A new martyrology, or, The bloody assizes now exactly methodizing in one volume comprehending a compleat history of the lives, actions, trials, sufferings, dying speeches, letters, and prayers of all those eminent Protestants who fell in the west of England and elsewhere from the year 1678 ... : with an alphabetical table ... / written by Thomas Pitts.

To the Memory of those Worthy Protestants who Suffer'd in the West and elsewhere, from the Year 1678 to 1689.

SInce that free Agent who conducts the World, His Wheels of Providence has backward whirl'd, And by the Turn Men to their Senses brings, To loath their Idol-Priests, and Idol-Kings, (Finding a Popish Promise proves all one, From an Ignatian Chair, and from a Throne,) Since over-indulgent Heaven has been so kind, To op'n our Eyes by Miracles, we find All men admiring they've so long been blind; Surpriz'd they should so long their Friends oppose, And with a credulous Trust caress their Foes. Amidst the numerous Wonders of the time, 'Tis no small Wonder (not to say a Crime) We reverence no more their Memory, Who for their Countrey's Welfare dar'd to die; Whose quarter'd Limbs imbru'd with Native Gore, Still cry for Vengeance on the Western Shore. Why should we with ignoble Triumph tread Vpon the silent Ashes of the dead? And with insulting Feet their Dust profant, Whose free-born Souls sp••rn at a slavish Chain; Souls (not so sensless, so supine as ours) That early saw the drift of Romish Powers, Early disdain'd those Yokes with generous Scorn, Which our more servile Necks have tamely born; That saw the hovering Storm approach from far, Threatning a thousand mischiefs (worse than War) And boldly rush'd upon th' impetuous Waves, Rather to die like Men than live like Slaves; To save their Native Country bravely try'd Fail'd in th' attempt, and then as bravely dy'd. In vain would envious Clouds their Fame obscure, Which to eternal Ages must endure. ••n vain do virulent Tongues attempt to slain The Solid Glory noble Patriots gain.

If ill designs some to the Battle drew, 'Tis I••pious to condemn all for a few: If fawning Trayt••rs in their Councils sate, 'Tis base 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ••ather lament their Fate: Tho God (or England's sins) r••fus'd to bless Their b••ave d••signs with the des••'d success: 'Tis an unequal b••utish Argument Always to judge the Cause by the ••vent; Thus the unthinking giddy Multitude A suffering Jesus Crimin••l conclude.

Well 'tis enough Heav'n now crowns with applause, And gives p••otection to that righteous Cause; Nay, did ordain that Spot to be the Scene Where the Cause dy'd sor't to revive again. Great Nassau favour'd by the Powers above (Their special c••re, an•• their peculiar love,) An Atlas to our si••king State does prove: Auspicious Stars on all his Councils smile. That breath vast Blessings on our joyful Isle.

And now methinks their Manes, who of late Fell worthy Martyrs of our bleeding State, R••proach us with Ingratitude, and say, 'Is nothing due unto our murther'd Clay? 'Vnto our murther'd Names is nothing due, 'Who sacrific'd both Lives and Names for you? 'Does no Tongue daign to move in the d••fence 'Of wounded Honour, and wrong'd Inno••ence? 'If th' All-wise God (tho just) don't yet se•• good 'With swift revenge t'appeas•• our crying Blood, 'Save us at least from Envy's darker Grave, 'And let our Fame a Resu••rection have.

Great Souls, too great for our Inferiour Pra••se! You for your selves the Noblest Trophies raise; Your Dying Words your Monoments become More bright, more lasting than a Ma••ble Tomb; To future Times your Fame shall fre••hly bloom, And speak aloud t••ll it strike Envy D••m'••.