. George whose never daunted brest,
Much longing to divulge the power of Christ,
Replied, Arabian, loe I am the man,
Which dare encounter that Leviathan,
And shall thereby discriminate the odds,
'Twixt Jesus Christ and your deluding gods;
For if I do not Heavens decrees misconster,
I am design'd the ruin of that Monster;
And hope my Imperial Lord will lend to me
Some certain time to set that Princess free;
And if I do survive, I vow my hands,
Shall expeditiously wait his commands:
But by these words the Emperor did find,
His General was to Christian Faith inclin'd,
And vexed said, Let the mad Christian go,
I cannot match him with a fitter foe;
But then the Arabian said, Brave Champion, know,
It is not your hand nor a thousand moe,
Can conquer him, Christ must his Champion save,
Or the great Dragons guts must be his grave;
But yet this fearless Knight himself addrest
Unto Arabia on this famous quest,
And came at last conducted by his Guide,
Unto Berytus their chief Cities side,
Upon whose Walls the Citizens appear,
In sable Robes to shew their mournful cheer;
Expecting, now this being the latest day,
To see the Dragon fetch his Royal prey.
But as they gaz'd, behold this Christian Knight,
Approached neer upon a Courser bright;
On whose white back reflective Sun-beams shine,
From his guilt Armor like some light Divine,
Making th' amazed gazers to suppose,
Some glory did both man and horse inclose;
And others which were more idolatrous,
Thought him their day-god on his Pegasus:
But surely of this Knight spoke David then,
That God from Angels scarce distinguish'd men;
For he appeared in as glorious show,
As that arm'd Angel came to Jerico;
For never Knight in combat lift, but he,
Appeared with such God-like Majesty;
Nor of our English or Barbarian breed,
Could ever Horse compare with his white Steed;
So that all circling Titan ne're lent light
Unto so brave or so well-mounted Knight.
But as St. George rode thus in Martial guise,
Loe his fair eye as fair an Object spies;
For here alas, the Kings sole Daughter stands,
Ty'd to a Pillar by her dainty hands:
This being th' appointed day, her woful fate,
The Priests of Jove would not procrastinate;
So there she stood, and like an Angel shone,
In purest lawns, fret o're with gold and stone,
Which scarce her bosoms candor could conceal,
It gave such luster through that slender vail;
Her dangling tresses strove her face to hide,
Scorning to prostitute rich natures pride;
Or lest some eyes, gazing on her fair cheek,
Should lose themselves, and have their light to seek;
For she all Ladies did surpass as far
As orbed Cynthia doth the dimmest star;
And nature had exprest in her such power,
As she ne're daind to shew the world before;
For since th'alternate course of nights and dayes,
Shone never Lady with such sideral blaze;
And sure her piteous looks were then so sweet,
As had made Tygers prostrate at her feet;
Or calm'd the Dragon with her eyes sweet glance,
Without th'assistance of St. George his Lance;
But as she raised her dejected eyes,
St. George the star of Knighthood she espies,
Who after congeant tender of his duty,
To her the Phenix of all mortal beauty,
Said, Royal Princess, I am a Christian Knight,
Which with this dreadful Dragon came to fight;
Drawn hither from th' Italian Wars with pitty,
Of your distress, and this abused City;
And am resolv'd to win your liberty,
Or have precedence in your Tragedy.
Brave Knight, said she again, return again,
I prize thy love, but thy attempt is vain:
Hadst thou the cloud-supporting Atlas power,
Or wert sublime and strong as Babels Tower,
The suffocation of this Dragons breath,
Would leave thee inclos'd in the cold arms of death;
For Jove himself did this great Monster bring;
Thou dost oppose our gods opposing him:
What honour then bold Knight canst thou attain,
To cast thy self away for glory vain?
Or what avails it now proud Phaeton,
That he rid in the chariot of the Sun?
Do not therefore such daring actions follow;
Take councel, and be not thy own Apollo.
To whom the valiant Knight reply'd again,
Fair Princess, you do much mistake my aim;
My youth's not heated with vain glorious fire,
Nor your rare beauties, which all else admire;
I came not hither on such vain pretence,
My mission is of greater consequence;
The finger of the Christian God points me
To overthrow your vain idolatry;
This Monster here was meerly bred by kind,
Nor was he hither sent by Jove assign'd;
Though Jove would now the King tempt to such evil,
As offering his fair Daughter to the Devil;
For trust me Madam, those you gods do call,
Are manufacts and things inanimal,
Wherein the damned spirits augurize,
To make the simple give them sacrifice;
Yet know not those damn'd Angels things to come,
Nor have they prescience of the Almighties doom;
But intermix conjectural truths with lyes,
Which proves they are but Devils, not Deities:
But Jesus Christ torments those gods of yours,
Which are but damned subterranean powers,
With dateless pains; Nor could they move from thence,
But by the leave of his Omnipotence:
Be happy then, and expiate Gods wrath,
By your conversion to the Christian Faith;
And doubt not but he will invertue me,
In spight of all those Devils to set you free.
Renowned Christian, said this Royal Maid,
But contrite sighs a space her speeches stayd;
And then with tear-imbalmed words said She,
Brave Knight, thy speech so consolateth me,
That sure some great and secret power Divine,
Involved in this verbal Air of thine,
Exhaleth those gross errors which of late.
Did my dark soul so much obnubilate;
For loe me thinks our vain idolatry.
