ITER BOREALE. Attempting somthing upon the Successful and Matchless March of the Lord Generall GEORGE MONCK, from Scotland to London, the last Winter.
I.
THe day is broak!
Melpomene be gone;
Hag of my Fancy, let me now alone:
Night-mare my soul no more; Go take thy flight;
Where Traytors Ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount
Caucasus, and bear thy part
With the black Fowl that tears
Prometheus heart
For his bold Sacriledge: Go fetch the groans
Of defunct Tyrants, with them croke thy Tones;
Go see
Alecto with her flaming whip,
How she firks
Nol, and makes old
Bradshaw skip:
Go make thy self away.—Thou shalt no more
Choak up my Standish with the blood and gore
Of English Tragedies: I now will chuse
The merriest of the Nine to be my Muse,
And (come what will) I'll scribble once again:
The brutish Sword hath cut the Nobler Vein
[Page 4] Of racy Poetry. Our small drink times
Must be contented, and take up with Rhymes.
Thy're sorry toys from a poor Levites pack,
Whose Living and Assessments drink no Sack.
The Subject will excuse the Verse (I trow)
The Ven'son's fat although the Crust be dow,
II.
I He who whilcom sat and sung in Cage
My Kings & Countries Ruines, by the rage
Of a rebellious Rout: Who weeping saw,
Three goodly Kingdoms (drunk with fury) draw
And sheath their Swords (like three enraged Brothers)
In one anothers sides, ripping their Mothers
Belly, and tearing out her bleeding heart;
Then jealous that their Father fain would part
Their bloody Fray, and let them fight no more,
Fell foul on him, and slew him at his dore.
I that have only dar'd to whisper Verses,
And drop a tear (by stealth) on loyall Herses,
I that enraged at the
Times and
Rump,
Had gnaw'd my Goose-quill to the very stump,
And flung that in the fire, no more to write
But to set down poor
Britains Heraclyte;
Now sing the tryumphs of the Men of War,
The glorious rayes of the bright Northern Star,
Created for the nonce by Heaven, to bring
The Wisemen of three Nations to their King:
MONCK! the great
Monck! That syllable out-shines
Plantagenet's bright name or
Constantin's.
'Twas at his Rising that
Our Day begun,
Be He the
Morning Star to
Charles our
Sun:
[Page 5] He took Rebellion rampant, by the Throat,
And made the Canting
Quaker change his Note
His Hand it was that wrot (we saw no more)
Exit Tyrannus over
Lambert's dore:
Like to some subtile Lightning, so his words
Dissolved in their Scabbards Rebels swords:
He with success the soveraign skill hath found,
To dress the Weapon, and so heal the Wound.
George, and his Boyes (as Spirits do, they say)
Only by Walking scare our Foes away.
III.
OLd
Holofernes was no sooner laid,
Before the Idols Funeral Pomp was paid,
(Nor shall a penny ere be paid for me;
Let Fools that trusted, his true Mourners be.)
Richard the fourth, just peeping out of Squire,
No fault so much as, Th' old one was his Sire;
For men believ'd—though all went in his Name,
He'd be but Tennant, till the Landlord came:
When on a sudden (all amaz'd) we found
The seven Years
Babel tumbled to the ground;
And he, poor heart, (thanks to his cunning Kin)
Was soon in
Querpo honest
Dick agen.
Exit Protector.—What comes next? I trow▪
Let the State-Hunsmen beat again.—So-ho
Cries
Lambert, Master of the Hounds,—Here sits
That lusty Puss,
The Good Old Cause,—whose wits
Shew'd
Oliver such sport; That, that (cries
Vane)
Let's put her up, and run her once again:
She'l lead our Doggs and Followers up and down,
Whilst we match Families, and take the Crown.
[Page 6] Enter th'old Members; 'Twas the Month of
May
These Maggots in the Rump began to play.
