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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Selected Poems
+ (1685-1700)
+
+Author: John Tutchin
+
+Editor: Spiro Peterson
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2011 [EBook #38407]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Dave Morgan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+
+JOHN TUTCHIN
+
+_SELECTED POEMS_
+
+(1685-1700)
+
+
+_INTRODUCTION_
+
+BY
+
+SPIRO PETERSON
+
+
+PUBLICATION NUMBER 110
+
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
+
+UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
+
+1964
+
+
+
+
+GENERAL EDITORS
+
+ Earl R. Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Lawrence Clark Powell, _Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+ADVISORY EDITORS
+
+ John Butt, _University of Edinburgh_
+ James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
+ Ralph Cohen, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
+ Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
+ Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
+ Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ James Sutherland, _University College, London_
+ H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
+
+
+CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
+
+ Edna C. Davis, _Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+When John Tutchin died on September 23, 1707, he had already created
+the image of himself which Alexander Pope has transmitted to posterity.
+There, in Book II of _The Dunciad_ (1728), the Whig journalist appears
+as one of two figures in a "shaggy Tap'stry":
+
+ Earless on high, stood un-abash'd Defoe,
+ And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge, below.
+
+Pope, in his variorum notes on the passage, identified Tutchin as
+the "author of some vile verses, and of a weekly paper call'd the
+_Observator_," and revived the fiction of his sentence "to be whipp'd
+thro' several towns in the west of _England_, upon which he petition'd
+King _James_ II. to be hanged." The "invective" against James II's
+memory, which Pope mentions, has now been identified in the Twickenham
+Edition as _The British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd_ (1701).[1] By 1728,
+this was all the reputation that remained for Mr. John Tutchin,
+Gentleman--irascible journalist, pamphleteer, and writer of verses.
+
+The truth of the matter is that Pope was no more accurate about
+Tutchin's being whipped than about Defoe's losing his ears. From the
+sparse reliable information concerning Tutchin's early years, one
+consistent pattern emerges: he tended to depict himself as a hero and a
+martyr. Born in 1661 "a Freeman" of London, he was brought up in a
+family of scholarly nonconformist ministers probably on the Isle of
+Wight[2]. Even though an enemy claimed that he had been expelled from a
+school at Stepney for stealing (_DNB_), he received some education and
+travelled on the continent. In defending his skill with languages
+against Defoe, he once told how at his school, boys translated and
+capped verses, and how he travelled "from _Leivarden_ in _Friezland_,
+thro' _Holland_ and the _Spanish Flanders_."[3] Throughout his life, he
+proudly designated himself a gentleman: during his trial for libel in
+late June of 1704, he even escaped punishment by setting forth that he
+was a gentleman, and not a laborer as the indictment read.
+
+In later life, he romanticized himself when young as the hero who fought
+in the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion, received the brutal "whipping
+sentence" from Lord Chief-Justice Jeffreys during "the bloody assezes"
+of 1685, petitioned James II for "the Favour of being hang'd" to avoid
+the sentence, and finally freed himself by paying so burdensome a bribe
+that he was reduced to poverty. All these claims were first made in "The
+Case, Trial, and Sentence of Mr. John Tutchin, and Several Others, in
+Dorchester, in the County of Dorset," which Tutchin added to the fifth
+edition of _The Western Martyrology; or, the Bloody Assizes_, published
+in 1705. As J. G. Muddiman demonstrated in 1929, most of these claims
+are outright fabrications. Tutchin was never indicted for high treason,
+he could never have been challenged by Jeffreys to cap verses, and he
+invented the petition to be hanged.[4] In _The Observator_ (July 25-29,
+1702), he honestly admitted that he was never tried in Devonshire, but
+claimed he did buy his liberty of James II; and in a later issue (Aug.
+4-7, 1703) he challenged an enemy: "if he Pleases to give the World an
+Account, _When_, _Where_, and for _What_ I was Whip'd thro' a
+Market-Town, he will inform Mankind of more than I or any Body else
+knows...." John Dunton believed in the whipping sentence; and Defoe, the
+story of the petition to be hanged. Throughout Tutchin's stormy career,
+his enemies made political capital of the flogging that never took
+place. He was probably twenty-four years old when, using the alias
+"Thomas Pitts," he was tried at Dorchester for "Spreading false news and
+fined five marks and sentenced to be whipped"--but he came down with
+smallpox and so was not whipped.[5] Lord Macaulay, who is incorrect on
+the facts taken from _The Western Martyrology_, certainly exaggerated in
+stating that Tutchin's temper was "exasperated to madness by what he had
+undergone."[6] That the Monmouth adventure and its aftermath mark a
+turning point in the young man's life, however, cannot doubted.
+
+Tutchin may have fought with William III's army in Ireland as an
+officer.[7] After the Glorious Revolution and the establishment of
+William and Mary on the throne, Tutchin devoted himself to a succession
+of liberal causes. On the one hand, he persisted in identifying himself
+with the former commonwealth, the Monmouth cause, the Revolution, the
+reform movement especially in the theater, and Whig liberty. He became
+noted for tactless exposés of high-level misconduct in his pamphlets and
+in _The Observator_ (Apr. 1, 1702-Sept. 23, 1707). His detractors
+frequently paired him with Defoe as a monster or a villain. Again and
+again, he made himself obnoxious to important personages such as the
+Earl of Albemarle or the Duke of Marlborough.[8] On the other hand, his
+hatred for tyranny propelled him frequently into such extremes as his
+disgraceful complicity in William Fuller's impostures. In the years
+1700-1704, he was generally reputed to be "Secretary to the abominal
+Society of King-Killers"--the secret Calves-Head Club made up of
+dissenters who met on January 30th, the anniversary of the death of
+Charles I, to sing prophane anthems.[9]
+
+Dunton generously summed up the widely varied causes of "the loyal and
+ingenious _Tutchin_ (alias _Master Observator_); the bold Asserter of
+English Liberties; the scourge of the High-flyers; the Seaman's
+Advocate; the Detector of the Victualling-office; the scorn and terror
+of Fools and Knaves; the Nation's _Argus_, and the Queen's faithful
+Subject."[10] Even his death in Queen's Bench Prison, on September 23,
+1707, was romanticized into another instance of martyrdom. "... _he
+liv'd and dy'd_," announced the Country-man of _The Observator_, "_for
+the Service of his Country_." Tutchin's followers dramatized his death
+as the result of a politically-inspired thrashing which "six ruffians"
+administered to him, in revenge for slanderous remarks made in _The
+Observator_ against Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Dilkes.[11] The "_Pulchrum
+Est Pro Patria Mori_" portrait, reprinted here as the frontispiece, was
+circulated to attest to Tutchin's political martyrdom. However, as the
+autopsy-report demonstrates and as Muddiman rightly concludes, "Tutchin
+really died from a specific disease and not from the thrashing undergone
+seven months before his death."[12]
+
+The young man of twenty four who went off to join Monmouth's forces had
+already published, in 1685, _Poems on Several Occasions. With a
+Pastoral. To Which is Added, A Discourse of Life_. In the preface,
+writing like a fashionable man-about-town, Tutchin describes the lyrics,
+translations, and satires of this volume as "trifles" which he had let
+circulate and had now secured "by promising to Print them." The book
+shows the variety in poetic kinds that one would expect in a young
+writer who had been drinking deeply of Lord Rochester, Waller, Cowley,
+the Earl of Roscommon, Oldham, and Dryden. Juvenalian satires
+reminiscent of Oldham are neatly balanced by memorial verses to Oldham
+and Rochester, late metaphysical lyrics ("And why in red dost thou
+appear"), classical dialogues ("Cleopatra to Anthony"), translations of
+Horace, and the well-turned "autobiographical" couplets of "A Letter to
+A Friend." In its variety and themes, _Poems on Several Occasions_
+resembles Oldham's _Works_, which was published twice in 1684. Tutchin's
+"The Tory Catch," like Oldham's "A Dithyrambick. A Drunkard's Speech in
+a Mask," has a speaker who ironically brags of the social misconduct
+which the author satirizes. "A Letter to a Friend" is a skillfully
+exaggerated account of the attractions and dangers in rhyming. Although
+perhaps autobiographical in part, the poem also imitates the
+long-standing tradition derived from Horace's first Epistle of Book I,
+and revived most recently in Oldham's "A Letter from the Country to a
+Friend in Town."[13] Both "The Tory Catch" and "A Letter to a Friend"
+are reprinted here from _Poems on Several Occasions_.
+
+Tutchin's first book shows two impulses: the awkwardly lyrical and the
+directly satiric. He feels compelled, in the Preface, to defend his
+choice of less serious subjects. His light poems do not, "in the least,
+detract from _Virtue_; since I have Read the _Poems_ of _Beza_,
+_Heinsius_, our own _Donne_, _&c._" He promises to turn to "some Graver
+Subject." There are other equally significant comments in a Preface that
+reveals a great deal about changing literary taste. In "To the Memory of
+Mr. John Oldham," Tutchin curiously avoids the main subject of Dryden's
+finer elegy, namely, Oldham's achievement in rough satire. His praise is
+that "_Crashaw_ and _Cowley_ both did live in thee." However, in his
+"Satyr Against Vice" and "Satyr Against Whoring," Tutchin has already
+learned the art of declaiming, from the poet who has been called "the
+English Juvenal," John Oldham.
+
+In the years between 1685 and 1707, Tutchin's separate poems were mainly
+occasional and satirical. Panegyric for William III dominates such an
+early piece as _An Heroic Poem upon the Late Expedition of His Majesty_
+(1689), and hatred for the Stuarts possesses a later poem like _The
+British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd_ (1701). In _Civitas Militaris_ (1690)
+Tutchin engages in city politics. The elegy on the death of Queen Mary
+irritated Defoe enough to have "_T----n_" placed among the "Pindarick
+Legions" in _The Pacificator_ (1700). Two poems, however,--_The
+Earth-quake of Jamaica_ (1692) and _Whitehall in Flames_ (1698)--differ
+from the others in that they are Cowleyan "Pindaricks" moralizing on
+disasters. _The Earth-quake of Jamaica_ is reprinted here to illustrate
+Tutchin's descriptive talent. He starts with an actual event, the
+Jamaican disaster of June 7, 1692; and then, as the epigraph on the
+title page suggests, he presents a variation on Horace's rejection of
+"senseless Epicureanism," in Ode 34 of Book I. _The Earth-quake of
+Jamaica_ may have been worked over longer than was customary. It was
+published shortly before December 10, the manuscript date on Narcissus
+Luttrell's copy now in the Houghton Library. Some six months earlier, in
+the late morning of June 7, the earthquake had erupted in Port Royal,
+the "boom" port on the south side of the island. In three schocks
+lasting less than three minutes, the famed capital of the buccaneers had
+fallen. News of the disaster did not reach London until August 9. The
+earthquake then became one of the most widely discussed events. The
+_London Gazette_ ran stories on it, scientists like Sir Hans Sloane
+published eye-witness accounts in the _Philosophical Transactions_ of
+the Royal Society, the moralists declared God's wrath had come upon the
+wickedest place in Christendom, and "the actors of the drolls" in
+Southwark Fair even mockingly re-enacted the event until the Lord Mayor
+put a stop to the performances.[14]
+
+If contemporary accounts of the Port Royal earthquake are compared with
+_The Earth-quake of Jamaica_, the reader becomes impressed by Tutchin's
+way of adapting the well-known details to a moral comment on life. His
+scenes are indeed graphic, but they do not have the immediacy of such
+eye-witness accounts as the following, preserved by Luttrell:
+
+ I cannot sufficiently represent the terrible circumstances that
+ attended it; the earth swelled with a dismal humming noise, the
+ houses fell, the earth opened in many places, the graves gave up
+ some of their dead, the tomb stones ratled together; at last the
+ earth sunk below the water, and the sea overwhelmed great numbers
+ of people, whose shreiks and groanes made a lamentable eccho: the
+ earth opened both behind and before me within 2 foot of my feet,
+ and that place on which I stood trembled exceedingly; the water
+ immediately boyled up upon the opening of the earth, but it pleased
+ God to preserve me....[15]
+
+Tutchin's aim is to compare vulnerable nature with vulnerable man: "Can
+humane Race / Stand on their / Legs when Nature Reels?" He sees in the
+disaster a challenge for English sinners to repent: the "Hurricane of
+Fate" wails on "murder'd _Cornish_." He had not yet forgotten the
+Monmouth adventure. For he alludes here to the act of Parliament passed
+in 1689 reversing the attainder of Henry Cornish, the alderman who had
+been brutally executed in 1685 for high treason through participating in
+the Rye House Plot and attaching himself to the Duke of Monmouth. For
+Tutchin, politics were always relevant.
+
+Tutchin's true forte is not the descriptive poem, but satire. Poems
+published in the years 1696 to 1705--from _A Pindarick Ode_ to _The
+Tackers_--exploit the satirical impulse that had been latent in _Poems
+on Several Occasions_. Increasingly he turns to general denunciation and
+thinly disguised lampoon. Of the two main Augustan traditions in
+satire--the "fine raillery" that Dryden perfected and the rough satire
+that reached back to Donne, Cleveland, and Oldham--Tutchin belongs to
+the latter. Defoe found him to be "so woundy touchy, and so willing to
+quarrel," and noted that "Want of Temper was his capital Error."[16] The
+specific circumstance that produced _A Pindarick Ode, in the Praise of
+Folly and Knavery_ (1696), reprinted here, is generally said to be his
+dismissal from the victualling office because he failed to establish his
+case that the commissioners mismanaged public funds. Such corruption in
+the administration would soon transform a deep admiration for William
+III into the disenchantment of _The Foreigners_ (1700). That Tutchin was
+uneasy in his effort to write satire in the mode of Dryden is suggested
+by his abandonment of irony after the first part of _A Pindarick Ode_.
+In his introductory verses, Benjamin Bridgwater accurately observes that
+Erasmus' _Ironia_ no longer suffices:
+
+ This hard'ned Age do's rougher Means require,
+ We must be _Cupp'd_ and _Cauteriz'd_ with _Fire_.
+
+Echoing Dryden's _Mac Flecknoe_, Tutchin invites Dullness and "Immortal
+_Nonsence_" to inspire his ironic praise of the folly and knavery that
+now ride roughshod over such traditional values as learning, love, wit,
+and patriotism. A few of the lines have the moving quality of Augustan
+satire at its best:
+
+ Did e'er the old or new Philosophy,
+ Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?
+
+The irony of _A Pindarick Ode_ does not adequately mask the
+denunciation. In Stanza X, it is even replaced by the antiquated Hero's
+diatribe against "our modern Knavish Arts"--never to return to the rest
+of the poem. Doubtless, the indictment of the "nefarious Brood at Home"
+that grows rich in wartime was the heart of the satire. Defoe hinted at
+this motive in the satirical vignette of Tutchin as Shamwhig, which
+appeared in the first edition of _The True-Born Englishman_ (1700):
+
+ As Proud as Poor, his Masters he'll defy;
+ And writes a _Piteous *Satyr_ upon Honesty.
+ Some think the Poem had been pretty good,
+ _If he the Subject had but understood_.
+ He got Five hundred Pence by this, and more,
+ _As sure as he had ne're a Groat before_.[17]
+
+Tutchin's satire would be henceforth the rough variety. In _The
+Foreigners_ he would also resort to fierce lampoons of William III's
+court favorites.
+
+In the rash of satires that followed _The Foreigners_ and _The True-Born
+Englishman_, the anonymous author of _The Fable of the Cuckoo_ (1701)
+pointed to the common tradition shared by both poems. For he attacked
+Defoe's "hatchet muse" as having been inspired by such "Modern Sharpers
+of the Town" as Tutchin and "Old[ha]m the Bell-weather of Tory Faction,"
+who first horned Defoe's satire, "And ever since perverted all good
+Nature." Advertised in _The Flying Post_ for July 31-Aug. 1, 1700, _The
+Foreigners_ was published shortly thereafter by the ardent Whig Anne
+Baldwin. The "vile abhor'd Pamphlet, in very ill Verse, written by one
+_Mr. Tutchin_, and call'd _The Foreigners_"--Defoe recalled years later
+in _An Appeal to Honour and Justice_ (1715)--filled him "with a kind of
+Rage." Tutchin's irascible temper had again taken hold. Scurrilously, he
+assailed foreigners in high office, especially William III's Dutch
+favorites, for their monopolizing preferments and usurping command,
+under such transparent aliases as "Bentir" for William Bentinck, first
+Earl of Portland, and "Keppech" for Arnold Joost van Keppel, first Earl
+of Albemarle. The manner was Dryden's in _Absalom and Achitophel_; the
+venom was Tutchin's own. Official reaction to _The Foreigners_ came
+quickly. The untrustworthy William Fuller spread the gossip that Tutchin
+fled from his Majesty's messengers, and found refuge "in a blind
+Ale-house, at the Windmill, by Mr. Bowyers, at Camberwel." On August
+10th, he was taken "into custody of a messenger"; and at the grand
+inquest for the city of London, held on August 28th, there was presented
+"a Poem called _The Foreigners_."[18] A mystery envelops the rest of the
+legal proceedings. There may even be some truth in the allegation that
+the parry would long since have "ruffled" Tutchin, except that he
+pleased them with his "railing at King _William's_ Friends
+sometimes."[19] _The Foreigners_ also aroused such ephemeral rejoinders
+as _The Reverse: or, the Tables Turn'd_ and _The Nations: An Answer to
+the Foreigners_. both published in 1700. Finally, in January of 1701,
+there was published a satire of more lasting worth, Defoe's _The
+True-Born Englishman_. Side by side, in _Poems on Affairs of State_
+(1703), were reprinted _The Foreigners_ and _The True-Born Englishman_
+among verses "_Written by the Greatest Wits of this Age_."[20]
+Altogether, the two satirists had three poems apiece in the volume. One
+of Tutchin's poems, "The Tribe of Levi" (1691), was anonymously
+reprinted; the other two, _The Foreigners_ and _The British Muse_, were
+identified as "by Mr. _T----n_." These were the achievements of
+Tutchin's "hatchet muse."
+
+The poems are reprinted from copies in libraries of the U.S. and Great
+Britain. I am obligated to The Houghton Library for _Poems on Several
+Occasions_ and _The Earth-quake of Jamaica_, to Yale University Library
+for _The Foreigners_, and to the British Museum for _A Pindarick Ode,
+in the Praise of Folly and Knavery_. For permission to reproduce
+the "_Pulchrum Est Pro Patria Mori_" portrait of John Tutchin as the
+frontispiece, I wish to express my thanks to the Trustees of the British
+Museum.
+
+ Spiro Peterson
+ Miami University
+ Oxford, Ohio
+
+
+NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
+
+[1] _The Dunciad_, ed. James Sutherland (The Twickenham Edition, Methuen
+& Co., Ltd., 1943), pp. 115-18.
+
+[2] Tutchin's birth-year is variously given. The Van der Gucht engraving
+and the authentic _Elegy_ of Tutchin's death state that he died "Aged
+44"; but the mock _Elegy_, falsely claiming to be "Written by the Author
+of the Review," gives his age to be 47. In _The Observator_ (Oct. 20-23,
+1703), Tutchin implied that he was "Born some years after the
+Restoration of King _Charles_ the 2d." His certificate of marriage to
+Elizabeth Hicks on Sept. 30, 1686 places his age then at twenty-five,
+and supports the birth-year 1661, as given in the _DNB_. See also _The
+Observator_, May 17-20, 1704; July 8-12, 1704; and July 24-28, 1703. One
+of Tutchin's enemies charged that he was born in the north of England
+(_An Account of the Birth, Education, Life and Conversation of ... the
+Observator_, 1705); and another, that his father was "a Scot, canting
+Presbyterian Sot" (_The Picture of the Observator_, 1704).
+
+[3] _The Observator_, June 2-6, 1705. Tutchin stated, in _The Case,
+Trial, and Sentence_, that Judge Jeffreys had "a true Account" of his
+activities in Holland. See J. G. Muddiman, ed., _The Bloody Assizes_
+(Toronto, [1929]), p. 137.
+
+[4] Muddiman, pp. 136-37. _The Case, Trial, and Sentence_ is reprinted
+as a true record in T. B. Howell's _A Complete Collection of State
+Trials_ (London, 1812), XIV, 1195-200, but as a highly questionable
+document in Muddiman, pp. 137-46.
+
+[5] Muddiman, p. 219.
+
+[6] _The History of England_, ed. C. H. Firth (London, 1914), II, 639.
+Insofar as the _DNB_ article on Tutchin relies on Macaulay, it is
+erroneous.
+
+[7] Shortly after Tutchin's death, the Country-man of _The Observator_
+lauded his beloved master as "an Officer in the Army," and addressed him
+"Captain Tutchin," as did the mock _Elegy_ and the friendly Dunton.
+
+[8] Narcissus Luttrell, _A Brief Historical Relation of State Affairs_
+(Oxford, 1857), V, 257; _Manuscripts of the Marquis of Bath_ (H.M.C.,
+London, 1904), I, 105-06.
+
+[9] The authorship of the Calves-Head anthems is assigned to Tutchin in
+_The Reverse: or, the Tables Turn'd_ (1700), p. 7, and to both Tutchin
+and Benjamin Bridgwater in _The Examination, Tryal, and Condemnation of
+Rebellion Observator_ (1703), p. 17. See also Howard William Troyer,
+_Ned Ward of Grubstreet_ (Harvard University Press, 1946), pp. 110, 117.
+
+[10] _The Life and Errors of John Dunton_ (London, 1818), I, 356.
+
+[11] See _The Observator_, Jan. 4-8, 1707, and "Postscript"; Jan. 12-15,
+1707; and Sept. 20-24, 1707.
+
+[12] Pp. 12-13. See also _The Observator_, Sept. 27-Oct. 1, 1707, and
+William Bragg Ewald, _Rogues, Royalty, and Reporters_ (Boston, [1954]),
+p. 14.
+
+[13] For the two Oldham pieces, see _Poems of John Oldham_, introd.
+Bonamy Dobrée (Southern Illinois University Press, [c. 1960]) pp. 50-54,
+72-79.
+
+[14] _The Diary of John Evelyn_, ed. E. S. de Beer, 6 vols. (Oxford,
+1955), V, 115; Luttrell, II, 565; W. Adolphe Roberts, _Jamaica: the
+Portrait of an Island_ (New York, [c. 1955]), pp. 44-45; and Mary
+Manning Carley, _Jamaica: the Old and the New_ (London, [c. 1963]), pp.
+34-36, 157-58.
+
+[15] Luttrell's entry for Aug. 13, 1692 (II, 539).
+
+[16] _Review_, IV (Sept. 7, 1706) and IV (Nov. 20, 1707).
+
+[17] Defoe's gloss on "_Piteous Satyr_" is "Satyr in Praise of Folly and
+Knavery." (_The True-Born Englishman_, 1700, p. 37.) Since he regards
+this as the title of the "_Satyr_ upon _Honesty_," Defoe may be
+confusing _A Pindarick Ode_ with Tutchin's next satire, _A Search after
+Honesty_ (1697).
+
+[18] _Mr. William Fuller's Letter to Mr. John Tutchin_ (1703), p. 7;
+Luttrell, V, 676, 683; _The Proceedings of the King's Commission of the
+Peace, and Oyer and Terminer and Goal Delivery of Newgate ... the 28th,
+29th, 30th and 31st Days of August 1700_.
+
+[19] "A Dialogue between a Dissenter and the Observator," in _A
+Collection of the Writings of the Author of the True-Born Englishman_
+(1703), p. 227.
+
+[20] II, 1-6, 7-46.
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+[Illustration: Mr. JOHN TUTCHIN
+
+_Dy'd Septber 23d 1707. Aged 44._]
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+ON
+
+Several Occasions.
+
+WITH A
+
+PASTORAL
+
+
+To which is Added, A
+
+DISCOURSE
+
+OF
+
+LIFE
+
+
+By _JOHN TUTCHIN_.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+
+Printed by J. L. for _Jonathan Greenwood_, at the
+
+_Black Raven_ in the _Poultry_, near the
+
+_Old Jury_. MDCLXXXV.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+Tory Catch.
+
+
+I.
+
+ A Friend of mine, and I did follow
+ A Cart and Six, with Brandy fraught;
+ We sate us down, and up did swallow
+ Each a Gallon at a draught:
+ The sober Sot can't drink with us,
+ May kiss coy Wine with _Tantalus_.
+
+
+II.
+
+ With Musick fit for Serenading,
+ We did ramble to and fro;
+ Then to Drink and Masquerading,
+ 'Till we cannot stand nor go;
+ One Leg by _Bacchus_ was quite lamed,
+ 'Tother _Venus_ had defamed.
+
+
+III.
+
+ At the Tavern we did whisk it,
+ And full Pipes did empty drain:
+ We eat Pint-Pots instead of Bisket,
+ And piss'd 'em melted out again:
+ We beat the Vintner, kiss'd his Wife,
+ And kill'd three Drawers in the strife.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ In the Street we found some Bullies,
+ And to make our valour known,
+ We call'd 'em Fops, and silly Cullies,
+ And knock'd the foremost of 'em down:
+ And with praise to end the Fray,
+ We, like good Souldiers, ran away.
+
+
+V.
+
+ To the Play-House we descended,
+ For to get a grain of Wit,
+ Our own with Wine was so defended.
+ We sate spuing in the Pit,
+ 'Mongst Drunken Lords and Whoring Ladies,
+ To see such sights whose only Trade is.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+LETTER
+
+TO A
+
+FRIEND.
+
+
+ Thanks for your Praises! were they due, I wou'd
+ Pamper my self with Joy, and think 'em Good.
+ Loaden with Laurels for mine unknown Art,
+ You paint me Great, although beneath Desert.