Appeareth in such sordid nudity,
That all versutious idols now I hate,
And unto Christ my service consecrate:
Which verbal Air of hers more grateful came
Then odours from the Phenix funeral flames
And like an Incense-offering did present
It self unto the great Almighties scent;
It pleased God, and comforted this Knight,
As Manna did the starved Abramite;
But loe from mural Towers adjacent neer,
Much people which their conference did hear,
And subinvited by celestial grace,
Resolv'd the Faith of Jesus to embrace;
To which effect a Messenger was sent,
To internunciate thus the Kings intent:
Bold Christian Knight, if that thy God set free
This woful Lady by thy Victory,
We will renounce our gods, and Christ agnize,
The indubitable Regent of the skies:
Which Message to St. George did comfort bring,
As Samuel to Saul annointing him;
Or, as that Angel which to Abraham came,
And held his sword when Isaac should be slain;
And made Heavens joyful Angels sing sweet notes,
To hear the Consort of such heavenly votes;
No wonder seeing its the Gospels voice,
All Angels at one Convertite rejoyce:
And now St. George confided he was sent
On this exploit by Heavens atturnament;
And his most sacred Zeal those souls to win,
Like Sampsons locks invigorateth him,
Making his valiant heart so hate delay,
That thus he objurgates the Dragons stay;
When lands the Dragon on this Lakes broad marge,
I must go make my barded Steed my Barge;
And rouze him in his Water fenced Fen,
Within the cavern of his loathsom Den:
But as he spoke, luctiferous noises rise
From off the Walls, like Irish Funeral cryes;
For they behold, though to behold they fear,
The Dragons head, and flaming eyes appear:
It seems the genius of Berytus City
Had rous'd the Monster out of sacred pitty,
To expedite his death, and vilifie
Th'inshrined Jupiters false Prophesie;
For loe the Dragon longing for his prey,
Through the broad Lake cuts out his froathy way,
Driving before him billows to the side,
Like Aquilonian storms, or New-moon tyde,
That by the fluctuous Lake St. George doth know
The monstrous size of his approaching foe;
Yet boldly without fear he took his stand
In most commodious place of all the Land;
From whence he met him with such fierce careir,
He quite transpierc'd him with his fatal Spear;
Whilst on his scaly breast his Horses knees
Beat like a ram compos'd of Oaken trees,
And turn'd him o're with such impetuous might,
That Tellus bosom trembled with his weight;
But yet it seemed that his conquering Lance
Had miss'd his heart by some sinister chance;
For loe the Dragon recollecting force,
With furious charge encounters man and horse;
And now the Monster, and this Christian Knight,
For the survivership so fiercely fight,
That never was encounters like to these,
Since Hells great porter fought with Hercules;
And sure the Knight had dyed, but heavenly power
Subsisted him in this robustous stowre:
It seems th'Almighty was disposed then,
By ruin of the Dragon of this Fen,
Th'Archangels conquest to configurate,
Against the Dragon of the Stygean Lake;
For loe St. George in heat of Martial pride,
With deadly wounds doth carve his scaly hide,
And with a ponderous blow nigh cleft his brain,
Which did subvert him on the sandy Plain;
Wherewith he cry'd, that his loud yells did enter
Through all the concaves of earths vaulted center;
Making all Tellus bosom dance for joy,
To see her self freed from so great annoy;
Or else may be th'Avernal Potentate,
Leaving the Dragon he possess'd of late,
Expanded now his passage to Hells strand,
And caus'd that tremefaction of the Land;
But howsoe're it was our conquering Knight,
Dreadless of Devil or Dragon, plyes the fight;
And at the last with his sharp piercing blade,
Unto his heart so wide a passage made,
That from his bulk run torrents of such gore,
As nigrified the black Lake more and more;
And cutting off his Head, did it advance,
Against the Walls upon his Oaken Lance;
Then joyfully that Princess hands unties,
And to Berytus led his beauteous prize:
Thus like those twins of light the Sun and Moon,
Their darksom clouds of danger over-blown,
With tedious fixure they retain each eye,
T' admire their beauties intersplendency;
But as they progress to the Palace gate,
The King did meet them in all pompous state,
With all his Lords and Peeres of chiefest ranks,
To tender both their welcom and their thanks;
And to the Palace did conduct their guest,
Where his great entertainment was exprest
With all the delicates that could be wish'd
By the most Epicureal Palatist;
And with all curious shows they could devise
To make the Court a type of Paradise;
For all the Court in plenitude exprest
Their joyes to that freed Princess and her guest;
In which great Jubile they take content,
Like two freed souls from the dark Limbus sent,
T' Elysian joyes; but worldly honours weights,
With their Auxilaries the Courts delights,
Like armed squadrons did attempt by force
St. George his love from Jesus to divorce;
But being indorsed with such burthens then,
And knowing the proclivity of men,
Like wise Ʋlysses instantly he parted
From amorous Myrmaids which his course diverted;
And in that great and spatious Palace Hall
St. George did convocate the Princes all,
And with Angelick eloquence exprest,
The life and Miracles of Jesus Christ,
Connecting by such learn'd Theologie,
To their effect each sacred Prophesie,
That all Prophetick Scriptures did appear
Compleat in Christ which in the Bibles were;
By which great Majesty of sacred Writ,
All did the indenegable truth admit;
And throwing all their Idols in the flame,
With general Jubile confest Christs Name,
And promis'd to erect magnificent
And sumptuous Temples to th' Omnipotent;
For whose Conversion did St. George assign
The thank and glory to the grace Divine;
And now his Voyage he intends again,
To Caesars Tents to glorifie Christs Name;
For whose departure, both the King and Queen,
With all the Court, in sable Robes were seen;
For never Knight such cordial interest gain'd
In a whole Cities love, since earth was fram'd;
Yet he Apostle-like all gifts denyed,
Wherewith the bounteous King him gratified,
Except the Idols melted gold, the King
Did there compulsively confer on him,
Which as a Monument he did transport,
To witness his exploits in Caesars Court,
And then was reconducted with a Train
Of honour'd persons to the shore again;
Where, after many valedictions past,
His canvas winged Ship he boards at last;
Whilst Heavens commanded Neptune as he passes,
Makes smooth his prosperous way with looking-glasses;
And Cynthia came to visit him by night,
And court his favours with full orbed light;
But doubtful he should such a Lady scorn,
As he should find behind a bush of thorn:
Inexorable Aeolus likewise
Did tender his unconstant courtesies;
And for his convoy sent a prosperous gale,
Which to the shore brought safe his swelling sail;
Where being landed with Berytians sent,
For to conduct him to great Caesars Tent,
And in his presence there to testifie,
His Champions great exploit and valiancie;
Making the Emperor take a great delight,
To hear the bold deportment of his Knight,
And by his absence now they understand,
How much depended on his powerful hand;
Who striving to respond their great expects,
No glorious opportunities neglects:
But when his Troops lie vacant, sendeth forth
Some Trumpeter, 'mongst men of Martial worth,
To see if any in base feats despight,
Durst venture combat with this valiant Knight;
And if his service be in open War,
He still doth charge where greatest perils are,
And with a strenuous hand his passage strows
With his proud glory thirsting plumed foes;
And Caesar joy'd to see his General lead
So War God-like to the Battalians head;
But whilst Fame, Fortune, and Bellona too,
Their stock of favours on this Champion throw,
This Heaven-dear Knight begun to vilepend
Those dusty honors do on Mars attend,
And only aimed at the true renown,
Which is annexed to the Martyrs crown;
And seeing the times for Martyrdom were fit,
Snatch'd at th' occasion for to purchase it;
The manner how my Muse shall here impart,
Though much I fear to injure his desart;
Therefore good Angel Guardian guide my Pen,
For I suppose thou wert spectator then;
For if St. Paul told the Corinthians true,
1. Cor 4.9 In our sunerings for Christ, we are made spe­ctacles to the world and to Angels.
You heavenly Spirits do our Passions view;
Assist me therefore in this pretious charge,
To tell each needful circumstance at large.
