Close ×

Search EBBA

Advanced Search

EBBA 36884

British Library - C.121.g.9
Ballad XSLT Template
The WHIGS Lamentation for the Death of
Anthony King of Poland,
To the Tune of, Philander, etc.

[1]
AH Cruel Bloody Fate!
What canst thou now do more?
Alass! 'tis now too late
Poor Toney to restore:
Why should the flattering Fates persuade,
That Toney still should live,
In England here,
Or in Holland there,
Yet all our hopes deceive.

[2]
A Noble Peer He was,
And of Notorious Fame;
But now He's gone (alass!)
A Pilgrim o're the Main:
The Prop and Pillar of our hope
The Patron of our CAUSE,
The Scorn and Hate
Of Church and State,
The Urchin of the Laws.

[3]
Of matchless Policy
Was this Renowned Peer,
The bane of Monarchy,
The Peoples Hope and Fear,
The Joy of all True-Protestants,
The Tories Scorn and Dread;
But now He's gone
Who curst the Throne,
Alass! poor Toneys dead.

[4]
For Commonwealth He stood,
Pretending Liberty;
And for the Publick Good
Would pull down Monarchy:
The Church and State he would divorce,
The Holy CAUSE to wed:
And in time did hope
To confound the Pope,
To be himself the Head.

[5]
A TAP in's side he bore,
To broach all sorts of Ill,
For which Seditious Store
The Croud ador'd him still:
He spit his Venom through the Town,
With which the Saints possest,
Would preach and prate
Church and State,
While He perform'd the rest.

[6]
When any change of State,
Or Mischief was at hand,
He had a working Pate,
And Devil, at command:
He forg'd a PLOT, for which the Heads
Of Faction gave their Votes;
But now the PLOT
Is gone to pot,
What will become of Oates?

[7]
Under the fair pretence
Of Right, Religion, Law,
Excluding the True Prince,
The Church would overthrow:
With such Religious Shams he brought
The Rabble on his side;
And, for his sport,
The Town and Court
In Parties would divide.

[8]
Now what's become of all
His squinting Policy,
Which wrought your Dagon's Fall,
From Justice forc'd to flie?
Old and Decrepid, full of pains,
As he of Guilt was full:
He fell to Fate,
And now (too late)
He leaves us to condole.

[9]
Now, learn ye Whigs in time,
By his deserved Fall,
To expiate his Crime,
E'r Fate revenge you all;
For Rights, Religion, Liberty,
Are but the Sham-pretence
To Anarchy;
But Loyalty
Obeys the Lawful Prince.


LONDON:
Printed by Nath. Thompson, at the Entrance
into the Old-Spring-garden near Charing-
Cross, Anno Domini, 1683.

View Raw XML