Dr WILD's Humble Thanks
For His MAJESTIES Gracious DECLARATION for
Liberty of Conscience, March 15. 1672.
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No, not one word, can I of this Great Deed,
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In Merlin or old Mother Shipton read!
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Old Tyburn take those Tychobrahe Imps,
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As Silger, who would be accounted Pimps
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To the Amorous Planets, they the minute know
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When Jove did Cuckold old Amphitryo.
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Ken Mars, and made Venus wink and glances,
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Their close Conjunctions, and mid-night Dances;
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When costive Saturn goes to stool, and vile
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Thief Mercury doth pick his Fob the while;
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When Lady Luna leaks, and makes her man
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Throw't out of Window into th' Ocean.
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More subtle than the Excise-men here below,
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What's spent in every Sign in Heaven they know.
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Cunning Intelligencers! they'l not miss
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To tell us next year the success of this;
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They correspond with Dutch and English Star,
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As one once did with CHARLES and Oliver.
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The Bankers also might have, had they gone,
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What Planet governed the Exchequer, known.
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Old Lilly though he did not love to make
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Any words on't, saw the English take
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Five of the Smyrna Fleet, and if the Sign
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Had been Aquarius, they'd made them Nine.
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When Sagitarius took his aim to shoot
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At Bishop Cosin, he spyed him no doubt;
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And with such force the winged-Arrow flew,
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Instead of one Church-Stag he killed two;
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Glocester and Durham when he espy'd,
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Let Lean and Fat go together he cry'd.
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Well Wille Lille, thou knew'st all this as well
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As I, and yet wouldst not their Lordships tell.
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I know thy Plea too, and must it allow,
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PRELATES should know as much of Heaven as thou:
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But now Friend William, since its done and past,
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Pray thee, give us Phanaticks but one Cast,
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What thou foresaw'st of March the Fifteenth Last;
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When swift and sudden as the Angels flye,
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Th' Declaration for Conscience Liberty;
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When things of Heaven burst from the Royal Breast,
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More fragrant than the Spices of the East.
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I know in next years Almanack thou'lt write,
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Thou saw'st the King and Council over-night,
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Before that morn, all fit in Heaven as plain
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To be discern'd, as if 'twere Charles's Waine,
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Great B, great L, and two great AA's were chief,
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Under Great CHARLES to give poor Fan's relief:
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Thou sawest Lord Arlington ordain the man
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To be the first Lay-Metropolitan.
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Thou saw'st him give induction to a Spittle,
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And constitute our Brother TOM-DOE-LITTLE.
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In the Beors Paw, and Bulls right Eye,
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Some Detriment to Priests thou did espye;
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And though by Sol in Libra thou didst know
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Which way the Scale of Policy would go;
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Yet Mercury in Aries did decree,
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That Wool and Lamb should still Conformists be.
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But hark-you Will, Steer-poching is not fair;
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Had you amongst the Steers found this March-Hare,
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Bred of that lusty Puss the Good Old Cause,
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Religion rescued from Informing Laws;
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You should have yelpt aloud, hanging's the end,
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By Huntsmens Rule, of Hounds that will not spend.
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Be gone thou and thy canting-Tribe, be gone;
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Go tell thy destiny to followers none:
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Kings Hearts and Councils are too deep for thee,
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And for thy Stars and Doemons scrutinie,
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King CHARLES Return was much above thy skill
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To fumble out, as 'twas against thy will.
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From him who can the Hearts of Kings inspire,
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Not from the Planets, came that Sacred Fire
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Of Soveraign Love, which broke into a Flame;
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From God and from his King alone it came.
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SO great, so universal, and so free!
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This was too much great CHARLES, except for Thee,
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For any King to give a Subject hope;
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To do thus like Thee, would undo the Pope;
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Yea, tho his Vassals should their wealth combine
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To buy Indulgence half so large as thine:
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No, if they should not only kiss his Toe,
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But Clements Podex, he'd not let them goe.
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Whil'st Thou to 's shame, Thy immortal glory,
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Hast freed All-Souls from real Purgatory,
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And given All-Saints in Heav'n new Joys, to see
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Their friends in England keep a Jubilee.
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Suspect them not, Great Sir, nor think the worse;
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For sudden Joys like grief confound at first.
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The splendour of your favour was so bright,
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That yet it dazles and o'rewhelms our sight.
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Drunk with her cups, my Muse did nothing mind,
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And until now her feet she could not find.
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Greediness makes Profa'ness in th' first place,
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Hungry men fill their bellies, then say grace.
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We wou'd make Bonfires, but that we do fear
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The name of Incend'ary we may hear:
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We wou'd have Musick too, but 'twill not doo,
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For all the Fidlers are Conformists too.
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Nor can we ring, the angry Churchman swears,
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By the King's leave the Bells and Ropes are theirs:
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And let 'em take 'em, for our Tongues shall sing
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Your Honour louder than their Clappers ring.
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Nay, if they will not at this Grace repine,
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We'l dress the Vineyard, they shall drink the Wine.
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Their Church shall be the Mother, ours the Nurse.
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Peter shall preach, Judas shall bear the Purse.
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No Bishops, Parsons, Vicars, Curates, we
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But only Ministers desire to be.
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We'l preach in Sackcloth, they shall read in Silk.
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We'l feed the Flock, and let them take the Milk.
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Let but the Black birds sing in bushes cold,
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And may the Jack-dawes still the Steeples hold.
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We'l be the Feet, the Back, and Hands, and they
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Shall be the Belly, and devour the Prey,
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The Tythe-pigg shall be theirs, we'l turn the spit,
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We'l bear the Cross, they only sign with it.
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But if the Patriarchs shall envy show,
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To see their younger-Brother Joseph go
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In Coat of divers colours, and shall fall
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To rend it, 'cause it's not Canonical:
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Then may they find him turn a Dreamer too,
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And live themselves to see his Dream come true.
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May rather they and we together joyn
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In all what each can; But they have the Coyn,
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With Prayers and Tears such service much avail:
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With Tears to swell your Seas, with Prayers your Sails;
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And with Men too from both our parties; such
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I'm sure we have, can cheat, or beat, the Dutch.
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A Thousand Quakers, Sir, our side can spare;
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Nay, two or three, for they great Breeders are.
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The Church can match us too with Jovial Sirs,
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Informers, Singing-men and Paraters.
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Let the King try, set these upon the Decks
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Together, they will Dutch or Devil vex.
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Their Breath will mischief further than a Gun.
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And if you lose them, you'l not be undone.
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Pardon, dread Sir, nay pardon this coarse Paper,
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Your License 'twas made this poor Poet caper.
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