When Romes proud Dioclesian stood possels'd
Of all between the Orient and the West,
That Titan scarce in all his annual toyl,
Could rise or set but on this Monarchs soyl,
And was so fortunate, his Ensigns sight,
Like Gideons lanthorns put all foes to flight;
Which great success and prosperous Martial thrift,
He did ascribe unto Apollo's gift;
And therefore in requital of the same,
Did a most sumptuous sacrifice ordain;
On which was every man charg'd to attend,
That would be counted for great Caesars Friend;
So that there came a greater multitude,
Then all Apollo's Temple could include:
But lo the crying Priest in vain doth call,
Apollo would not augurate at all,
And their god Beryth in a deep disdain
Would for no sacrifice divine to them;
But said, If Caesar will have us his Friends,
By whom his Empire now so far extends,
He must permit no Christians here to live,
And then we will our divinations give;
Enough said Caesar, Ile remove th' offence
Which causeth this their wrathful conticence,
Which to effect he doth a Council file,
The Christians from his Empire to exile;
Yet in the mean time fill'd his Jayles with them,
Releasing Theeves and Homicides again;
This was the tenth and greatest persecution,
This Tyrant rais'd for Christian bloods effusion;
In which, as Roman Histories explain,
Twelve thousand Martyrs did their crowns obtain;
And let me to our Patrons honour say,
He was the chief which led that glorious way;
Nor were of those twelve thousand Martyrs any,
Whose tortures were like his, so great or many;
And now the Roman Peers in solemn state,
Did all unto that Council congregate,
'Mongst whom as Umpire sate that awful man,
The worlds great Monarch Dioclesian,
In purple Robes, imbost with gold and stone,
Upon a glorious high supported Throne;
About the which at distance circular,
Did stand his choicest armed guards of War;
That 'mongst the great and dreadful sons of men,
What saw great Titan like Bomet Monarch then?
But these great props of awe, which did affright
All weaker spirits, more inflam'd our Knight;
For loe St. George disposing goods and Lands,
Which were exceeding great in Christian alms,
Did boldly enter 'mongst those Princes all,
Which were convented in that Council-Hall;
And like a valiant Christian arm'd with Zeal,
Did thus solicit for the Churches Weal:
You noble Romans which were wont to make,
So many good Laws for your Countries sake,
What fury thus infascinateth you
Here to consult the Christians overthrow,
Seeing your selves designed are to be
The chief support of Christianity?
For Esaiah, Heavens great Prophet now long since,
Foretelling of the Churches eminence,
Doth say, Her chiefest power and strength should stand
Amidst the glory of the Gentiles Land;
And where's the Gentiles glory now, but Rome,
Where Jews and Gentiles both with Tribute come?
Which Christ's Apostle Paul confirmeth true,
When writing his Epistle unto you,
First Romans, I give thanks for you, he saith,
Which through the world first published your Faith;
Then publish still that Faith, renowned Prince,
Which heavens Omniscience hath foretold long since,
Shall here be glorious, for it is not good
T' incur Gods wrath by spilling Christian blood:
At which bold words the Princes sitting by,
Were all possessed with stupidity;
And on the Emperor fix'd their silent eyes,
Expecting from him strange and rough replies;
But in respect St. George his noble parts
Had gain'd great interest in the Roman hearts,
Caesar connived that more patience
Might gain his Tyranny more just pretence;
And therefore to Magnentius his chief Friend,
Did give a kind of notice with his hand,
That in his place he should apologate
To that displicient speech St. George did make;
Wherefore Magnentius tokening him to come
To neerer distance, thus his speech begun:
Bold Christian Knight, declare to us from whence
Proceedeth this unheard of insolence!
What vile seditious Author prompts thy tongue,
To thy own ruin, and great Caesars wrong?
No other Author but the Truth, said he,
I am prompted by the eternal Verity;
What is the Truth? Magnentius said again;
Jesus, said He, which on the Cross was slain;
And to give witness of his power and glory,
I hither came to this great Consistory;
Which bold confession did that Council make,
In various manners intermurmurate,
Till silence being call'd, the Emper or burst
From that deep muse, wherein he long was toss'd,
Through agitations of his vexed soul,
And Dragon like did his fierce eye-balls rowl
From head to foot of that unwelcom Knight,
And thus bespoke him with indignant spight;
Vile Wretch, what Star predominates in thee,
And draws thee on this timeless destiny?
Dost thou in bloody tortures take content,
That thou opposest our great Parliament?
What makes thee like a silly Fly, in vain
Thus boldly dally with so dangerous flame?
If thou dost think it after death some pleasure,
To say thou once affrontedst Roman Caesar;
Ile send thee ere thy bones be cold to tell
The power of Caesar to the powers of Hell;
Yet for thy valours sake thou shalt not say,
But that thy self didst cast thy self away;
This distance still remains 'twixt thee and death,
If thou wilt yet revoke thy lavish breath,
And be converted to our gods and faith,
An act of our Oblivion quits our wrath,
Or else, what tortures deaths black shop can lend,
Shall all concur unto thy wretched end.
I am sorry, gracious Prince, the Saint reply'd,
Your love is to such strict conditions ty'd;
Might it be purchas'd as that golden Fleece
Was from the watchful Dragon brought to Greece,
Or to obtain it, had but Caesar bid
Me do those labours great Alcides did,
I had been press'd; but to adore a Devil
Instead of Jesus, I abhor that evil;
I will not blot my soul for the worlds gain
With such a foul indefricable stain;
And much I muse, great Majesty, that you
To whom all knees 'twixt East and West do bow,
Can deign to undergo such vile abjection,
As tendring to a Devil your genuflection;
O cease from hence, greeat Emperor, to prophane
Your far commanding tongue with that loath'd Name
Of god Apollo; honour Christ alone,
And all contentments shall attend your Throne.
