The Tune to the Devonshire Cant:
Or, an Answer to the PARLIAMENT Dissolved at Oxford.
Nonne vides ut nudum remigio latus. Horat. Ode XIIII Lib. I
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THE safety of the KING and's Royal Throne,
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Depends on those 500 KINGS alone;
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Those, under whom some say three Kingdoms groan.
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The Commons no new Methods will assigne,
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Of chusing KINGS they know the Royal Line,
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Was wont to be reputed as Divine.
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Your English-men who understand who gave,
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Their KING his Royal grandure scorn to have,
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His Majesty their General, their Slave.
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As frantick and outragious as were,
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Their VOTES; they shew'd their Vigilence and care,
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And nought like those could dissipate our fear.
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They are Dissolv'd and with them all our hopes,
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Prepare for Smithfeild fires for Racks and Ropes;
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For that's the pleasing Exercise of POPES.
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Now to create Intestine Broyls what need
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Is there, of those experienc'd things take heed,
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When'th States Blood's hot 'tis dangerous to bleed.
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In all true Hearts it would a Love create,
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To see the Supreme power dissipate,
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All Pentioners, those Spungers of our State.
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The Commons aimes were but to regulate,
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Things shuffl'd out of place in Church and State,
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Not to cramp Justice but corroborate.
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When they offend they justly feel the smart,
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Impos'd on them by some ambitious heart;
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Who's swellen envy breaks out like a F----t.
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But here's the mischief, they espouse the Law,
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Hate those who Subjects from Alligiance draw,
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And of their Royal Master stand in awe.
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We've grounds to hope when next they meet they'l bring,
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Wise Councels, Grave Proposals, ev'rything,
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Conducive to the Peace of People and KING.
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If so, we'll sing adieu to PLOTS, in vain
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Shall Rogues attempt to shake our Peace again,
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And then great CHARLES most happily will reign.
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