A POEM (By way of ELEGIE) UPON Mr Stephen Colledge, Vulgarly known by the Name of The PROTESTANT JOYNER.
AH Colledge! how relentless is thy Fate,
That will not grant to Life a longer date!
No Cordial Ignoramus can retrieve
Thy fainting Spirits, and new Vitals give.
Since the too long and last Farewel you took,
How lonely seems the Coffee-house to look!
Your long beloved Twist, that us'd to be
Sedition mixt with little Loyalty,
Complains of your long absence, and doth fear
Some Rival Twist will entertain you there.
Circl'd within her Hempen Arms, you'll be
Rapt in surprizing Sweets of Extasie:
There to unenvi'd Bliss you'll safely soar,
Till Breath begin to fail, and you give o'er.
Great Martyr, Stephen, who shall now succeed
To lance Religion till the Beldam bleed?
Under whose circumspection will you see
Your Infant-Libels that in time may be
Fomenters of your fatal Jealousie?
Was't thus you sought for Libertie and ease,
Redress of Grievances, and endless Peace?
Incorrigible Zealot! sigh, and see
How painfully you've drudg'd for misery.
Thus the too active Sun, himself betrays,
Exhaling Mists that intercept his Rays.
But now he dies, his Stratagems do fail:
Heark how the whining Puritans bewail.
Their Shams and Train of Oaths discover'd lay;
Let them seek easier people to betray.
Yet on their Darling Colledge we'll bestow
An artless Monumental Verse or two.
HEre lies the man that zealously wou'd be
Pretending Union and Liberty:
But now his Glew-pot's useless, 'tis too late;
He cannot piece the breaches of the State.
FINIS.
London: Printed for J. Bowen. 1681