Too much, too much, cry'd Caesar, we have heard,
And with redoubled clamours call'd the Guard;
Whose bloody haste, his hasty words out-run,
As bullets do the loud report of Gun,
And with such raptive rage did snatch him thence,
As to the Tyrant gave great complacence,
And then include him in a dampish grate,
Whose noysom vapours well-nigh suffocate,
A place where never any yet drew breath,
But Homicides, and men design'd for death;
There laid they him supinate on the ground,
His hands and feet in fetters strongly bound,
Placing a pondrous stone upon his breast,
Which many Christian souls had dispossess'd
Of earthly cages, who in joyes Divine,
Adorn'd with glorious Martyrs crowns now shine;
And in that Dens profundity alone,
St. George with joy doth now embrace that stone.
And with continual laudes and hymns exprest
His most indissoluble love to Christ;
And Caesar now the second day repairs
To reconsult upon his great affairs,
Where his chief Lords with great circumfluence
In Council-Hall surround their awful Prince,
Who scarcely can propound his vile decree,
Ere his obsequious Lords do all agree;
And having for some certain hours debated
Their horrid acts which great Jehovah hated,
Caesar sent one to know what sad distress
St. George endur'd under his massy Press;
For he had lain under that pondrous stone,
Till Titan once about the world had gone;
So that the Councils judgement was inforc'd
To think his soul and body were divorc'd,
Or did remain in such a languid state
He would be ready to obtemperate;
But their vain hopes the event deluded quite,
For loe the glorious Saint approach'd their sight
With so great animosity and beauty,
His graceful presence seem'd to challenge duty;
Which sight did the spectators so amaze,
That for a space they sit in mutual gaze;
But Caesar fearing lest that some incline
To think the Saint preserv'd by grace Divine,
Thus with scurrility begun to speak,
Thou grand Professor of the Magick feat,
I have another tortular device
Which shall enforce thee to our Sacrifice.
You are mistaken, said the Saint again,
We Christians do abhor such arts prophane;
It is that cursed Devil which you adore,
Upholds his honour by the Magick power;
But we that Devil and all his arts despise,
Much less will tender him our sacrifice,
Or be enforced to commit such evil
By any servant of that hateful Devil;
And know great Caesar, that for Jesus sake,
I shall your torturing grooms defatigate.
Well, said the Tyrant, and I shall provide
Such kind of tortures for thee to abide,
Shall strow thy mangled limbs to Crows and Kites,
And spare thy Coffin and thy Funeral rites;
Go Rack-masters, fetch from your crimson School
The sharpest to tures for this Christian fool;
At which command they brought a pondrous wheel,
All circumdented with huge knives of steel,
Which engine was the dreadfullest that yet
Invented was by any tyrants wit,
And on this wheel extens'd by feet and hands,
St. George was laid fast manicled in bands;
And here brave English, if you wish to see
A perfect type of magnanimity,
Come and attend your noble Patrons story,
For here are combats of the greatest glory,
For all St. George his great exploits in War,
To this Heroick act but may-games are;
For never did pale death in form appear
So full of horror as this Ensign here;
Nor with less fear did ever mortal wight
Confront such danger, then our valiant Knight,
Who on this wheel doth lye with pleasant cheer,
As if that wheel some bed of Roses were,
Whilst now the turning of that rotal mass,
Doth by the bloody knives so grind and gash
The holy Martyr, through each side and limb,
That the spectators loath'd to look on him,
And were enforced to divert their eyes
With detestation of those butcheries;
And Dioclesian judging him quite slain,
Glorying in his revenge, departs again;
But scarce this Tyrant left the blood-goar'd ground,
When from the Heavens a great and fearful sound
Break through the Airy regions with huge noise,
And to the Martyr did transport this voice;
Be constant George in witnessing my Name,
For thy Confession many souls must gain,
Which by thy passions must enlightned be,
And at my Altars come to honour me;
And when this great and fearful voice was done,
An Angel came in glory like the Sun,
And the blest Martyr from the wheel unbound,
And closed up again each gaping wound,
Resolidating every broken limb,
That not one fraction did appear in him;
And resanated thus by heavenly power,
The Saint stood ready still to suffer more;
T' amazed gazers at this strange ostent,
Like marble Statues all sit conticent;
But one of those with whose distracted sence
This glorious wonder did at last dispence,
Went to call back the Emperor again,
From sacrificing to his gods prophane;
At whose return, sight of St. George restor'd
To perfect health, like knives his bosom goar'd;
His eyes like bifrons Janus rouled he,
Scarce trusting them in things he loath'd to see;
But as he fluctuates thus, occasions fall
Of newer griefs to torture him withal;
Two reverent Councellors, whose white hair'd scalps
Might vie their candor with the snow crown'd Alps,
Prudent as those which in Bomes Senate sit,
When Constantine the great first Lorded it,
Resolv'd to throw Natures long Leases in,
And Martyrs crowns with their short lives to win,
In the fierce Tyrants presence did appear,
And these bold words presented to his ear:
Why doth obdurate Caesar vail his eyes,
When gratious Heavens do thus miraculize;
Desist great Monarch from your bloody spight,
You do in vain against Christ Jesus fight;
For if the Christian Faith transgress your Laws,
Our lives are ready to maintain that Cause:
Which words from reverence spoke, and heavenly grace,
Threw such confusion in the Tyrants face,
That this grim Tyrants Diabolick state
No Radamanthus can equiparate;
His mouth a Mortar-piece did best resemble,
His words Granadoes-like made all to tremble,
And in revenge made his unreverent Grooms
Behead those reverent Martyrs without dooms;
But loe Gods vineyard with more glory grows,
When on her Vines some stormy tempest blows;
For as these Martyrs pass'd to joys Divine,
Behold another would their number trine;
For to the presence the great Empress press'd,
And with bold zeal the Christian faith confest;
Which words from her did pierce the Tyrant through
Like arrows, sent from vext Diana's bow;
But lest her words his rage should more insence,
Magnentius did by force convey her thence;
Yet though her purpose he did thus restrain,
Her lives bold tender did inroul her Name
In Heavens great Register, and was to be
Commartyriz'd with St. George by Gods decree,
Shown by the last conclusion of this story,
To both their honours and eternal glory;
But now the Jaylor and his bloody men,
Injayl'd St. George within a sordid Den,
The Mort-house where grim deaths Artillery lay,
Where many groaning souls took leave of day;
But loe th' effect of Esaiahs Prophesie,
Go down into a house of earth, said he,
And in that solitude thou shalt have given,
Delightful soliques from gratious Heaven,
For here the Holy Ghost on him conferr'd
Those comforts are in Princes Courts debar'd.
