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A SALT TEARE: OR, The VVeeping Onion, AT THE Lamentable Funerall of Dr. DORISLAUS.
WHat though Lamented? Curs'd; & the High Tree
Of Fifty Cubits was Just Destiny
(Though a Deplor'd one) of that Agent drew
The Articles against the Holy Jew,
Good Mordicai; which by queint-curious Art,
Should have contriv'd the Queen Her share oth' smart.
But Providence said, No; And HESTER taught,
Proud HAMAN to a Bloody Banquet brought.
Our upstart Hamans had a Feast: Who'll bring
Them, for Digestions fake, to take a swing.
2.
DORISLAUS! Art' Lamented? So was Hee
Who was more Dives▪ then the State made thee.
If thou chance meet with Him; Lift up thine eyes,
And see where CHARLES in Abrahams bosome lies.
O for a Messenger the House to tell
And all the merry Commoners, of Hell.
How LENTHAL looks! How WHITLOCK pales his face,
Who caught one Seale, and lost that Seale of Grace!
O how damn'd BRADSHAW quivers as he comes!
And FAIRFAX groanes! And CRUMWELL bites his thumbs!
3
Egypt, no doubt, was hid in double blacke,
When that last Wonder, and grand Land-Sea wrack
Was powr'd on Pharao and his Host; when Waves
Reveng'd the Insolence of Murderous Slaves,
Pharao must drown; so it doth Providence Please.
We have a MOSES too, is Heire oth' Seas
Heavens will a Party in that Element make:
Your KING-SALE Projects doe not alwayes take.
4
The Wife of SISERA did no doubt bewaile,
Sisera's Face; yet the Canoniz'd Nayle
And Hammer of stout Jael and the Song
Of Deborah shew'd Heaven smil'd, and went along.
A Kenite did the fact: it was not Lot
For Perjur'd English, But a gallant Scot.
'Tis a good Omen: That, as They Pul'd down
The FIRST, they shal set on the SECOND'S Crown
Let our deluded Citizens invite,
Hugge, Kisse, and Licke the Cursed Canaanite:
What though their Chariots be of Iron? we may
See them lye Groveling, like lost Sisera.
5
Now Pray observe the Pompe, the Persons, State
That did attend This Alien Reprobate:
Here, went Lieutenant Generall Crocodile,
And's Cubbs, bred of the Slime of our Rich Nile:
Who weep before they kill, and whose False Teares
Trickle from Blood-shed eyes of Murderers.
Poor Island! they have made a Nile of Thee,
We cannot find thy HEAD, which faine wee'd see.
6.
Next march a train of Ravenous wolves, whose jaws
Yet owze with th' blood of slaughter'd King and Laws:
These are close Mourners; These the Kingdomes gull:
True Wolves, that never Howl, till they are full.
These are the Beasts of Prey, whose sharp Fang Tears
Not Cavies now, but th' Harmlesse Levellers;
By whom they rose unto this Greatnes: We,
We are distasted, well as Monarchy.
7.
Close unto these, in grave Deportment March
The City Changelings in Thanksgiving starch,
A sort of Whelps, Taught by that Woolvish kind;
Who if one Howl'd, strait the whole Kennell whin'd.
These, at the Whip of cunning oliver,
Do Feast, or else drop a dissembling Tear.
All these attend their AGENTS Funerall;
This Honor's but a Trap, the States fly call,
To get another throat cut, but in vain;
Dorislaw cryes from Hell;
'TWILL BE NO GAIN.