+ But if _Macenas_ had a lasting Fame,
+ Because the best of Poets us'd his Name;
+ Then Merit justly may to me belong,
+ Because 'tis sung by your all-skilful Tongue.
+ Oft have I blam'd my Stars, that I should be
+ Plagu'd with this soft deluding _Poetry_:
+ This Charming _Mistress_ that has kept my Heart,
+ Quite from a Child, by her bewitching Art.
+ From her glad Fountain I can always find
+ A pleasing Philtre to make _Phillis_ kind:
+ For tell me that coy _Maid_ could ever be
+ Cruel, when urg'd by Charming _Poesie_?
+ _Verse_ is the _Poet's_ Beauty, Wealth and Wit;
+ And what soft _Virgin_ won't be won by it?
+ But, wearied with Delight, I always try
+ Against this Spell to find a Remedy.
+ By good _Divinity_ I think to find
+ A Soveraign Remedy for Soul and Mind:
+ But then, with Holy Flame, I strait do burn,
+ And all to _Hymns_, and _Sacred Anthems_ turn.
+ Nay, when the Night does waking Thoughts redress,
+ And Guardian Angels with our Souls converse,
+ To busie Mortals is the sleeping Time;
+ I dream and slumber all the Night in Rhyme.
+ Then puzling _Logick_ next I take in hand;
+ But this, Alas! can't _Poesie_ withstand.
+ _Barbara_, _Celarent_, I with Ease express,
+ And yoke rough _Ergo's_ into well-made _Verse_:
+ My Faithless Lover's _Syllogism_ tries;
+ I by stout _Logick_ find their _Fallacies_.
+ Then _Scheibler_, _Suarez_, _Bellarmine_ I get,
+ And sound the depth of _Metaphysick_ wit:
+ Streight, in a fret, I damn 'em all at once,
+ And vow they are as dull as _Zabarel_ or _Dunce_.
+ Credit me, _Sir_, no greater plague can be,
+ Than to be poison'd with mad _Poetrie_:
+ Like Pocky Letchers, who have got a Clap,
+ And paid the _Doctor_ for the dear mishap;
+ But newly eased of their nausceous pain,
+ Return unto their wanton Sin again.
+ So Poets be they plague'd with naughty Verse,
+ They never value good nor bad success:
+ Or be they trebly damn'd, they will prefer
+ Their next vile scribling to the _Theater_.
+ Well might the Audience, with their hisses, damn
+ The Bawdy Sot that late wrote _Limberham_:
+ But yet you see, the Stage he will command,
+ And hold the Laurel in's polluted Hand.
+ In slothful ease, a while I took delight,
+ And thought all Poets mad that us'd to write.
+ So long I kept from Verse, I thought I'd lost
+ My Versing Vein, and of my Fortune boast:
+ But having tryal made, I quickly found
+ My store renew'd, in numbers strong and sound
+ With ease my happy fancies come and go,
+ As Rivulets do from _Parnassus_ flow.
+ Then finding that in vain I long had try'd
+ The _Poet_ from the _Tutchin_ to divide;
+ I charming _Poesie_ make my delight,
+ And propagate the humor still to Write.
+ Our new Divines do alter not one jot,
+ From what their Tribe in older times have wrot;
+ Except, like _Parker_, to have something new,
+ They broach new Doctrines, either false or true:
+ _A Publick Conscience_, which for nought does pass,
+ But proves the Writer is a publick Ass;
+ Who the new Philosophick world have told,
+ Have for a new but varnish'd o're the old.
+ But all Poetick Phancy can't draw dry,
+ Th' unfathom'd Wells of deepest Poesie.
+ The _Bifront Hill_ is always stout and strong;
+ The _Muses_ still are handsome, always young.
+ The clearest streams of Chrystal _Helicon_
+ Do o're the Pebles in sweet Rhymings run.
+ Why then should you, _Dear Sir_, (that have pretence
+ To the extreamest bounds of Wit and Sense)
+ Lay by your Quills and hold your Tune-ful Tongue,
+ While all the witty want your pleasing Song?
+ Once more renew those Lays that gave delight,
+ That chear the Day, and glad the gloomy Night:
+ May with your dying breath your Verses end;
+ Thus prays your constant, and
+
+ _Your truest Friend_,
+ _J. T._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+EARTH-QUAKE
+
+OF
+
+JAMAICA,
+
+Describ'd in a
+
+Pindarick Poem.
+
+
+By Mr. TUTCHIN.
+
+
+ _----namq; Diespiter
+ Igni corusco nubila dividens
+ Plerumq; per purum tonantes
+ Egit Equos volucremq; currum,
+ Quo bruta Tellus & vaga flumina,
+ Quo Styx, & invisi horrida Tænari
+ Sedes, Atlanteusq; finis
+ Concutitur. Valet ima summis
+ Mutare,----_
+
+ Horat. lib. I. Ode 34.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed, and are to be sold by _R. Baldwin_, near the
+
+_Oxford-Arms_ in _Warwick-lane_, 1692.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+Earthquake of Jamaica
+
+Describ'd in a POEM.
+
+
+I.
+
+ Well may our Lives bear an uncertain date;
+ Disturb'd with Maladies within,
+ Without by cross Events of Fate,
+ The worst of Plagues on Mortals wait,
+ Pride, Ignorance and Sin.
+ If our ancient Mother Earth,
+ Who gave us all untimely Birth,
+ Such strong Hysterick Passion feels;
+ If Orbs are from their Axles torn,
+ And Mountains into Valleys worn,
+ All in a moments space,
+ Can humane Race
+ Stand on their Legs when Nature Reels?
+ Unhappy Man! in all things cross'd,
+ On every giddy Wave of Fortune toss'd;
+ The only thing that aims at Sway,
+ And yet capricious Fate must still Obey;
+ Travels for Wealth to Foreign Lands,
+ O're scorching Mountains, and o're desart Sands,
+ Laden with Gold, when homeward bound,
+ Is in one vast impetuous Billow drown'd:
+ Or if he reaches to the Shoar,
+ And there unlades his Oar,
+ Builds Towns and Houses which may last and stand,
+ Thinking no Wealth so sure as firm Land;
+ Yet Fate the Animal does still pursue;
+ This slides from underneath his Feet, and leaves him too.
+
+
+II.
+
+ Environ'd with Ten Thousand Fears we live,
+ For Fate do's seldom a just warning give;
+ Quicker than Thought its dire Resolves are made,
+ And swift as Lightning flies,
+ Around the vast extended Skies:
+ All things are by its Bolts in vast Confusion laid.
+ Sometimes a Flaming Comet does appear,
+ Whose very Visage does pronounce,
+ Decay of Kingdoms, and the Fall of Crowns,
+ Intestine War, or Pestilential Year;
+ Sometimes a Hurricane of Fate,
+ Does on some great Mans Exit wait,
+ A murder'd _Cornish_, or some _Hercules_,
+ When from their Trunks Almighty _Jove_,
+ Who breaks with Thunder weighty Clouds above,
+ To Honour these
+ Large Pines and Oaks does Lop,
+ And in a Whirlwind lays 'em upon _Oeta_'s Top.
+ E're this vast Orb shall unto Chaos turn,
+ And with Consuming Flames shall burn,
+ An Angel Trumpeter shall come,
+ Whose Noise shall shake the Massie Ground,
+ In one short moment shall express,
+ His Notes to the whole Universe;
+ The very Dead shall hear his Sound,
+ And from their Graves repair,
+ To the impartial Bar,
+ Those that have been in the deep Ocean drown'd,
+ Shall at his Call come to receive their Doom.
+
+
+III.
+
+ But here, alas! no Omens fly,
+ No secret Whisper of their Destiny
+ Was heard; none cou'd divine
+ When Fate wou'd spring the Mine:
+ Safe and secure the Mortals go,
+ Not dreaming of a Hell below;
+ In the dark Caverns of the gloomy Earth,
+ Where suffocating Sulphur has its Birth,
+ And sparkling Nitre's made,
+ Where _Vulcan_ and his _Cyclops_ prove;
+ The Thunderbolts they make for _Jove_;
+ Here _Æolus_ his Winds has laid,
+ Here is his Windy Palace, here 'tis said
+ His Race of little puffing Gods are bred,
+ Which serve for Bellows to blow up the Flame,
+ The dire ingredients are in order plac'd,
+ Which must anon lay Towns and Cities waste.
+ Strait the black Engineer of Heaven came,
+ His Match a Sun-beam was,
+ He swift as Time unto the Train did pass,
+ It soon took Fire; The Fire and Winds contend,
+ But both concur the Vaulted Earth to rend;
+ It upwards rose, and then it downwards fell,
+ Aiming at Heaven, it sunk to Hell:
+ The Neighb'ring Seas now own no more,
+ The sturdy Bulwarks of the Shoar,
+ The gaping Earth and greedy Sea,
+ Are both contending for the Prey;
+ Those whom the rav'nous Earth had ta'ne,
+ Into her Bowels back again
+ Are wash't from thence by the insulting Main.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ The Old and Young receive alike their Doom,
+ The Cowards and the Brave,
+ Are buried in one Grave;
+ For Fate allows 'em all one Common Tomb.
+ The Aged and the Wise
+ Lose all their Reason in the great Surprise.
+ They know not where to go,
+ And yet they dare not stay,
+ There's Fire and Smoak below,
+ And the Earth gaping to receive the Prey:
+ If to the Houses Top they Crawl,
+ These tumble too, and downwards fall:
+ And if they fly into the Street,
+ There grizly Death they meet;
+ All in a hurry dye away,
+ The wicked had not time to pray.
+ The Soldier once cou'd teach grim Death to kill,
+ In vain is all his Skill,
+ In vain he brandisheth his Steel:
+ No more the Art of War must teach,
+ But lyes Fates Trophy underneath the Breach:
+ The good Companions now no more Carouse,
+ They share the Fate of the declining House,
+ Healths to their Friends their Bumpers Crown'd:
+ But while they put the Glasses round,
+ Death steps between the Cup and lip,
+ Nor would it let 'em take one parting Sip.
+
+
+V.
+
+ The Mine is sprung, and a large Breach is made,
+ Whereat strong Troops of Warring Seas invade;
+ These overflow;
+ Where Houses stood and Grass did grow,
+ All sorts of Fish resort:
+ They had Dominions large enough before,
+ But now unbounded by the Shoar,
+ They o're the Tops of Houses sport.
+ The Watry Fry their Legions do extend,
+ And for the new slain Prey contend;
+ Within the Houses now they roam,
+ Into their Foe, the very Kitchen, come.
+ One does the Chimney-hearth assail,
+ Another slaps the Kettle with his slimy Tail.
+ No Image there of Death is seen,
+ No Cook-maid does obstruct their Sway,
+ They have entirely got the day.
+ Those who have once devour'd been
+ By Mankind, now on Man do Feed:
+ Thus Fate decides, and steps between,
+ And sometimes gives the Slave the Victors meed.
+ The Beauteous Virgins whom the Gods might love,
+ Cou'd not the Curse of Heav'n remove;
+ Their goodness might for Crimes Atone,
+ Inexorable Death spares none.
+ Their tender Flesh lately so plump and good,
+ Is now made Fishes and Sea-monsters Food;
+ In vain they cry,
+ Heav'n is grown Deaf, and no Petition hears,
+ Their Sighs are answer'd like their Lovers Pray'rs,
+ They in the Universal Ruin lye.
+
+
+VI.
+
+ Nor is inexorable Fate content
+ To ruine one poor Town alone;
+ More Mischief by the Blow is done:
+ Death's on a farther Message sent.
+ When Fate a Garrison does Sack,
+ The very Suburbs do partake
+ Of Martial Law,
+ Its Forces draw
+ To every Mountain, Field and Wood,
+ They Ravage all the Neighbourhood.
+ Worse than the weak Assaults of Steel,
+ Its Instruments of Death all places feel.
+ They undiscover'd, like fell Poison kill,
+ Its Warriours fierce,
+ The Earth, the Air, and Men do pierce;
+ And mounted, fight upon the winged Winds.
+ Here a great Mountain in a Valley's thrown,
+ And there a Valley to a Mountain grown.
+ The very Breath of an incensed God,
+ Makes even proud _Olympus_ Nod.
+ Chang'd is the Beauty of the fruitful Isle,
+ And its fair Woods lopp'd for its Funeral Pile.
+ The moving Earth forms it self in Waves,
+ And Curls its Surface like the Rowling Seas;
+ Whilst Man (that little thing) so vainly Raves,
+ Nothing but Heaven can its own Wrath appease.
+
+
+VII.
+
+ But Fate at length thought fit to leave its Toil,
+ And greedy Death was glutted with the Spoil.
+ As weary Soldiers having try'd their Steel,
+ Half drown'd with Blood, do then desist to kill.
+ More Ruin wou'd a second Deluge make,
+ Blot out the Name of the unhappy Isle.
+ It fares with her as when in Martial Field,
+ Resolv'd and Brave, and loath to yield,
+ Two num'rous Armies do contend,
+ And with repeated Shouts the Air do Rend.
+ Whilst the affrighted Earth does shake,
+ Some large Battalions are entirely lost,
+ And Warring Squadrons from the mighty Host:
+ Here by a Shot does fall
+ Some Potent General;
+ And near to him,
+ Another loses but a Limb.
+ Part of the Island was a Prey to Fate,
+ And all the rest do's but prolong its date,
+ 'Till injur'd Heav'n finds,
+ Its Bolts a Terror strike on humane Minds;
+ Sure we may hope the Sinners there Repent,
+ Since it has made their lewdest Priest Relent.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+Pindarick ODE,
+
+IN THE
+
+PRAISE
+
+OF
+
+Folly and Knavery.
+
+
+By Mr. _TUTCHIN_.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed and Sold by _E. W._ near _Stationers-Hall_.
+
+1696. Price 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+Pindarick ODE
+
+In the Praise of
+
+Folly and Knavery.
+
+
+I.
+
+ My humble Muse no Hero Sings,
+ Nor Acts, nor Funerals of Kings:
+ The great _Maria_ now no more,
+ In Sable Lines she does deplore;
+ Of mighty _William_'s growing fame,
+ At present must forget the name,
+ Yet she affects something that is sublime,
+ And would in _Dytherambick_ strain }
+ Attempt to rise, and now disdain }
+ The Shrubs and Furzes of the Plain: }
+ He that's afraid to fall, shou'd ne'r pretend to climb.
+
+
+II.
+
+ Let others boast of potent Wit,
+ And Summon in the awful _Nine_,
+ With all their Aids of Fancy, Humor, Sence,
+ Fair polish'd Learning, Eloquence,
+ And call their gawdy works Divine:
+ Hov'ring above my Head let _dullness_ sit,
+ The only God that's worshipp'd by the Age;
+ Immortal _Nonsence_ guide my Pen,
+ The Fames of _Shakespear_ and of _Ben_,
+ Must warp, before my nobler fire
+ To their regardless Tombs retire.
+ Thus Arm'd, with Nonsence, I'll engage
+ Both _Universities_,
+ And their Pedantick fooleries,
+ Show the misguided World the Cheat,
+ And let _Man_ know that _Nonsence_ makes him Great.
+
+
+III.
+
+ Almighty _Folly_! How shall I thy praise
+ To Human Understandings raise?
+ What shall I do
+ Thy worth to shew?
+ The Glorious Sun, that rules the Day,
+ Gives vital warmth and life by ev'ry Ray.
+ His Blessings he in common grants,
+ To Hemlock as to nobler Plants;
+ Thy Virtue thou dost circumscribe,
+ And dost dispence
+ Thy influence,
+ But to the Darlings of thy Tribe,
+ Thou Wealth and Honour dost bestow
+ On thy triumphant _Fools_,
+ Whilst abject Sence do's barefoot go;
+ So weak's the Learning of the noisie Schools.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ Tell me, ye Learned Sots! who spend your time
+ In reading Books,
+ With thoughtful Heads and meagre Looks,
+ To Learnings Pinacle, who climb
+ Through the wild Briers of _Philosophy_,
+ The Thorns of harsh _Philology_,
+ The dirty Road where _Aristotle_ went
+ Encumber'd with a thousand _terms_
+ Uncouth, Unintelligible,
+ Not by any fancy fathomable,
+ Bringing distracted Minds to harms;
+ The rankest _Hellebore_ cannot prevent.
+ Tell me, I say, ye Learn'd Sots!
+ Did e'r the old or new Philosophy,
+ Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?
+ Tho' you may think your Notions truer,
+ They'll ne'r advance your Lotts,
+ To the Estate of Wise Sir _Jonathan_ the Brewer.
+
+
+V.
+
+ A _Fool_! Heav'ns bless the charming Name,
+ So much admir'd in Ages past,
+ As long as this, and all the World shall last,
+ Shall be the Subject of Triumphing Fame.
+ A _Fool_! what mighty wonders has he wrought?
+ What mighty Actions done?
+ Obey'd by all, controul'd by none;
+ Even _Love_ its self is to its Footstool brought.
+ For t'other day, I met amidst the Throng
+ A Lady wealthy, beautiful and young;
+ _Madam_, said I, I wish you double Joy,
+ Of a ripe Husband and a budding Boy,
+ And with my self a sight of him you Wed, }
+ The happy Part'ner of your Bridal Bed. }
+ Sir, she reply'd, I him in Wedlock had; }
+ Pointing unto an Image by her side,
+ An odder Figure no Man e'r espy'd,
+ Long was his Chin, and carotty his Beard,
+ His Eyes sunk in, and high his Nose was rear'd,
+ A nauseous ugliness possess'd the Tool,
+ And scarce had Wit enough to be a Fool:
+ Bless me (thought I) if Fools such fortune get,
+ Then who (the Devil) wou'd be plagu'd with wit.
+
+
+VI.
+
+ View but the Realms of _Nonsence_, see the State,
+ The Pageant pomp attends the show,
+ When the great God of _Dullness_ does in triumph go,
+ How splendid and how great
+ His num'rous Train of Blockheads do appear?
+ Almighty _Jove_,
+ That governs all above,
+ Is but a puny to this Mighty God,
+ The blustring God of War,
+ Who with one Nod
+ Makes the Earth tremble from afar,
+ Guarded with puissant Champions stern and bold
+ That breath Destruction, talk of bloody Jars,
+ Have nought but ragged Cloaths to keep off cold,
+ And tatter'd Ensigns relicks of the Wars.
+ The God of _Dullness_ mounted on his Throne
+ Beneath a Canopy
+ Of fix'd stupidity,
+ Prostrate his num'rous Subjects tumble down,
+ They pay obeisance to their gloomy God,
+ And at his Nod
+ They act, they move,
+ They hate, they love,
+ They bless, they curse, they swear,
+ For they his Creatures are,
+ He amply does his Benefits afford,
+ For each confirmed Blockhead is a Lord.
+
+
+VII.
+
+ Then talk no more of Parts and Sence,
+ For Riches ne'r attend the Wise,
+ Have you to dullness no pretence,
+ You shall to Grandeur never rise;
+ He with a gloomy mien Divinely dull,
+ Whose very aspect tells the World he is a Fool,
+ Whose thicker Skull
+ Is proof against each storm of Fate,
+ Is Born for Glory, and he shall be Great.
+ Who 'ere wou'd rise,
+ Or great Preferment get,
+ Must nere pretend to Wit,
+ Or be that monstrous, ill shap'd Man call'd Wise;
+ He must not boast
+ Of Learning's Value, or its cost;
+ But, if he wou'd Preferment have,
+ He must be much a _Fool_, or much a _Knave_.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+ A _Knave_! the finer Creature far,
+ Tho' of the foolish Race of _Issachar_.
+ As the unwieldy _Bear_ among her young
+ Deform'd, and shapeless Cubs,
+ Finds one more strong,
+ Active and sprightly than the rest:
+ Him she transforms and rubs,
+ And licks into a better shape the Beast.
+ Thus do's the gloomy God of Folly do,
+ With the insipid Race:
+ He do's his num'rous Offspring call, }
+ He handles one and feels his Skull; }
+ If it be thick, he says, Be thou a Fool. }
+ Another, if about his Face
+ He spies a roguish Mein, a cunning Look;
+ If there appears
+ The hopes of Falshood in his tender Years,
+ Good signs of Perjury
+ And hardn'd Villany;
+ This for his secret Councils he do's save,
+ Lays on his Paw, and bids him, Be a _Knave_.
+
+
+IX.
+
+ A _Knave_! the elder brother to the _Fool_:
+ His vast Dominions are no less
+ Than the whole Universe:
+ The Lands are bounded by the Sea:
+ The Seas the sturdy Rocks obey:
+ The Storms do know the Limits of their Rule:
+ Neither the Land nor Sea this Hero bind,
+ But unconfin'd
+ O're both he finds a way,
+ O're both he bears Imperial sway:
+ His gay Attendants are the Cheat,
+ That ruines Kingdoms to be Great.
+ The fawning, flattring Fop, who creeps
+ Just like a Spaniel at your Heels,
+ To some illustrious Knave, who sweeps
+ Away a Kingdoms Wealth at once,
+ And with the Publick Coin his Treasure fills;
+ For Kingdoms work t'enrich the _Knave_ and _Dunce_.
+
+
+X.
+
+ Honesty's a Garb we're mock'd in,
+ Only wore by _Jews_ and _Turks_.
+ Merit is a Popish Doctrine;
+ Men have no regard to Works.
+ Substantial Knavery is a Vertue will
+ Your Coffers fill;
+ And Altars raise,
+ Unto your Praise.
+ Be but a Knave, you'll keep the World in awe,
+ And fear no Law;
+ For no Transgression is,
+ Where all Men do amiss.
+ But here methinks an antiquated _Hero_ starts,
+ Surpris'd at my Discourse;
+ He starts and boggles like a Horse,
+ And damns our modern Knavish Arts.
+
+
+XI.
+
+ Vain _Youth_, he says misguided by a _Knave_,
+ By some dull Blockhead tempted from thy rest;
+ The worldly Grandeur thou dost vainly crave,
+ Is nought but Noise and Foolishness at best.
+ What Man wou'd quit his Sense,
+ Or, the wise Dictates of right Reason's Rule,
+ In vain pretence
+ To be a rich, a gawdy _Fool_?
+ Or, quit his Honesty, so much despis'd,
+ And basely condescend,
+ To every little Knavish End;
+ Run headlong into every Cheat,
+ Attempt each Villany to make him Great.
+ Believe me Youth, (be better now advis'd)
+ Thy early Vertues will thy Temples spread, }
+ With lasting Lawrels 'round thy Head. }
+ Shall flourish when the Wearers dead. }
+ I who have always honest been, though poor,
+ In whom the utmost signs of Age appears,
+ And sink beneath the Burthen of my Years,
+ Cou'd never yet adore
+ A Knave or Blockhead, were he ne'er so Great;
+ Or, be like to them, to purchase an Estate.
+
+
+XII.
+
+ Poor thredbare _Vertue_ ne'er admir'd in Court,
+ But seeks its Refuge in an honest Mind,
+ There it securely dwells,
+ Like _Anchorets_ in Cells,
+ Where no Ambition nor wild Lust resorts:
+ To love our Country is indeed our Pride;
+ We glory in an honest Action done;
+ When the Reward is laid aside
+ The Glory and the Action is our own,
+ We seldom find
+ The Good, the Just, the Brave,
+ Have their Reward
+ From Princes they did save
+ From dire Destruction, or a poisoning Foe;
+ They let them go
+ Contemn'd, disdain'd; and most regard
+ Those Villians sought their overthrow.
+ As if the Just, the Brave, the Good,
+ Were but a _Bridge_ of Wood
+ To waft to great Preferments o'er,
+ Those, who were our foes before,
+ And then be tumbl'd down like useless Logs,
+ While those, who just pass'd o'er,
+ And the obliging Bridge shou'd thank,
+ Do scornfully stand grinning on the Bank,
+ To see the venerable Ruines float
+ Adrift upon the Stream,
+ Contemn'd by them,
+ Who give the Childrens Bread unto the Dogs;
+ _In vain_, says he, _we've fought_----
+ But at this Word
+ He fiercely look'd, and then he grasp'd his Sword.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+ Pity it is, he said, this Sword of mine,
+ Of late so gloriously did shine,
+ In Foreign Fields 'midst Show'rs of Blood,
+ With which I've cut my Passage through
+ The Snowy _Alps_ and _Pyrenean_ Hills,
+ Where Death the Land with vast Destruction fills,
+ 'Mongst Warriors, who
+ Venture their Lives for their dear Countries good,
+ Should now be laid aside
+ 'Mongst Rubbish Iron old,
+ From reaking Blood scarce cold;
+ Or else converted to a _Knife_,
+ For some damn'd Villain first to cut
+ A Princes Bread, and next his Throat:
+ In vain we venture to preserve his Life,
+ In vain to Foreign Fields we come,
+ In vain to Foreign Force alli'd,
+ If a nefarious Brood at Home
+ Embarrass his Affairs,
+ Prolong the Wars,
+ Only t' enrich his Enemies,
+ Weaken his Government, and his Allies.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+ 'Tis strange a Prince, shou'd ere a _Fool_ preferr,
+ To be an Officer!
+ A _Knave_ may serve an unjust Government,
+ But ne'er prevent
+ Those Mischiefs may attend the just:
+ For who would trust
+ A Villain may be bought by Gold,
+ Unless design'd on purpose to be sold?
+ If Princes wou'd use _Fools_ as Shop-men do
+ Their Signs or Boards of show,
+ To tell the passers by there's better stuff
+ Within, 'tis rational enough.
+ But to set Centry at the Door, }
+ A Patriot or a Senator, }
+ Philosopher or Orator, }
+ To tell the Passers by their is within,
+ A _Merry Andrew_ to be seen,
+ Is very much ridiculous,
+ Tho' to our grief we often find it thus.