But now whilst Caesar did revolve his brains
How to torment St. George with deadlier pains,
Some Hellish Salamander did inspire
His hot ubiqueous brain to chuse the fire,
Which like to Lucifers just agent he
Put into practice expeditiously,
And bid his Grooms so great a Lime-pit make
As the profundity made all men quake;
For like Joves oak this flaming element
Was both in depth and heigh equivalent;
These flames did pass that Babylonian fire,
Which forty cubits did in height aspire,
And being proud with too much fuels force,
Serove even to sindge the wings of Titans Horse,
That well by just resemblance it might warn,
The guilty Tyrant of the deep Avern;
And now the Romans flock both young and old
In numerous crouds this Furnace to behold,
That scarce the fire which cinderiz'd Troys Town,
Had more spectators then these fires of Rome,
About the which all circularly standing
In spatious distance, Caesar so commanding,
Behold St. George, led with an armed Guard,
Came for to see what Caesar had prepar'd;
A spectacle which the spectators frighted,
Yet this undaunted Champion much delighted;
For his undoubted Creed to him did tell,
Before Christ entred Heaven, he entred Hell;
And therefore entering this flaming Pit,
Was made more perfect type of Christ by it;
For the far greater flames of heavenly love
Imbosom'd in this Martyr from above,
Made these exterior flames his eyes delight,
As Sun-beams do the frigid Muscovite,
That scarce his obvious footsteps could refrain
From leaping into that voracious flame;
Which sight the Tyrant with such grief possest,
That inward rage made Bon-fires in his brest,
And did exclaim his tardy Grooms, did not
The holy Martyr in the furnace put,
Which they performing cease not for to throw
Huge heaps of Lime-stone on the Saint below:
O how the conquering Church by this thy flame
Most sacred Marty, rwon eternal fame!
This fires sublime and flaming rutilance
The Churches glory did as far advance,
As where cold ice doth glaze salt Neptunes brest,
And where hot Titan fires the Phenix nest;
And these great tortures which St. George did take
With patience for his dear Redeemers sake,
And these so great and many wonders he
Did in defence of Christianity,
Made this Saints life of such a great esteem
With him which wore the triple Diadem,
That when our English King did go to Rome
To visit him which sits in Peters room,
The Pope thought then he had no nobler thing
For to present unto our English King,
Then this Saints heart put in a golden Urn,
With which his Majesty did back return;
But vexed Pluto raging for to see
This English King's great zeal and piety,
With Aeolus and Neptune both compact
To have that Royal Relick-bearer wrackt,
And 'twixt these two inexorable gods,
Did spread such malice and pernicious odds,
That angry Aeolus in deep disdain
Plow'd up the Champion of the Ocean Plain
With lofty ridges which did kiss the skie,
And furrows which laid bare the scaly fry:
In brief, that time the fierce Leviathan
Turn'd upside down the boyling Ocean;
The Seas and Pilots were at noiseful strife,
And all the Navy quite dispair'd of life;
The pious King to Heaven made his address,
And praying to St. George for intercess,
Heavens in a moments time did counter-trench
The vast vaults of the wind Gods flatulence,
Who swaging his swoln cheeks doth but suspire
To pacifie Jehovahs kindled ire;
And Neptune disadvancing trisulk yields
To smooth the surface of his azure fields;
Th' amazed Seamen wondring much from whence
Proceeded such a sacred indulgence,
Erected all their sail and joyful pass
To see the Sea become their looking-glass;
The King return'd, for this strange preservation,
Did chuse St. George for Patron of our Nation,
And with great reverence kept St. George his heart,
As Jews the rod of Moses in the Ark;
But lest Phanaticks ignorant and bold,
Sufflate with malice at my Verses scold,
Th' authority of Scripture shall decide
What sacred power in Relicks doth abide;
Had not the Handkerchief of great St. Paul
A sacred power to cure diseases all?
Did not St. Peters shadow do the same,
And cur'd as many as within it came?
And once the Jernsalemites did bear
A certain dead man to his Sepulcher,
Without the Walls the Scouts returning, said,
The enemies approach'd, whereat dismaid,
They laid the dead man in a cave of stones
Upon the Prophet Eliseus bones;
And that same Scripture clearly doth explain,
The Prophets bones rais'd the dead man again,
And that same dead man did walk back with them
As their Sodalie to Jerusalem.
But pardon, Reader, my digression here,
It was my zeal unto my Patron dear;
And now to him I must return again,
Strongly inclos'd within that scorching flame,
Wherein remained now this flower of Knights,
Till Sun and Moon gave their alternate lights;
After which time the Tyrants rage begun
To wish his lingering Tragedy was done,
And willing to be freed from further doubt,
Commands his Grooms to seek his Relicks out,
And to intrench them deeper in the stones,
That so the fire might pulverize his bones;
At which command his Grooms did run apace,
All interenvious each of others graee,
Striving who first should lend their grateful breath
To tell their great Lord of St. George his death,
Whilst Romans novelous to know his fate;
These bloody Vassals all concomitate;
But loe these searchers find this Heaven-dear Knight
Safe, and environ'd with so great a light,
That he might well after his tridian pain;
Resemble Christ return'd from Hell again;
Whilst gazing Romans his bright glory fear
Like Pilates watch-men of the Sepulcher;
But one of those spectators quickly went
T' acquaint the Tyrant with this accident;
Which news unto inraged Tyrants ear;
More obsonant and more confounding were
Then Jeroboams wives unwelcom breath,
Telling the King that God pronounc'd his death;
And with a poyson swell'd the Tyrants veins,
To see the Saint scorn his revengeless flames;
And sending for St. George he thus begins;
Vile Wretch, thou seest what stupendious things
Our potent gods have shown thy worthless eyes
For to attract thee to their sacrifice:
To whom St. George most boldly said again,
Caesar, your gods are impotent and vain,
And cannot save by all their hellish powers,
Themselves nor others from such fiery showers;
But Christ that powerful God we Christians serve,
Can thus his servants from these flames preserve:
George, said the Tyrant, Christ long since did die;
What power can rest in srail mortality?
