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FUNERAL TEARS
Upon the Death
OF
Captain William Bedloe.
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SAd Fate! our valiant Captain Bedloe,
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In Earths cold Bed lyes with his head low:
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Who to his last made out the PLOT,
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And Swearing dyd upon the Spot.
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Sure Death was Popishly affected,
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She had our Witness else protected:
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Or downright Papist, or the Jade
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A Papist is in Mascarade.
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The Valiant Bedloe, Learned Oates,
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From Popish Knives savd all our Throats:
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By such a Sword, and such a Gown
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Soon would the Beast have tumbled down.
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They Conquer like the Hebrew King,
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And Oaths at Romes Goliah sling:
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And never take Gods Name in vain;
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As many Oaths, so many slain.
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The stoutest of the Roman Band
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Could not their thundering Volleys stand;
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But all those Missioners of Hell
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By dint of Affidavit fell.
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Great things our Heroe brought to light;
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Yet greater still kept out of sight:
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And for his King, and Countries sake
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Still new Discoveries could make:
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In proper season to relieve,
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He still kept something in his sleeve;
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He was become for Englands good,
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An endless Mine, a wastless flood;
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Still prodigal, yet never poor,
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No spending could exhaust his Store.
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But Death, alas! that Popish Fiend,
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To all our hopes has put an end;
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Has stopd the Course, and dryd the Spring
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Which new Plot-tidings still would bring.
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This Witness (did the Fates so please)
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Had sworn us into Happiness;
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Made the Court chast, ReIigion pure;
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And wrought an Universal Cure;
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Sworn Westminster into good Order,
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Reformd Chief-Justice, and Recorder:
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The Land from Romish Locusts purgd,
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And from Whitehal the Chits had scourgd;
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Had judgd the great Succession-Case,
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And sworn the Crown to the right place.
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England! The mighty loss bemoan!
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Thy watchful Sentinel is gone.
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Now may the Pilgrims land from Spain,
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And undiscoverd cross the Main.
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Now may the Forty Thousand Men
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In Popish Arms be raisd agen;
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Black Bills may fly about our ears;
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Who shall secure us from our Fears?
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Jesuits may fall to their old sport
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Of Burning, Slaying Town and Court,
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And we never the wiser fort.
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Then pitty us; Exert thy Power
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To save us in this dangerous Hour.
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Thou hast to Death Sworn many men,
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Ah! Swear thy self to Life agen.
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