AN ELEGIE On the never [...] be forgotten Sir Thomas Armstrong Knight; Executed for Conspiring the Death of His Most Sacred Majesty, and Royal Brother, June 20. 1684. VVith some Satyrical Reflections on the whole Faction.
STand forth ye damn'd deluding Priests of
Baal,
And sound from out each Trumpet Mouth a Call,
Let it be loud and shrill, that ev'ry Man
May hear the noise, from
Beersheba to
Dan;
To summon all the Faction, that they may
In doleful
Hums and
Haws, bewail this day,
And to their Just Confusion howl and roar,
For the great
Bully of their
Cause, is now no more.
But now me thinks
I hear the Faction cry,
Ohone! Where's all thy Pomp and Gallantry?
Thy Great Commands, thy Interest and thy State?
The many Crouds which did upon thee wait?
When thou like
Atlas on thy shoulders bore,
That mighty World which we so much adore
(That Pageant Heroe, Off-spring of a Whore.)
Behold ye stubborn Crew, the certain Fate
That waits upon the hardened Reprobate.
See; the effects of Treason's Terrible,
In this life Infamy, and i'th' next a Hell,
While Heav'n attends on Kings with special Care,
The Traitor to himself becomes a snare:
Drove out like
C
[...]n, to wander through the World,
By his own thoughts into Distraction hurl'd,
Despis'd by all, perplext with hourly fear,
And by his Friends push't like the hunted Deer,
Like a mad Dog, still houted as he ran,
A just Reward for th' base Rebellious man.
How often has kind Heaven preserv'd the Crown,
And tumbled the Audacious Rebel down?
How many Warnings have they had of late?
How often read their own impending Fate?
That still they dare their wicked
[...]s pursue,
And knew what Heaven has ordain'd their due?
That man who could not reas'nably desire
To raise his Fortunes, and his Glories higher,
Who did enjoy, unto a wish, such store,
That all his Ancestors scarce heard of more,
Shou'd by his own procuring fall so low,
As if he'd study'd his own overthrow,
Looke like a story yet without a Name,
And may be stil'd the first
Novel in Fame?
So the fam'd Angels, Turbulent as Great,
Who always waited about the Mercy Seat,
Desiring to be something yet unknown,
Blunder'd at all, and would have graspt the Crown,
Till Heaven's Great Monarch, saw they wou'd Rebel,
Then dasht their Hopes, and damn'd them down to Hell.
And now me thinks I see to th'fatal place
A Troop of
Whiggs with Faction in each Face,
And Red swoln Eyes, moving with mournful pace,
Pitying the Mighty
Sampson of their Cause,
Cursing their Fates, and Ralling at the Laws.
The Sisters too appear, with shiveling Cryes,
To celebrate their Stallion Obsequies;
From th'
Play house, and from
Change, how they resort,
From
Country, City, nay there's some from
Court,
From the Old C— ss wither'd and decay'd,
To a
Whig Brewer Youthful Lovely Maid.
Gods! What a Troop is here? sure
Hercules
Had found enough so many
Whores to please.
Repent ye Factious Rout, Repent and be
Forewarn'd by this bold Traitors Destiny.
Go home ye Factious Dogs, and mend your Lives;
Be Loyal, and make honest all your Wives.
You keep from Conventicles first, and then
Keep all your Wives from Conventicling Men.
Leave off your Railing gainst the
King and
State,
Your foolish Prating, and more foolish Hate.
Obey the Laws, and bravely a
[...] your parts,
And to the Church unite in Tongue and Hearts;
Be sudden too, befores it proves too late,
Lest you partake of this bold Traytors Fate.
And if the Faction thinks it worth the Cost.
(To keep this
Bully's Name from being lost,)
To raise a
Pillar, to perpetuate,
His Wond'rous Actions, and Ignoble Fate,
Let'em about it streight, and when 'tis done,
I'le Crown the Work with this Inscription.
Bold Fame thou Ly'st! Read here all you
That wou'd this Mighty Mortal know;
First, he was one of low degree,
But rose to an Hyperbole.
Famous t' excess in ev'ry thing,
But duty to his
God, and
King;
In
Oaths as Great as any
He,
That ever Grac'd the Triple Tree;
So
Absolute, when Drencht in Wine,
He might have been the God o'th Wine,
His Brutal Lust was still so
strong,
He never spar'd, or old, or young;
In
Cards and
Dice he was well known,
T'out-cheat the Cheaters of the Town.
These were his
Virtues, if you'd know
His
Vices too pray read below
Not wholly
Whig, nor
Athiest neither,
But something form'd of both together,
Famous in horrid
Blasphemies,
Practic'd in base
Adulteries.
In
Murders vers'd as black, and foul
As his
Degenerated Soul.
In's
Maxims too, as great a
Beast,
As
His Father was a Groom.
those his honest Father drest.The
Factious Bully
[...]:
Now
Hang'd, and
[...], for his
Rebellion
Edinburgh, Re-printed by the Heir of Andrew Anderson, Printer to His most Sacred Majesty, Anno Dom. 1684.