THE
WHIGGS LAMENTATION,
For the Death of their Dear Brother Colledge,
The Protestant JOYNER.
To the Tune of, Now, Now, the Fights Done, and the Great God of War, etc.
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(I.)
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BRave Colledge is Hang'd, the Chief of our hopes,
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For pulling down Bishops, and making New Popes;
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Our dear Brother Property crawls on the Ground,
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In Poland, K----- Anthony ne're will be Crown'd:
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For now their resolv'd, that Harts shall be Trump,
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And the Prentices Swear, they will Burn the Old Rump.
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(II.)
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Brave Colledge, both Champion and Carver of Laws,
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Who dyed undaunted, and stuck to the Cause;
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What mischief might thou, to the Godly have done
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Had thy dareing Soul, dreaded the World to come?
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And all thy dear Party to dainger expos'd,
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If thou to the World, had thy secrets disclos'd.
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(III.)
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But now thou art Hang'd, and that fear is past,
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Were all that's in question as safe in the Nest;
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Then we some new means, might consult or contrive,
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To drive on our purpose, to prosper or thrive:
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But the Popish PLOT, has now quite lost it's Name,
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And none thy bright Blunderbush dare to maintain.
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(IV.)
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What K----- but Great Colledge, could er'e make a Pope
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Tho' he was or'erul'd by the end of the Rope?
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Great Colledge, was certainly Jure Divino,
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When the Tripple Crown, on the Popes Head did Shino.
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He burnt him to Ashes, for pastime like Nero
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Then strait made a new one, such Power had our Hero.
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(V.)
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Great Colledge, must certainly dye a good Martyr,
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Being Knight of the Halter, and above the Garter;
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Our dear Brother States-man, tho' bred in a Saw-pit,
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Had Internal Genious, enough to or'ethrow Wit:
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He fram'd a new Moddel, to limit the K---,
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In hopes Crown and Sceptre, might truckle to him.
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(VI.)
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Great Britain, ne're bred such a Brother as Colledge,
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He made Seven Popes, in his Time on our knowledge;
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Our Signals of Crimes, he put in the Popes Armes,
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Which prudent Contrivance, our Function Alarms.
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With threats in Petition, Kings Power to restrain,
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Yet Towser, and Broomstaff, rides Admiral again.
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(VII.)
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Great Hanibals Conquest, nor Olivers Nose,
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Could with such small Slaughter, subdue such great Foes,
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As he in this three years, with help of our Party,
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Hath check't our three Kingdoms and Magnae Carta.
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The Head of our Church, and the Head of our Cause,
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He would have maintain'd them by Perjury and Blows.
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(VIII.)
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He now may be call'd, a third Saviour oth' Nation,
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To save his dear Church, he Renounced Salvation;
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Like Famous Cargile, he dy'd for King Jesus,
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Defying Church Idols, enough to amaze us:
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He ty'd up together, both his and our Crimes,
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And dy'd like a Devil, to damp our Designes.
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(IX.)
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Our Case toth' Carrecter-men, we must refer
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To Shadwell, and Settle, to Curtis, and Carr.
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To know who Succeeds, our Late Captain the Joyner,
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He must be an Artist, some Carver, or Coyner,
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To make our Solemnity, and some New Popes,
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On which our dependency, hangs and our hopes.
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(X.)
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But when the time comes, that the Pope must be burn'd
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I fear we shall finde that the Tide is much turn'd?
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For the Tory Party, hath got so much ground,
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To Head a Rebellion there's none will be found;
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For now they'r Resolved that Harts shall be Trump,
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And the Prentices Swear, they'l burn the Old Rump.
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(XI.)
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Such a confused Monster, they swear they'l Compose
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Of all the Dissenters, that are the Kings Foes;
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The Baptist, and Biter, the Pendant, and Quaker,
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From which they will draw such a prodigious Creature:
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More Diabolical Invective Far,
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Then all Popes Solemnity's at Temple-Barr.
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(XII.)
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Our Common-Councel lets Summon together,
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To Pannel pack't Jury's, Let's mak't our endeavour,
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For an Habeus Corpus, insist on our Power;
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To fetch our Great Patriots out of the Tower;
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And then we'le Dispute the Case, for Reformation,
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And make the Proud Torys Resign us the Nation.
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