To whom the valiant Martyr thus reply'd,
Those sacred Writs which tell you Jesus dy'd,
Do tell you he is God and rose again,
And doth in power and glory now remain;
Either to all that Scripture credit give,
Or all that sacred Scripture misbelieve:
Thus did the clearness of the cause prevent
The wrangling Tyrant of all argument;
Yet he in obstinacy passed all
Those wilfulmen like wild beasts, which St. Paul
Fought with at Ephesus, and did supply
His want of reason thus with Tyranny;
Here Rack-masters, put you upon his feet
Hot shoes of iron which do glow with heat,
And then with sharpest and most cruel whips,
Reduce this frantick Christian to his wits;
Which said, those slaves discharge their vile commission
With such abusive rage and expedition,
That if there be but Farriers in Hells forge,
These sure were they set shoes upon St. George,
And those Hells Bedlam Beadles l [...]ther sent
From Pluto's Bridewel, thus to scourge this Saint;
For such remorsless stripes they laid on him;
As wholly purpurate his argent skin,
And with their whips aspersion foully stain
The ruthful gazers standing in each lane;
Yet all these strokes of their revengeful ire,
Like steels upon this flint of faith struck fire;
Which did his sacred zeal so much inflame
To shed his blood for Jesus Christ his Name,
That scarce that Unction pour'd on Saul his head,
Which regified the person where it spread,
Pleas'd him as pleas'd St. George the pouring down
Of this red Unction of the Martyrs crown;
But now St. George whipt to the prison door,
The rigid Jaylor executes his power,
And in a tenebrous and squallid grate
The Pearl of Christians doth incarcerate;
Yet in that loathsom dormitory he
Pernoctates with a great jucundity,
And there like wakeful Philomel he sing;
To Jesus Christ most sacred lauds and hymns;
For he was musicks genius, though till now
My omissive Muse did not his talent show,
And sung such dulcid strains as might consort
With those sweet quires of the celestial Court,
Or with that Song the blessed Virgin sung
At th' incarnation of her glorious Son;
And thus he sung till Titans rising beams
Strove to commerce with his celestial hymns;
But spare thy light great Titan; he which gave
That light to thee, infuseth in this cave
A glory which as far surpasseth thee
As thou a taper in resplendency;
Salute the Tyrant, who expects thy glory
To give the summons to his Consistory;
For many hours ago he left his rest,
Revolving how he might St. George infest,
And now sets forward to his Council ward,
Circumplicate with his gygantick Guard,
Of which he did dismiss some Halberdeers
To bring St. George before his Lords and Peeres;
But when this Saint the Council-house did enter,
His presence bred amazement through that center,
And with a kind of ravishment their sight
Was wholly fixed on this glorious Knight,
And his bold beauteous presence they admire,
After the suffering of such whips and fire;
But Caesar looks upon his beauteous state
Through spectacles of more indignant hate
Then that fierce step-dame Juno did her son
Great Hercules, after his labours done;
And well in some respect that Grecians story
Doth here configurate our Martyrs glory;
For more they strive his person to confound,
With health and beauty doth it more abound;
Which Caesar noting chang'd his stormy guize,
And like a serpent thus did subtilize,
Cease George at last the Crucifi'd to follow,
Become th' adorant of our great Apollo,
And reassume thy place and former state,
And all our quondam love redintigrate.
Great Prince, said he, your love condition'd so,
Though much I prize it, I must needs forgo,
And much I muse such wonders shown your eyes,
You monitate such gross insanities;
What man can so infatuated be,
Not to discern your vain idolatry,
How that Apollo which you call Divine,
Is but a Devil, doth in that stock inshrine?
Rather your self, great Caesar, him adore,
Whose all comprising uncomprised power
Doth bind those Devils which you call gods in chains,
Tormenting them with great and dateless pains;
Which words the bloody Tyrants bosom gore,
As Hunters darts the vineyard spoyling Bore,
That he was ready to forsake his Throne,
Amongst his torturing Vassals to make one;
But low a sower-fac'd Groom whose countenance grim,
Shew'd all the Dog-stars had constel'd in him,
Born under Ʋrsa major, which base sign
Did his base nature unto blood incline,
Intrudes himself, and smote the Martyrs face,
To bring himself so into Caesars grace;
But yet this slave the bassage of mankind,
Nothing at all had Caesars wrath declind;
This poor revengement far too short did fall
T' appease a rage so rank and radical;
He made his flaves scourge him with leathern thongs,
Till they delacerate the flesh from bones;
So that th' excoriated Martyr stood
Like one anatomiz'd, imbru'd with blood;
Or, as if great St. Bartholomew new slain
In his carnation hew appear'd to them;
Yet without all complaint or servile fear,
St. George doth all those cruel torments bear;
Nor once his eyes serenity doth cloud
With any frown or supercilious shrowd;
But the fierce Tyrant looked grim and skowling,
As Cerb'rus when he frights the Ghosts with howling;
Whereat the silent gazers sit a space,
Like Planet-struck at this stupendious case;
But Caesar then for a Magician sent,
Who promised the Tyrant to invent
A drench which should conclude his life with groans,
And deadly tortures both of flesh and bones;
Which Potion quickly they to him did give,
But in despight of it the Saint did live;
Then the Magician said, that God above
Sure gives thee great endearments of his love,
Or how could thy frail flesh have undergon
Such tortures as confound the lookers on?