Wallingford Anglers (though they stunk) yet thought,
They would make baits, by which fish might be caught;
And so it prov'd; They soon by Taxes made
More money then the
Holland Fishing Trade.
IIII.
NOw broke in
Aegypts Plagues (all in a day)
And one more worse then theirs;—We must not pray
To be deliver'd:—Their scabb'd folks were free
To scratch where it did itch;—So might not we.
That Meteor
Cromwell, though he scar'd, gave light;
But wewere now cover'd with horrid Night:
Our Magistracy was (like
Moses Rod)
Turn'd to a Serpent by the angry God.
Poor Citizens, when trading would not do,
Made brick without straw, & were basted too:
Struck with the botch of Taxes and Excise;
Servants (our very dust) were turn'd to lice;
It was but turning Souldiers, and they need
Not work at all, but on their Masters feed.
Strang Catterpillers eat our pleasant things;
And Frogs croakt in the Chambers of our Kings.
Black bloody veins did in the Rump prevail,
Lik the Philistims Emrods in the Tayle.
Lightning, Hail, Fire, and Thunder
Aegypt had,
And
England Guns, Shot, Powder, (that's as bad)
And that Sea-Monster
Lawson (if withstood)
Threatned to turn our Rivers into blood.
And (Plague of all these Plagues) all these Plagues fell
Not on an
Aegypt, but our
Israel.
V.
SIck (as her heart can hold) the Nation lies,
Filling each corner with her hideous cries;
Sometime Rage (like a burning Fever) heats,
Anon Dispair brings cold and clammy Sweats;
She cannot sleep, or if she doth she dreams
Of Rapes, Thefts, Burnings, Blood, & direfull Theames,
Tosses from side to side, then by and by
Her feet are laid there where the head did lie:
None can come to her but bold Empiricks,
VVho never meant to cure her, but try tricks:
Those very Doctors who should give her ease,
(God help the Patient) was her worst disease.
Th' Italian Mountebank
Vane tels us sure,
Jesuites powder will effect the cure:
If grief but makes her swell,
Martin &
Nevil
Conclude it is a spice of the Kings Evil.
Bleed her again, another cries;—And
Scot
Saith he could cure her, if 'twas—you know what:
But giddy
Harrington a whimsey found,
To make her head (like to his brains) run round.
Her old and wise Phisitians who before
Had well nigh cur'd her, came again to th' dore.
But were kept out—which made her cry the more,
Help, help,
(dear Children) Oh! some pitty take
On her who bore you! Help for mercy sake!
Oh heart! Oh head! Oh back! Oh bones! I feel
They've poyson'd me with giving too much Steel:
Oh give me that for which I long and cry!
Something that's
Soveraign, or else I dye.
VI.
KInd
Cheshire heard; And like some son that stood
Upon the Banck, straight jump'd into the Flood,
Flings out his arms, and strikes some strokes to swim,
Booth ventur'd first, and
Midleton with him,
Stout
Mackworth, Egerton, and thousands more,
Threw themselves in, and left the safer shore;
Massey (that famous Diver) and bold
Brown
Forsook his wharfe,—resolving all to drow,
Or save a sinking Kingdom:—But, O sad!
Fearing to lose her prey, the Sea grew mad,
Rais'd all her billowes, and resolv'd her waves
Should quickly be the bold Adventurers graves.
Out Marches
Lambert, like an Eastern wind,
And with him all the mighty waters joyn'd.