+ Thus Princes Bastardize
+ Their Countries Sons Legitimate,
+ And give the fair Estate
+ Unto a Spurious Brood,
+ That ne'er did good;
+ The honest Work, the _Knave_ enjoys the Prize.
+
+
+XV.
+
+ A Government adorn'd with Fools,
+ Empty Trifles, useless Tools,
+ Looks like a Toy-Shop gloriously bedeckt
+ With gawdy gewgaws, Childrens play things,
+ Painted Babies, Tinsel Creatures,
+ Wooden Folk, with Human features,
+ Made just for show, and no advantage brings,
+ And prove of no effect.
+ It dwindles to a _Raree-Show_,
+ In which no Man must act a Part
+ But the dull _Blockhead_ and the _Beau_,
+ The huffing _Fop_ without a Heart;
+ What Wise Man would a Journey take
+ On a dull Steed has broke his Back?
+ Or have recourse
+ Unto a _Hobby-Horse_?
+ Those act by such wise Rules,
+ Who prop Just Princes by a Tyrant's Tools.
+
+
+XVI.
+
+ Surely the Genius of a fruitful Isle
+ Is either lost,
+ Or what is worst,
+ Murder'd by those who shou'd support her Fame,
+ Add Glory to her Name;
+ The Heavens themselves have cast an angry look,
+ Seldom the Glorious Sun does shine
+ But Veils its face Divine.
+ _Jove_ does misguide the Seasons every Year;
+ Nought can we read in Nature's Book,
+ To reap her Fruits scarce worth our while.
+ Our Mother Earth,
+ From whose unhappy Womb,
+ We Mortals come,
+ Ne'er shows a Glorious Birth,
+ But proves abortive as our Actions are;
+ Nought have we left but hope,
+ Just like the Blind at Noon we grope:
+ The number of our Sins we must fulfil,
+ And if we're sav'd, it is against our will.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+FOREIGNERS.
+
+A
+
+POEM.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed for _A. Baldwin_ in _Warwicklane_,
+
+MDCC.
+
+
+
+
+The Foreigners.
+
+
+ Long time had _Israel_ been disus'd from Rest,
+ Long had they been by Tyrants sore opprest;
+ Kings of all sorts they ignorantly crav'd,
+ And grew more stupid as they were enslav'd;
+ Yet want of Grace they impiously disown'd,
+ And still like Slaves beneath the Burden groan'd:
+ With languid Eyes their Race of Kings they view,
+ The Bad too many, and the Good too few;
+ Some rob'd their Houses, and destroy'd their Lives,
+ Ravish'd their Daughters, and debauch'd their Wives;
+ Prophan'd the Altars with polluted Loves,
+ And worship'd Idols in the Woods and Groves.
+
+ To Foreign Nations next they have recourse;
+ Striving to mend, they made their State much worse.
+ They first from _Hebron_ all their Plagues did bring,
+ Cramm'd in the Single Person of a King;
+ From whose base Loins ten thousand Evils flow,
+ Which by Succession they must undergo.
+ Yet sense of Native Freedom still remains,
+ They fret and grumble underneath their Chains;
+ Incens'd, enrag'd, their Passion do's arise,
+ Till at his Palace-Gate their Monarch dies.
+ This Glorious Feat was by the Fathers done,
+ Whose Children next depos'd his Tyrant Son,
+ Made him, like _Cain_, a murd'rous Wanderer,
+ Both of his Crimes, and of his Fortunes share.
+
+ But still resolv'd to split on Foreign Shelves,
+ Rather than venture once to trust Themselves,
+ To Foreign Courts and Councils do resort,
+ To find a King their Freedoms to support:
+ Of one for mighty Actions fam'd they're told,
+ Profoundly wise, and desperately bold,
+ Skilful in War, Successful still in Fight,
+ Had vanquish'd Hosts, and Armies put to flight;
+ And when the Storms of War and Battels cease,
+ Knew well to steer the Ship of State in Peace.
+ Him they approve, approaching to their sight;
+ Lov'd by the Gods, of Mankind the Delight.
+ The numerous Tribes resort to see him land,
+ Cover the Beach, and blacken all the Strand;
+ With loud Huzza's they welcome him on shore,
+ And for their Blessing do the Gods implore.
+
+ The Sanhedrim conven'd, at length debate
+ The sad Condition of their drooping State,
+ And Sinking Church, just ready now to drown;
+ And with one Shout they do the Hero crown.
+
+ Ah Happy _Israel_! had there never come
+ Into his Councils crafty Knaves at home,
+ In combination with a Foreign Brood,
+ Sworn Foes to _Israel_'s Rights and _Israel_'s Good;
+ Who impiously foment Intestine Jars,
+ Exhaust our Treasure, and prolong our Wars;
+ Make _Israel_'s People to themselves a prey,
+ Mislead their King, and steal his Heart away:
+ United Intrests thus they do divide,
+ The State declines by Avarice and Pride;
+ Like Beasts of Prey they ravage all the Land,
+ Acquire Preferments, and usurp Command:
+ The Foreign Inmates the Housekeepers spoil,
+ And drain the Moisture of our fruitful Soil.
+ If to our Monarch there are Honours due,
+ Yet what with _Gibeonites_ have we to do?
+ When Foreign States employ 'em for their Food,
+ To draw their Water, and to hew their Wood.
+ What Mushroom Honours dos our Soil afford!
+ One day a Begger, and the next a Lord.
+ What dastard Souls do _Jewish_ Nobles wear!
+ The Commons such Affronts would never bear.
+ Let no Historian the sad Stories tell
+ Of thy base Sons, Oh servile _Israel_!
+ But thou, my Muse, more generous and brave,
+ Shalt their black Crimes from dark oblivion save;
+ To future Ages shalt their Sins disclose,
+ And brand with Infamy thy Nation's Foes.
+
+ A Country lies, due East from _Judah_'s Shoar,
+ Where stormy Winds and noisy Billows roar;
+ A Land much differing from all other Soils,
+ Forc'd from the Sea, and buttress'd up with Piles.
+ No marble Quarrys bind the spungy Ground,
+ But Loads of Sand and Cockle-shells are found:
+ Its Natives void of Honesty and Grace,
+ A Boorish, rude, and an inhumane Race;
+ From Nature's Excrement their Life is drawn,
+ Are born in Bogs, and nourish'd up from Spawn.
+ Their hard-smoak'd Beef is their continual Meat,
+ Which they with Rusk, their luscious Manna, eat;
+ Such Food with their chill stomachs best agrees,
+ They sing _Hosannah_ to a Mare's-milk Cheese.
+ To supplicate no God, their Lips will move,
+ Who speaks in Thunder like Almighty _Jove_,
+ But watry Deities they do invoke,
+ Who from the Marshes most Divinely croak.
+ Their Land, as if asham'd their Crimes to see,
+ Dives down beneath the surface of the Sea.
+ _Neptune_, the God who do's the Seas command,
+ Ne'er stands on Tip-toe to descry their Land;
+ But seated on a Billow of the Sea,
+ With Ease their humble Marshes do's survey.
+ These are the Vermin do our State molest;
+ Eclipse our Glory, and disturb our Rest.
+
+ _BENTIR_ in the Inglorious Roll the first,
+ _Bentir_ to this and future Ages curst,
+ Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud,
+ Shun'd by the Great, and hated by the Crowd;
+ Who neither Blood nor Parentage can boast,
+ And what he got the _Jewish_ Nation lost:
+ By lavish Grants whole Provinces he gains,
+ Made forfeit by the _Jewish_ Peoples Pains;
+ Till angry Sanhedrims such Grants resume,
+ And from the Peacock take each borrow'd Plume.
+ Why should the _Gibeonites_ our Land engross,
+ And aggrandize their Fortunes with our loss?
+ Let them in foreign States proudly command,
+ They have no Portion in the Promis'd Land,
+ Which immemorially has been decreed
+ To be the Birth-right of the _Jewish_ Seed.
+ How ill do's _Bentir_ in the Head appear }
+ Of Warriours, who do _Jewish_ Ensigns bear? }
+ By such we're grown e'en Scandalous in War. }
+ Our Fathers Trophies wore, and oft could tell
+ How by their Swords the mighty Thousands fell;
+ What mighty Deeds our Grandfathers had done,
+ What Battels fought, what Wreaths of Honour won:
+ Thro the extended Orb they purchas'd Fame,
+ The Nations trembling at their Awful Name:
+ Such wondrous Heroes our Fore-fathers were,
+ When we, base Souls! but Pigmies are in War:
+ By Foreign Chieftains we improve in Skill;
+ We learn how to intrench, not how to kill:
+ For all our Charge are good Proficients made
+ In using both the Pickax and the Spade.
+ But in what Field have we a Conquest wrought?
+ In Ten Years War what Battel have we fought?
+
+ If we a Foreign Slave may use in War,
+ Yet why in Council should that Slave appear?
+ If we with _Jewish_ Treasure make him great,
+ Must it be done to undermine the State?
+ Where are the Antient Sages of Renown? }
+ No _Magi_ left, fit to advise the Crown? }
+ Must we by Foreign Councils be undone? }
+ Unhappy _Israel_, who such Measures takes,
+ And seeks for Statesmen in the Bogs and Lakes;
+ Who speak the Language of most abject Slaves,
+ Under the Conduct of our _Jewish_ Knaves.
+ Our _Hebrew_'s murder'd in their hoarser Throats;
+ How ill their Tongues agree with _Jewish Notes_!
+ Their untun'd Prattle do's our Sense confound,
+ Which in our Princely Palaces do's sound;
+ The self-same Language the old Serpent spoke,
+ When misbelieving _Eve_ the Apple took:
+ Of our first Mother why are we asham'd,
+ When by the self-same Rhetorick we are damn'd?
+
+ But _Bentir_, not Content with such Command,
+ To canton out the _Jewish_ Nation's Land;
+ He do's extend to Other Coasts his Pride,
+ And other Kingdoms into Parts divide:
+ Unhappy _Hiram_! dismal is thy Song;
+ Tho born to Empire, thou art ever young!
+ Ever in Nonage, canst no Right transfer:
+ But who made _Bentir_ thy Executor?
+ What mighty Power do's _Israel_'s Land afford? }
+ What Power has made the famous _Bentir_ Lord? }
+ The Peoples Voice, and _Sanhedrim_'s Accord. }
+ Are not the Rights of People still the same?
+ Did they e'er differ in or Place or Name?
+ Have not Mankind on equal Terms still stood,
+ Without Distinction, since the mighty Flood?
+ And have not _Hiram_'s Subjects a free Choice
+ To chuse a King by their united Voice?
+ If _Israel_'s People cou'd a Monarch chuse,
+ A living King at the same time refuse;
+ That _Hiram_'s People, shall it e'er be said,
+ Have not the Right of Choice when he is dead?
+ When no Successor to the Crown's in sight,
+ The Crown is certainly the Peoples Right.
+ If Kings are made the People to enthral,
+ We had much better have no King at all:
+ But Kings, appointed for the Common Good,
+ Always as Guardians to their People stood.
+ And Heaven allows the People sure a Power
+ To chuse such Kings as shall not them devour:
+ They know full well what best will serve themselves,
+ How to avoid the dang'rous Rocks and Shelves.
+
+ Unthinking _Israel_! Ah henceforth beware
+ How you entrust this faithless Wanderer!
+ He who another Kingdom can divide, }
+ May set your Constitution soon aside, }
+ And o'er your Liberties in Triumph ride. }
+ Support your Rightful Monarch and his Crown,
+ But pull this proud, this croaking Mortal down.
+
+ Proceed, my Muse; the Story next relate
+ Of _Keppech_ the Imperious Chit of State,
+ Mounted to Grandeur by the usual Course
+ Of Whoring, Pimping, or a Crime that's worse;
+ Of Foreign Birth, and undescended too,
+ Yet he, like _Bentir_, mighty Feats can do.
+ He robs our Treasure, to augment his State,
+ And _Jewish_ Nobles on his Fortunes wait:
+ Our ravish'd Honours on his Shoulder wears,
+ And Titles from our Antient Rolls he tears.
+ Was e'er a prudent People thus befool'd,
+ By upstart Foreigners thus basely gull'd?
+ Ye _Jewish_ Nobles, boast no more your Race,
+ Or sacred Badges did your Fathers grace!
+ In vain is Blood, or Parentages, when
+ Ribbons and Garters can ennoble Men.
+ To Chivalry you need have no recourse,
+ The gawdy Trappings make the Ass a Horse.
+ No more, no more your Antient Honours own,
+ By slavish _Gibeonites_ you are outdone:
+ Or else your Antient Courage reassume,
+ And to assert your Honours once presume;
+ From off their Heads your ravish'd Lawrels tear,
+ And let them know what _Jewish_ Nobles are.
+
+
+_THE END._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
+
+University of California, Los Angeles
+
+
+PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
+
+
+1948-1949
+
+ 16. Nevil Payne, _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673).
+
+ 17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William
+ Shakespeare_ (1709).
+
+ 18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10
+ (1719); and Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).
+
+
+1949-1950
+
+ 22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and two
+ _Rambler_ papers (1750).
+
+ 23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).
+
+
+1950-1951
+
+ 26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).
+
+
+1951-52
+
+ 31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751);
+ and _The Eton College Manuscript_.
+
+
+1952-1953
+
+ 41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).
+
+
+1954-1955
+
+ 49. Two St. Cecilia's Day Sermons (1696, 1697).
+
+ 52. Pappity Stampoy, _A Collection of Scotch Proverbs_ (1663).
+
+
+1958-1959
+
+ 75. John Joyne, _A Journal_ (1679).
+
+ 76. André Dacier, _Preface to Aristotle's Art of Poetry_ (1705).
+
+
+1959-1960
+
+ 80. [P. Whalley], _An Essay on the Manner of Writing History_
+ (1746).
+
+ 83. _Sawney and Colley_ (1742) and other Pope Pamphlets.
+
+ 84. Richard Savage, _An Author to be lett_ (1729).
+
+
+1960-1961
+
+ 85-6. _Essays on the Theatre from Eighteenth-Century Periodicals._
+
+ 90. Henry Needier, _Works_ (1728).
+
+
+1961-1962
+
+ 93. John Norris, _Cursory Reflections Upon a Book Call'd, An Essay
+ Concerning Human Understanding_ (1690).
+
+ 94. An. Collins, _Divine Songs and Meditacions_ (1653).
+
+ 95. _An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr.
+ Fielding_ (1751).
+
+ 96. _Hanoverian Ballads._
+
+
+1962-1963
+
+ 97. Myles Davies, Selections from _Athenae Britannicae_
+ (1716-1719).
+
+ 98. _Select Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's Temple_ (1697).
+
+ 99. Thomas Augustine Arne, _Artaxerxes_ (1761).
+
+ 100. Simon Patrick, _A Brief Account of the New Sect of Latitude
+ Men_ (1662).
+
+ 101-2. Richard Hurd, _Letters on Chivalry and Romance_ (1762).
+
+
+1963-1964
+
+ 103. Samuel Richardson, _Clarissa_: Preface, Hints of Prefaces,
+ and Postscript.
+
+ 104. Thomas D'Urfey, _Wonders in the Sun, or, the Kingdom of the
+ Birds_ (1706).
+
+ 105. Bernard Mandeville, _An Enquiry into the Causes of the
+ Frequent Executions at Tyburn_ (1725).
+
+ 106. Daniel Defoe, _A Brief History of the Poor Palatine Refugees_
+ (1709).
+
+ 107-8. John Oldmixon, _An Essay on Criticism_ (1728).
+
+
+
+
+William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California,
+Los Angeles
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+
+GENERAL EDITORS
+
+ EARL MINER
+ University of California, Los Angeles
+
+ MAXIMILLIAN E. NOVAK
+ University of California, Los Angeles
+
+ LAWRENCE CLARK POWELL
+ Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library
+
+ _Corresponding Secretary:_
+ Mrs. Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library
+
+
+The Society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile
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+Oxford, England. Copies of back issues in print may be obtained from the
+Corresponding Secretary.
+
+
+PUBLICATIONS FOR 1964-1965
+
+ JOHN TUTCHIN, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700). Introduction by Spiro
+ Peterson.
+
+ SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, _An Essay upon the Original and Nature of
+ Government_ (1680). Introduction by Robert C. Steensma.
+
+ T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).
+ Introduction by Curt A. Zimansky.
+
+ ANONYMOUS, _Political Justice. A Poem_ (1736). Introduction by
+ Burton R. Pollin and John W. Wilkes.
+
+ _Two Poems Against Pope_: LEONARD WELSTED, _One Epistle to Mr. A.
+ Pope_ (1730); ANONYMOUS, _The Blatant Beast_ (1740). Introduction
+ by Joseph V. Guerinot.
+
+ ROBERT DODSLEY, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764). Introduction by Jeanne
+ K. Welcher and Richard Dircks.
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+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Selected Poems
+ (1685-1700)
+
+Author: John Tutchin
+
+Editor: Spiro Peterson
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2011 [EBook #38407]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Dave Morgan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>JOHN TUTCHIN<br />
+
+<big><i>SELECTED POEMS</i></big></h2>
+
+<h3>(1685-1700)</h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><i>INTRODUCTION</i><br />
+
+<small>BY</small><br />
+
+SPIRO PETERSON</h3>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4><small>PUBLICATION NUMBER 110</small><br />
+
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY<br />
+
+<span class="smcap">University of California, Los Angeles</span><br />
+
+<big>1964</big></h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='center'>GENERAL EDITORS<br />&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Earl R. Miner, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Maximillian E. Novak, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Lawrence Clark Powell, <i>Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>&nbsp;<br />&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>ADVISORY EDITORS<br />&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>John Butt, <i>University of Edinburgh</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>James L. Clifford, <i>Columbia University</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Ralph Cohen, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Vinton A. Dearing, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Arthur Friedman, <i>University of Chicago</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Louis A. Landa, <i>Princeton University</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Samuel H. Monk, <i>University of Minnesota</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Everett T. Moore, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>James Sutherland, <i>University College, London</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>&nbsp;<br />&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>CORRESPONDING SECRETARY<br />&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>Edna C. Davis, <i>Clark Memorial Library</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>- i -</span></p>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3>
+
+
+<p>When John Tutchin died on September 23, 1707, he had already
+created the image of himself which Alexander Pope has transmitted to
+posterity. There, in Book II of <i>The Dunciad</i> (1728), the Whig journalist
+appears as one of two figures in a "shaggy Tap'stry":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earless on high, stood un-abash'd Defoe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge, below.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Pope, in his variorum notes on the passage, identified Tutchin as the
+"author of some vile verses, and of a weekly paper call'd the <i>Observator</i>,"
+and revived the fiction of his sentence "to be whipp'd thro' several
+towns in the west of <i>England</i>, upon which he petition'd King <i>James</i>
+II. to be hanged." The "invective" against James II's memory, which
+Pope mentions, has now been identified in the Twickenham Edition as
+<i>The British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd</i> (1701).<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> By 1728, this was all
+the reputation that remained for Mr. John Tutchin, Gentleman&mdash;irascible
+journalist, pamphleteer, and writer of verses.</p>
+
+<p>The truth of the matter is that Pope was no more accurate about
+Tutchin's being whipped than about Defoe's losing his ears. From the
+sparse reliable information concerning Tutchin's early years, one consistent
+pattern emerges: he tended to depict himself as a hero and a
+martyr. Born in 1661 "a Freeman" of London, he was brought up in a
+family of scholarly nonconformist ministers probably on the Isle of
+Wight<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>. Even though an enemy claimed that he had been expelled from
+a school at Stepney for stealing (<i>DNB</i>), he received some education
+and travelled on the continent. In defending his skill with languages
+against Defoe, he once told how at his school, boys translated and
+capped verses, and how he travelled "from <i>Leivarden</i> in <i>Friezland</i>,
+thro' <i>Holland</i> and the <i>Spanish Flanders</i>."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Throughout his life, he
+proudly designated himself a gentleman: during his trial for libel in
+late June of 1704, he even escaped punishment by setting forth that he
+was a gentleman, and not a laborer as the indictment read.</p>
+
+<p>In later life, he romanticized himself when young as the hero who
+fought in the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion, received the brutal "whipping
+sentence" from Lord Chief-Justice Jeffreys during "the bloody
+assezes" of 1685, petitioned James II for "the Favour of being hang'd"
+<span class='pagenum'>- ii -</span>to avoid the sentence, and finally freed himself by paying so burdensome
+a bribe that he was reduced to poverty. All these claims were
+first made in "The Case, Trial, and Sentence of Mr. John Tutchin,
+and Several Others, in Dorchester, in the County of Dorset," which
+Tutchin added to the fifth edition of <i>The Western Martyrology; or,
+the Bloody Assizes</i>, published in 1705. As J. G. Muddiman demonstrated
+in 1929, most of these claims are outright fabrications. Tutchin
+was never indicted for high treason, he could never have been
+challenged by Jeffreys to cap verses, and he invented the petition
+to be hanged.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> In <i>The Observator</i> (July 25-29, 1702), he honestly admitted
+that he was never tried in Devonshire, but claimed he did buy
+his liberty of James II; and in a later issue (Aug. 4-7, 1703) he challenged
+an enemy: "if he Pleases to give the World an Account, <i>When</i>,
+<i>Where</i>, and for <i>What</i> I was Whip'd thro' a Market-Town, he will inform
+Mankind of more than I or any Body else knows...." John Dunton believed
+in the whipping sentence; and Defoe, the story of the petition
+to be hanged. Throughout Tutchin's stormy career, his enemies made
+political capital of the flogging that never took place. He was probably
+twenty-four years old when, using the alias "Thomas Pitts," he
+was tried at Dorchester for "Spreading false news and fined five marks
+and sentenced to be whipped"&mdash;but he came down with smallpox and
+so was not whipped.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Lord Macaulay, who is incorrect on the facts
+taken from <i>The Western Martyrology</i>, certainly exaggerated in stating
+that Tutchin's temper was "exasperated to madness by what he had
+undergone."<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> That the Monmouth adventure and its aftermath mark a
+turning point in the young man's life, however, cannot doubted.</p>
+
+<p>Tutchin may have fought with William III's army in Ireland as an
+officer.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> After the Glorious Revolution and the establishment of
+William and Mary on the throne, Tutchin devoted himself to a succession
+of liberal causes. On the one hand, he persisted in identifying
+himself with the former commonwealth, the Monmouth cause, the Revolution,
+the reform movement especially in the theater, and Whig
+liberty. He became noted for tactless expos&eacute;s of high-level misconduct
+in his pamphlets and in <i>The Observator</i> (Apr. 1, 1702-Sept. 23,
+1707). His detractors frequently paired him with Defoe as a monster
+or a villain. Again and again, he made himself obnoxious to important
+personages such as the Earl of Albemarle or the Duke of Marlborough.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>
+On the other hand, his hatred for tyranny propelled him frequently
+into such extremes as his disgraceful complicity in William Fuller's
+impostures. In the years 1700-1704, he was generally reputed to be
+<span class='pagenum'>- iii -</span>"Secretary to the abominal Society of King-Killers"&mdash;the secret Calves-Head
+Club made up of dissenters who met on January 30th, the
+anniversary of the death of Charles I, to sing prophane anthems.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p>
+
+<p>Dunton generously summed up the widely varied causes of "the
+loyal and ingenious <i>Tutchin</i> (alias <i>Master Observator</i>); the bold Asserter
+of English Liberties; the scourge of the High-flyers; the Seaman's
+Advocate; the Detector of the Victualling-office; the scorn and
+terror of Fools and Knaves; the Nation's <i>Argus</i>, and the Queen's
+faithful Subject."<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> Even his death in Queen's Bench Prison, on
+September 23, 1707, was romanticized into another instance of martyrdom.
+"... <i>he liv'd and dy'd</i>," announced the Country-man of <i>The
+Observator</i>, "<i>for the Service of his Country</i>." Tutchin's followers
+dramatized his death as the result of a politically-inspired thrashing
+which "six ruffians" administered to him, in revenge for slanderous
+remarks made in <i>The Observator</i> against Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas
+Dilkes.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> The "<i>Pulchrum Est Pro Patria Mori</i>" portrait, reprinted here
+as the frontispiece, was circulated to attest to Tutchin's political
+martyrdom. However, as the autopsy-report demonstrates and as Muddiman
+rightly concludes, "Tutchin really died from a specific disease
+and not from the thrashing undergone seven months before his death."<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p>
+
+<p>The young man of twenty four who went off to join Monmouth's
+forces had already published, in 1685, <i>Poems on Several Occasions.
+With a Pastoral. To Which is Added, A Discourse of Life</i>. In the preface,
+writing like a fashionable man-about-town, Tutchin describes the
+lyrics, translations, and satires of this volume as "trifles" which he
+had let circulate and had now secured "by promising to Print them."
+The book shows the variety in poetic kinds that one would expect in
+a young writer who had been drinking deeply of Lord Rochester, Waller,
+Cowley, the Earl of Roscommon, Oldham, and Dryden. Juvenalian
+satires reminiscent of Oldham are neatly balanced by memorial verses
+to Oldham and Rochester, late metaphysical lyrics ("And why in red
+dost thou appear"), classical dialogues ("Cleopatra to Anthony"),
+translations of Horace, and the well-turned "autobiographical" couplets
+of "A Letter to A Friend." In its variety and themes, <i>Poems
+on Several Occasions</i> resembles Oldham's <i>Works</i>, which was published
+twice in 1684. Tutchin's "The Tory Catch," like Oldham's "A Dithyrambick.