If Christ be God, as thou dost say indeed,
Do some great wonder to gain general creed;
Call from the earth some dead man up again,
And give him life and form in Jesus Name,
And we will all with unanimity
Confess there is no other God but he;
To whom the glorious Martyr said again,
You bloody favourites of Caesars train
Which have Tragedians been so many times,
Conscelerated in his sanguine crimes,
Would not believe, although the dusty dead
Should give you warning of your deep misdeed;
The various wonders God hath shown your eyes,
Had turned Pharoah to repentant cryes,
Yet hoping some who conscious in th' offence
Of ignorance, and not malevolence,
May by the deads resuscitation see
That Christ alone is the true Deity;
I hope I shall that favour impetrate
T' invest the dusty dead with vital shape:
Which said, he humbly prostrates on the ground,
Praying to Christ with piety profound,
Till trembling Tellus did begin to gape,
As if she would her self deviscerate,
Whilst from her jaws St. George a man did call,
Whose lively form did personate King Saul;
At which prodigious sight the Roman crouds
Extoll'd the power of Jesus to the clouds,
And with opprobrious words did signifie
Their great contempt of all idolatry;
But hear my Muse engage thy faculties
The Tyrants fury to characterize,
That black Lord of th'infernal sulpherous flames,
When Hercules knock'd out his Porters brains,
Was but his type, nor greater rage did throw
Upon Gods Saints, then did this Tyrant do;
Their mutual malice and inveterate hate,
Caesar and Satan both concatenate;
Such friends as Pilate and false Herod were
Against the Lord of life when he liv'd here;
So that in deeds and tortures it is clear,
Caesar and Satan both confatal were,
And both alike did brook those joyful cryes
As show'd by rageful rabulosities,
Which were so obsonant to every ear,
That never Christian like to them did hear;
Blasphemous Julian and that Philistine
Which was corrected by King Davids fling,
And those great builders of old Babels Tower,
Which breath'd defiance against th'Almighties power,
Might plead their blasphemies but venial sin,
Had they compai'd with Dioelesian been;
But when his tongues fellifluence had spent
What Satan his Dictator could invent,
Loathing St. George his presence, he commands
His Grooms to whip him with impetuous hands,
Unto a Dungeon which grim Pluto might
For depth and horror challenge for his right,
Or else the Closet which he did assign
Unto his Dam the snakie Proserpine;
But loe th' effect of Davids Prophesie,
That earths Abisms should Jesus glorifie;
For hither crouds of Convertites resort,
Drawn by his famous miracles report,
Which by St. George his preaching unto them
By multitudes converted souls became,
'Mongst whom was one Glicerius dull and rude,
But compleat in the gift of fortitude;
Whilst this Georgick Groom pursued his toyl,
His Ox fell dead in plowing of the soyl,
Which loss did much depauperate the Swain,
Because his tillage did his House maintain;
Wherefore in haste he to the Martyr went
With earnest sute, but little complement,
And pray'd him of his charity redress,
His grievous chance and indigent distress;
St. George the loss commiserating much,
Which did this rural swain so nearly touch,
And well discerning the great confidence
Which he repos'd in Christs Omnipotence,
Said, Glicery, believe in Jesus Name,
And be assur'd thy Ox shall live again;
The man return'd and finding him alive,
Continual thanks did unto Jesus give,
Who useth much his servants to convert
By miracles consorting to their Art;
The draught of fish Christ bid St. Peter draw,
Confirm'd that Fisher-man in Christian Law;
When prison doors unlock'd themselves to Paul,
Converted Jaylors at his feet did fall;
And now this Ox rais'd by Christs power again,
Made the bold Plow-man to confess Christs Name,
For which through Caesars cruelties he try'd
A world of tortures, and with honour dy'd;
Loe not the Heralds book, Heavens Registers
Should guide the Writers of mens characters;
For here you see this Groom with life's expence
Nobly maintain'd the Churches eminence,
Whilst there stood by him many a Lord and Peer,
Who durst not Christ confess through slavish fear:
But now I leave this blessed Convertite,
And of St. George his great Converter write,
Who fast inclos'd in his dark Conditory,
Was sought out by the King of endless glory,
Who with his presence made that den of night
Competitor with heaven it self for light;
O wondrous thing that mortal man can move
The great Almighty thus to Court his love,
And like Pigmalion, but with sacred flame,
To fall in love with what his hands did frame!
Surely the Angels, were they not Divine,
Might at these graces to St. George repine,
That none of them might this embassage bring,
Or internunciate 'twixt their Lord and him,
But that himself must thus come visit men,
Both in the High-ways and in dirty den,
As witness both St. Paul, this Martyr here,
And many moe to whom he did appear;
But Jesus now to make his love more known,
Set on St. George his head a glorious Crown,
And thus pours out his most immense affection,
Be constant George I will be thy protection;
Lose not the glorious place prepar'd for thee,
With tortures, terror or timidity.
To whom the prostrate Martyr thus replies,
My soul abhorreth such Apostacies;
I am resolv'd t' obtain the Martyrs crown,
Were it to suffer till the day of Doom;
But Lord, my frailty is well known to thee,
Support sweet Jesus my proclivity;
Thus Christ his Saint left in that nightful place,
But all illuminate with heavenly grace.
But Caesars grief sticks to him more and more,
Like to the burning shirt Alcides wore,
Vexing to see the Saint his malice scorns,
As Hunters Acteons long revengeless horns,
And still his griefs do stick unto his heart,
Until he can the glorious Saint pervert,
Which to effect he now puts confidence
In gratious usage and blandiloquence;
No hour doth pass, but Caesar to him sends
Great visitants to tender his commends;
No more do his contracted brows look grim,
But gratious countenance reflect on him;
Now he commends unto the Jaylors care,
To serve the Saint with all delicious fare,
And to omit no diligence therein,
To notifie his change of love to him;
All which being done, Caesar in Council-Hall,
Inthron'd amongst his Lords and Princes all,
Sent for St. George, and gracing him far more
With all respects of honour then before,
Bespoke him thus; George, thy undaunted spirit
Hath gain'd so great opinion of thy merit,
That if thou wouldst a little condescend,
Thou shouldst be Caesars chief and only friend,
And all those honours thou possest of late,
Our bounteous love to thee shall triplicate;
Be prudent then, it rests now at thy pleasure
To be an abject or a second Caesar:
But hereby well the Martyr understands
This Syrens song did bode some wrackful sands,
Which to prevent, in blandant manner thus
He keeps a project still subnubilous;
Come gratious Monarch, let us go to see
That sumptuous Temple of your Deity;
Which plausive motion so did Caesar win,
That with embraces he embosom'd him,
And made it by his Bell-men to be cry'd,
Apollo, conqueror of the crucifi'd;
And gave command that all his noble train
Should to Apollo's Temple wait on them,
So that there came a greater multitude,
Then all that spatious Temple could include;
Th' officious Priests made punctual preparation
For all things did belong to their Oblation,
And nothing wanted now they could desire,
Except St. George to give th'Oblation fire,
And his approach their wishes obviates,
For loe he entred the great Temple gates,
Attended with moe eyes which came to see,
Then witnessed great Sampsons Tragedy;
And silence call'd, thus Heavens Commissioner
Interrogates the instatued Lucifer.
Apollo, I command thee let us know
If thou be that great God to whom we owe
Honour Divine and daily Sacrifice;
Be brief and speak, delude us not with lyes.
I must confess, the conscious Fiend reply'd,
There doth no power Divine in me abide;
I am of those damn'd Legions which were driven
By great St. Michael, from the gates of Heaven,
And we since then strive through inveterate pride
Amongst the simple to be Deifi'd;
To whom the Martyr thus reply'd again,
I charge thee Satanist here to explain,
Who is that mighty God whose dreadful power
We justly ought to honour and adore;
Christ Jesus is true God, the Fiend reply'd,
And theirs no other God indeed beside;
St. George said then, how Rebel to my God
Durst thou near me his servant make abode?
Which powerful words did with more terror sound
Then Josua's trumpets did, which threw to ground
The Walls of Jerico; for loe the Temple
From the foundation gan to shake and tremble,
Wherewith the Idol in small parcels fell,
And with strange noise the Fiend departs to Hell;
Th' amazed Romans at this accident
Were suddenly involv'd with wonderment,
And then with cloud delacerating cryes,
Bless'd Jesus Christ which open'd their blind eyes;
But who can pen those plenary delights
Which did possess those Roman Convertites!
