Rome rhym'd to death being a collection of choice poems, in two parts / written by the E. of R., Dr. Wild, and others of the best modern wits.

The Ghosts of Edward Fitz Harris, and Oliver Plunket, who were Executed at Tyburn for High Treason, &c.

Fitz Harirs.

I Groan and Languish to Relate My Countries present Case and State, Which now lies under pressures great. I have been in my time a Thing, That would have done ought 'gainst the King, Whereby I Popery in might bring. I Boggled not Shams to devise, Whereby to charge upon (with Lies) The Presbyterians Plotting Guise. Tho' they in Truth for ought I knew, Had naught under design or view But what was Loyal, Just, and True. In order this Sham-Plot to vent, I a damn'd Libell did invent, 'gainst both the King and Government.

Plunket.

Tush, Fellow Martyr, Tush I say, You do what misbecomes your way, Rome's Plottings if you do betray. For what Man ever think you, got A Pardon for being in the Plot, That to the last deny'd it not? Or ever heard you was there one That was o'th Roman Church a Son, But went on as he had begun? D'ye think you ever sav'd shall be, If you retract not what you say, And Holy Church don't justifie? I as a Priest pronounce you damn'd, You shall be into Hell now Cram'd, If you persist in things forenam'd. And there in endless Torments lye, Whilst all our Rogueries I deny, And thereby into Heaven fly.

Fitz.

If Heaven Sir, you think to win, By persevering in known Sin, You will I doubt fall into th' Gin. For if one Crime that unrepented Be damnable, how you've prevented Your Fate I know not, but contented Am, that you should a Papist dye, And so by telling many a lye, To Heav'n reach, but I, Poor I, Will make a free and true discov'ry Of what I know at large or by Of this vile Plot which I decry;

••ost Heartily confessing, that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 truly sorry am, for what ••••ve done, t'advance the Romish Plot. ••or now at last I plainly see ••omes Religion's damn'd Heresie ••ept up, and carryed on by Cursed Cruelty. ••or else how comes it pray about, Our Friends to'th Cause have been so stout Toth' very last, to brave it out? 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wonder how you durst presume, God's Sacred Name in Mouth t'assume, To justifie your Lyes, and Rome. And thereby weakly to keep up The Credit of your damn'd Pope, Tho't cost you Hell for't, and a Rope. I do confess I justly dye For serving you and Popery, In Villanies I Blush to say. My Judges freely I forgive, Being one no way deserv'd to Live, No, nor the grace of a Reprieve. 'Twas favour great indeed, I think, For th' King to give me, on the brink Of my sad Fate, time e're I sink. Wherein I reconcil'd might be To the enraged Diety, For Crimes against His Majesty. And might my Countries danger tell, And what had surely it befell, (Viz.) All Protestants that therein dwell.

Oh! that this time allotted me, Whereon depends my Eternity, May tend to extirpate Popery. May I therein do all such things, As may Attone the King of Kings, Which is the thing true comfort brings. And likewise warn poor England yet, In this dark day, e're it be too late, To avoid both French and Popish▪State. And may it, as one Man, oppose It self to Ruin by its Foes, And strive to save it self from Threat and Woes. May now my Soul lie down in Peace, And ne're hereafter may it cease, To praise the God of Infinite Grace.

Pl.

What long Harangues, Sir, have you mad•• You've made me by 'em quite afraid, To Persevere in what I said. I do confess likewise, that I Concern'd was much i'th Villany, For which I am Condemn'd to Die. And that from Popish Treachery, England was like Reduc'd to be. To French and Romish Tyranny. But this I always took for Truth, That what comes out o'th' Churches Mouth, Is Oracle from North to South. And when I knew the Church had given Power to go on with the Old Leaven, I thought it surely come from Heaven.

But now I doubt I was mistaken, And fear Rome Babel will be shaken, If England throughly awaken. I am in Truth in doubt, we shall E're long receive a lasting fall, Ne're more to vex the World at all. And though I Dye o'th' Church of Rome, Yet I believe those things will come Upon her, which will be the Final Doom.

Fitz.

Sir, If you do these things Believe, Your self you wretchedly deceive, If that you quickly don't receive. The Protestants Religion's good, Which I almost Conform to cou'd, But for my having sought their Blood.

Pl.

If then Sir, you are not convinced Which is the Right, pray do not mince it, But leave to Time for to evince it. And let us hearttly both joyn, And in our Prayers now combine, I'th' words of the ensuing Line.

Both.

May God long Bless the King, we Pray, And all Plots 'gainst him still bewray. Popish and Factious, and let all Men lay

Amen.