THE
French King's Vision:
OR,
An Account of those fearfull Apparitions which disturb'd him in his Sleep, when he had been lay-
ing his Senses in soke in a prodigious Quantity of Claret.
To the Tune of Hope Farewell.
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ON the Fourteenth day of October,
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with many Bumpers of Claret well fill'd
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The French King went to Bed not half sober,
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and in his sleep he a Vision beheld;
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Many strange things on Subjects and Kings,
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& all his Vain-glory was mounted on Wings,
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Taking their flight, that very night,
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and chas'd by stout Hero's in shining Armour bright.
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Then a Voice said, Lewis be humble,
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and let the Protestant Princes alone,
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Or the Crown from your Noddle shall tumble,
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for no such Tyrant shall sit on the Throne.
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This dreadful Sound his Senses did wound,
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then dreaming a Fire encircled him round,
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His Heart did ake, ready to break,
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but yet from this slumber the Monarch would not wake.
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Then appear'd an Army of Martyrs,
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which he had Murder'd by Fire and Sword;
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Men and Wives with both Sons & Daughters;
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the Sight of which did much horrour afford:
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These Martyrs bore a Banner before,
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now with this Inscription in a Protestant Gore,
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Lewis shall flye from France: for why?
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the innocent Bloud do's for fearfull Vengeance cry
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Then a Crew of Bald-pated Friars
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he see, began to scamper about,
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Whose false Faces then flamed like Fire,
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Father Le Chese in the midst of the Rout;
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As they did run they cry'd we're undone,
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we all shall be kill'd by de Hereticks Gun,
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Which will take place in a short space,
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Begar we are now in a miserable Case.
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After them came more of their Creatures,
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now they were cloathed in Garments of Black,
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In the middle ran Old Father Petres,
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with his Welsh Highness fast bound to his back.
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There did he fume, and cry'd out, Make Room,
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or utter Destruction will soon be our Doom;
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Protestants they have got the day,
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and therefore in Paris no longer will I stay.
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Then this French unfortunate Caesar
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he quak'd and trembl'd in every Limb;
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For he dream'd that Nebuchadnezer
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told this Tyrant he must be like him:
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The Throne he disgrac'd, the Turk he embrac'd,
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And many fair Cities by Fire laid wast,
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Destroying all, these Crimes do call
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For Vengeance, proud Lewis behold your dismal Fall!
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In an Agony Lewis was taken,
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to think that he should be ruin'd and marr'd;
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In this fright he did straightways awaken,
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and then did Thunder and Call to his Guard:
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Saying, I fear my Ruine draws near,
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For to me a Vision this night did appear,
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The Protestants they will advance,
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And make their King William the Monarch of great France.
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In my dream I see Petre's kindness,
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when my Servants was cloudy and dull,
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At his Back he had bound his Welsh Highness,
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and ran with him like a Pedler's Trull;
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This was his Care at point of Despair,
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To save from Destruction the Catholick Heir,
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Such Love he had for the young Lad,
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That for ought I know he may be his nown sweet Dad.
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