BABEL and BETHEL: or, The POPE in his Colours.
WITH
The Church of Englands Supplication to his Majesty, our gracious Soveraign, the true Defender of the Faith;
To protect her from all the Machinations of Rome, and its bloody Emissaries.
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SCarce had bright Truth, with an enliv'ning Ray,
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Chac'd the black Mists of Ignorance away,
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Restor'd the Gospel, and our Souls set free
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From slavish Chains of New Idolatrie;
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But all the Pow'rs of Darkness did unite,
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And club their hellish Mists t' Eclipse that Light.
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As when from Egypts Thraldom Israel came,
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Led by a Cloud by day, by night a Flame,
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Straight cruel Pharaoh did Gods Flock pursue,
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Till the Seas Billows all his Host o'rethrew:
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So, in the early Reformations dawn,
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When Englands Church had seas'nably withdrawn
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Herself from Spiritual Egypts dangerous yoke,
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Endeav'ring Truths long Banisht to revoke;
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Winnow'd the Chaff from Corn, the Dross from Gold,
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And would no more Romes Superstitions hold:
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That haughty Pharaoh with the Triple Crown
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(Through all the World for Pride and Rapine known)
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Bestirr'd himself, and from each gloomy Cell
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Summon'd up all the Troops of raging Hell,
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At once to ruine both our Church and State,
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By close Intrigues of Spight, and open Hate.
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A thousand Plots, a thousand Snares were laid;
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With Craft they undermine, with Force invade.
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Pregnant with Mischiefs, every Age they shew
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Some recent Cruelties, some Treasons new.
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Singly at first began their Butchers Trade;
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Smithfield was then their flaming Shambles made.
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Next, the whole Kingdom at one Blow they hope
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To Sacrifice unto their Moloch-Pope.
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But still incircled with Heavens mighty Arm,
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Blest Isle! thou stand'st secure, and free from harm.
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Th' Invincible Aramade of haughty Spain
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Attempts our Angel-guarded Coasts in vain.
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Fauxes dark Lanthorn's brought to Light; and Thames
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Triumphs o're baffled Tyburs bitter streams,
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Seeing its LONDON more illustrious grown
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By all those Fire-brands that on her were thrown.
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Those Modern Bloodhounds, who so curstly fought
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Our Sovereigns Life, and Ruine to have brought
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Upon us All, in their own Traps are caught.
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For these repeated Mercies let us pay
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Kinde Heaven our Thanks in some uncommon way;
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And ne're turn back in Popish paths to stray.
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Mean time this Figure courts your welcome Eye,
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Where first you may that Man of Sin descry,
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Romes mighty Mufti, who in Pomp doth sit,
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And owns no Rule (but's Lust) of Just, or fit.
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Two Swords are Brandisht in his bloody hand,
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Boasting both Souls and Bodies to Command;
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The double Engines of his fatal Ills;
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First he Excommunicates, and then he Kills.
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Two Keys, the one locks Truth up from mens eyes,
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Th'other sets ope the Shop of Heresies,
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Errours, and Superstitions, which are hurl'd
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By's busie Imps ore all the hoodwink'd world.
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From his vile Mouth proceeds a reaking steam
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Of Pride, which doth both Kings and God Blaspheme;
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Usurps the Powers Divine; makes void God's Laws;
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Pardons All Sin for Gold; and over-aws
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Poor Mortals with his full-mouth'd Curses, till
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They truckle to his haughty boundless Will.
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Treads on the (*) Necks of Emperours, and owns
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A Power at pleasure to Kick off their Crowns.
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This is that Holy-monstrous-three-Crown'd Head,
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Whereby Rome's cruel Synagogue is led.
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How long! how long, Lord! Holy, Just and True!
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Shall thy Revenging Arm cease to pursue
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This earthly Lucifer? Why sleeps thy Thunder
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To crush such Pride, and break these bands asunder?
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Hasten thy thickest Plagues t'avenge their Cause
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Whom he has Martyr'd for thy Sacred Laws.
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Make all true Christian Kings to hate that Whore,
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And Burn the Strumpet they did once Adore.
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Allow this Transport, Reader; if thou art
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A Protestant, like Zeal must warm thy heart.
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(*) Pope Alexander set his foot on the neck of the Emperour Federerick the
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first, saying, Thou shalt treat on the Asp, and walk on the Basilisk:
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And afterwards Crowning his Son, placed the Crown between his feet,
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and so put it on his head, and then spurn'd it off again; to shew he
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had Power to Depose him.
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But next, Behold! a nobler Scene is shown,
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Our Gracious Sovereign on his well-fixt Throne.
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To whom, Our Church, beset on every side
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With Popish Hamans fierce and cruel Pride,
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Like good Queen Esther bows her Reverend Knee,
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And thus implores his known Benignity;
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Prince! preserv'd by Miracle! I sue
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"First to my Head in Heaven, and next to You.
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"For me Your Glorious Father lost his Crown,
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"And long Your Self were Banish'd from Your own.
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"In those black Days how oft did You maintain
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"My Holy Truths, whilst Jesuits bark'd in vain!
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"That Constancy Heaven now rewards with Power,
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"To yoak those Savage Boars, that would devour
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"My tender Plants, and with fresh Plots pursue
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"To strike me dead, by Murdering of You.
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not Zerviah's brood too strong become,
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"But scatter all th' Intrigues of bloody ROME.
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This said ------
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See! How the King (ever the Churches Friend)
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Doth straight his gracious Scepter forth extend;
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Professing 't shall to all the World be known,
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Her Safetys pretious to Him, as His Own.
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This Justice must secure: To spare sometimes
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Is Cruelty, and doth encourage Crimes.
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To Execution let the Guilty go,
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And the next Age a needful Warning show.
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Of Catholick Religion prate no further,
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Your Crimes are Treasons, Blood, and horrid Murther.
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O Rome! Lives yet that Wolf which was thy Nurse,
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When growing Great, thou grew'st the whole Worlds Curse?
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May none yet leap thy Walls, or leave thy See
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Unslain, though he a King and Brother be?
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Retainst thou yet that Savage kinde, to Prey
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On the distressed Flock which shuns thy way?
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Do all that suck thy breasts, for Milk suck Blood?
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Dare none that spring from thee Die well? do good?
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Must Gibbets only Rock them to their Rest?
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Do they desire that Death, become they't best?
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Must Traiterous Villains only be thy Saints?
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Wear none white Robes but such as Scarlet Paints?
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Why else do all Ill men so fast drink up
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The deadly Lees of thy Inchanted Cup?
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Or why do Fools so Credit what Rome saith,
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But 'cause they soon can learn Implicite Faith?
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If the Pope's Girdle keep Heav'ns Keys, sans doubt
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Hee'l never Bar his own dear Martyrs out.
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Nor need they fear where Jesuits have to do,
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Garnet shall be a Saint, and Coleman too.
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Their Writings and Examples Murther teach;
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They'l not Condemn the Doctrine which they Preach.
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This makes our Desperate Ruffians, Romans dye,
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And our Crackt Madams seek a Nunnery.
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From Popish Faith, and Popish Tyrannie,
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Lord, ever keep our British Nations free.
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Blast all the Counsels of Achitophel,
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Unvail th' Intrigues of every Treacherous Cell.
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Preserve the King, and his Great Council too;
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Guide with thy Grace and Blessing, all they do.
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That we secure, each under his own Vine,
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May all in joyful Acclamations joyn:
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And never in our Hallelujahs cease
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To magnifie the Author of our Peace. Amen.
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