+A Drunkard's Speech in a Mask," has a speaker who ironically
+brags of the social misconduct which the author satirizes. "A
+Letter to a Friend" is a skillfully exaggerated account of the attractions
+and dangers in rhyming. Although perhaps autobiographical in
+<span class='pagenum'>- iv -</span>part, the poem also imitates the long-standing tradition derived from
+Horace's first Epistle of Book I, and revived most recently in Oldham's
+"A Letter from the Country to a Friend in Town."<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Both "The
+Tory Catch" and "A Letter to a Friend" are reprinted here from <i>Poems
+on Several Occasions</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Tutchin's first book shows two impulses: the awkwardly lyrical
+and the directly satiric. He feels compelled, in the Preface, to defend
+his choice of less serious subjects. His light poems do not,
+"in the least, detract from <i>Virtue</i>; since I have Read the <i>Poems</i> of
+<i>Beza</i>, <i>Heinsius</i>, our own <i>Donne</i>, <i>&amp;c.</i>" He promises to turn to "some
+Graver Subject." There are other equally significant comments in a
+Preface that reveals a great deal about changing literary taste. In
+"To the Memory of Mr. John Oldham," Tutchin curiously avoids the
+main subject of Dryden's finer elegy, namely, Oldham's achievement
+in rough satire. His praise is that "<i>Crashaw</i> and <i>Cowley</i> both did live
+in thee." However, in his "Satyr Against Vice" and "Satyr Against
+Whoring," Tutchin has already learned the art of declaiming, from
+the poet who has been called "the English Juvenal," John Oldham.</p>
+
+<p>In the years between 1685 and 1707, Tutchin's separate poems
+were mainly occasional and satirical. Panegyric for William III
+dominates such an early piece as <i>An Heroic Poem upon the Late
+Expedition of His Majesty</i> (1689), and hatred for the Stuarts possesses
+a later poem like <i>The British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd</i> (1701). In
+<i>Civitas Militaris</i> (1690) Tutchin engages in city politics. The elegy
+on the death of Queen Mary irritated Defoe enough to have "<i>T&mdash;&mdash;n</i>"
+placed among the "Pindarick Legions" in <i>The Pacificator</i> (1700).
+Two poems, however,&mdash;<i>The Earth-quake of Jamaica</i> (1692) and <i>Whitehall
+in Flames</i> (1698)&mdash;differ from the others in that they are Cowleyan
+"Pindaricks" moralizing on disasters. <i>The Earth-quake of
+Jamaica</i> is reprinted here to illustrate Tutchin's descriptive talent.
+He starts with an actual event, the Jamaican disaster of June 7, 1692;
+and then, as the epigraph on the title page suggests, he presents a
+variation on Horace's rejection of "senseless Epicureanism," in
+Ode 34 of Book I. <i>The Earth-quake of Jamaica</i> may have been worked
+over longer than was customary. It was published shortly before
+December 10, the manuscript date on Narcissus Luttrell's copy now
+in the Houghton Library. Some six months earlier, in the late morning
+of June 7, the earthquake had erupted in Port Royal, the "boom" port
+on the south side of the island. In three schocks lasting less than
+three minutes, the famed capital of the buccaneers had fallen. News
+<span class='pagenum'>- v -</span>of the disaster did not reach London until August 9. The earthquake
+then became one of the most widely discussed events. The <i>London
+Gazette</i> ran stories on it, scientists like Sir Hans Sloane published
+eye-witness accounts in the <i>Philosophical Transactions</i> of the Royal
+Society, the moralists declared God's wrath had come upon the wickedest
+place in Christendom, and "the actors of the drolls" in Southwark
+Fair even mockingly re-enacted the event until the Lord Mayor
+put a stop to the performances.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p>
+
+<p>If contemporary accounts of the Port Royal earthquake are compared
+with <i>The Earth-quake of Jamaica</i>, the reader becomes impressed
+by Tutchin's way of adapting the well-known details to a moral comment
+on life. His scenes are indeed graphic, but they do not have the
+immediacy of such eye-witness accounts as the following, preserved
+by Luttrell:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>I cannot sufficiently represent the terrible circumstances
+that attended it; the earth swelled with a
+dismal humming noise, the houses fell, the earth
+opened in many places, the graves gave up some of
+their dead, the tomb stones ratled together; at last
+the earth sunk below the water, and the sea overwhelmed
+great numbers of people, whose shreiks
+and groanes made a lamentable eccho: the earth
+opened both behind and before me within 2 foot of
+my feet, and that place on which I stood trembled
+exceedingly; the water immediately boyled up upon
+the opening of the earth, but it pleased God to preserve
+me....<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p></div>
+
+<p>Tutchin's aim is to compare vulnerable nature with vulnerable man:
+"Can humane Race / Stand on their / Legs when Nature Reels?" He
+sees in the disaster a challenge for English sinners to repent: the
+"Hurricane of Fate" wails on "murder'd <i>Cornish</i>." He had not yet
+forgotten the Monmouth adventure. For he alludes here to the act of
+Parliament passed in 1689 reversing the attainder of Henry Cornish,
+the alderman who had been brutally executed in 1685 for high treason
+through participating in the Rye House Plot and attaching himself to
+the Duke of Monmouth. For Tutchin, politics were always relevant.</p>
+
+<p>Tutchin's true forte is not the descriptive poem, but satire. Poems
+published in the years 1696 to 1705&mdash;from <i>A Pindarick Ode</i> to
+<span class='pagenum'>- vi -</span>
+<i>The Tackers</i>&mdash;exploit the satirical impulse that had been latent in <i>Poems
+on Several Occasions</i>. Increasingly he turns to general denunciation
+and thinly disguised lampoon. Of the two main Augustan traditions
+in satire&mdash;the "fine raillery" that Dryden perfected and the rough satire
+that reached back to Donne, Cleveland, and Oldham&mdash;Tutchin belongs
+to the latter. Defoe found him to be "so woundy touchy, and so willing
+to quarrel," and noted that "Want of Temper was his capital
+Error."<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> The specific circumstance that produced <i>A Pindarick Ode,
+in the Praise of Folly and Knavery</i> (1696), reprinted here, is generally
+said to be his dismissal from the victualling office because he
+failed to establish his case that the commissioners mismanaged public
+funds. Such corruption in the administration would soon transform
+a deep admiration for William III into the disenchantment of <i>The Foreigners</i>
+(1700). That Tutchin was uneasy in his effort to write satire
+in the mode of Dryden is suggested by his abandonment of irony after
+the first part of <i>A Pindarick Ode</i>. In his introductory verses, Benjamin
+Bridgwater accurately observes that Erasmus' <i>Ironia</i> no longer
+suffices:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This hard'ned Age do's rougher Means require,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We must be <i>Cupp'd</i> and <i>Cauteriz'd</i> with <i>Fire</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Echoing Dryden's <i>Mac Flecknoe</i>, Tutchin invites Dullness and "Immortal
+<i>Nonsence</i>" to inspire his ironic praise of the folly and knavery
+that now ride roughshod over such traditional values as learning,
+love, wit, and patriotism. A few of the lines have the moving quality
+of Augustan satire at its best:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Did e'er the old or new Philosophy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The irony of <i>A Pindarick Ode</i> does not adequately mask the denunciation.
+In Stanza X, it is even replaced by the antiquated Hero's
+diatribe against "our modern Knavish Arts"&mdash;never to return to the
+rest of the poem. Doubtless, the indictment of the "nefarious Brood
+at Home" that grows rich in wartime was the heart of the satire.
+Defoe hinted at this motive in the satirical vignette of Tutchin as
+Shamwhig, which appeared in the first edition of <i>The True-Born
+Englishman</i> (1700):</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>- vii -</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As Proud as Poor, his Masters he'll defy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And writes a <i>Piteous *Satyr</i> upon Honesty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some think the Poem had been pretty good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>If he the Subject had but understood</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He got Five hundred Pence by this, and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>As sure as he had ne're a Groat before</i>.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Tutchin's satire would be henceforth the rough variety. In <i>The
+Foreigners</i> he would also resort to fierce lampoons of William III's
+court favorites.</p>
+
+<p>In the rash of satires that followed <i>The Foreigners</i> and <i>The True-Born
+Englishman</i>, the anonymous author of <i>The Fable of the Cuckoo</i>
+(1701) pointed to the common tradition shared by both poems. For he
+attacked Defoe's "hatchet muse" as having been inspired by such
+"Modern Sharpers of the Town" as Tutchin and "Old[ha]m the Bell-weather
+of Tory Faction," who first horned Defoe's satire, "And ever
+since perverted all good Nature." Advertised in <i>The Flying Post</i> for
+July 31-Aug. 1, 1700, <i>The Foreigners</i> was published shortly thereafter
+by the ardent Whig Anne Baldwin. The "vile abhor'd Pamphlet, in
+very ill Verse, written by one <i>Mr. Tutchin</i>, and call'd <i>The Foreigners</i>"&mdash;Defoe
+recalled years later in <i>An Appeal to Honour and Justice</i>
+(1715)&mdash;filled him "with a kind of Rage." Tutchin's irascible temper
+had again taken hold. Scurrilously, he assailed foreigners in high
+office, especially William III's Dutch favorites, for their monopolizing
+preferments and usurping command, under such transparent aliases as
+"Bentir" for William Bentinck, first Earl of Portland, and "Keppech"
+for Arnold Joost van Keppel, first Earl of Albemarle. The manner was
+Dryden's in <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i>; the venom was Tutchin's own.
+Official reaction to <i>The Foreigners</i> came quickly. The untrustworthy
+William Fuller spread the gossip that Tutchin fled from his Majesty's
+messengers, and found refuge "in a blind Ale-house, at the Windmill,
+by Mr. Bowyers, at Camberwel." On August 10th, he was taken "into
+custody of a messenger"; and at the grand inquest for the city of
+London, held on August 28th, there was presented "a Poem called
+<i>The Foreigners</i>."<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> A mystery envelops the rest of the legal proceedings.
+There may even be some truth in the allegation that the parry
+would long since have "ruffled" Tutchin, except that he pleased them
+with his "railing at King <i>William's</i> Friends sometimes."<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> <i>The
+Foreigners</i> also aroused such ephemeral rejoinders as <i>The Reverse:
+or, the Tables Turn'd</i> and <i>The Nations: An Answer to the Foreigners</i>.
+<span class='pagenum'>- viii -</span>both published in 1700. Finally, in January of 1701, there was published
+a satire of more lasting worth, Defoe's <i>The True-Born Englishman</i>.
+Side by side, in <i>Poems on Affairs of State</i> (1703), were reprinted
+<i>The Foreigners</i> and <i>The True-Born Englishman</i> among verses
+"<i>Written by the Greatest Wits of this Age</i>."<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> Altogether, the two
+satirists had three poems apiece in the volume. One of Tutchin's
+poems, "The Tribe of Levi" (1691), was anonymously reprinted; the
+other two, <i>The Foreigners</i> and <i>The British Muse</i>, were identified as
+"by Mr. <i>T&mdash;&mdash;n</i>." These were the achievements of Tutchin's "hatchet
+muse."</p>
+
+<p>The poems are reprinted from copies in libraries of the U.S. and
+Great Britain. I am obligated to The Houghton Library for <i>Poems on
+Several Occasions</i> and <i>The Earth-quake of Jamaica</i>, to Yale University
+Library for <i>The Foreigners</i>, and to the British Museum for <i>A
+Pindarick Ode, in the Praise of Folly and Knavery</i>. For permission
+to reproduce the "<i>Pulchrum Est Pro Patria Mori</i>" portrait of John
+Tutchin as the frontispiece, I wish to express my thanks to the
+Trustees of the British Museum.</p>
+
+<p style='text-align: right'>
+Spiro Peterson<br />
+Miami University<br />
+Oxford, Ohio<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>- ix -</span></p>
+
+<h3>NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>The Dunciad</i>, ed. James Sutherland (The Twickenham Edition,
+Methuen &amp; Co., Ltd., 1943), pp. 115-18.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Tutchin's birth-year is variously given. The Van der Gucht
+engraving and the authentic <i>Elegy</i> of Tutchin's death state that
+he died "Aged 44"; but the mock <i>Elegy</i>, falsely claiming to be
+"Written by the Author of the Review," gives his age to be 47.
+In <i>The Observator</i> (Oct. 20-23, 1703), Tutchin implied that he
+was "Born some years after the Restoration of King <i>Charles</i> the
+2d." His certificate of marriage to Elizabeth Hicks on Sept. 30,
+1686 places his age then at twenty-five, and supports the birth-year
+1661, as given in the <i>DNB</i>. See also <i>The Observator</i>, May
+17-20, 1704; July 8-12, 1704; and July 24-28, 1703. One of
+Tutchin's enemies charged that he was born in the north of England
+(<i>An Account of the Birth, Education, Life and Conversation of ...
+the Observator</i>, 1705); and another, that his father was "a Scot,
+canting Presbyterian Sot" (<i>The Picture of the Observator</i>, 1704).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>The Observator</i>, June 2-6, 1705. Tutchin stated, in <i>The Case,
+Trial, and Sentence</i>, that Judge Jeffreys had "a true Account" of
+his activities in Holland. See J. G. Muddiman, ed., <i>The Bloody
+Assizes</i> (Toronto, [1929]), p. 137.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Muddiman, pp. 136-37. <i>The Case, Trial, and Sentence</i> is reprinted
+as a true record in T. B. Howell's <i>A Complete Collection of
+State Trials</i> (London, 1812), XIV, 1195-200, but as a highly questionable
+document in Muddiman, pp. 137-46.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Muddiman, p. 219.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <i>The History of England</i>, ed. C. H. Firth (London, 1914), II, 639.
+Insofar as the <i>DNB</i> article on Tutchin relies on Macaulay, it is
+erroneous.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Shortly after Tutchin's death, the Country-man of <i>The Observator</i>
+lauded his beloved master as "an Officer in the Army," and addressed
+him "Captain Tutchin," as did the mock <i>Elegy</i> and the
+friendly Dunton.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>- x -</span></p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Narcissus Luttrell, <i>A Brief Historical Relation of State Affairs</i>
+(Oxford, 1857), V, 257; <i>Manuscripts of the Marquis of Bath</i>
+(H.M.C., London, 1904), I, 105-06.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The authorship of the Calves-Head anthems is assigned to
+Tutchin in <i>The Reverse: or, the Tables Turn'd</i> (1700), p. 7,
+and to both Tutchin and Benjamin Bridgwater in <i>The Examination,
+Tryal, and Condemnation of Rebellion Observator</i> (1703),
+p. 17. See also Howard William Troyer, <i>Ned Ward of Grubstreet</i>
+(Harvard University Press, 1946), pp. 110, 117.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <i>The Life and Errors of John Dunton</i> (London, 1818), I, 356.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> See <i>The Observator</i>, Jan. 4-8, 1707, and "Postscript"; Jan. 12-15,
+1707; and Sept. 20-24, 1707.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Pp. 12-13. See also <i>The Observator</i>, Sept. 27-Oct. 1, 1707, and
+William Bragg Ewald, <i>Rogues, Royalty, and Reporters</i> (Boston,
+[1954]), p. 14.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> For the two Oldham pieces, see <i>Poems of John Oldham</i>, introd.
+Bonamy Dobr&eacute;e (Southern Illinois University Press, [c. 1960])
+pp. 50-54, 72-79.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> <i>The Diary of John Evelyn</i>, ed. E. S. de Beer, 6 vols. (Oxford,
+1955), V, 115; Luttrell, II, 565; W. Adolphe Roberts, <i>Jamaica:
+the Portrait of an Island</i> (New York, [c. 1955]), pp. 44-45;
+and Mary Manning Carley, <i>Jamaica: the Old and the New</i>
+(London, [c. 1963]), pp. 34-36, 157-58.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Luttrell's entry for Aug. 13, 1692 (II, 539).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> <i>Review</i>, IV (Sept. 7, 1706) and IV (Nov. 20, 1707).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Defoe's gloss on "<i>Piteous Satyr</i>" is "Satyr in Praise of Folly
+and Knavery." (<i>The True-Born Englishman</i>, 1700, p. 37.)
+Since he regards this as the title of the "<i>Satyr</i> upon <i>Honesty</i>,"
+Defoe may be confusing <i>A Pindarick Ode</i> with Tutchin's next
+satire, <i>A Search after Honesty</i> (1697).</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>- xi -</span></p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> <i>Mr. William Fuller's Letter to Mr. John Tutchin</i> (1703), p. 7;
+Luttrell, V, 676, 683; <i>The Proceedings of the King's Commission
+of the Peace, and Oyer and Terminer and Goal Delivery of Newgate
+... the 28th, 29th, 30th and 31st Days of August 1700</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> "A Dialogue between a Dissenter and the Observator," in <i>A
+Collection of the Writings of the Author of the True-Born Englishman</i>
+(1703), p. 227.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> II, 1-6, 7-46.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;">
+<img src="images/img14.jpg" width="100%" alt="John Tutchin" title="John Tutchin" />
+<span class="caption">M<sup>r.</sup> <span class="smcap">John Tutchin</span></span>
+<p class="center"><i>Dy'd Sept<sup>ber</sup> 23<sup>d</sup> 1707. Aged 44.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>21</span></p>
+<div class='bbox'>
+<h1>POEMS</h1>
+<h4>ON</h4>
+<h3>Several Occasions.</h3>
+<h4>WITH A</h4>
+<h2>PASTORAL</h2>
+
+<div class="bt"></div>
+<h4>To which is Added, A</h4>
+<h2>DISCOURSE</h2>
+<h4>OF</h4>
+<h1>LIFE</h1>
+
+<div class="bt"></div>
+
+<h3>By <i>JOHN TUTCHIN</i>.</h3>
+<div class="bt"></div>
+
+<h4><i>LONDON</i>,</h4>
+<h4>
+Printed by J. L. for <i>Jonathan Greenwood</i>, at the<br />
+<i>Black Raven</i> in the <i>Poultry</i>, near the<br />
+<i>Old Jury</i>. MDCLXXXV.
+</h4>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>22</span></p>
+
+
+<h4>THE</h4>
+<h1>Tory Catch.</h1>
+
+
+<p class="cen">I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Friend of mine, and I did follow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Cart and Six, with Brandy fraught;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We sate us down, and up did swallow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each a Gallon at a draught:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sober Sot can't drink with us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May kiss coy Wine with <i>Tantalus</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">II.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With Musick fit for Serenading,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We did ramble to and fro;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then to Drink and Masquerading,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Till we cannot stand nor go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One Leg by <i>Bacchus</i> was quite lamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tother <i>Venus</i> had defamed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">III.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At the Tavern we did whisk it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And full Pipes did empty drain:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>23</span><span class="i0">We eat Pint-Pots instead of Bisket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And piss'd 'em melted out again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We beat the Vintner, kiss'd his Wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kill'd three Drawers in the strife.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">IV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the Street we found some Bullies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to make our valour known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We call'd 'em Fops, and silly Cullies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And knock'd the foremost of 'em down:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with praise to end the Fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We, like good Souldiers, ran away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">V.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the Play-House we descended,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For to get a grain of Wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our own with Wine was so defended.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We sate spuing in the Pit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Mongst Drunken Lords and Whoring Ladies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see such sights whose only Trade is.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>64</span></p>
+<h4>A</h4>
+<h2>LETTER</h2>
+<h4>TO A</h4>
+<h1>FRIEND.</h1>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thanks for your Praises! were they due, I wou'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pamper my self with Joy, and think 'em Good.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loaden with Laurels for mine unknown Art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You paint me Great, although beneath Desert.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if <i>Macenas</i> had a lasting Fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because the best of Poets us'd his Name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Merit justly may to me belong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because 'tis sung by your all-skilful Tongue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft have I blam'd my Stars, that I should be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plagu'd with this soft deluding <i>Poetry</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Charming <i>Mistress</i> that has kept my Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite from a Child, by her bewitching Art.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>65</span><span class="i0">From her glad Fountain I can always find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A pleasing Philtre to make <i>Phillis</i> kind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For tell me that coy <i>Maid</i> could ever be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cruel, when urg'd by Charming <i>Poesie</i>?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Verse</i> is the <i>Poet's</i> Beauty, Wealth and Wit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what soft <i>Virgin</i> won't be won by it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, wearied with Delight, I always try<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against this Spell to find a Remedy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By good <i>Divinity</i> I think to find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Soveraign Remedy for Soul and Mind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then, with Holy Flame, I strait do burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all to <i>Hymns</i>, and <i>Sacred Anthems</i> turn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, when the Night does waking Thoughts redress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Guardian Angels with our Souls converse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To busie Mortals is the sleeping Time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dream and slumber all the Night in Rhyme.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then puzling <i>Logick</i> next I take in hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this, Alas! can't <i>Poesie</i> withstand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Barbara</i>, <i>Celarent</i>, I with Ease express,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yoke rough <i>Ergo's</i> into well-made <i>Verse</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Faithless Lover's <i>Syllogism</i> tries;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I by stout <i>Logick</i> find their <i>Fallacies</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>66</span><span class="i0">Then <i>Scheibler</i>, <i>Suarez</i>, <i>Bellarmine</i> I get,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sound the depth of <i>Metaphysick</i> wit:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Streight, in a fret, I damn 'em all at once,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And vow they are as dull as <i>Zabarel</i> or <i>Dunce</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Credit me, <i>Sir</i>, no greater plague can be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than to be poison'd with mad <i>Poetrie</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Pocky Letchers, who have got a Clap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And paid the <i>Doctor</i> for the dear mishap;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But newly eased of their nausceous pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Return unto their wanton Sin again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Poets be they plague'd with naughty Verse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They never value good nor bad success:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or be they trebly damn'd, they will prefer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their next vile scribling to the <i>Theater</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well might the Audience, with their hisses, damn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Bawdy Sot that late wrote <i>Limberham</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But yet you see, the Stage he will command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hold the Laurel in's polluted Hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In slothful ease, a while I took delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought all Poets mad that us'd to write.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So long I kept from Verse, I thought I'd lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Versing Vein, and of my Fortune boast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But having tryal made, I quickly found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My store renew'd, in numbers strong and sound<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>67</span><span class="i0">With ease my happy fancies come and go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Rivulets do from <i>Parnassus</i> flow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then finding that in vain I long had try'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The <i>Poet</i> from the <i>Tutchin</i> to divide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I charming <i>Poesie</i> make my delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And propagate the humor still to Write.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our new Divines do alter not one jot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From what their Tribe in older times have wrot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except, like <i>Parker</i>, to have something new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They broach new Doctrines, either false or true:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>A Publick Conscience</i>, which for nought does pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But proves the Writer is a publick Ass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who the new Philosophick world have told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have for a new but varnish'd o're the old.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all Poetick Phancy can't draw dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' unfathom'd Wells of deepest Poesie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The <i>Bifront Hill</i> is always stout and strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The <i>Muses</i> still are handsome, always young.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clearest streams of Chrystal <i>Helicon</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do o're the Pebles in sweet Rhymings run.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why then should you, <i>Dear Sir</i>, (that have pretence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the extreamest bounds of Wit and Sense)<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>68</span><span class="i0">Lay by your Quills and hold your Tune-ful Tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all the witty want your pleasing Song?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more renew those Lays that gave delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That chear the Day, and glad the gloomy Night:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May with your dying breath your Verses end;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus prays your constant, and<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p style='text-align: right'>
+<i>Your truest Friend</i>,<br />
+<br />
+<i>J. T.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[1]</span></p>
+<h3>THE</h3>
+<h2>EARTH-QUAKE</h2>
+<h4>OF</h4>
+<h1>JAMAICA,</h1>
+
+<h4>Describ'd in a</h4>
+<h2>Pindarick Poem.</h2>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>By Mr. TUTCHIN.</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<div class="poem">
+<i>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;&mdash;namq; Diespiter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Igni corusco nubila dividens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Plerumq; per purum tonantes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Egit Equos volucremq; currum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quo bruta Tellus &amp; vaga flumina,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quo Styx, &amp; invisi horrida T&aelig;nari<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sedes, Atlanteusq; finis<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Concutitur. Valet ima summis<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mutare,&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</i></div>
+
+<p style='text-align: right'>Horat. lib. I. Ode 34.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><i>L O N D O N</i>,</h3>
+
+<h4>Printed, and are to be sold by <i>R. Baldwin</i>, near the<br />
+<i>Oxford-Arms</i> in <i>Warwick-lane</i>, 1692.</h4>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[2]</span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[3]</span></p>
+<h4>THE</h4>
+<h2>Earthquake of Jamaica</h2>
+<h4>Describ'd in a POEM.</h4>
+
+
+<p class="cen">I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Well may our Lives bear an uncertain date;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Disturb'd with Maladies within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Without by cross Events of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The worst of Plagues on Mortals wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pride, Ignorance and Sin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If our ancient Mother Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who gave us all untimely Birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such strong Hysterick Passion feels;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If Orbs are from their Axles torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Mountains into Valleys worn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All in a moments space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can humane Race<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stand on their Legs when Nature Reels?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unhappy Man! in all things cross'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On every giddy Wave of Fortune toss'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The only thing that aims at Sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And yet capricious Fate must still Obey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Travels for Wealth to Foreign Lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O're scorching Mountains, and o're desart Sands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Laden with Gold, when homeward bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is in one vast impetuous Billow drown'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or if he reaches to the Shoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And there unlades his Oar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Builds Towns and Houses which may last and stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thinking no Wealth so sure as firm Land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet Fate the Animal does still pursue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This slides from underneath his Feet, and leaves him too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[4]</span></p>
+
+<p class="cen">II.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Environ'd with Ten Thousand Fears we live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Fate do's seldom a just warning give;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quicker than Thought its dire Resolves are made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And swift as Lightning flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Around the vast extended Skies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things are by its Bolts in vast Confusion laid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sometimes a Flaming Comet does appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose very Visage does pronounce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Decay of Kingdoms, and the Fall of Crowns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Intestine War, or Pestilential Year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sometimes a Hurricane of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Does on some great Mans Exit wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A murder'd <i>Cornish</i>, or some <i>Hercules</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When from their Trunks Almighty <i>Jove</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who breaks with Thunder weighty Clouds above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To Honour these<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Large Pines and Oaks does Lop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in a Whirlwind lays 'em upon <i>Oeta</i>'s Top.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">E're this vast Orb shall unto Chaos turn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And with Consuming Flames shall burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An Angel Trumpeter shall come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose Noise shall shake the Massie Ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In one short moment shall express,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His Notes to the whole Universe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The very Dead shall hear his Sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And from their Graves repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the impartial Bar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those that have been in the deep Ocean drown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall at his Call come to receive their Doom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">III.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But here, alas! no Omens fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No secret Whisper of their Destiny<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was heard; none cou'd divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When Fate wou'd spring the Mine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Safe and secure the Mortals go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not dreaming of a Hell below;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[5]</span><span class="i0">In the dark Caverns of the gloomy Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where suffocating Sulphur has its Birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sparkling Nitre's made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where <i>Vulcan</i> and his <i>Cyclops</i> prove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Thunderbolts they make for <i>Jove</i>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here <i>&AElig;olus</i> his Winds has laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here is his Windy Palace, here 'tis said<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His Race of little puffing Gods are bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which serve for Bellows to blow up the Flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dire ingredients are in order plac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which must anon lay Towns and Cities waste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strait the black Engineer of Heaven came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His Match a Sun-beam was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He swift as Time unto the Train did pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It soon took Fire; The Fire and Winds contend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But both concur the Vaulted Earth to rend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It upwards rose, and then it downwards fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Aiming at Heaven, it sunk to Hell:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Neighb'ring Seas now own no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sturdy Bulwarks of the Shoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The gaping Earth and greedy Sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are both contending for the Prey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those whom the rav'nous Earth had ta'ne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Into her Bowels back again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are wash't from thence by the insulting Main.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">IV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Old and Young receive alike their Doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Cowards and the Brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are buried in one Grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Fate allows 'em all one Common Tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Aged and the Wise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lose all their Reason in the great Surprise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They know not where to go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And yet they dare not stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There's Fire and Smoak below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Earth gaping to receive the Prey:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If to the Houses Top they Crawl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These tumble too, and downwards fall:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[6]</span><span class="i2">And if they fly into the Street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There grizly Death they meet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All in a hurry dye away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wicked had not time to pray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Soldier once cou'd teach grim Death to kill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain is all his Skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain he brandisheth his Steel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No more the Art of War must teach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lyes Fates Trophy underneath the Breach:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The good Companions now no more Carouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They share the Fate of the declining House,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Healths to their Friends their Bumpers Crown'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But while they put the Glasses round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Death steps between the Cup and lip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor would it let 'em take one parting Sip.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">V.