The Protestant's Jubile:
OR,
A Farewel to Popery.
Being an Excellent Cordial to Chear a Protestant's Heart: Made of the Juice of an Orange.
To the Tune of, The Touch of the Times.
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I.
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ENgland rejoyce, thy Succour is come,
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To rescue thee from the power of Rome:
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See how his Foes before him do fall;
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He draws no Sword, yet conquereth all:
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Heaven protects him, and guideth his hand,
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Behold with what Zeal he for us does stand!
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He ventures his Fortune, and much doth endure,
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To keep our Kingdom in peace and Secure.
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II.
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No Man can withstand him, his power is great;
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Heaven hath sent him to settle our State:
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His Intentions are just; he does not intend,
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[To] spoil our Goods, but Religion defend.
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See how the Pope lears and hangs down his Head,
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He looks as sad as a Man that's half dead:
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He curses his Fate, since his projects did fail,
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And lears like a Dogg that has burn'd his Tail.
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III.
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He'll punish our Foes for their underhand Tricks;
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The Cross must be burned with the Crucifix:
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Their Saints cannot save them; the Virgin's unkind,
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Saint Coleman is hang'd, and the Devil is blind;
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The Pope is of late grown Dogg out of Doors;
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Old Petres is scamper'd to France with his Whores;
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But Poultney is caught, with the rest of that Crew,
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And Newgate and Tyburn does claim them as due.
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IV.
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Brave Orange an Army brought over the Se[a],
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To rout all the Papists, and set us at ease:
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He loved us so, that to end our Strife,
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He ventured Fortune, nay, hazarded Life.
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If he had not come, we had all been undone,
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Our Nation with Popery was over-run:
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Our Laws had been lost, our Religion run down:
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The Priests would have rul'd both Mitre and Crown.
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V.
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Let Papists pine, and Jesuits frown;
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Their Religion, and Ambition, are together pull'd down:
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We fear not their Fury, and hope for the day,
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To see the brave Orange (in Justice) bear sway:
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And let all his Foes admiring stand,
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To see the great Force of's invincible hand:
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He has Heaven to guard him, and strengthen his Arm,
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That all the Pope's power can do him no harm.
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VI.
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The dreaming old Chancellor, with his great Purse,
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Is in a bad case, and fears 'twill be worse.
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He dreameth of nothing but Gallows and Rope,
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Which he has deserv'd, and will have it we hope.
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All People do hate him, in Country and Town,
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There's no Man does value old Jeffrey's Frown.
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He always unjustly did deal in his Cause;
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And to let in Popery dispenc'd with our Laws.
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VII.
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The Smell of the Orange offendeth the pope,
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And will send him, e're long, to Satan, we hope.
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France, the good Orange full sowre will find;
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The Juice may stand by, he'll choak'd with the rind.
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The Nuntio, who us'd the best of his Skill,
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And thought himself safe as a Thief in a Mill,
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Is now forc'd to scamper (in private) away,
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For he'd have been hang'd had he ventur'd to stay.
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VIII.
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Then let us defend the brave Orange's Cause;
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He came to restroe our Religion and Laws.
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We neither for Pope nor Papists will care;
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And as for the French, let them come if they dare.
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Let Orange live long, and conquer his Foes,
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To make us all happy; and vanquish all those,
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That hate our Religion, and bow to a Stock;
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And make 'em to bow, to an Ax and a Block.
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