The loyal swimmers bore up heads and breasts,
Scorning to think of life or interests;
They ply'd their Arms and Thighs, but all in vain;
The furious Main beat them to shore again;
At which the floating Island (looking back,
Spying her loyal Lovers gone to wrack)
Shriekt lowder then before,—and thus she cries,
"Can you ye angry Heavens, and frowning Skies,
"Thus countenance Rebellious Mutineers,
"VVho if they durst, would be about your ears:
"That I should sink, with Justice may accord,
"VVho let my Pilot be thrown over-board;
"Yet 'twas not I (ye righteous heavens do know)
"The Souldiers in me needs would have it so:
"And those who conjur'd up these Storms themselves,
"And first engag'd me 'mongst these Rocks & Shelves,
[Page 7] "Guilty of all my woes, erect this weather,
"Fearing to come to Land, & chusing rather
"To sink me with themselves.—O! Cease to frown,
"In tears (just Heavens!) behold! my self I drown:
"Let not these proud Waves do't: Prevent my fears,
"And let them fall together by the Ears.
VII.
HEaven heard, & struck th' insulting Army mad,
Drunk with their
Cheshire Tryumps, straight they
NewLights appear'd; And new Rosolves they take, had
A Single Person once again to make.
Who shall be he? Oh!
Lambert, without Rub,
The fittest Divel to be
Belzebub.
He, the fierce Friend, cast out o' th' house before,
Return'd, & threw the House now out of dore:
A Legion then he rais'd of Armed Sprights,
Elves, Goblins, Fairies, Quakers, & new Lights,
To be his under-Divels; with this rest
He Soul and Body (Church and State) possest:
Who though they fill'd all Countries, Towns, & Rooms,
Yet (like that Fiend that did frequent the Tombs)
Churches, and Sacred Ground they haunted most,
No Chappel was at ease from some such Ghost.
The Priests ordain'd to Exorcise those Elves,
Were Voted Divels, and cast out themselves:
Bible, or Alchoron, all's one to them,
Religion serves but for a Stratagem:
The holy Charms these Adders did not heed,
Churches themselves did Sanctuary need.
VIII.
THe Churches Patrimony and rich store,
Alas! was swallowed many yeares before:
They were the
Ribs and
Surloyns of the Whore:
Now let her Legs (the Priests) go to the Pot,
(They have the
Pop's eye in them) spare them not:
We have fat Benefices yet to ear,
(Bell, and our
Dragon-Army must have meat)
Let us devour her Limb-meal, great & samll,
Tythe Calves, Geese, Pigs, the Pettitoes & all:
A Vicaridge in Sippets, though it be
But small, will serve a squeamish Sectary.
Though Universities we cann't endure,
Ther's no false Latine in their Lands (be sure.)
Give
Oxford to our Horse, and let the Foot
Take
Cambridge for their booty, and fall to't.
Christ-Church I'll have (cries
Vane) Disbrow swops
At
Trinity; King's is for
Berry's chops;
Kelsey, take
Corpus Chrifii; All-Souls, Packer;
Carve
Creed, St
Iohn's; New Colledge, leave to
Hacker;
Fleetwood cries,
Weeping Maudlin shall be mine,
Her tears I'll drink insteed of Muscadine:
The smaller
Halls and
Houses scarce are big
Enough to make one dish for
Hesilrig;
We must be sure'to stop his mouth, though wide
Else all our Fat will bei'th' fire (they cry'd:
And when we have done these, we'l not be quiet
Lordships, and Landlords Rents shall be our diet.
Thus talk'd this jolly crew, but still mine Host
Lambret, resolves that he will rule the Rost.
XI.
BUt hark! Me thinks I hear old
Boreas blow,
What mean the North winds that they bluster so?
More storms from that black nook? Forbear!(bold
Scot)
Let not
Dunbar and
Worcester be forgot:
[Page 9] What? Would you chasser w'us for one
Charls more?
The price of Kings is fall'n, give the Trade o're.
And is the price of Kings and Kingdoms too,
Of Laws, Lives, Oaths, Souls, grown so low with you?
Perfidious Hypocrites! Monsters of men!
(Cries the good
Monck) We'll raise their price agen.
Heaven said
Amen; and breath'd upon that spark;
That spark (preserv'd alive i'th' cold and dark)
First kindled and enflam'd the Brittish Isle,
And turn'd it all to Bonfires, in a while:
He and his fewel was so small, no doubt,
Proud
Lambart thought to tread, or piss thē out.