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Mine is sprung, and a large Breach is made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereat strong Troops of Warring Seas invade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">These overflow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where Houses stood and Grass did grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All sorts of Fish resort:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They had Dominions large enough before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But now unbounded by the Shoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They o're the Tops of Houses sport.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Watry Fry their Legions do extend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And for the new slain Prey contend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Within the Houses now they roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into their Foe, the very Kitchen, come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One does the Chimney-hearth assail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another slaps the Kettle with his slimy Tail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No Image there of Death is seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No Cook-maid does obstruct their Sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They have entirely got the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those who have once devour'd been<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By Mankind, now on Man do Feed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thus Fate decides, and steps between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometimes gives the Slave the Victors meed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Beauteous Virgins whom the Gods might love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cou'd not the Curse of Heav'n remove;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[7]</span><span class="i2">Their goodness might for Crimes Atone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Inexorable Death spares none.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their tender Flesh lately so plump and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is now made Fishes and Sea-monsters Food;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In vain they cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heav'n is grown Deaf, and no Petition hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Sighs are answer'd like their Lovers Pray'rs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They in the Universal Ruin lye.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">VI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor is inexorable Fate content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ruine one poor Town alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More Mischief by the Blow is done:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death's on a farther Message sent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Fate a Garrison does Sack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very Suburbs do partake<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Martial Law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its Forces draw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To every Mountain, Field and Wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They Ravage all the Neighbourhood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worse than the weak Assaults of Steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its Instruments of Death all places feel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They undiscover'd, like fell Poison kill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its Warriours fierce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Earth, the Air, and Men do pierce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mounted, fight upon the winged Winds.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here a great Mountain in a Valley's thrown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there a Valley to a Mountain grown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very Breath of an incensed God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes even proud <i>Olympus</i> Nod.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chang'd is the Beauty of the fruitful Isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And its fair Woods lopp'd for its Funeral Pile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moving Earth forms it self in Waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Curls its Surface like the Rowling Seas;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst Man (that little thing) so vainly Raves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing but Heaven can its own Wrath appease.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">VII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Fate at length thought fit to leave its Toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And greedy Death was glutted with the Spoil.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[8]</span><span class="i0">As weary Soldiers having try'd their Steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half drown'd with Blood, do then desist to kill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">More Ruin wou'd a second Deluge make,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blot out the Name of the unhappy Isle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It fares with her as when in Martial Field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resolv'd and Brave, and loath to yield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Two num'rous Armies do contend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with repeated Shouts the Air do Rend.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst the affrighted Earth does shake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some large Battalions are entirely lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Warring Squadrons from the mighty Host:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Here by a Shot does fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Some Potent General;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And near to him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Another loses but a Limb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Part of the Island was a Prey to Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the rest do's but prolong its date,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Till injur'd Heav'n finds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its Bolts a Terror strike on humane Minds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sure we may hope the Sinners there Repent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since it has made their lewdest Priest Relent.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4>F I N I S.</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[5]</span></p>
+<div class='bbox'>
+<h4>A</h4>
+
+<h1>Pindarick ODE,</h1>
+
+<h5>IN THE</h5>
+
+<h2>PRAISE</h2>
+
+<h5>OF</h5>
+
+<h3><i>Folly</i> and <i>Knavery</i>.</h3>
+
+<div class="bt"></div>
+<h4>By Mr. <i>TUTCHIN</i>.</h4>
+<div class="bt"></div>
+
+<h4><i>L O N D O N</i>,<br />
+
+Printed and Sold by <i>E. W.</i> near <i>Stationers-Hall</i>.<br />
+1696. Price 6<i>d.</i></h4>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[6]</span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[7]</span></p>
+<h3>A</h3>
+<h2>Pindarick ODE</h2>
+<h4>In the Praise of</h4>
+<h2><i>Folly</i> and <i>Knavery</i>.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cen">I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">My humble Muse no Hero Sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor Acts, nor Funerals of Kings:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The great <i>Maria</i> now no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Sable Lines she does deplore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of mighty <i>William</i>'s growing fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At present must forget the name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet she affects something that is sublime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And would in <i>Dytherambick</i> strain <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Attempt to rise, and now disdain <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Shrubs and Furzes of the Plain: <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He that's afraid to fall, shou'd ne'r pretend to climb.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[8]</span></p>
+<p class="cen">II.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Let others boast of potent Wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Summon in the awful <i>Nine</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all their Aids of Fancy, Humor, Sence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair polish'd Learning, Eloquence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And call their gawdy works Divine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hov'ring above my Head let <i>dullness</i> sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The only God that's worshipp'd by the Age;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Immortal <i>Nonsence</i> guide my Pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Fames of <i>Shakespear</i> and of <i>Ben</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must warp, before my nobler fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To their regardless Tombs retire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus Arm'd, with Nonsence, I'll engage<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Both <i>Universities</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And their Pedantick fooleries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Show the misguided World the Cheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let <i>Man</i> know that <i>Nonsence</i> makes him Great.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">III.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Almighty <i>Folly</i>! How shall I thy praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To Human Understandings raise?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What shall I do<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy worth to shew?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[9]</span><span class="i1">The Glorious Sun, that rules the Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gives vital warmth and life by ev'ry Ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His Blessings he in common grants,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To Hemlock as to nobler Plants;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy Virtue thou dost circumscribe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And dost dispence<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy influence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But to the Darlings of thy Tribe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thou Wealth and Honour dost bestow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On thy triumphant <i>Fools</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whilst abject Sence do's barefoot go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So weak's the Learning of the noisie Schools.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">IV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tell me, ye Learned Sots! who spend your time<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In reading Books,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With thoughtful Heads and meagre Looks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To Learnings Pinacle, who climb<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the wild Briers of <i>Philosophy</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Thorns of harsh <i>Philology</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dirty Road where <i>Aristotle</i> went<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Encumber'd with a thousand <i>terms</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Uncouth, Unintelligible,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not by any fancy fathomable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bringing distracted Minds to harms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The rankest <i>Hellebore</i> cannot prevent.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[10]</span><span class="i2">Tell me, I say, ye Learn'd Sots!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Did e'r the old or new Philosophy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho' you may think your Notions truer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They'll ne'r advance your Lotts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the Estate of Wise Sir <i>Jonathan</i> the Brewer.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">V.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">A <i>Fool</i>! Heav'ns bless the charming Name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">So much admir'd in Ages past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As long as this, and all the World shall last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall be the Subject of Triumphing Fame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A <i>Fool</i>! what mighty wonders has he wrought?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What mighty Actions done?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Obey'd by all, controul'd by none;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even <i>Love</i> its self is to its Footstool brought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For t'other day, I met amidst the Throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A Lady wealthy, beautiful and young;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Madam</i>, said I, I wish you double Joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of a ripe Husband and a budding Boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And with my self a sight of him you Wed, <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The happy Part'ner of your Bridal Bed. <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sir, she reply'd, I him in Wedlock had; <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pointing unto an Image by her side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An odder Figure no Man e'r espy'd,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[11]</span><span class="i1">Long was his Chin, and carotty his Beard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His Eyes sunk in, and high his Nose was rear'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A nauseous ugliness possess'd the Tool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And scarce had Wit enough to be a Fool:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bless me (thought I) if Fools such fortune get,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then who (the Devil) wou'd be plagu'd with wit.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">VI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">View but the Realms of <i>Nonsence</i>, see the State,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Pageant pomp attends the show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the great God of <i>Dullness</i> does in triumph go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How splendid and how great<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His num'rous Train of Blockheads do appear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Almighty <i>Jove</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That governs all above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is but a puny to this Mighty God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blustring God of War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who with one Nod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes the Earth tremble from afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Guarded with puissant Champions stern and bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That breath Destruction, talk of bloody Jars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have nought but ragged Cloaths to keep off cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tatter'd Ensigns relicks of the Wars.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[12]</span><span class="i0">The God of <i>Dullness</i> mounted on his Throne<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beneath a Canopy<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of fix'd stupidity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prostrate his num'rous Subjects tumble down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They pay obeisance to their gloomy God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And at his Nod<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They act, they move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They hate, they love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They bless, they curse, they swear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For they his Creatures are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He amply does his Benefits afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For each confirmed Blockhead is a Lord.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">VII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then talk no more of Parts and Sence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Riches ne'r attend the Wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Have you to dullness no pretence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You shall to Grandeur never rise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He with a gloomy mien Divinely dull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose very aspect tells the World he is a Fool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whose thicker Skull<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is proof against each storm of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Born for Glory, and he shall be Great.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[13]</span><span class="i2">Who 'ere wou'd rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or great Preferment get,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must nere pretend to Wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or be that monstrous, ill shap'd Man call'd Wise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He must not boast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Learning's Value, or its cost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, if he wou'd Preferment have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He must be much a <i>Fool</i>, or much a <i>Knave</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">VIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A <i>Knave</i>! the finer Creature far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tho' of the foolish Race of <i>Issachar</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the unwieldy <i>Bear</i> among her young<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Deform'd, and shapeless Cubs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Finds one more strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Active and sprightly than the rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Him she transforms and rubs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And licks into a better shape the Beast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus do's the gloomy God of Folly do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the insipid Race:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He do's his num'rous Offspring call, <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He handles one and feels his Skull; <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If it be thick, he says, Be thou a Fool. <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another, if about his Face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He spies a roguish Mein, a cunning Look;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[14]</span><span class="i1">If there appears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hopes of Falshood in his tender Years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Good signs of Perjury<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hardn'd Villany;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This for his secret Councils he do's save,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lays on his Paw, and bids him, Be a <i>Knave</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">IX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A <i>Knave</i>! the elder brother to the <i>Fool</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His vast Dominions are no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than the whole Universe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Lands are bounded by the Sea:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Seas the sturdy Rocks obey:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Storms do know the Limits of their Rule:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Neither the Land nor Sea this Hero bind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But unconfin'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O're both he finds a way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O're both he bears Imperial sway:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His gay Attendants are the Cheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That ruines Kingdoms to be Great.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[15]</span><span class="i2">The fawning, flattring Fop, who creeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Just like a Spaniel at your Heels,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To some illustrious Knave, who sweeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Away a Kingdoms Wealth at once,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with the Publick Coin his Treasure fills;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Kingdoms work t'enrich the <i>Knave</i> and <i>Dunce</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">X.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Honesty's a Garb we're mock'd in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Only wore by <i>Jews</i> and <i>Turks</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Merit is a Popish Doctrine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Men have no regard to Works.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Substantial Knavery is a Vertue will<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Your Coffers fill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Altars raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Unto your Praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be but a Knave, you'll keep the World in awe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And fear no Law;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For no Transgression is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where all Men do amiss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here methinks an antiquated <i>Hero</i> starts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Surpris'd at my Discourse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He starts and boggles like a Horse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And damns our modern Knavish Arts.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[16]</span></p>
+
+<p class="cen">XI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Vain <i>Youth</i>, he says misguided by a <i>Knave</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By some dull Blockhead tempted from thy rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The worldly Grandeur thou dost vainly crave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is nought but Noise and Foolishness at best.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What Man wou'd quit his Sense,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, the wise Dictates of right Reason's Rule,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In vain pretence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To be a rich, a gawdy <i>Fool</i>?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, quit his Honesty, so much despis'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And basely condescend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To every little Knavish End;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Run headlong into every Cheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attempt each Villany to make him Great.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Believe me Youth, (be better now advis'd)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy early Vertues will thy Temples spread, <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With lasting Lawrels 'round thy Head. <br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall flourish when the Wearers dead. <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I who have always honest been, though poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In whom the utmost signs of Age appears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sink beneath the Burthen of my Years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Cou'd never yet adore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Knave or Blockhead, were he ne'er so Great;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, be like to them, to purchase an Estate.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[17]</span></p>
+
+<p class="cen">XII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poor thredbare <i>Vertue</i> ne'er admir'd in Court,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But seeks its Refuge in an honest Mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There it securely dwells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like <i>Anchorets</i> in Cells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where no Ambition nor wild Lust resorts:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To love our Country is indeed our Pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We glory in an honest Action done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the Reward is laid aside<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Glory and the Action is our own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We seldom find<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Good, the Just, the Brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Have their Reward<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From Princes they did save<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From dire Destruction, or a poisoning Foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They let them go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Contemn'd, disdain'd; and most regard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those Villians sought their overthrow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if the Just, the Brave, the Good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were but a <i>Bridge</i> of Wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To waft to great Preferments o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those, who were our foes before,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[18]</span><span class="i0">And then be tumbl'd down like useless Logs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While those, who just pass'd o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the obliging Bridge shou'd thank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do scornfully stand grinning on the Bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To see the venerable Ruines float<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Adrift upon the Stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Contemn'd by them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who give the Childrens Bread unto the Dogs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>In vain</i>, says he, <i>we've fought</i>&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But at this Word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He fiercely look'd, and then he grasp'd his Sword.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">XIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pity it is, he said, this Sword of mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of late so gloriously did shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Foreign Fields 'midst Show'rs of Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With which I've cut my Passage through<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Snowy <i>Alps</i> and <i>Pyrenean</i> Hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Death the Land with vast Destruction fills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Mongst Warriors, who<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Venture their Lives for their dear Countries good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should now be laid aside<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[19]</span><span class="i1">'Mongst Rubbish Iron old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From reaking Blood scarce cold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or else converted to a <i>Knife</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For some damn'd Villain first to cut<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A Princes Bread, and next his Throat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain we venture to preserve his Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In vain to Foreign Fields we come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In vain to Foreign Force alli'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If a nefarious Brood at Home<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Embarrass his Affairs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Prolong the Wars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Only t' enrich his Enemies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weaken his Government, and his Allies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">XIV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis strange a Prince, shou'd ere a <i>Fool</i> preferr,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To be an Officer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A <i>Knave</i> may serve an unjust Government,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But ne'er prevent<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those Mischiefs may attend the just:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For who would trust<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A Villain may be bought by Gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless design'd on purpose to be sold?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Princes wou'd use <i>Fools</i> as Shop-men do<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Their Signs or Boards of show,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[20]</span><span class="i1">To tell the passers by there's better stuff<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Within, 'tis rational enough.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But to set Centry at the Door, <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A Patriot or a Senator, <br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Philosopher or Orator, <br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tell the Passers by their is within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A <i>Merry Andrew</i> to be seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is very much ridiculous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tho' to our grief we often find it thus.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus Princes Bastardize<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their Countries Sons Legitimate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And give the fair Estate<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unto a Spurious Brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ne'er did good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The honest Work, the <i>Knave</i> enjoys the Prize.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">XV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">A Government adorn'd with Fools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Empty Trifles, useless Tools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looks like a Toy-Shop gloriously bedeckt<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With gawdy gewgaws, Childrens play things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Painted Babies, Tinsel Creatures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wooden Folk, with Human features,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made just for show, and no advantage brings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And prove of no effect.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[21]</span><span class="i2">It dwindles to a <i>Raree-Show</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In which no Man must act a Part<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But the dull <i>Blockhead</i> and the <i>Beau</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The huffing <i>Fop</i> without a Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What Wise Man would a Journey take<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On a dull Steed has broke his Back?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or have recourse<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unto a <i>Hobby-Horse</i>?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those act by such wise Rules,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who prop Just Princes by a Tyrant's Tools.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="cen">XVI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Surely the Genius of a fruitful Isle<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is either lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or what is worst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Murder'd by those who shou'd support her Fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Add Glory to her Name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Heavens themselves have cast an angry look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Seldom the Glorious Sun does shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But Veils its face Divine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Jove</i> does misguide the Seasons every Year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nought can we read in Nature's Book,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To reap her Fruits scarce worth our while.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[22]</span><span class="i4">Our Mother Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From whose unhappy Womb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">We Mortals come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ne'er shows a Glorious Birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But proves abortive as our Actions are;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nought have we left but hope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Just like the Blind at Noon we grope:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The number of our Sins we must fulfil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if we're sav'd, it is against our will.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4><i>F I N I S.</i></h4>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>1</span></p>
+<h4>THE</h4>
+<h2>FOREIGNERS.</h2>
+
+<h4>A</h4>
+<h1>P O E M.</h1>
+
+
+<h4>P A R T &nbsp; I.</h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h5><i>L O N D O N</i>,<br />
+Printed for <i>A. Baldwin</i> in <i>Warwicklane</i>,<br />
+MDCC.</h5>
+<p><span class='pagenum'>2</span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'>3</span></p>
