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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A37442 The true-born Englishman a satyr. Defoe, Daniel, 1661?-1731. 1700 (1700) Wing D849; ESTC T70649 19,414 76

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is heard so far or lasts so long 'T is heard by ev'ry Ear and spoke by ev'ry Tongue My Hero with the Sails of Honour furl'd Rises like the Great Genius of the World By Fate and Fame wisely prepar'd to be The Soul of War and Life of Victory He spreads the Wings of Virtue on the Throne And ev'ry Wind of Glory fans them on Immortal Trophies dwell upon his Brow Fresh as the Garlands he has worn but now By different Steps the high Ascent he gains And differently that high Ascent maintains Princes for Pride and Lust of Rule make War And struggle for the Name of Conqueror Some fight for Fame and some for Victory He Fights to Save and Conquers to set Free Then seek no Phrase his Titles to conceal And hide with Words what Actions must reveal No Parallel from Hebrew Stories take Of God-like Kings my Similies to make No borrow'd Names conceal my living Theam But Names and Things directly I proclaim 'T is honest Merit does his Glory raise Whom that exalts let no man fear to praise Of such a Subject no man need be shy Virtue 's above the Reach of Flattery He needs no Character but his own Fame Nor any flattering Titles but his Name William's the Name that 's spoke by ev'ry Tongue William's the Darling Subject of my Song Listen ye Virgins to the Charming Sound And in Eternal Dances hand it round Your early Offerings to this Altar bring Make him at once a Lover and a King May he submit to none but to your Arms Nor ever be subdu'd but by your Charms May your soft Thoughts for him be all sublime And ev'ry tender Vow be made for him May he be first in ev'ry Morning-Thought And Heav'n ne're hear a Pray'r where he 's left out May ev'ry Omen ev'ry boding Dream Be Fortunate by mentioning his Name May this one Charm Infernal Powers affright And guard you from the Terrors of the Night May ev'ry chearful Glass as it goes down To William's Health be Cordials to your own Let ev'ry Song be Chorust with his Name And Musick pay her Tribute to his Fame Let ev'ry Poet tune his Artful Verse And in Immortal Strains his Deeds rehearse And may Apollo never more inspire The Disobedient Bard with his Seraphick Fire May all my Sons their grateful Homage pay His Praises sing and for his Safety pray Satyr return to our Unthankful Isle Secur'd by Heav'n's Regard and William's Toil. To both Ungrateful and to both Untrue Rebels to God and to Good Nature too If e're this Nation be distress'd again To whomsoe're they cry they 'll cry in vain To Heav'n they cannot have the face to look Or if they should it would but Heav'n provoke To hope for Help from Man would be too much Mankind would always tell 'em of the Dutch How they came here our Freedoms to maintain Were Paid and Curs'd and Hurry'd home again How by their Aid we first dissolv'd our Fears And then our Helpers damn'd for Foreigners 'T is not our English Temper to do better For Englishmen think ev'ry man their Debtor 'T is worth observing that we ne're complain'd Of Foreigners nor of the Wealth they gain'd Till all their Services were at an End Wise men affirm it is the English way Never to Grumble till they come to Pay And then they always think their Temper 's such The Work too little and the Pay too much As frighted Patients when they want a Cure Bid any Price and any Pain endure But when the Doctor 's Remedies appear The Cure's too Easy and the Price too Dear Great Portland ne're was banter'd when he strove For Us his Master's kindest Thoughts to move We ne're lampoon'd his Conduct when employ'd King Iames's Secret Councils to divide Then we caress'd him as the only Man Which could the Doubtful Oracle explain The only Hushai able to repell The Dark Designs of our Achitophel Compar'd his Master's Courage to his Sense The Ablest Statesman and the Bravest Prince On his Wise Conduct we depended much And lik'd him ne're the worse for being Dutch Nor was he valued more than he deserv'd Freely he ventur'd faithfully he serv'd In all King William's Dangers he has shar'd In England's Quarrels always he appear'd The Revolution first and then the Boyne In Both his Counsels