But
George was wary;—His cause did require
A Pillar of a Cloud as well as Fire:
'Twas not his safest course to flame, but smoak;
His Enemies he will not burn, but choak:
Smal Fires must not blaze out, lest by their light
They shew their weakness, and their Foes invite:
But Furnaces the stroutest Mettals melt
(And so did He) by fire not seen but felt:
Dark-Lanthorn Language, and his peep-boe play,
Will-E-Wispt Lambert's New-Lights out o'th' way.
George, and his Boys, those thousand (Ostrange thing)
Of
Snipes and
Woodcocks, took by Lowbelling.
His few Scotch-Coal kindled with English fire,
Made
Lambert's great
Newcastle heaps expire.
X.
SCotland, (though poor, and peevish) was content
To keep the Peace, and (O rare!) mony lent;
But yet the blessing of their Kirk was more;
George had that too; and with this slender store
He & his Mirmidons advance—Kind Heaven
Prepar'd a frost to make their march more even,
[Page 10] Easie, and safe; it may be said That year
Of th' High-ways, Heaven it self was Overfeer,
And made
November ground as hard as
May;
White as their Innocence, so was their way:
The Clouds came down in feather-beds, to greet
Him and his Army, and to kiss their feet.
The Frost and foes both came and went together,
Both thaw'd away, and vanish'd God knows whither.
Whole Countries crowded in to see this Friend,
Ready to cast their bodies down, to mend
His Road to
Westminster; and still they shout,
Lay hold of th'
Rump, and pull the
Monster out:
A new one, or a whole one
(Good my Lord)
And to this cry the Island did accord.
The Eccho of the Irish hollow ground
Heard
England, & her language did rebound.
XI.
PResto—Iack Lambert, and his Sprights are gone
To dance a Jigg with's brother
Oberon:
George made him, and his cut-throats of our lives,
Swallow their Swords, as JugIers do their Knives.
And Carter
Disborough to wish in vain,
He now were Waggoner to
Charls his Wain.
The Conquerour is now come into th' South,
Whose warm Air is made hot by every mouth;
Breathing his wellcome, and in spight of
Scot,
Crying,—
The whole child (Sir)
divide it not.
The Rump begins to stink; Alas! (cry they)
W'have rais'd a Divil which we cannot lay;
I like him not—His belly is so big,
There's a King in't, cryes furious
Hesilrig,
Let's brib Him (they cry all) Carve him a share
Of our stoln Venison.—Varlet, forbear,
[Page 11] In vain you put your Lime-twiggs to his Hands
Gorge Monck
is for the King, not for his Lands.
When fair meanes would not doe, next foul they try,
Vote him the City Scavenger (they cry)
Send him to scowr their Streets—Well, let it be,
Your Rumpships wants a scowring too (thinks he)
That fonl House where your Worships many year
Have laid your Tayl, sure wants a Scavenger:
I smell your Fizle, though it make no Crack,
You'ld mount me on the Cities galled back,
In hope she'l cast her Rider: If I must
Upon some Office in the Town be thrust,
I'll be their Sword-bearer- and to their Dagger
I'll joyn my Sword:—Nay (goodRump) do not swagger:
The City feasts me, and as sure as Gun)
I'll mend all
Englands Commons e're I've done.
XII.
ANd so He did: One Morning next his heart
He goes to
Westminster, and play'd his part,
He vampt their Boots (which
Hewson ne're could do)
With better leather, and made them go upright too.
The restor'd Members
(Cato like no doubt)
Did only Enter that They might goe out,
They did not mean within those VValls to dwell,
Nor did they like their Company so well:
Yet Heaven so blest them, that in three weeks space
They gave both Church and State a better face,
They gave
Booth, Massey, Brown, some kinder lots;
The last years Traytors, this years Patriots:
The Churches poor Remainder they made good,
And wash'd the Nations Hands of Royal Blood,
And that a Parliament (they did devise)
From its own ashes
(Phoenix-like) might rise;
They past a Fine, and so cut off
th' Entail.