+<h2>The Foreigners.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Long time had <i>Israel</i> been disus'd from Rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long had they been by Tyrants sore opprest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kings of all sorts they ignorantly crav'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grew more stupid as they were enslav'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet want of Grace they impiously disown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still like Slaves beneath the Burden groan'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With languid Eyes their Race of Kings they view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Bad too many, and the Good too few;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some rob'd their Houses, and destroy'd their Lives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ravish'd their Daughters, and debauch'd their Wives;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prophan'd the Altars with polluted Loves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And worship'd Idols in the Woods and Groves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">To Foreign Nations next they have recourse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Striving to mend, they made their State much worse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They first from <i>Hebron</i> all their Plagues did bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cramm'd in the Single Person of a King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From whose base Loins ten thousand Evils flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which by Succession they must undergo.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet sense of Native Freedom still remains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They fret and grumble underneath their Chains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Incens'd, enrag'd, their Passion do's arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till at his Palace-Gate their Monarch dies.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>4</span><span class="i0">This Glorious Feat was by the Fathers done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose Children next depos'd his Tyrant Son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made him, like <i>Cain</i>, a murd'rous Wanderer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both of his Crimes, and of his Fortunes share.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But still resolv'd to split on Foreign Shelves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather than venture once to trust Themselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Foreign Courts and Councils do resort,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To find a King their Freedoms to support:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of one for mighty Actions fam'd they're told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Profoundly wise, and desperately bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Skilful in War, Successful still in Fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had vanquish'd Hosts, and Armies put to flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the Storms of War and Battels cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knew well to steer the Ship of State in Peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him they approve, approaching to their sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lov'd by the Gods, of Mankind the Delight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The numerous Tribes resort to see him land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cover the Beach, and blacken all the Strand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With loud Huzza's they welcome him on shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for their Blessing do the Gods implore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The Sanhedrim conven'd, at length debate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sad Condition of their drooping State,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sinking Church, just ready now to drown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with one Shout they do the Hero crown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Ah Happy <i>Israel</i>! had there never come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into his Councils crafty Knaves at home,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>5</span><span class="i0">In combination with a Foreign Brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sworn Foes to <i>Israel</i>'s Rights and <i>Israel</i>'s Good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who impiously foment Intestine Jars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exhaust our Treasure, and prolong our Wars;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make <i>Israel</i>'s People to themselves a prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mislead their King, and steal his Heart away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">United Intrests thus they do divide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The State declines by Avarice and Pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Beasts of Prey they ravage all the Land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acquire Preferments, and usurp Command:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Foreign Inmates the Housekeepers spoil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drain the Moisture of our fruitful Soil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If to our Monarch there are Honours due,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet what with <i>Gibeonites</i> have we to do?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Foreign States employ 'em for their Food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To draw their Water, and to hew their Wood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Mushroom Honours dos our Soil afford!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One day a Begger, and the next a Lord.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What dastard Souls do <i>Jewish</i> Nobles wear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Commons such Affronts would never bear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let no Historian the sad Stories tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of thy base Sons, Oh servile <i>Israel</i>!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou, my Muse, more generous and brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shalt their black Crimes from dark oblivion save;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To future Ages shalt their Sins disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brand with Infamy thy Nation's Foes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'>6</span><span class="i1">A Country lies, due East from <i>Judah</i>'s Shoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where stormy Winds and noisy Billows roar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Land much differing from all other Soils,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forc'd from the Sea, and buttress'd up with Piles.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No marble Quarrys bind the spungy Ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Loads of Sand and Cockle-shells are found:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its Natives void of Honesty and Grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Boorish, rude, and an inhumane Race;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Nature's Excrement their Life is drawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are born in Bogs, and nourish'd up from Spawn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their hard-smoak'd Beef is their continual Meat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which they with Rusk, their luscious Manna, eat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such Food with their chill stomachs best agrees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sing <i>Hosannah</i> to a Mare's-milk Cheese.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To supplicate no God, their Lips will move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who speaks in Thunder like Almighty <i>Jove</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But watry Deities they do invoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who from the Marshes most Divinely croak.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Land, as if asham'd their Crimes to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dives down beneath the surface of the Sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Neptune</i>, the God who do's the Seas command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne'er stands on Tip-toe to descry their Land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But seated on a Billow of the Sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Ease their humble Marshes do's survey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are the Vermin do our State molest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eclipse our Glory, and disturb our Rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'>7</span><span class="i1"><i>BENTIR</i> in the Inglorious Roll the first,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Bentir</i> to this and future Ages curst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shun'd by the Great, and hated by the Crowd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who neither Blood nor Parentage can boast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what he got the <i>Jewish</i> Nation lost:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By lavish Grants whole Provinces he gains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made forfeit by the <i>Jewish</i> Peoples Pains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till angry Sanhedrims such Grants resume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the Peacock take each borrow'd Plume.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should the <i>Gibeonites</i> our Land engross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aggrandize their Fortunes with our loss?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let them in foreign States proudly command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have no Portion in the Promis'd Land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which immemorially has been decreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be the Birth-right of the <i>Jewish</i> Seed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How ill do's <i>Bentir</i> in the Head appear <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Warriours, who do <i>Jewish</i> Ensigns bear? <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By such we're grown e'en Scandalous in War. <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Fathers Trophies wore, and oft could tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How by their Swords the mighty Thousands fell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What mighty Deeds our Grandfathers had done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Battels fought, what Wreaths of Honour won:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro the extended Orb they purchas'd Fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Nations trembling at their Awful Name:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>8</span><span class="i0">Such wondrous Heroes our Fore-fathers were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we, base Souls! but Pigmies are in War:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Foreign Chieftains we improve in Skill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We learn how to intrench, not how to kill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all our Charge are good Proficients made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In using both the Pickax and the Spade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in what Field have we a Conquest wrought?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Ten Years War what Battel have we fought?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">If we a Foreign Slave may use in War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet why in Council should that Slave appear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we with <i>Jewish</i> Treasure make him great,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must it be done to undermine the State?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where are the Antient Sages of Renown? <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No <i>Magi</i> left, fit to advise the Crown? <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must we by Foreign Councils be undone? <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unhappy <i>Israel</i>, who such Measures takes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seeks for Statesmen in the Bogs and Lakes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who speak the Language of most abject Slaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the Conduct of our <i>Jewish</i> Knaves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our <i>Hebrew</i>'s murder'd in their hoarser Throats;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How ill their Tongues agree with <i>Jewish Notes</i>!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their untun'd Prattle do's our Sense confound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which in our Princely Palaces do's sound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The self-same Language the old Serpent spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When misbelieving <i>Eve</i> the Apple took:<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>9</span><span class="i0">Of our first Mother why are we asham'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When by the self-same Rhetorick we are damn'd?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But <i>Bentir</i>, not Content with such Command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To canton out the <i>Jewish</i> Nation's Land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He do's extend to Other Coasts his Pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Kingdoms into Parts divide:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unhappy <i>Hiram</i>! dismal is thy Song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho born to Empire, thou art ever young!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever in Nonage, canst no Right transfer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who made <i>Bentir</i> thy Executor?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What mighty Power do's <i>Israel</i>'s Land afford? <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Power has made the famous <i>Bentir</i> Lord? <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Peoples Voice, and <i>Sanhedrim</i>'s Accord. <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are not the Rights of People still the same?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did they e'er differ in or Place or Name?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have not Mankind on equal Terms still stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without Distinction, since the mighty Flood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have not <i>Hiram</i>'s Subjects a free Choice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To chuse a King by their united Voice?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If <i>Israel</i>'s People cou'd a Monarch chuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A living King at the same time refuse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That <i>Hiram</i>'s People, shall it e'er be said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have not the Right of Choice when he is dead?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When no Successor to the Crown's in sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Crown is certainly the Peoples Right.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>10</span><span class="i0">If Kings are made the People to enthral,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We had much better have no King at all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Kings, appointed for the Common Good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Always as Guardians to their People stood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Heaven allows the People sure a Power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To chuse such Kings as shall not them devour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They know full well what best will serve themselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How to avoid the dang'rous Rocks and Shelves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Unthinking <i>Israel</i>! Ah henceforth beware<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How you entrust this faithless Wanderer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He who another Kingdom can divide, <span class='rbrace'>}</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May set your Constitution soon aside, <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er your Liberties in Triumph ride. <br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Support your Rightful Monarch and his Crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But pull this proud, this croaking Mortal down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Proceed, my Muse; the Story next relate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of <i>Keppech</i> the Imperious Chit of State,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mounted to Grandeur by the usual Course<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Whoring, Pimping, or a Crime that's worse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Foreign Birth, and undescended too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he, like <i>Bentir</i>, mighty Feats can do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He robs our Treasure, to augment his State,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And <i>Jewish</i> Nobles on his Fortunes wait:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ravish'd Honours on his Shoulder wears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Titles from our Antient Rolls he tears.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>11</span><span class="i0">Was e'er a prudent People thus befool'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By upstart Foreigners thus basely gull'd?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye <i>Jewish</i> Nobles, boast no more your Race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sacred Badges did your Fathers grace!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain is Blood, or Parentages, when<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ribbons and Garters can ennoble Men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Chivalry you need have no recourse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gawdy Trappings make the Ass a Horse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more, no more your Antient Honours own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By slavish <i>Gibeonites</i> you are outdone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or else your Antient Courage reassume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to assert your Honours once presume;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From off their Heads your ravish'd Lawrels tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let them know what <i>Jewish</i> Nobles are.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4><i>T H E &nbsp; E N D.</i></h4>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint<br />
+Society</span></h2>
+
+<h4>WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY<br />
+
+University of California, Los Angeles</h4>
+
+<p class="center">PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT</p>
+
+<p class="cen">1948-1949</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>16. Nevil Payne, <i>Fatal Jealousy</i> (1673).</p>
+
+<p>17. Nicholas Rowe, <i>Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare</i> (1709).</p>
+
+<p>18. "Of Genius," in <i>The Occasional Paper</i>, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719); and Aaron Hill's
+Preface to <i>The Creation</i> (1720).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1949-1950</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>22. Samuel Johnson, <i>The Vanity of Human Wishes</i> (1749) and two <i>Rambler</i>
+papers (1750).</p>
+
+<p>23. John Dryden, <i>His Majesties Declaration Defended</i> (1681).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1950-1951</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>26. Charles Macklin, <i>The Man of the World</i> (1792).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1951-52</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>31. Thomas Gray, <i>An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard</i> (1751); and <i>The Eton
+College Manuscript</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1952-1953</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>41. Bernard Mandeville, <i>A Letter to Dion</i> (1732).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1954-1955</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>49. Two St. Cecilia's Day Sermons (1696, 1697).</p>
+
+<p>52. Pappity Stampoy, <i>A Collection of Scotch Proverbs</i> (1663).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1958-1959</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>75. John Joyne, <i>A Journal</i> (1679).</p>
+
+<p>76. Andr&eacute; Dacier, <i>Preface to Aristotle's Art of Poetry</i> (1705).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1959-1960</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>80. [P. Whalley], <i>An Essay on the Manner of Writing History</i> (1746).</p>
+
+<p>83. <i>Sawney and Colley</i> (1742) and other Pope Pamphlets.</p>
+
+<p>84. Richard Savage, <i>An Author to be lett</i> (1729).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1960-1961</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>85-6. <i>Essays on the Theatre from Eighteenth-Century Periodicals.</i></p>
+
+<p>90. Henry Needier, <i>Works</i> (1728).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1961-1962</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>93. John Norris, <i>Cursory Reflections Upon a Book Call'd, An Essay Concerning Human
+Understanding</i> (1690).</p>
+
+<p>94. An. Collins, <i>Divine Songs and Meditacions</i> (1653).</p>
+
+<p>95. <i>An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr. Fielding</i> (1751).</p>
+
+<p>96. <i>Hanoverian Ballads.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1962-1963</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>97. Myles Davies, Selections from <i>Athenae Britannicae</i> (1716-1719).</p>
+
+<p>98. <i>Select Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's Temple</i> (1697).</p>
+
+<p>99. Thomas Augustine Arne, <i>Artaxerxes</i> (1761).</p>
+
+<p>100. Simon Patrick, <i>A Brief Account of the New Sect of Latitude Men</i> (1662).</p>
+
+<p>101-2. Richard Hurd, <i>Letters on Chivalry and Romance</i> (1762).</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen">1963-1964</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>103. Samuel Richardson, <i>Clarissa</i>: Preface, Hints of Prefaces, and Postscript.</p>
+
+<p>104. Thomas D'Urfey, <i>Wonders in the Sun, or, the Kingdom of the Birds</i> (1706).</p>
+
+<p>105. Bernard Mandeville, <i>An Enquiry into the Causes of the Frequent Executions at
+Tyburn</i> (1725).</p>
+
+<p>106. Daniel Defoe, <i>A Brief History of the Poor Palatine Refugees</i> (1709).</p>
+
+<p>107-8. John Oldmixon, <i>An Essay on Criticism</i> (1728).</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p class="center">William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California, Los Angeles</p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h2>
+
+<p class="center"><b>GENERAL EDITORS</b></p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Earl Miner</span></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Maximillian E. Novak</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'> &nbsp; &nbsp; University of California, Los Angeles</td><td align='left'> &nbsp; &nbsp; University of California, Los Angeles</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan='2' align='center'><span class="smcap">Lawrence Clark Powell</span> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; </td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan='2' align='center'> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Corresponding Secretary</i>: Mrs. Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The Society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth
+century works. All income of the Society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing.</p>
+
+<p>Correspondence concerning subscriptions in the United States and Canada should be addressed to the William
+Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 2205 West Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles, California. Correspondence concerning
+editorial matters may be addressed to any of the general editors. The membership fee is $5.00 a year for subscribers
+in the United States and Canada and 30/- for subscribers in Great Britain and Europe. British and European subscribers
+should address B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England. Copies of back issues in print may be obtained
+from the Corresponding Secretary.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>PUBLICATIONS FOR 1964-1965</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John Tutchin</span>, <i>Selected Poems</i> (1685-1700). Introduction by
+Spiro Peterson.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir William Temple</span>, <i>An Essay upon the Original and Nature of
+Government</i> (1680). Introduction by Robert C. Steensma.</p>
+
+<p>T. R., <i>An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning</i> (1698).
+Introduction by Curt A. Zimansky.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span>, <i>Political Justice. A Poem</i> (1736). Introduction by
+Burton R. Pollin and John W. Wilkes.</p>
+
+<p><i>Two Poems Against Pope</i>: <span class="smcap">Leonard Welsted</span>, <i>One Epistle to Mr.
+A. Pope</i> (1730); <span class="smcap">Anonymous</span>, <i>The Blatant Beast</i> (1740). Introduction
+by Joseph V. Guerinot.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Dodsley</span>, <i>An Essay on Fable</i> (1764). Introduction by
+Jeanne K. Welcher and Richard Dircks.</p></div>
+
+<p class="cen"><b>THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY</b></p>
+
+<p class="center">William Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br />
+
+<small>2905 WEST ADAMS BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90018</small><br />
+
+<small>Make check or money order payable to <span class="smcap">The Regents of the University of California</span>.</small></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***
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+</pre>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Selected Poems
+ (1685-1700)
+
+Author: John Tutchin
+
+Editor: Spiro Peterson
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2011 [EBook #38407]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Dave Morgan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+
+JOHN TUTCHIN
+
+_SELECTED POEMS_
+
+(1685-1700)
+
+
+_INTRODUCTION_
+
+BY
+
+SPIRO PETERSON
+
+
+PUBLICATION NUMBER 110
+
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
+
+UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
+
+1964
+
+
+
+
+GENERAL EDITORS
+
+ Earl R. Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Lawrence Clark Powell, _Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+ADVISORY EDITORS
+
+ John Butt, _University of Edinburgh_
+ James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
+ Ralph Cohen, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
+ Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
+ Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
+ Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
+ James Sutherland, _University College, London_
+ H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
+
+
+CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
+
+ Edna C. Davis, _Clark Memorial Library_
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+When John Tutchin died on September 23, 1707, he had already created
+the image of himself which Alexander Pope has transmitted to posterity.
+There, in Book II of _The Dunciad_ (1728), the Whig journalist appears
+as one of two figures in a "shaggy Tap'stry":
+
+ Earless on high, stood un-abash'd Defoe,
+ And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge, below.
+
+Pope, in his variorum notes on the passage, identified Tutchin as
+the "author of some vile verses, and of a weekly paper call'd the
+_Observator_," and revived the fiction of his sentence "to be whipp'd
+thro' several towns in the west of _England_, upon which he petition'd
+King _James_ II. to be hanged." The "invective" against James II's
+memory, which Pope mentions, has now been identified in the Twickenham
+Edition as _The British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd_ (1701).[1] By 1728,
+this was all the reputation that remained for Mr. John Tutchin,
+Gentleman--irascible journalist, pamphleteer, and writer of verses.
+
+The truth of the matter is that Pope was no more accurate about
+Tutchin's being whipped than about Defoe's losing his ears. From the
+sparse reliable information concerning Tutchin's early years, one
+consistent pattern emerges: he tended to depict himself as a hero and a
+martyr. Born in 1661 "a Freeman" of London, he was brought up in a
+family of scholarly nonconformist ministers probably on the Isle of
+Wight[2]. Even though an enemy claimed that he had been expelled from a
+school at Stepney for stealing (_DNB_), he received some education and
+travelled on the continent. In defending his skill with languages
+against Defoe, he once told how at his school, boys translated and
+capped verses, and how he travelled "from _Leivarden_ in _Friezland_,
+thro' _Holland_ and the _Spanish Flanders_."[3] Throughout his life, he
+proudly designated himself a gentleman: during his trial for libel in
+late June of 1704, he even escaped punishment by setting forth that he
+was a gentleman, and not a laborer as the indictment read.
+
+In later life, he romanticized himself when young as the hero who fought
+in the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion, received the brutal "whipping
+sentence" from Lord Chief-Justice Jeffreys during "the bloody assezes"
+of 1685, petitioned James II for "the Favour of being hang'd" to avoid
+the sentence, and finally freed himself by paying so burdensome a bribe
+that he was reduced to poverty. All these claims were first made in "The
+Case, Trial, and Sentence of Mr. John Tutchin, and Several Others, in
+Dorchester, in the County of Dorset," which Tutchin added to the fifth
+edition of _The Western Martyrology; or, the Bloody Assizes_, published
+in 1705. As J. G. Muddiman demonstrated in 1929, most of these claims
+are outright fabrications. Tutchin was never indicted for high treason,
+he could never have been challenged by Jeffreys to cap verses, and he
+invented the petition to be hanged.[4] In _The Observator_ (July 25-29,
+1702), he honestly admitted that he was never tried in Devonshire, but
+claimed he did buy his liberty of James II; and in a later issue (Aug.
+4-7, 1703) he challenged an enemy: "if he Pleases to give the World an
+Account, _When_, _Where_, and for _What_ I was Whip'd thro' a
+Market-Town, he will inform Mankind of more than I or any Body else
+knows...." John Dunton believed in the whipping sentence; and Defoe, the
+story of the petition to be hanged. Throughout Tutchin's stormy career,
+his enemies made political capital of the flogging that never took
+place. He was probably twenty-four years old when, using the alias
+"Thomas Pitts," he was tried at Dorchester for "Spreading false news and
+fined five marks and sentenced to be whipped"--but he came down with
+smallpox and so was not whipped.[5] Lord Macaulay, who is incorrect on
+the facts taken from _The Western Martyrology_, certainly exaggerated in
+stating that Tutchin's temper was "exasperated to madness by what he had
+undergone."[6] That the Monmouth adventure and its aftermath mark a
+turning point in the young man's life, however, cannot doubted.
+
+Tutchin may have fought with William III's army in Ireland as an
+officer.[7] After the Glorious Revolution and the establishment of
+William and Mary on the throne, Tutchin devoted himself to a succession
+of liberal causes. On the one hand, he persisted in identifying himself
+with the former commonwealth, the Monmouth cause, the Revolution, the
+reform movement especially in the theater, and Whig liberty. He became
+noted for tactless exposes of high-level misconduct in his pamphlets and
+in _The Observator_ (Apr. 1, 1702-Sept. 23, 1707). His detractors
+frequently paired him with Defoe as a monster or a villain. Again and
+again, he made himself obnoxious to important personages such as the
+Earl of Albemarle or the Duke of Marlborough.[8] On the other hand, his
+hatred for tyranny propelled him frequently into such extremes as his
+disgraceful complicity in William Fuller's impostures. In the years
+1700-1704, he was generally reputed to be "Secretary to the abominal
+Society of King-Killers"--the secret Calves-Head Club made up of
+dissenters who met on January 30th, the anniversary of the death of
+Charles I, to sing prophane anthems.[9]
+
+Dunton generously summed up the widely varied causes of "the loyal and
+ingenious _Tutchin_ (alias _Master Observator_); the bold Asserter of
+English Liberties; the scourge of the High-flyers; the Seaman's
+Advocate; the Detector of the Victualling-office; the scorn and terror
+of Fools and Knaves; the Nation's _Argus_, and the Queen's faithful
+Subject."[10] Even his death in Queen's Bench Prison, on September 23,
+1707, was romanticized into another instance of martyrdom. "... _he
+liv'd and dy'd_," announced the Country-man of _The Observator_, "_for
+the Service of his Country_." Tutchin's followers dramatized his death
+as the result of a politically-inspired thrashing which "six ruffians"
+administered to him, in revenge for slanderous remarks made in _The
+Observator_ against Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Dilkes.[11] The "_Pulchrum
+Est Pro Patria Mori_" portrait, reprinted here as the frontispiece, was
+circulated to attest to Tutchin's political martyrdom. However, as the
+autopsy-report demonstrates and as Muddiman rightly concludes, "Tutchin
+really died from a specific disease and not from the thrashing undergone
+seven months before his death."[12]
+
+The young man of twenty four who went off to join Monmouth's forces had
+already published, in 1685, _Poems on Several Occasions. With a
+Pastoral. To Which is Added, A Discourse of Life_. In the preface,
+writing like a fashionable man-about-town, Tutchin describes the lyrics,
+translations, and satires of this volume as "trifles" which he had let
+circulate and had now secured "by promising to Print them." The book
+shows the variety in poetic kinds that one would expect in a young
+writer who had been drinking deeply of Lord Rochester, Waller, Cowley,
+the Earl of Roscommon, Oldham, and Dryden. Juvenalian satires
+reminiscent of Oldham are neatly balanced by memorial verses to Oldham
+and Rochester, late metaphysical lyrics ("And why in red dost thou
+appear"), classical dialogues ("Cleopatra to Anthony"), translations of
+Horace, and the well-turned "autobiographical" couplets of "A Letter to
+A Friend." In its variety and themes, _Poems on Several Occasions_
+resembles Oldham's _Works_, which was published twice in 1684. Tutchin's
+"The Tory Catch," like Oldham's "A Dithyrambick. A Drunkard's Speech in
+a Mask," has a speaker who ironically brags of the social misconduct
+which the author satirizes. "A Letter to a Friend" is a skillfully
+exaggerated account of the attractions and dangers in rhyming. Although
+perhaps autobiographical in part, the poem also imitates the
+long-standing tradition derived from Horace's first Epistle of Book I,
+and revived most recently in Oldham's "A Letter from the Country to a
+Friend in Town."[13] Both "The Tory Catch" and "A Letter to a Friend"
+are reprinted here from _Poems on Several Occasions_.
+
+Tutchin's first book shows two impulses: the awkwardly lyrical and the
+directly satiric. He feels compelled, in the Preface, to defend his
+choice of less serious subjects. His light poems do not, "in the least,
+detract from _Virtue_; since I have Read the _Poems_ of _Beza_,
+_Heinsius_, our own _Donne_, _&c._" He promises to turn to "some Graver
+Subject." There are other equally significant comments in a Preface that
+reveals a great deal about changing literary taste. In "To the Memory of
+Mr. John Oldham," Tutchin curiously avoids the main subject of Dryden's
+finer elegy, namely, Oldham's achievement in rough satire. His praise is
+that "_Crashaw_ and _Cowley_ both did live in thee." However, in his
+"Satyr Against Vice" and "Satyr Against Whoring," Tutchin has already
+learned the art of declaiming, from the poet who has been called "the
+English Juvenal," John Oldham.
+
+In the years between 1685 and 1707, Tutchin's separate poems were mainly
+occasional and satirical. Panegyric for William III dominates such an
+early piece as _An Heroic Poem upon the Late Expedition of His Majesty_
+(1689), and hatred for the Stuarts possesses a later poem like _The
+British Muse: or Tyranny Expos'd_ (1701). In _Civitas Militaris_ (1690)
+Tutchin engages in city politics. The elegy on the death of Queen Mary
+irritated Defoe enough to have "_T----n_" placed among the "Pindarick
+Legions" in _The Pacificator_ (1700). Two poems, however,--_The
+Earth-quake of Jamaica_ (1692) and _Whitehall in Flames_ (1698)--differ
+from the others in that they are Cowleyan "Pindaricks" moralizing on
+disasters. _The Earth-quake of Jamaica_ is reprinted here to illustrate
+Tutchin's descriptive talent. He starts with an actual event, the
+Jamaican disaster of June 7, 1692; and then, as the epigraph on the
+title page suggests, he presents a variation on Horace's rejection of
+"senseless Epicureanism," in Ode 34 of Book I. _The Earth-quake of
+Jamaica_ may have been worked over longer than was customary. It was
+published shortly before December 10, the manuscript date on Narcissus
+Luttrell's copy now in the Houghton Library. Some six months earlier, in
+the late morning of June 7, the earthquake had erupted in Port Royal,
+the "boom" port on the south side of the island. In three schocks
+lasting less than three minutes, the famed capital of the buccaneers had
+fallen. News of the disaster did not reach London until August 9. The
+earthquake then became one of the most widely discussed events. The
+_London Gazette_ ran stories on it, scientists like Sir Hans Sloane
+published eye-witness accounts in the _Philosophical Transactions_ of
+the Royal Society, the moralists declared God's wrath had come upon the
+wickedest place in Christendom, and "the actors of the drolls" in
+Southwark Fair even mockingly re-enacted the event until the Lord Mayor
+put a stop to the performances.[14]
+
+If contemporary accounts of the Port Royal earthquake are compared with
+_The Earth-quake of Jamaica_, the reader becomes impressed by Tutchin's
+way of adapting the well-known details to a moral comment on life. His
+scenes are indeed graphic, but they do not have the immediacy of such
+eye-witness accounts as the following, preserved by Luttrell:
+
+ I cannot sufficiently represent the terrible circumstances that
+ attended it; the earth swelled with a dismal humming noise, the
+ houses fell, the earth opened in many places, the graves gave up
+ some of their dead, the tomb stones ratled together; at last the
+ earth sunk below the water, and the sea overwhelmed great numbers
+ of people, whose shreiks and groanes made a lamentable eccho: the
+ earth opened both behind and before me within 2 foot of my feet,
+ and that place on which I stood trembled exceedingly; the water
+ immediately boyled up upon the opening of the earth, but it pleased
+ God to preserve me....[15]
+
+Tutchin's aim is to compare vulnerable nature with vulnerable man: "Can
+humane Race / Stand on their / Legs when Nature Reels?" He sees in the
+disaster a challenge for English sinners to repent: the "Hurricane of
+Fate" wails on "murder'd _Cornish_." He had not yet forgotten the
+Monmouth adventure. For he alludes here to the act of Parliament passed
+in 1689 reversing the attainder of Henry Cornish, the alderman who had
+been brutally executed in 1685 for high treason through participating in
+the Rye House Plot and attaching himself to the Duke of Monmouth. For
+Tutchin, politics were always relevant.
+
+Tutchin's true forte is not the descriptive poem, but satire. Poems
+published in the years 1696 to 1705--from _A Pindarick Ode_ to _The
+Tackers_--exploit the satirical impulse that had been latent in _Poems
+on Several Occasions_. Increasingly he turns to general denunciation and
+thinly disguised lampoon. Of the two main Augustan traditions in
+satire--the "fine raillery" that Dryden perfected and the rough satire
+that reached back to Donne, Cleveland, and Oldham--Tutchin belongs to
+the latter. Defoe found him to be "so woundy touchy, and so willing to
+quarrel," and noted that "Want of Temper was his capital Error."[16] The
+specific circumstance that produced _A Pindarick Ode, in the Praise of
+Folly and Knavery_ (1696), reprinted here, is generally said to be his
+dismissal from the victualling office because he failed to establish his
+case that the commissioners mismanaged public funds. Such corruption in
+the administration would soon transform a deep admiration for William
+III into the disenchantment of _The Foreigners_ (1700). That Tutchin was
+uneasy in his effort to write satire in the mode of Dryden is suggested
+by his abandonment of irony after the first part of _A Pindarick Ode_.
+In his introductory verses, Benjamin Bridgwater accurately observes that
+Erasmus' _Ironia_ no longer suffices:
+
+ This hard'ned Age do's rougher Means require,
+ We must be _Cupp'd_ and _Cauteriz'd_ with _Fire_.
+
+Echoing Dryden's _Mac Flecknoe_, Tutchin invites Dullness and "Immortal
+_Nonsence_" to inspire his ironic praise of the folly and knavery that
+now ride roughshod over such traditional values as learning, love, wit,
+and patriotism. A few of the lines have the moving quality of Augustan
+satire at its best:
+
+ Did e'er the old or new Philosophy,
+ Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?
+
+The irony of _A Pindarick Ode_ does not adequately mask the
+denunciation. In Stanza X, it is even replaced by the antiquated Hero's
+diatribe against "our modern Knavish Arts"--never to return to the rest
+of the poem. Doubtless, the indictment of the "nefarious Brood at Home"
+that grows rich in wartime was the heart of the satire. Defoe hinted at
+this motive in the satirical vignette of Tutchin as Shamwhig, which
+appeared in the first edition of _The True-Born Englishman_ (1700):
+
+ As Proud as Poor, his Masters he'll defy;
+ And writes a _Piteous *Satyr_ upon Honesty.
+ Some think the Poem had been pretty good,
+ _If he the Subject had but understood_.
+ He got Five hundred Pence by this, and more,
+ _As sure as he had ne're a Groat before_.[17]
+
+Tutchin's satire would be henceforth the rough variety. In _The
+Foreigners_ he would also resort to fierce lampoons of William III's
+court favorites.
+
+In the rash of satires that followed _The Foreigners_ and _The True-Born
+Englishman_, the anonymous author of _The Fable of the Cuckoo_ (1701)
+pointed to the common tradition shared by both poems. For he attacked
+Defoe's "hatchet muse" as having been inspired by such "Modern Sharpers
+of the Town" as Tutchin and "Old[ha]m the Bell-weather of Tory Faction,"
+who first horned Defoe's satire, "And ever since perverted all good
+Nature." Advertised in _The Flying Post_ for July 31-Aug. 1, 1700, _The
+Foreigners_ was published shortly thereafter by the ardent Whig Anne
+Baldwin. The "vile abhor'd Pamphlet, in very ill Verse, written by one
+_Mr. Tutchin_, and call'd _The Foreigners_"--Defoe recalled years later
+in _An Appeal to Honour and Justice_ (1715)--filled him "with a kind of
+Rage." Tutchin's irascible temper had again taken hold. Scurrilously, he
+assailed foreigners in high office, especially William III's Dutch
+favorites, for their monopolizing preferments and usurping command,
+under such transparent aliases as "Bentir" for William Bentinck, first
+Earl of Portland, and "Keppech" for Arnold Joost van Keppel, first Earl
+of Albemarle. The manner was Dryden's in _Absalom and Achitophel_; the
+venom was Tutchin's own. Official reaction to _The Foreigners_ came
+quickly. The untrustworthy William Fuller spread the gossip that Tutchin
+fled from his Majesty's messengers, and found refuge "in a blind
+Ale-house, at the Windmill, by Mr. Bowyers, at Camberwel." On August
+10th, he was taken "into custody of a messenger"; and at the grand
+inquest for the city of London, held on August 28th, there was presented
+"a Poem called _The Foreigners_."[18] A mystery envelops the rest of the
+legal proceedings. There may even be some truth in the allegation that
+the parry would long since have "ruffled" Tutchin, except that he
+pleased them with his "railing at King _William's_ Friends
+sometimes."[19] _The Foreigners_ also aroused such ephemeral rejoinders
+as _The Reverse: or, the Tables Turn'd_ and _The Nations: An Answer to
+the Foreigners_. both published in 1700. Finally, in January of 1701,
+there was published a satire of more lasting worth, Defoe's _The
+True-Born Englishman_. Side by side, in _Poems on Affairs of State_
+(1703), were reprinted _The Foreigners_ and _The True-Born Englishman_
+among verses "_Written by the Greatest Wits of this Age_."[20]
+Altogether, the two satirists had three poems apiece in the volume. One
+of Tutchin's poems, "The Tribe of Levi" (1691), was anonymously
+reprinted; the other two, _The Foreigners_ and _The British Muse_, were
+identified as "by Mr. _T----n_." These were the achievements of
+Tutchin's "hatchet muse."
