All nobly ſworn to hang the Heretik Dogg.
An Oath's no more, then their own Natural Bogg,
Ore which, the nimble Tone ſafely runs
Whilſt the more ſlow pac'd daſtard ſtick's and drown's.
Yes, Pope and Hell for his Damnation call,
For he knows Rome, and he deſerv's to Fall!
Thy Greatneſs,Rome, by Myſtick ſteps Aſcends,
The Blind and Ignorant are thy beſt Friends :
Reaſon and truth to Thee are Foes and Spies,
Then Great Infallability, be wife,}
And ſafely Cut off Heads, to put out Eyes.
Favours in Pallaces, let no man boaſt,
Where but to See,and Know, is to be Loſt.
So in the Great Auguſtus Court of old,
Such Honour did the darling Ovid hold,
Long on his Brows the Royal Laurels hung,
Whilſt he loft Airs, to flattered Cæar ſung,
Till by a prying Eye undone, he's ſent
Damn'd for a look, t' Eternal Baniſhment:
Yes, in thy Chains, Great Overbury lye,
Rome, is not Rome, till Fear and Dangers dye:
To Preſerve Nations, Right, Religion, Kings,
Are for Unhallowed hands, two Sacred things.
In inch a Cauſe 'tis Fatal to embark,
Like the bold Jew that propt the falling Ark,
With an unlicenc'd Arm he durſt approach,
And tho' to Save, yet it was Death to touch.
Go blaſted then, and branded to thy Doom,
With no leſs Stains, then hateing Rome,
Supplanting France, and Saveing Chriſtendom.}
F I N I S:
London, Printed for Ab. Green, 1681.
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