XIII.
LEt the Bells ring these Changes now from
Bow
Down to the Countrey Candlesticks below,
Ringers Hands of; The Bells themselves will dance
In memory of their own deliverance:
Had not
George shew'd his Mettle, and said Nay,
Each Sectary had born the Bell away:
Down with them all, they'r Christned (cry'd that Crew)
Tye up their Clappers, and the Parsons too;
Turn then to Guns, or sell them to the
Dutch,
Nay, hold (quoth
George) my Masters, that's too much;
You will not leap o're Steeples thus, I hope,
I'll save the Bells, but you may take the Rope.
Thus lay Religion panting for her life,
Like
Isaac, bound under the bloody knife;
George held the falling Weapon, sav'd the Lamb:
Let
Lambert (in the Briars) be the
Ram.
So lay the Royal Virgin (as 'tis told)
When brave St
George redeem'd her life, of old.
Oh that the Knaves that have consum'd our Land,
Had but permitted VVood enough to stand
To be his Bonfires;—VVe'd burn every stem,
And leave no more but Gallow-Trees for them:
XIV.
MArch on, Great Heore! as thou hast begun,
And Crown our happiness before Th'ast done:
VVe have another
Charls to fetch from
Spain,
Be thou the
George to bring him back again:
Then shalt thou be (what was deny'd that Knight)
Thy Princes, and the Peoples Favourite.
[Page 13] There is no danger of the winds at all,
Unless together by the Ears they fall,
Who shall the honour have to waft a King,
And they who gain it, while they work, shal sing.
Me-thinks I see how those tryumphant Gales,
Proud of the great Employment, swel the Sails;
The Joyfull ship shal dance, the Sea shall laugh,
And loyal Fish their Masters health shall quaff;
See how the
Dolphins croud & thrust their large
And scaly shoulders, to assist the Barge:
The peacefull Kingfishers are met togother
About the Decks, and prophesie calm weather,
Poor Crabs & Lobsters are gone down to creep
And search for Pearls and Jewels in the deep;
And when they have the booty—crawl before
And leave them for his welcome to the Shore.
XV.
MEthinks I see how throngs of people stand
Scarce patient till the Vessel come to land,
Ready to leap in, and if need require
With Tears of Joy to make the waters higher:
But what will
London do? I doubt Old
Paul
With bowing to his Soveraign will fall.
The Royall Lyons from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore:
The Conduits will be ravish'd, and combine
To turn their very water into wine:
And for the Citizens, I only pray
They may not overjoy'd all dye that day.
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to
Caesar and to God their due.
We'l make his Fathers Tomb with tears to swim,
And for the Son, we'll shed our blood for him:
[Page 14]
England her penitential Song shall sing
And take heed how she quarrels with her King.
If for our sins—Our Prince shall be misled,
We'll bite our nails rather then scratch our Head.
XVI.
ONe English
George out-weighs alone (by odds)
A whole Committee of the Heathen Gods;
Pronounce but
Monck, and it is all his due)
He is our
Mercury, Mars, and
Neptune too.
Monck (what great
Xerxes could not) prov'd the Man
That with a word shackled the Ocean;
He shall command
Neptune himself to bring
His Trident, and present it to our King.
Oh do it then great Admiral.—Away,
Let him be here against St
George's day;
That
Charls may weare His
Dieu et Mondroit,
And Thou the Noble Garter'd
Honi Soit.
And when thy aged Corps shall yeild to Fate,
God save that soul that sav'd our
Church and
State:
There thou shalt have a glorious Crown, I know,
Who Crown'dst our King and Kingdoms here below.
But who shall find a Pen fit for thy glory?
Or make Posterity believe thy Story.
‘Vive St GEORGE.’