+
+The poems are reprinted from copies in libraries of the U.S. and Great
+Britain. I am obligated to The Houghton Library for _Poems on Several
+Occasions_ and _The Earth-quake of Jamaica_, to Yale University Library
+for _The Foreigners_, and to the British Museum for _A Pindarick Ode,
+in the Praise of Folly and Knavery_. For permission to reproduce
+the "_Pulchrum Est Pro Patria Mori_" portrait of John Tutchin as the
+frontispiece, I wish to express my thanks to the Trustees of the British
+Museum.
+
+ Spiro Peterson
+ Miami University
+ Oxford, Ohio
+
+
+NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
+
+[1] _The Dunciad_, ed. James Sutherland (The Twickenham Edition, Methuen
+& Co., Ltd., 1943), pp. 115-18.
+
+[2] Tutchin's birth-year is variously given. The Van der Gucht engraving
+and the authentic _Elegy_ of Tutchin's death state that he died "Aged
+44"; but the mock _Elegy_, falsely claiming to be "Written by the Author
+of the Review," gives his age to be 47. In _The Observator_ (Oct. 20-23,
+1703), Tutchin implied that he was "Born some years after the
+Restoration of King _Charles_ the 2d." His certificate of marriage to
+Elizabeth Hicks on Sept. 30, 1686 places his age then at twenty-five,
+and supports the birth-year 1661, as given in the _DNB_. See also _The
+Observator_, May 17-20, 1704; July 8-12, 1704; and July 24-28, 1703. One
+of Tutchin's enemies charged that he was born in the north of England
+(_An Account of the Birth, Education, Life and Conversation of ... the
+Observator_, 1705); and another, that his father was "a Scot, canting
+Presbyterian Sot" (_The Picture of the Observator_, 1704).
+
+[3] _The Observator_, June 2-6, 1705. Tutchin stated, in _The Case,
+Trial, and Sentence_, that Judge Jeffreys had "a true Account" of his
+activities in Holland. See J. G. Muddiman, ed., _The Bloody Assizes_
+(Toronto, [1929]), p. 137.
+
+[4] Muddiman, pp. 136-37. _The Case, Trial, and Sentence_ is reprinted
+as a true record in T. B. Howell's _A Complete Collection of State
+Trials_ (London, 1812), XIV, 1195-200, but as a highly questionable
+document in Muddiman, pp. 137-46.
+
+[5] Muddiman, p. 219.
+
+[6] _The History of England_, ed. C. H. Firth (London, 1914), II, 639.
+Insofar as the _DNB_ article on Tutchin relies on Macaulay, it is
+erroneous.
+
+[7] Shortly after Tutchin's death, the Country-man of _The Observator_
+lauded his beloved master as "an Officer in the Army," and addressed him
+"Captain Tutchin," as did the mock _Elegy_ and the friendly Dunton.
+
+[8] Narcissus Luttrell, _A Brief Historical Relation of State Affairs_
+(Oxford, 1857), V, 257; _Manuscripts of the Marquis of Bath_ (H.M.C.,
+London, 1904), I, 105-06.
+
+[9] The authorship of the Calves-Head anthems is assigned to Tutchin in
+_The Reverse: or, the Tables Turn'd_ (1700), p. 7, and to both Tutchin
+and Benjamin Bridgwater in _The Examination, Tryal, and Condemnation of
+Rebellion Observator_ (1703), p. 17. See also Howard William Troyer,
+_Ned Ward of Grubstreet_ (Harvard University Press, 1946), pp. 110, 117.
+
+[10] _The Life and Errors of John Dunton_ (London, 1818), I, 356.
+
+[11] See _The Observator_, Jan. 4-8, 1707, and "Postscript"; Jan. 12-15,
+1707; and Sept. 20-24, 1707.
+
+[12] Pp. 12-13. See also _The Observator_, Sept. 27-Oct. 1, 1707, and
+William Bragg Ewald, _Rogues, Royalty, and Reporters_ (Boston, [1954]),
+p. 14.
+
+[13] For the two Oldham pieces, see _Poems of John Oldham_, introd.
+Bonamy Dobree (Southern Illinois University Press, [c. 1960]) pp. 50-54,
+72-79.
+
+[14] _The Diary of John Evelyn_, ed. E. S. de Beer, 6 vols. (Oxford,
+1955), V, 115; Luttrell, II, 565; W. Adolphe Roberts, _Jamaica: the
+Portrait of an Island_ (New York, [c. 1955]), pp. 44-45; and Mary
+Manning Carley, _Jamaica: the Old and the New_ (London, [c. 1963]), pp.
+34-36, 157-58.
+
+[15] Luttrell's entry for Aug. 13, 1692 (II, 539).
+
+[16] _Review_, IV (Sept. 7, 1706) and IV (Nov. 20, 1707).
+
+[17] Defoe's gloss on "_Piteous Satyr_" is "Satyr in Praise of Folly and
+Knavery." (_The True-Born Englishman_, 1700, p. 37.) Since he regards
+this as the title of the "_Satyr_ upon _Honesty_," Defoe may be
+confusing _A Pindarick Ode_ with Tutchin's next satire, _A Search after
+Honesty_ (1697).
+
+[18] _Mr. William Fuller's Letter to Mr. John Tutchin_ (1703), p. 7;
+Luttrell, V, 676, 683; _The Proceedings of the King's Commission of the
+Peace, and Oyer and Terminer and Goal Delivery of Newgate ... the 28th,
+29th, 30th and 31st Days of August 1700_.
+
+[19] "A Dialogue between a Dissenter and the Observator," in _A
+Collection of the Writings of the Author of the True-Born Englishman_
+(1703), p. 227.
+
+[20] II, 1-6, 7-46.
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+[Illustration: Mr. JOHN TUTCHIN
+
+_Dy'd Septber 23d 1707. Aged 44._]
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+ON
+
+Several Occasions.
+
+WITH A
+
+PASTORAL
+
+
+To which is Added, A
+
+DISCOURSE
+
+OF
+
+LIFE
+
+
+By _JOHN TUTCHIN_.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+
+Printed by J. L. for _Jonathan Greenwood_, at the
+
+_Black Raven_ in the _Poultry_, near the
+
+_Old Jury_. MDCLXXXV.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+Tory Catch.
+
+
+I.
+
+ A Friend of mine, and I did follow
+ A Cart and Six, with Brandy fraught;
+ We sate us down, and up did swallow
+ Each a Gallon at a draught:
+ The sober Sot can't drink with us,
+ May kiss coy Wine with _Tantalus_.
+
+
+II.
+
+ With Musick fit for Serenading,
+ We did ramble to and fro;
+ Then to Drink and Masquerading,
+ 'Till we cannot stand nor go;
+ One Leg by _Bacchus_ was quite lamed,
+ 'Tother _Venus_ had defamed.
+
+
+III.
+
+ At the Tavern we did whisk it,
+ And full Pipes did empty drain:
+ We eat Pint-Pots instead of Bisket,
+ And piss'd 'em melted out again:
+ We beat the Vintner, kiss'd his Wife,
+ And kill'd three Drawers in the strife.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ In the Street we found some Bullies,
+ And to make our valour known,
+ We call'd 'em Fops, and silly Cullies,
+ And knock'd the foremost of 'em down:
+ And with praise to end the Fray,
+ We, like good Souldiers, ran away.
+
+
+V.
+
+ To the Play-House we descended,
+ For to get a grain of Wit,
+ Our own with Wine was so defended.
+ We sate spuing in the Pit,
+ 'Mongst Drunken Lords and Whoring Ladies,
+ To see such sights whose only Trade is.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+LETTER
+
+TO A
+
+FRIEND.
+
+
+ Thanks for your Praises! were they due, I wou'd
+ Pamper my self with Joy, and think 'em Good.
+ Loaden with Laurels for mine unknown Art,
+ You paint me Great, although beneath Desert.
+ But if _Macenas_ had a lasting Fame,
+ Because the best of Poets us'd his Name;
+ Then Merit justly may to me belong,
+ Because 'tis sung by your all-skilful Tongue.
+ Oft have I blam'd my Stars, that I should be
+ Plagu'd with this soft deluding _Poetry_:
+ This Charming _Mistress_ that has kept my Heart,
+ Quite from a Child, by her bewitching Art.
+ From her glad Fountain I can always find
+ A pleasing Philtre to make _Phillis_ kind:
+ For tell me that coy _Maid_ could ever be
+ Cruel, when urg'd by Charming _Poesie_?
+ _Verse_ is the _Poet's_ Beauty, Wealth and Wit;
+ And what soft _Virgin_ won't be won by it?
+ But, wearied with Delight, I always try
+ Against this Spell to find a Remedy.
+ By good _Divinity_ I think to find
+ A Soveraign Remedy for Soul and Mind:
+ But then, with Holy Flame, I strait do burn,
+ And all to _Hymns_, and _Sacred Anthems_ turn.
+ Nay, when the Night does waking Thoughts redress,
+ And Guardian Angels with our Souls converse,
+ To busie Mortals is the sleeping Time;
+ I dream and slumber all the Night in Rhyme.
+ Then puzling _Logick_ next I take in hand;
+ But this, Alas! can't _Poesie_ withstand.
+ _Barbara_, _Celarent_, I with Ease express,
+ And yoke rough _Ergo's_ into well-made _Verse_:
+ My Faithless Lover's _Syllogism_ tries;
+ I by stout _Logick_ find their _Fallacies_.
+ Then _Scheibler_, _Suarez_, _Bellarmine_ I get,
+ And sound the depth of _Metaphysick_ wit:
+ Streight, in a fret, I damn 'em all at once,
+ And vow they are as dull as _Zabarel_ or _Dunce_.
+ Credit me, _Sir_, no greater plague can be,
+ Than to be poison'd with mad _Poetrie_:
+ Like Pocky Letchers, who have got a Clap,
+ And paid the _Doctor_ for the dear mishap;
+ But newly eased of their nausceous pain,
+ Return unto their wanton Sin again.
+ So Poets be they plague'd with naughty Verse,
+ They never value good nor bad success:
+ Or be they trebly damn'd, they will prefer
+ Their next vile scribling to the _Theater_.
+ Well might the Audience, with their hisses, damn
+ The Bawdy Sot that late wrote _Limberham_:
+ But yet you see, the Stage he will command,
+ And hold the Laurel in's polluted Hand.
+ In slothful ease, a while I took delight,
+ And thought all Poets mad that us'd to write.
+ So long I kept from Verse, I thought I'd lost
+ My Versing Vein, and of my Fortune boast:
+ But having tryal made, I quickly found
+ My store renew'd, in numbers strong and sound
+ With ease my happy fancies come and go,
+ As Rivulets do from _Parnassus_ flow.
+ Then finding that in vain I long had try'd
+ The _Poet_ from the _Tutchin_ to divide;
+ I charming _Poesie_ make my delight,
+ And propagate the humor still to Write.
+ Our new Divines do alter not one jot,
+ From what their Tribe in older times have wrot;
+ Except, like _Parker_, to have something new,
+ They broach new Doctrines, either false or true:
+ _A Publick Conscience_, which for nought does pass,
+ But proves the Writer is a publick Ass;
+ Who the new Philosophick world have told,
+ Have for a new but varnish'd o're the old.
+ But all Poetick Phancy can't draw dry,
+ Th' unfathom'd Wells of deepest Poesie.
+ The _Bifront Hill_ is always stout and strong;
+ The _Muses_ still are handsome, always young.
+ The clearest streams of Chrystal _Helicon_
+ Do o're the Pebles in sweet Rhymings run.
+ Why then should you, _Dear Sir_, (that have pretence
+ To the extreamest bounds of Wit and Sense)
+ Lay by your Quills and hold your Tune-ful Tongue,
+ While all the witty want your pleasing Song?
+ Once more renew those Lays that gave delight,
+ That chear the Day, and glad the gloomy Night:
+ May with your dying breath your Verses end;
+ Thus prays your constant, and
+
+ _Your truest Friend_,
+ _J. T._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+EARTH-QUAKE
+
+OF
+
+JAMAICA,
+
+Describ'd in a
+
+Pindarick Poem.
+
+
+By Mr. TUTCHIN.
+
+
+ _----namq; Diespiter
+ Igni corusco nubila dividens
+ Plerumq; per purum tonantes
+ Egit Equos volucremq; currum,
+ Quo bruta Tellus & vaga flumina,
+ Quo Styx, & invisi horrida Taenari
+ Sedes, Atlanteusq; finis
+ Concutitur. Valet ima summis
+ Mutare,----_
+
+ Horat. lib. I. Ode 34.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed, and are to be sold by _R. Baldwin_, near the
+
+_Oxford-Arms_ in _Warwick-lane_, 1692.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+Earthquake of Jamaica
+
+Describ'd in a POEM.
+
+
+I.
+
+ Well may our Lives bear an uncertain date;
+ Disturb'd with Maladies within,
+ Without by cross Events of Fate,
+ The worst of Plagues on Mortals wait,
+ Pride, Ignorance and Sin.
+ If our ancient Mother Earth,
+ Who gave us all untimely Birth,
+ Such strong Hysterick Passion feels;
+ If Orbs are from their Axles torn,
+ And Mountains into Valleys worn,
+ All in a moments space,
+ Can humane Race
+ Stand on their Legs when Nature Reels?
+ Unhappy Man! in all things cross'd,
+ On every giddy Wave of Fortune toss'd;
+ The only thing that aims at Sway,
+ And yet capricious Fate must still Obey;
+ Travels for Wealth to Foreign Lands,
+ O're scorching Mountains, and o're desart Sands,
+ Laden with Gold, when homeward bound,
+ Is in one vast impetuous Billow drown'd:
+ Or if he reaches to the Shoar,
+ And there unlades his Oar,
+ Builds Towns and Houses which may last and stand,
+ Thinking no Wealth so sure as firm Land;
+ Yet Fate the Animal does still pursue;
+ This slides from underneath his Feet, and leaves him too.
+
+
+II.
+
+ Environ'd with Ten Thousand Fears we live,
+ For Fate do's seldom a just warning give;
+ Quicker than Thought its dire Resolves are made,
+ And swift as Lightning flies,
+ Around the vast extended Skies:
+ All things are by its Bolts in vast Confusion laid.
+ Sometimes a Flaming Comet does appear,
+ Whose very Visage does pronounce,
+ Decay of Kingdoms, and the Fall of Crowns,
+ Intestine War, or Pestilential Year;
+ Sometimes a Hurricane of Fate,
+ Does on some great Mans Exit wait,
+ A murder'd _Cornish_, or some _Hercules_,
+ When from their Trunks Almighty _Jove_,
+ Who breaks with Thunder weighty Clouds above,
+ To Honour these
+ Large Pines and Oaks does Lop,
+ And in a Whirlwind lays 'em upon _Oeta_'s Top.
+ E're this vast Orb shall unto Chaos turn,
+ And with Consuming Flames shall burn,
+ An Angel Trumpeter shall come,
+ Whose Noise shall shake the Massie Ground,
+ In one short moment shall express,
+ His Notes to the whole Universe;
+ The very Dead shall hear his Sound,
+ And from their Graves repair,
+ To the impartial Bar,
+ Those that have been in the deep Ocean drown'd,
+ Shall at his Call come to receive their Doom.
+
+
+III.
+
+ But here, alas! no Omens fly,
+ No secret Whisper of their Destiny
+ Was heard; none cou'd divine
+ When Fate wou'd spring the Mine:
+ Safe and secure the Mortals go,
+ Not dreaming of a Hell below;
+ In the dark Caverns of the gloomy Earth,
+ Where suffocating Sulphur has its Birth,
+ And sparkling Nitre's made,
+ Where _Vulcan_ and his _Cyclops_ prove;
+ The Thunderbolts they make for _Jove_;
+ Here _AEolus_ his Winds has laid,
+ Here is his Windy Palace, here 'tis said
+ His Race of little puffing Gods are bred,
+ Which serve for Bellows to blow up the Flame,
+ The dire ingredients are in order plac'd,
+ Which must anon lay Towns and Cities waste.
+ Strait the black Engineer of Heaven came,
+ His Match a Sun-beam was,
+ He swift as Time unto the Train did pass,
+ It soon took Fire; The Fire and Winds contend,
+ But both concur the Vaulted Earth to rend;
+ It upwards rose, and then it downwards fell,
+ Aiming at Heaven, it sunk to Hell:
+ The Neighb'ring Seas now own no more,
+ The sturdy Bulwarks of the Shoar,
+ The gaping Earth and greedy Sea,
+ Are both contending for the Prey;
+ Those whom the rav'nous Earth had ta'ne,
+ Into her Bowels back again
+ Are wash't from thence by the insulting Main.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ The Old and Young receive alike their Doom,
+ The Cowards and the Brave,
+ Are buried in one Grave;
+ For Fate allows 'em all one Common Tomb.
+ The Aged and the Wise
+ Lose all their Reason in the great Surprise.
+ They know not where to go,
+ And yet they dare not stay,
+ There's Fire and Smoak below,
+ And the Earth gaping to receive the Prey:
+ If to the Houses Top they Crawl,
+ These tumble too, and downwards fall:
+ And if they fly into the Street,
+ There grizly Death they meet;
+ All in a hurry dye away,
+ The wicked had not time to pray.
+ The Soldier once cou'd teach grim Death to kill,
+ In vain is all his Skill,
+ In vain he brandisheth his Steel:
+ No more the Art of War must teach,
+ But lyes Fates Trophy underneath the Breach:
+ The good Companions now no more Carouse,
+ They share the Fate of the declining House,
+ Healths to their Friends their Bumpers Crown'd:
+ But while they put the Glasses round,
+ Death steps between the Cup and lip,
+ Nor would it let 'em take one parting Sip.
+
+
+V.
+
+ The Mine is sprung, and a large Breach is made,
+ Whereat strong Troops of Warring Seas invade;
+ These overflow;
+ Where Houses stood and Grass did grow,
+ All sorts of Fish resort:
+ They had Dominions large enough before,
+ But now unbounded by the Shoar,
+ They o're the Tops of Houses sport.
+ The Watry Fry their Legions do extend,
+ And for the new slain Prey contend;
+ Within the Houses now they roam,
+ Into their Foe, the very Kitchen, come.
+ One does the Chimney-hearth assail,
+ Another slaps the Kettle with his slimy Tail.
+ No Image there of Death is seen,
+ No Cook-maid does obstruct their Sway,
+ They have entirely got the day.
+ Those who have once devour'd been
+ By Mankind, now on Man do Feed:
+ Thus Fate decides, and steps between,
+ And sometimes gives the Slave the Victors meed.
+ The Beauteous Virgins whom the Gods might love,
+ Cou'd not the Curse of Heav'n remove;
+ Their goodness might for Crimes Atone,
+ Inexorable Death spares none.
+ Their tender Flesh lately so plump and good,
+ Is now made Fishes and Sea-monsters Food;
+ In vain they cry,
+ Heav'n is grown Deaf, and no Petition hears,
+ Their Sighs are answer'd like their Lovers Pray'rs,
+ They in the Universal Ruin lye.
+
+
+VI.
+
+ Nor is inexorable Fate content
+ To ruine one poor Town alone;
+ More Mischief by the Blow is done:
+ Death's on a farther Message sent.
+ When Fate a Garrison does Sack,
+ The very Suburbs do partake
+ Of Martial Law,
+ Its Forces draw
+ To every Mountain, Field and Wood,
+ They Ravage all the Neighbourhood.
+ Worse than the weak Assaults of Steel,
+ Its Instruments of Death all places feel.
+ They undiscover'd, like fell Poison kill,
+ Its Warriours fierce,
+ The Earth, the Air, and Men do pierce;
+ And mounted, fight upon the winged Winds.
+ Here a great Mountain in a Valley's thrown,
+ And there a Valley to a Mountain grown.
+ The very Breath of an incensed God,
+ Makes even proud _Olympus_ Nod.
+ Chang'd is the Beauty of the fruitful Isle,
+ And its fair Woods lopp'd for its Funeral Pile.
+ The moving Earth forms it self in Waves,
+ And Curls its Surface like the Rowling Seas;
+ Whilst Man (that little thing) so vainly Raves,
+ Nothing but Heaven can its own Wrath appease.
+
+
+VII.
+
+ But Fate at length thought fit to leave its Toil,
+ And greedy Death was glutted with the Spoil.
+ As weary Soldiers having try'd their Steel,
+ Half drown'd with Blood, do then desist to kill.
+ More Ruin wou'd a second Deluge make,
+ Blot out the Name of the unhappy Isle.
+ It fares with her as when in Martial Field,
+ Resolv'd and Brave, and loath to yield,
+ Two num'rous Armies do contend,
+ And with repeated Shouts the Air do Rend.
+ Whilst the affrighted Earth does shake,
+ Some large Battalions are entirely lost,
+ And Warring Squadrons from the mighty Host:
+ Here by a Shot does fall
+ Some Potent General;
+ And near to him,
+ Another loses but a Limb.
+ Part of the Island was a Prey to Fate,
+ And all the rest do's but prolong its date,
+ 'Till injur'd Heav'n finds,
+ Its Bolts a Terror strike on humane Minds;
+ Sure we may hope the Sinners there Repent,
+ Since it has made their lewdest Priest Relent.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+Pindarick ODE,
+
+IN THE
+
+PRAISE
+
+OF
+
+Folly and Knavery.
+
+
+By Mr. _TUTCHIN_.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed and Sold by _E. W._ near _Stationers-Hall_.
+
+1696. Price 6_d._
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+Pindarick ODE
+
+In the Praise of
+
+Folly and Knavery.
+
+
+I.
+
+ My humble Muse no Hero Sings,
+ Nor Acts, nor Funerals of Kings:
+ The great _Maria_ now no more,
+ In Sable Lines she does deplore;
+ Of mighty _William_'s growing fame,
+ At present must forget the name,
+ Yet she affects something that is sublime,
+ And would in _Dytherambick_ strain }
+ Attempt to rise, and now disdain }
+ The Shrubs and Furzes of the Plain: }
+ He that's afraid to fall, shou'd ne'r pretend to climb.
+
+
+II.
+
+ Let others boast of potent Wit,
+ And Summon in the awful _Nine_,
+ With all their Aids of Fancy, Humor, Sence,
+ Fair polish'd Learning, Eloquence,
+ And call their gawdy works Divine:
+ Hov'ring above my Head let _dullness_ sit,
+ The only God that's worshipp'd by the Age;
+ Immortal _Nonsence_ guide my Pen,
+ The Fames of _Shakespear_ and of _Ben_,
+ Must warp, before my nobler fire
+ To their regardless Tombs retire.
+ Thus Arm'd, with Nonsence, I'll engage
+ Both _Universities_,
+ And their Pedantick fooleries,
+ Show the misguided World the Cheat,
+ And let _Man_ know that _Nonsence_ makes him Great.
+
+
+III.
+
+ Almighty _Folly_! How shall I thy praise
+ To Human Understandings raise?
+ What shall I do
+ Thy worth to shew?
+ The Glorious Sun, that rules the Day,
+ Gives vital warmth and life by ev'ry Ray.
+ His Blessings he in common grants,
+ To Hemlock as to nobler Plants;
+ Thy Virtue thou dost circumscribe,
+ And dost dispence
+ Thy influence,
+ But to the Darlings of thy Tribe,
+ Thou Wealth and Honour dost bestow
+ On thy triumphant _Fools_,
+ Whilst abject Sence do's barefoot go;
+ So weak's the Learning of the noisie Schools.
+
+
+IV.
+
+ Tell me, ye Learned Sots! who spend your time
+ In reading Books,
+ With thoughtful Heads and meagre Looks,
+ To Learnings Pinacle, who climb
+ Through the wild Briers of _Philosophy_,
+ The Thorns of harsh _Philology_,
+ The dirty Road where _Aristotle_ went
+ Encumber'd with a thousand _terms_
+ Uncouth, Unintelligible,
+ Not by any fancy fathomable,
+ Bringing distracted Minds to harms;
+ The rankest _Hellebore_ cannot prevent.
+ Tell me, I say, ye Learn'd Sots!
+ Did e'r the old or new Philosophy,
+ Make a Man splendid live, or wealthy die?
+ Tho' you may think your Notions truer,
+ They'll ne'r advance your Lotts,
+ To the Estate of Wise Sir _Jonathan_ the Brewer.
+
+
+V.
+
+ A _Fool_! Heav'ns bless the charming Name,
+ So much admir'd in Ages past,
+ As long as this, and all the World shall last,
+ Shall be the Subject of Triumphing Fame.
+ A _Fool_! what mighty wonders has he wrought?
+ What mighty Actions done?
+ Obey'd by all, controul'd by none;
+ Even _Love_ its self is to its Footstool brought.
