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WHen drousie Orbs did begin to appear,
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& nights sable Curtains drew the scean;
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And nodding Somnus seem'd to draw near,
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charm'd into slumber, I dream'd this Dream:
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Methoughts from the North a Crimson Cloud
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Rose, in the which a numerous croud
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Of worse than AEgyptian-locus did shroud,
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who vex'd the Nation, and made it complain.
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To whom from the East a scrole was brought,
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sign'd by the Tripple-headed sire of Fate,
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The which with instructions was amply fraught,
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how to undermine both Church and State:
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Horrors and Deaths within were inscrib'd,
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Without dismal stratagems contriv'd,
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To teach how for Murders & Poysoning to bribe,
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which alas makes the Nation sore complain.
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The Scarlet Beasts Pyoneers were set,
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to undermine the Kingdoms peace;
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To lay on their Crimes a counterfeit,
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and make the tumultuous Rumours cease:
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Whilst they to set us in flames thought good,
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And after to quench it with a Flood,
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Drawn from the sluces of Protestant Blood:
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which alas makes the Nation to complain.
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Methoughts I beheld an Eagle, whose eyes
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darted Majestick rays of light;
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Whom the Vulters strove to surprize,
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coveting Lustre that shone so bright:
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But all the Agents mistook the Deed,
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Instead of C.S. they had Decreed,
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They seiz'd on E.G. and made him to bleed,
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which alas makes the Nation to complain.
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Their Nets they had so slyly laid,
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to catch the Royal Eagle in;
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Were by an O. in season bewray'd,
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e're Hell had the Commission gin:
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Their Consistory where they did sit
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In Counsel, was the Bottomless Pit,
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From whose damn'd Rage we are not quit,
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and that's the cause that the Land complains.
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Tho' twice methought in the Briny Flood,
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the Pledge of promis'd safety lav'd;
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Yet there may still be thirst of blood,
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unless Iehovah's mercy save:
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So we that were almost, may be undone,
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And by their force be hurryed on,
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To worship the Whore of Babylon,
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for fear of which the Nation complains.
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Tho' from G.W. we are freed,
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and though he left his wages behind;
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Yet there may be more of the cursed breed,
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no doubt Hell and Rome can his equal find:
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Who for that Sum will ambitious be,
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To act a part in their Treachery,
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And never start at Iniquity,
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the which is the cause that the Land complains.
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The second part, to the same Tune.
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Dreadful methought those Monsters shew'd,
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upon whose fronts the fates seem'd to dwell;
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With Murders, Treasons, & slaughters imbrew'd
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which noted them the Springs of Hell:
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Whose minds are always on mischief bent,
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And surely they'r those that Scripture meant,
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Whom Satan to scourge the Kingdoms sent,
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by reason of which the Nations complain.
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Much like their Sire are all their train,
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that bald-Pated Priest that's Fatted in Rome,
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Who over Thieves and Harlots does reign,
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and yet does disturb civil Nations at home:
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Sending them out from his dire aboad,
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Whom he with dread Injunctions does load,
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Biding them fear neither Man nor God,
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the which makes the Nations sore complain.
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So that to all sorts of mischiefs they'r prone,
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infernal Counsels attend on their wills,
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A Prince is not safe if they eye but his Throne,
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for Bazilick like Death attends on them still:
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They'r made up of Murder, Rapin, and spite,
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Who only in Treason and blood do delight,
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And care not but at Massacres to fight,
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which alas makes the Nations to complain.
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In Darkness they hide their willing heads,
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lest Day should unrevel their black Crimes,
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And those that they have on Destruction lead,
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should start from their snare and repent in time
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Wherefore they'r Hud-wink'd & made to believe,
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When they'r in Hell they can give 'um a reprieve
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And thus they the simple with fallacies deceive,
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the which makes the Nations to complain.
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Therefore let England be warn'd by my Dream,
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and purge her self of so dangerous a Pest,
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If she her welfare and Peace do esteem,
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and would for the future have Plenty and rest:
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Let her quickly order them all to Rome,
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And if after that to stay they presume,
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Let the Triangle point out their Doom,
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and then the Nations will cease to complain.
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