An ACCOUNT of an
APPARITION
That appeared to TITUS OATES.
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SOme night late past, as I (accursed) lay,
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Tumbling and Tossing, wishing long for day;
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Just fallen into a Sleep, I did Espy
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(Methought) some frightful Things approaching nye
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My trembling Bed: Those who at first appear'd,
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Were naked Men with Crimson Blood besmeer'd,
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Dragging their Bowells trayling at their Heel,
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Their Breasts ript open, wanted Hearts to feel:
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They gently came, and drew near to my Bed,
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Shew'd what, and who they were but nothing said;
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At which I then (though ne'er before) turn'd red:
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In every Gesture you might plainly find,
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A Soul compos'd, and a well order'd mind,
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They knew me not, their Thoughts did soar more high,
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Their Eyes and Thoughts were fix'd above the Sky:
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But with true Consort each did Sing this Song,
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O Lord most Holy, Lord most Just, how long?
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Just following them, came Two so closely joyn'd
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As Matrimonial Bands had e're design'd;
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For Man and Wife, (Perhaps they so might be,)
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The one drest Man-like, t'other contrary;
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The Robes he wore were of a Scarlet dye,
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Of Aspect Reverend, full of Gravity:
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In whose right Hand fast held (me thought) I saw
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A Book, Intituled, Govern by the Law.
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Her Dress as Vestal Nuns are made to wear,
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From Head to Foot, did purely White appear;
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Whose Eyes were Cover'd with the Finest Lawn;
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In her right Hand a Naked Sword was drawn,
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Pointed towards me, at which I trembled more,
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Then at the Bleeding sight I nam'd before.
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As if she knew me, she did boldly come,
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Inquir'd for Conscience, I reply'd, from 'home;
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Quoth she, How long? I said, I cou'd not tell,
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She very seldom us'd with Me to dwell.
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Then with a Bold (I thought commanding) word
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To th' Scarlet Gown cryes, Judgment give my Lord.
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He seem'd reserv'd, and would but little say,
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Yet shook his Head, Look'd Stearn, and went away,
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With threatning Signs of a severer day.
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At whch I wak'd from that most dismal Dream.
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And thus I write upon the Tragyck Theme.
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Alas those inward Pangs I hourly feel,
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Are now grown greater than I can reveal,
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None e're more sensibly than I, cou'd tell,
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How like a wounded Conscience is to Hell:
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My crying Crimes, like Vipers dayly tear
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My Bleeding Intralls, and Im all dispair:
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The Fate of Judas was more mild than mine,
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He shew'd Repentance of his Treacherous Crime:
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Favour was granted to that Cursed Elf,
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And strength of Mind enough to hang Himself.
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But I more miserable far than He
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Who dare not do what none will do for me,
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Ungrateful Ketch where's thy Civility!
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You know that lately, might I had my Will,
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And Cornishes and Bethels Sheriffs still,
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I wou'd have sworn whilst Death had Power to Kill,
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And was in all Superlatively ill.
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For I, more fierce than all the Devils, hurl'd,
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And strove to turn to Chaos all the World:
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For which Im Plagu'd, and Burn with more than fire,
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By the strict Vengeance of th' Almighties Ire.
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To Heaven I dare not look, that Glorious Throne
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Did evermore my Hateful Crimes disown.
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Th' Infernal Spirits seem to dread me too,
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Or envy that my Crimes did Theirs out-do.
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Proscrib'd by all, Where Wretched shall I flye?
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To hide my Guilt from GOD's All-searching Eye.
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---------But hold, have I not read
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Pythagoras Faith, and what th' Egyptians said
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Of Transmigration of the Souls of Men,
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Into some Birds or Beasts, alas! What then?
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Where may I search? for either Beast or Fowl
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Deserves the Plague of such a Loaded Soul?
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What Land e'r so accurst as to produce
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So foul a Creature, to so foul a Use,
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Unless perhaps on that Unhallow'd Ground
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Where my Learn'd Tutor dy'd, such may be found.
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If that proves true, then Titus thou art blest,
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And in that hope, accursed Oates take Rest.
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