+ For t'other day, I met amidst the Throng
+ A Lady wealthy, beautiful and young;
+ _Madam_, said I, I wish you double Joy,
+ Of a ripe Husband and a budding Boy,
+ And with my self a sight of him you Wed, }
+ The happy Part'ner of your Bridal Bed. }
+ Sir, she reply'd, I him in Wedlock had; }
+ Pointing unto an Image by her side,
+ An odder Figure no Man e'r espy'd,
+ Long was his Chin, and carotty his Beard,
+ His Eyes sunk in, and high his Nose was rear'd,
+ A nauseous ugliness possess'd the Tool,
+ And scarce had Wit enough to be a Fool:
+ Bless me (thought I) if Fools such fortune get,
+ Then who (the Devil) wou'd be plagu'd with wit.
+
+
+VI.
+
+ View but the Realms of _Nonsence_, see the State,
+ The Pageant pomp attends the show,
+ When the great God of _Dullness_ does in triumph go,
+ How splendid and how great
+ His num'rous Train of Blockheads do appear?
+ Almighty _Jove_,
+ That governs all above,
+ Is but a puny to this Mighty God,
+ The blustring God of War,
+ Who with one Nod
+ Makes the Earth tremble from afar,
+ Guarded with puissant Champions stern and bold
+ That breath Destruction, talk of bloody Jars,
+ Have nought but ragged Cloaths to keep off cold,
+ And tatter'd Ensigns relicks of the Wars.
+ The God of _Dullness_ mounted on his Throne
+ Beneath a Canopy
+ Of fix'd stupidity,
+ Prostrate his num'rous Subjects tumble down,
+ They pay obeisance to their gloomy God,
+ And at his Nod
+ They act, they move,
+ They hate, they love,
+ They bless, they curse, they swear,
+ For they his Creatures are,
+ He amply does his Benefits afford,
+ For each confirmed Blockhead is a Lord.
+
+
+VII.
+
+ Then talk no more of Parts and Sence,
+ For Riches ne'r attend the Wise,
+ Have you to dullness no pretence,
+ You shall to Grandeur never rise;
+ He with a gloomy mien Divinely dull,
+ Whose very aspect tells the World he is a Fool,
+ Whose thicker Skull
+ Is proof against each storm of Fate,
+ Is Born for Glory, and he shall be Great.
+ Who 'ere wou'd rise,
+ Or great Preferment get,
+ Must nere pretend to Wit,
+ Or be that monstrous, ill shap'd Man call'd Wise;
+ He must not boast
+ Of Learning's Value, or its cost;
+ But, if he wou'd Preferment have,
+ He must be much a _Fool_, or much a _Knave_.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+ A _Knave_! the finer Creature far,
+ Tho' of the foolish Race of _Issachar_.
+ As the unwieldy _Bear_ among her young
+ Deform'd, and shapeless Cubs,
+ Finds one more strong,
+ Active and sprightly than the rest:
+ Him she transforms and rubs,
+ And licks into a better shape the Beast.
+ Thus do's the gloomy God of Folly do,
+ With the insipid Race:
+ He do's his num'rous Offspring call, }
+ He handles one and feels his Skull; }
+ If it be thick, he says, Be thou a Fool. }
+ Another, if about his Face
+ He spies a roguish Mein, a cunning Look;
+ If there appears
+ The hopes of Falshood in his tender Years,
+ Good signs of Perjury
+ And hardn'd Villany;
+ This for his secret Councils he do's save,
+ Lays on his Paw, and bids him, Be a _Knave_.
+
+
+IX.
+
+ A _Knave_! the elder brother to the _Fool_:
+ His vast Dominions are no less
+ Than the whole Universe:
+ The Lands are bounded by the Sea:
+ The Seas the sturdy Rocks obey:
+ The Storms do know the Limits of their Rule:
+ Neither the Land nor Sea this Hero bind,
+ But unconfin'd
+ O're both he finds a way,
+ O're both he bears Imperial sway:
+ His gay Attendants are the Cheat,
+ That ruines Kingdoms to be Great.
+ The fawning, flattring Fop, who creeps
+ Just like a Spaniel at your Heels,
+ To some illustrious Knave, who sweeps
+ Away a Kingdoms Wealth at once,
+ And with the Publick Coin his Treasure fills;
+ For Kingdoms work t'enrich the _Knave_ and _Dunce_.
+
+
+X.
+
+ Honesty's a Garb we're mock'd in,
+ Only wore by _Jews_ and _Turks_.
+ Merit is a Popish Doctrine;
+ Men have no regard to Works.
+ Substantial Knavery is a Vertue will
+ Your Coffers fill;
+ And Altars raise,
+ Unto your Praise.
+ Be but a Knave, you'll keep the World in awe,
+ And fear no Law;
+ For no Transgression is,
+ Where all Men do amiss.
+ But here methinks an antiquated _Hero_ starts,
+ Surpris'd at my Discourse;
+ He starts and boggles like a Horse,
+ And damns our modern Knavish Arts.
+
+
+XI.
+
+ Vain _Youth_, he says misguided by a _Knave_,
+ By some dull Blockhead tempted from thy rest;
+ The worldly Grandeur thou dost vainly crave,
+ Is nought but Noise and Foolishness at best.
+ What Man wou'd quit his Sense,
+ Or, the wise Dictates of right Reason's Rule,
+ In vain pretence
+ To be a rich, a gawdy _Fool_?
+ Or, quit his Honesty, so much despis'd,
+ And basely condescend,
+ To every little Knavish End;
+ Run headlong into every Cheat,
+ Attempt each Villany to make him Great.
+ Believe me Youth, (be better now advis'd)
+ Thy early Vertues will thy Temples spread, }
+ With lasting Lawrels 'round thy Head. }
+ Shall flourish when the Wearers dead. }
+ I who have always honest been, though poor,
+ In whom the utmost signs of Age appears,
+ And sink beneath the Burthen of my Years,
+ Cou'd never yet adore
+ A Knave or Blockhead, were he ne'er so Great;
+ Or, be like to them, to purchase an Estate.
+
+
+XII.
+
+ Poor thredbare _Vertue_ ne'er admir'd in Court,
+ But seeks its Refuge in an honest Mind,
+ There it securely dwells,
+ Like _Anchorets_ in Cells,
+ Where no Ambition nor wild Lust resorts:
+ To love our Country is indeed our Pride;
+ We glory in an honest Action done;
+ When the Reward is laid aside
+ The Glory and the Action is our own,
+ We seldom find
+ The Good, the Just, the Brave,
+ Have their Reward
+ From Princes they did save
+ From dire Destruction, or a poisoning Foe;
+ They let them go
+ Contemn'd, disdain'd; and most regard
+ Those Villians sought their overthrow.
+ As if the Just, the Brave, the Good,
+ Were but a _Bridge_ of Wood
+ To waft to great Preferments o'er,
+ Those, who were our foes before,
+ And then be tumbl'd down like useless Logs,
+ While those, who just pass'd o'er,
+ And the obliging Bridge shou'd thank,
+ Do scornfully stand grinning on the Bank,
+ To see the venerable Ruines float
+ Adrift upon the Stream,
+ Contemn'd by them,
+ Who give the Childrens Bread unto the Dogs;
+ _In vain_, says he, _we've fought_----
+ But at this Word
+ He fiercely look'd, and then he grasp'd his Sword.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+ Pity it is, he said, this Sword of mine,
+ Of late so gloriously did shine,
+ In Foreign Fields 'midst Show'rs of Blood,
+ With which I've cut my Passage through
+ The Snowy _Alps_ and _Pyrenean_ Hills,
+ Where Death the Land with vast Destruction fills,
+ 'Mongst Warriors, who
+ Venture their Lives for their dear Countries good,
+ Should now be laid aside
+ 'Mongst Rubbish Iron old,
+ From reaking Blood scarce cold;
+ Or else converted to a _Knife_,
+ For some damn'd Villain first to cut
+ A Princes Bread, and next his Throat:
+ In vain we venture to preserve his Life,
+ In vain to Foreign Fields we come,
+ In vain to Foreign Force alli'd,
+ If a nefarious Brood at Home
+ Embarrass his Affairs,
+ Prolong the Wars,
+ Only t' enrich his Enemies,
+ Weaken his Government, and his Allies.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+ 'Tis strange a Prince, shou'd ere a _Fool_ preferr,
+ To be an Officer!
+ A _Knave_ may serve an unjust Government,
+ But ne'er prevent
+ Those Mischiefs may attend the just:
+ For who would trust
+ A Villain may be bought by Gold,
+ Unless design'd on purpose to be sold?
+ If Princes wou'd use _Fools_ as Shop-men do
+ Their Signs or Boards of show,
+ To tell the passers by there's better stuff
+ Within, 'tis rational enough.
+ But to set Centry at the Door, }
+ A Patriot or a Senator, }
+ Philosopher or Orator, }
+ To tell the Passers by their is within,
+ A _Merry Andrew_ to be seen,
+ Is very much ridiculous,
+ Tho' to our grief we often find it thus.
+ Thus Princes Bastardize
+ Their Countries Sons Legitimate,
+ And give the fair Estate
+ Unto a Spurious Brood,
+ That ne'er did good;
+ The honest Work, the _Knave_ enjoys the Prize.
+
+
+XV.
+
+ A Government adorn'd with Fools,
+ Empty Trifles, useless Tools,
+ Looks like a Toy-Shop gloriously bedeckt
+ With gawdy gewgaws, Childrens play things,
+ Painted Babies, Tinsel Creatures,
+ Wooden Folk, with Human features,
+ Made just for show, and no advantage brings,
+ And prove of no effect.
+ It dwindles to a _Raree-Show_,
+ In which no Man must act a Part
+ But the dull _Blockhead_ and the _Beau_,
+ The huffing _Fop_ without a Heart;
+ What Wise Man would a Journey take
+ On a dull Steed has broke his Back?
+ Or have recourse
+ Unto a _Hobby-Horse_?
+ Those act by such wise Rules,
+ Who prop Just Princes by a Tyrant's Tools.
+
+
+XVI.
+
+ Surely the Genius of a fruitful Isle
+ Is either lost,
+ Or what is worst,
+ Murder'd by those who shou'd support her Fame,
+ Add Glory to her Name;
+ The Heavens themselves have cast an angry look,
+ Seldom the Glorious Sun does shine
+ But Veils its face Divine.
+ _Jove_ does misguide the Seasons every Year;
+ Nought can we read in Nature's Book,
+ To reap her Fruits scarce worth our while.
+ Our Mother Earth,
+ From whose unhappy Womb,
+ We Mortals come,
+ Ne'er shows a Glorious Birth,
+ But proves abortive as our Actions are;
+ Nought have we left but hope,
+ Just like the Blind at Noon we grope:
+ The number of our Sins we must fulfil,
+ And if we're sav'd, it is against our will.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+FOREIGNERS.
+
+A
+
+POEM.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+_LONDON_,
+
+Printed for _A. Baldwin_ in _Warwicklane_,
+
+MDCC.
+
+
+
+
+The Foreigners.
+
+
+ Long time had _Israel_ been disus'd from Rest,
+ Long had they been by Tyrants sore opprest;
+ Kings of all sorts they ignorantly crav'd,
+ And grew more stupid as they were enslav'd;
+ Yet want of Grace they impiously disown'd,
+ And still like Slaves beneath the Burden groan'd:
+ With languid Eyes their Race of Kings they view,
+ The Bad too many, and the Good too few;
+ Some rob'd their Houses, and destroy'd their Lives,
+ Ravish'd their Daughters, and debauch'd their Wives;
+ Prophan'd the Altars with polluted Loves,
+ And worship'd Idols in the Woods and Groves.
+
+ To Foreign Nations next they have recourse;
+ Striving to mend, they made their State much worse.
+ They first from _Hebron_ all their Plagues did bring,
+ Cramm'd in the Single Person of a King;
+ From whose base Loins ten thousand Evils flow,
+ Which by Succession they must undergo.
+ Yet sense of Native Freedom still remains,
+ They fret and grumble underneath their Chains;
+ Incens'd, enrag'd, their Passion do's arise,
+ Till at his Palace-Gate their Monarch dies.
+ This Glorious Feat was by the Fathers done,
+ Whose Children next depos'd his Tyrant Son,
+ Made him, like _Cain_, a murd'rous Wanderer,
+ Both of his Crimes, and of his Fortunes share.
+
+ But still resolv'd to split on Foreign Shelves,
+ Rather than venture once to trust Themselves,
+ To Foreign Courts and Councils do resort,
+ To find a King their Freedoms to support:
+ Of one for mighty Actions fam'd they're told,
+ Profoundly wise, and desperately bold,
+ Skilful in War, Successful still in Fight,
+ Had vanquish'd Hosts, and Armies put to flight;
+ And when the Storms of War and Battels cease,
+ Knew well to steer the Ship of State in Peace.
+ Him they approve, approaching to their sight;
+ Lov'd by the Gods, of Mankind the Delight.
+ The numerous Tribes resort to see him land,
+ Cover the Beach, and blacken all the Strand;
+ With loud Huzza's they welcome him on shore,
+ And for their Blessing do the Gods implore.
+
+ The Sanhedrim conven'd, at length debate
+ The sad Condition of their drooping State,
+ And Sinking Church, just ready now to drown;
+ And with one Shout they do the Hero crown.
+
+ Ah Happy _Israel_! had there never come
+ Into his Councils crafty Knaves at home,
+ In combination with a Foreign Brood,
+ Sworn Foes to _Israel_'s Rights and _Israel_'s Good;
+ Who impiously foment Intestine Jars,
+ Exhaust our Treasure, and prolong our Wars;
+ Make _Israel_'s People to themselves a prey,
+ Mislead their King, and steal his Heart away:
+ United Intrests thus they do divide,
+ The State declines by Avarice and Pride;
+ Like Beasts of Prey they ravage all the Land,
+ Acquire Preferments, and usurp Command:
+ The Foreign Inmates the Housekeepers spoil,
+ And drain the Moisture of our fruitful Soil.
+ If to our Monarch there are Honours due,
+ Yet what with _Gibeonites_ have we to do?
+ When Foreign States employ 'em for their Food,
+ To draw their Water, and to hew their Wood.
+ What Mushroom Honours dos our Soil afford!
+ One day a Begger, and the next a Lord.
+ What dastard Souls do _Jewish_ Nobles wear!
+ The Commons such Affronts would never bear.
+ Let no Historian the sad Stories tell
+ Of thy base Sons, Oh servile _Israel_!
+ But thou, my Muse, more generous and brave,
+ Shalt their black Crimes from dark oblivion save;
+ To future Ages shalt their Sins disclose,
+ And brand with Infamy thy Nation's Foes.
+
+ A Country lies, due East from _Judah_'s Shoar,
+ Where stormy Winds and noisy Billows roar;
+ A Land much differing from all other Soils,
+ Forc'd from the Sea, and buttress'd up with Piles.
+ No marble Quarrys bind the spungy Ground,
+ But Loads of Sand and Cockle-shells are found:
+ Its Natives void of Honesty and Grace,
+ A Boorish, rude, and an inhumane Race;
+ From Nature's Excrement their Life is drawn,
+ Are born in Bogs, and nourish'd up from Spawn.
+ Their hard-smoak'd Beef is their continual Meat,
+ Which they with Rusk, their luscious Manna, eat;
+ Such Food with their chill stomachs best agrees,
+ They sing _Hosannah_ to a Mare's-milk Cheese.
+ To supplicate no God, their Lips will move,
+ Who speaks in Thunder like Almighty _Jove_,
+ But watry Deities they do invoke,
+ Who from the Marshes most Divinely croak.
+ Their Land, as if asham'd their Crimes to see,
+ Dives down beneath the surface of the Sea.
+ _Neptune_, the God who do's the Seas command,
+ Ne'er stands on Tip-toe to descry their Land;
+ But seated on a Billow of the Sea,
+ With Ease their humble Marshes do's survey.
+ These are the Vermin do our State molest;
+ Eclipse our Glory, and disturb our Rest.
+
+ _BENTIR_ in the Inglorious Roll the first,
+ _Bentir_ to this and future Ages curst,
+ Of mean Descent, yet insolently proud,
+ Shun'd by the Great, and hated by the Crowd;
+ Who neither Blood nor Parentage can boast,
+ And what he got the _Jewish_ Nation lost:
+ By lavish Grants whole Provinces he gains,
+ Made forfeit by the _Jewish_ Peoples Pains;
+ Till angry Sanhedrims such Grants resume,
+ And from the Peacock take each borrow'd Plume.
+ Why should the _Gibeonites_ our Land engross,
+ And aggrandize their Fortunes with our loss?
+ Let them in foreign States proudly command,
+ They have no Portion in the Promis'd Land,
+ Which immemorially has been decreed
+ To be the Birth-right of the _Jewish_ Seed.
+ How ill do's _Bentir_ in the Head appear }
+ Of Warriours, who do _Jewish_ Ensigns bear? }
+ By such we're grown e'en Scandalous in War. }
+ Our Fathers Trophies wore, and oft could tell
+ How by their Swords the mighty Thousands fell;
+ What mighty Deeds our Grandfathers had done,
+ What Battels fought, what Wreaths of Honour won:
+ Thro the extended Orb they purchas'd Fame,
+ The Nations trembling at their Awful Name:
+ Such wondrous Heroes our Fore-fathers were,
+ When we, base Souls! but Pigmies are in War:
+ By Foreign Chieftains we improve in Skill;
+ We learn how to intrench, not how to kill:
+ For all our Charge are good Proficients made
+ In using both the Pickax and the Spade.
+ But in what Field have we a Conquest wrought?
+ In Ten Years War what Battel have we fought?
+
+ If we a Foreign Slave may use in War,
+ Yet why in Council should that Slave appear?
+ If we with _Jewish_ Treasure make him great,
+ Must it be done to undermine the State?
+ Where are the Antient Sages of Renown? }
+ No _Magi_ left, fit to advise the Crown? }
+ Must we by Foreign Councils be undone? }
+ Unhappy _Israel_, who such Measures takes,
+ And seeks for Statesmen in the Bogs and Lakes;
+ Who speak the Language of most abject Slaves,
+ Under the Conduct of our _Jewish_ Knaves.
+ Our _Hebrew_'s murder'd in their hoarser Throats;
+ How ill their Tongues agree with _Jewish Notes_!
+ Their untun'd Prattle do's our Sense confound,
+ Which in our Princely Palaces do's sound;
+ The self-same Language the old Serpent spoke,
+ When misbelieving _Eve_ the Apple took:
+ Of our first Mother why are we asham'd,
+ When by the self-same Rhetorick we are damn'd?
+
+ But _Bentir_, not Content with such Command,
+ To canton out the _Jewish_ Nation's Land;
+ He do's extend to Other Coasts his Pride,
+ And other Kingdoms into Parts divide:
+ Unhappy _Hiram_! dismal is thy Song;
+ Tho born to Empire, thou art ever young!
+ Ever in Nonage, canst no Right transfer:
+ But who made _Bentir_ thy Executor?
+ What mighty Power do's _Israel_'s Land afford? }
+ What Power has made the famous _Bentir_ Lord? }
+ The Peoples Voice, and _Sanhedrim_'s Accord. }
+ Are not the Rights of People still the same?
+ Did they e'er differ in or Place or Name?
+ Have not Mankind on equal Terms still stood,
+ Without Distinction, since the mighty Flood?
+ And have not _Hiram_'s Subjects a free Choice
+ To chuse a King by their united Voice?
+ If _Israel_'s People cou'd a Monarch chuse,
+ A living King at the same time refuse;
+ That _Hiram_'s People, shall it e'er be said,
+ Have not the Right of Choice when he is dead?
+ When no Successor to the Crown's in sight,
+ The Crown is certainly the Peoples Right.
+ If Kings are made the People to enthral,
+ We had much better have no King at all:
+ But Kings, appointed for the Common Good,
+ Always as Guardians to their People stood.
+ And Heaven allows the People sure a Power
+ To chuse such Kings as shall not them devour:
+ They know full well what best will serve themselves,
+ How to avoid the dang'rous Rocks and Shelves.
+
+ Unthinking _Israel_! Ah henceforth beware
+ How you entrust this faithless Wanderer!
+ He who another Kingdom can divide, }
+ May set your Constitution soon aside, }
+ And o'er your Liberties in Triumph ride. }
+ Support your Rightful Monarch and his Crown,
+ But pull this proud, this croaking Mortal down.
+
+ Proceed, my Muse; the Story next relate
+ Of _Keppech_ the Imperious Chit of State,
+ Mounted to Grandeur by the usual Course
+ Of Whoring, Pimping, or a Crime that's worse;
+ Of Foreign Birth, and undescended too,
+ Yet he, like _Bentir_, mighty Feats can do.
+ He robs our Treasure, to augment his State,
+ And _Jewish_ Nobles on his Fortunes wait:
+ Our ravish'd Honours on his Shoulder wears,
+ And Titles from our Antient Rolls he tears.
+ Was e'er a prudent People thus befool'd,
+ By upstart Foreigners thus basely gull'd?
+ Ye _Jewish_ Nobles, boast no more your Race,
+ Or sacred Badges did your Fathers grace!
+ In vain is Blood, or Parentages, when
+ Ribbons and Garters can ennoble Men.
+ To Chivalry you need have no recourse,
+ The gawdy Trappings make the Ass a Horse.
+ No more, no more your Antient Honours own,
+ By slavish _Gibeonites_ you are outdone:
+ Or else your Antient Courage reassume,
+ And to assert your Honours once presume;
+ From off their Heads your ravish'd Lawrels tear,
+ And let them know what _Jewish_ Nobles are.
+
+
+_THE END._
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
+
+University of California, Los Angeles
+
+
+PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
+
+
+1948-1949
+
+ 16. Nevil Payne, _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673).
+
+ 17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William
+ Shakespeare_ (1709).
+
+ 18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10
+ (1719); and Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).
+
+
+1949-1950
+
+ 22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and two
+ _Rambler_ papers (1750).
+
+ 23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).
+
+
+1950-1951
+
+ 26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).
+
+
+1951-52
+
+ 31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751);
+ and _The Eton College Manuscript_.
+
+
+1952-1953
+
+ 41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).
+
+
+1954-1955
+
+ 49. Two St. Cecilia's Day Sermons (1696, 1697).
+
+ 52. Pappity Stampoy, _A Collection of Scotch Proverbs_ (1663).
+
+
+1958-1959
+
+ 75. John Joyne, _A Journal_ (1679).
+
+ 76. Andre Dacier, _Preface to Aristotle's Art of Poetry_ (1705).
+
+
+1959-1960
+
+ 80. [P. Whalley], _An Essay on the Manner of Writing History_
+ (1746).
+
+ 83. _Sawney and Colley_ (1742) and other Pope Pamphlets.
+
+ 84. Richard Savage, _An Author to be lett_ (1729).
+
+
+1960-1961
+
+ 85-6. _Essays on the Theatre from Eighteenth-Century Periodicals._
+
+ 90. Henry Needier, _Works_ (1728).
+
+
+1961-1962
+
+ 93. John Norris, _Cursory Reflections Upon a Book Call'd, An Essay
+ Concerning Human Understanding_ (1690).
+
+ 94. An. Collins, _Divine Songs and Meditacions_ (1653).
+
+ 95. _An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr.
+ Fielding_ (1751).
+
+ 96. _Hanoverian Ballads._
+
+
+1962-1963
+
+ 97. Myles Davies, Selections from _Athenae Britannicae_
+ (1716-1719).
+
+ 98. _Select Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's Temple_ (1697).
+
+ 99. Thomas Augustine Arne, _Artaxerxes_ (1761).
+
+ 100. Simon Patrick, _A Brief Account of the New Sect of Latitude
+ Men_ (1662).
+
+ 101-2. Richard Hurd, _Letters on Chivalry and Romance_ (1762).
+
+
+1963-1964
+
+ 103. Samuel Richardson, _Clarissa_: Preface, Hints of Prefaces,
+ and Postscript.
+
+ 104. Thomas D'Urfey, _Wonders in the Sun, or, the Kingdom of the
+ Birds_ (1706).
+
+ 105. Bernard Mandeville, _An Enquiry into the Causes of the
+ Frequent Executions at Tyburn_ (1725).
+
+ 106. Daniel Defoe, _A Brief History of the Poor Palatine Refugees_
+ (1709).
+
+ 107-8. John Oldmixon, _An Essay on Criticism_ (1728).
+
+
+
+
+William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California,
+Los Angeles
+
+THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
+
+
+GENERAL EDITORS
+
+ EARL MINER
+ University of California, Los Angeles
+
+ MAXIMILLIAN E. NOVAK
+ University of California, Los Angeles
+
+ LAWRENCE CLARK POWELL
+ Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library
+
+ _Corresponding Secretary:_
+ Mrs. Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library
+
+
+The Society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile
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+
+
+PUBLICATIONS FOR 1964-1965
+
+ JOHN TUTCHIN, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700). Introduction by Spiro
+ Peterson.
+
+ SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, _An Essay upon the Original and Nature of
+ Government_ (1680). Introduction by Robert C. Steensma.
+
+ T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).
+ Introduction by Curt A. Zimansky.
+
+ ANONYMOUS, _Political Justice. A Poem_ (1736). Introduction by
+ Burton R. Pollin and John W. Wilkes.
+
+ _Two Poems Against Pope_: LEONARD WELSTED, _One Epistle to Mr. A.
+ Pope_ (1730); ANONYMOUS, _The Blatant Beast_ (1740). Introduction
+ by Joseph V. Guerinot.
+
+ ROBERT DODSLEY, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764). Introduction by Jeanne
+ K. Welcher and Richard Dircks.
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+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Poems, by John Tutchin
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POEMS ***
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