Come Muse thou must thy faculties advance,
And figurate them with all exuberance;
On that blest Friday, when Jehovahs Son
Perform'd the work of our Redemption!
He did descend and opened Limbus gate,
And those imprison'd souls discarcerate;
What joy did that great Goal-delivery bring,
When Christ had cancelled our bond of sin!
But to declare the great and fluctuous strife
Of Caesars brest, no Muse can pen to life;
He was more pinch'd and frighted with those cryes,
Then Acteon with his hounds and horned guise;
His words were all with sparks of fire repleat,
Hotter then Vulcan from his forges beat;
His oblique eyes did blaze with flaming fire,
And blistred where they look'd with rageful ire;
Such was the Tyrants grief, such joy abounded
With Romans, when Apollo was confounded.
But in this Jubile the barbarous Guard
Commits the Martyr to his former Ward,
Where all Apollo's Priests and raskal slaves
Discharge on him their hate with whips and staves;
But Caesar after all these wonders still
Stood individually compact with Hell,
And shared both in sorrow and confusion
With this Avernist in his just exclusion,
And for his absence fiercely rageth still,
Like furens Hercules on Aetna's Hill;
But at the last Apollo's deep disgrace
Made the confounded Tyrant leave that place,
And overwhelmed with sad discontent,
Unto the Palace from the Temple went,
Where his obsequious Lords their chief surround,
But could not balsomate his gangrend wound;
For as the wounded Whale forsakes the brine,
And to the fatal shore doth draw a line,
That English Fishers do find out his gate,
And with their Guns his wounds multiplicate;
So Caesar fared; but why give I that name
To him that was but Satans counter-pane?
Their comfort he declines, resolv'd to follow
No counsel but of his old damnd Apollo;
Who both confounded stand with grief and shame,
Like Bajazet led in his iron chain,
To have his shoulders made a footstool on
For Tamberlane to mount his horse upon;
And both sufflate with malice there did stand,
For to behold Jehovahs gratious hand
Work such great wonders for the Martyrs sake,
In all the sufferings he did undertake;
What rage and malice did those Vassals smother,
And with what oblique eyes view'd they each other!
O that some curious Limner of our age
Could purtrait them in this same very page,
To please the English Reader of this story,
With Caesars shame and their great Patrons glory!
But some which knew the nature of his sore
Was like to theirs Achilles Lance did gore,
To cure the same and please the Tyrants mood,
Present the Martyr all begoar'd with blood;
But to excruciate that prophane delight
This sanguinary Wolf took in this sight,
Behold the Empress Alexandra came,
And boldly did confess Christ Jesus Name,
Intreating of St. George his prayers that she
Might in the Christian faith perseverant be,
And with her tears his bloody feet did bath,
Kissing the wounds he suffered for his Faith;
Which did the hateful Tyrant so incense,
He made Orlando's rage tame patience,
And such flagitious blasphemies did spue,
As sainted that foul Monster David slew,
And even with Lucifer might justly vie
Facinorous guilt for Hells supremacy.
But when this earths great Lucifer at last
Had his defiance against Jesus cast,
Thus he the remnant of his Hellish hate
Against the Empress doth evaporate;
Why do not tardy Devils this strumpet bear
To th' under Bridewel, which disturbs us here,
And in our presence in despight of us,
Doth here become so meretricious,
That with her tears and kisses she doth crouch
To this Inchanter, whom we hate so much?
O vultuous impudence, spectators say,
Is she a Woman, or some Succuba?
But she no responsory word at all
Daign'd those invectives Diabolical,
But prostrate still implores the aid Divine,
That she may never from her faith decline;
But this great zeal which did her soul inspire,
With vilependence of the Tyrants ire,
Put his blood-thirsty heart unto more pain,
Then if some greedy Vulture grasp'd the same.
But as some glutton which through surfeit sore
Abhors those delicates he lik'd before,
Caesar through those affronts he had of late,
The Martyrs presence did most deadly hate,
And gladly now would free himself of them,
That so oblivion might decrease his pain;
Wherefore in haste his bloody Grooms he calls,
And bids them lead the Saints without the Walls,
And cutting off their heads, their bodies throw
Into the ditches, food for Kite and Crow;
In which imployment every Vassal tryes
Who should exceed in their immanities,
Cutting with corded gives their tender veins,
That bloods effusion might augment their pains;
And as they led them to th' appointed place,
Those hateful Vassals ply'd their whips apace,
Until the bloody showrs their bodies ran
The dusty wayes with sanguine tincture stain;
Which dear expence of blood and tedious gate,
This Royal Empress did debilitate,
And her own weight her bloodless limbs opprest;
Enforcing her upon her knees to rest,
And as a Rose o're-sway'd with showers of rain,
Do's hang its sweet top to the grassy Plain,
This languid Lady doth her face Divine
Surcharg'd with bleeding to the ground decline,
And with her prostrate prayers her soul expires,
Receiv'd by Angels to celestial quires;
By whose departure now remained free
St. George from all his great anxiety,
Her souls security by loss of breath,
Doth now so much facilitate his death,
That pardon'd wretches from the Jaylors room
Went with less joy then he to Marty rdom,
Where his beheading stroke at last was given,
Whilst Angels Plaudits in the Court of Heaven
Conducted his great spirit unto rest,
Under Heavens glorious Altar ever blest,
'Mongst those great Conquerors in the Martyrs Wars,
Whose crowns are Sun beams, and their foot-stool Stars.
FINIS.

Books sold by William Crook, at the three Bibles on Ludgate-Hill, near Fleet-bridge.

THe Pillar of Gratitude, by Dr. Gauden.

Two Sermons preached at the Temple, by Dr. Gauden.

Plain Mathematician, being an Explanation of the hardest Pro­blems in Geometry, making easie Geometrical Arithmetick, Meusu­suration; Dyalling, &c. and other difficulties of Geometry, by Th. G.

Sin Dismantled, showing the loathsomness thereof, in laying it open by Confession, with the remedy for it by Repentance and Conversion; wherein is set forth the manner how we ought to confess our sins to God and Man, with the Consiliary Decrees from the Authority thereof, and for the shewing the necessity of Priestly Absolution, removing the disesteem the vulgar have of Absolution, setting forth the power of Ministers, &c.

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