1

In Hopton breaks, in break the Cornish

powers, Few, and scarce arm'd, yet was th' advantage ours : What doubts could be, their outward strength to win, When we bore arms and magazine within ? The violent sword's outdid the musket's ire ; It strook the bones, and there gave dreadful fire ; We scorn’d their thunder; and the reeking blade A thicker smoke than all their cannon made; Death and loud tumults filld the place around With fruitless rage ; fall’n rebels bite the ground! The arms we gain'u were wcalth, bodies o'th' foe, All that a full-fraught victory can bestow ! Yet stays not Hopton thus, but still proceeds; Pursues himself through all his glorious deeds : With Hertford and the Prince he joins his fate (The Belgian trophies on their journey wait); The Prince, who oft had check'd proud W-'s fame, And fool'd that flying conqueror's empty name ; Till by his loss that fertile monster thriv'd ; This ferpent cut in parts rejoin’d and liv'd : It liv'd, and would have ftung us deeper yet, But that bold Grenville its whole fury met; He fold, like Decius, his devoted breath, And left the cominonwealth heir to his death. Hail, mighty ghost! look from on high, and see How much our hands and swords remember thee! At Roundway Heath, our rage at thy great fall Whet all our fpirits, and made us Grenvilles all. One thousand horte beat all their numerous power ; Bless me! and where was then their conqueror?

Coward

Coward of fame, he flies in hafte

away ; Men, arms, and name, leaves us, the victors' prey, What meant those iron regiments which he brought, That moving ftatues seem'd, and so they fought? No way for death but by disease appear'd, Cannon, and mines, and siege, they scarcely fear’d: Till, 'gainst all hopes, they prov'd in this sad fight Too weak to stand, and yet too slow for flight. The Furies howl'd aloud through trembling air ; Th' astonish'd snakes fell sadly from their hair : To Lud's proud town their hasty flight they took, The towers and temples at their entrance shook. I'n vain their lofs they' attempted to disguise, And muftered up new troops of fruitless lyes: God fought himself, nor could th' event be less; Bright Conquest walks the fields in all her dress. Could this white day a gift more grateful bring? Oh yes ! it brought bless’d Mary to the King! In Kcynton field they met; at once they view Their former victory, and enjoy a new : Keynton, the place that Fortune did approve, To be the noblest scene of war and love. Through the glad vale ten thousand Cupids fied, And chac'd the wandering spirits of rebels dead; Still the lewd scent of powder did they fear, And tter'd eastern smells through all the air. Look, happy mount! look well! for this is the, That toil'd and travel'd for thy victory : Thy flourishing head to her with reverence bow; To her thou ow'At that fame which crowns thee now.

Front

From far-stretch'd lures they felt her spirit and might;
Princes and God at any distance fight.
At her return well might Mhe' a conquest have!
Whofe very absence such a conquest gave.
This in the West; nor did the North bestow
Less cause their usual gratitude to flow :
With much of state brave Cavendish led them forth,
As swift and fierce as tempest from the north ;
Cavendith! whom every Grace, and every Muse,
Kiss'd at his birth, and for their own did chufe:
So good a wit they meant not should excel
In arms; but now they see 't, and like it well :
So large is that rich empire of his heart,
Well may they rest contented with a part.
How soon he forc'd the northern clouds to flight,
And ruck confusion into form and light!
Scarce did the Power Divine in fewer days
A peaceful world out of a chaos raise.
Bradford and Leeds prop'd up their sinking fame;
They bragg‘d of hosts, and Fairfax was a name.
Leeds, Bradford, Fairfax' powers are strait their own,
As quickly as they vote men overthrown :
Bootes from his wain look'd down below,
Aud saw our victory move not half so now.
I see the gallant Earl break through the foes
In duft and sweat how gloriously he shows !
I see him lead the pikes; what will he do}
Defend him, Heaven ! oh, whither will he go ?
Up to the cannons' mouth he leads ! in vain
They speak loud death, and threaten, till they 're ta'en.

're vext,

So Capaneus two armies fill’d with wonder,
When he charg'd Jove, and grappled with his thunder :
Both hosts with filence and with terror shook,
As if not he, but they, were thunder-strook.
The courage here, and boldness, was no less ;
Only the cause was better, and success.
Heaven will let nought be by their cannon done,
Since at Edgehill they finn'd, and Burlington,
Go now, your filly calumnies repeat,
And make all Papists whom you cannot beat !
Let the world know some way,

with whom

you And vote them Turks when they o’erthrow you next ! Why will you die, fond men ! why will you buy At this fond rate your country's slavery? Is 't liberty? What are those threats we hear? Why do you thus th’ old and new prison fill? When that 's the only why; because you will ? Fain would you make God too thus tyrannous be, And damn poor men by fuch a stiff decree. Is 't property? Why do such numbers, then, From God beg vengeance, and ielief from men ? Why are th' estates and goods seiz'd-on, of all Whom covetous or malicious men miscall ? What's more our own than our own lives? But oh Could Yeomans or could Bourchier find it fo? The barbarous coward, always us'd to fly, Did know no other way to see men die.

* A. line is here evidently wanting; but the defect is

A in all the copies hitherto known. N,

Os

Or is 't religion? What then mean your lyes,
Your sacrileges, and pulpit-blasphemies ?
Why are all sects let loose that ere had birth,
Since Luther's noise wak'd the lethargic earth ?

The Author went no further.

O two rude waves, by storms together thrown,

Roar at each other, fight, and then grow one. Religion is a circle; men contend, And run the round in dispute, without end: Now, in a circle, who go contrary, Must, at the last, meet of necessity. The Roman Catholic, to advance the cause, Allows a lye, and calls it Pia Fraus; The Puritan approves and does the same, Dillikes nought in it but the Latin name : He flows with his devices, and dares lye In very deed, in truth, and verity. He whines, and fighs-out lyes with so much ruth, As if he griev'd 'cause he could ne’er speak truth. Lyes have possess’d the press so, as their due; 'Twill scarce, I fear, henceforth print Bibles true. Lyes for their next strong fort ha' th' pulpit chose ; There they thróng out at th' preacher's mouth and nose,, And, howe'er gross, are certain to beguile The

poor book-turners of the middle isle Nay, to th' Almighty's self they have been bold' To lye ; and their blafphemous minister told,

They,

ز

2.4