and his Conduct shine His Martial Valour Flanders will confess And France Regrets his Managing the Peace Faithful to England's Interest and her King The greatest Reason of our Murmuring Ten Years in English Service he appear'd And gain'd his Master's and the World's Regard But 't is not England's Custom to Reward The Wars are over England needs him not Now he 's a Dutchman and the Lord knows what Schonbergh the Ablest Soldier of his Age With Great Nassau did in our Cause engage Both join'd for England's Rescue and Defence The Greatest Captain and the Greatest Prince With what Applause his Stories did we tell Stories which Europe's Volumes largely swell We counted him an Army in our Aid Where he commanded no man was afraid His Actions with a constant Conquest shine From Villa-Vitiosa to the Rhine France Flanders Germany his Fame confess And all the World was fond of him but Us. Our Turn first serv'd we grudg'd him the Command Witness the Grateful Temper of the Land We blame the K that he relies too much On Strangers Germans Hugonots and Dutch And seldom does his great Affairs of State To English Counsellors communicate The Fact might very well be answer'd thus He has so often been betray'd by us He must have been a Madman to rely On English G ns Fidelity For laying other Arguments aside This Thought might mortify our English Pride That Foreigners have faithfully obey'd him And none but Englishmen have e're betray'd him They have our Ships and Merchants bought and sold And barter'd English Blood for Foreign Gold First to the French they sold our Turky-Fleet And Injur'd Talmarsh next at Camaret The King himself is shelter'd from their Snares Not by his Merit but the Crown he wears Experience tells us 't is the English way Their Benefactors always to betray And lest Examples should be too remote A Modern Magistrate of Famous Note Shall give you his own History by Rote I 'll make it out deny it he that can His Worship is a True-born Englishman In all the Latitude that Empty Word By Modern Acceptation's understood The Parish-Books his Great Descent record And now he hopes e're long to be a Lord. And truly as things go it wou'd be pity But such as he bore Office in the City While Robb'ry for Burnt-Offering he brings And gives to God what he has stole from Kings Great Monuments of Charity he raises And good St. Magnus whistles out his Praises To City-Gaols he grants a Jubilee And hires Huzza's from his own Mobile Lately he wore the Golden Chain and Gown With which Equipt he thus harangu'd the Town Sir C s D b's Fine Speech c. WIth
the Iakes where she Voids all her Offal Out-cast Progeny From our Fifth Henry's time the Strolling Bands Of banish'd Fugitives from Neighb'ring Lands Have here a certain Sanctuary found The Eternal Refuge of the Vagabond Where in but half a common Age of Time Borr'wing new Blood and Manners from the Clime Proudly they learn all Mankind to contemn And all their Race are True-Born Englishmen Dutch Walloons Flemings Irishmen and Scots Vaudois and Valtolins and Hugonots In good Queen Bess's Charitable Reign Suppli'd us with Three hundred thousand Men. Religion God we thank thee sent them hither Priests Protestants the Devil and all together Of all Professions and of ev'ry Trade All that were persecuted or afraid Whether for Debt or other Crimes they fled David at Hackelah was still their Head The Offspring of this Miscellaneous Crowd Had not their new Plantations long enjoy'd But they grew Englishmen and rais'd their Votes At Foreign Shoals of Interloping Scots The * K. I. I. Royal Branch from Pict-land did succeed With Troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed The Seven first Years of his Pacifick Reign Made him and half his Nation Englishmen Scots from the Northern Frozen Banks of Tay With Packs and Plods came Whigging all away Thick as the Locusts which in Egypt swarm'd With Pride and hungry Hopes compleatly arm'd With Native Truth Diseases and No Money Plunder'd our Canaan of the Milk and Honey Here they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen And all their Race are True-Born Englishmen The Civil Wars the common Purgative Which always use to make the Nation thrive Made way for all that strolling Congregation Which throng'd in Pious Ch s's Restoration K. c. II. The Royal Refugeé our Breed restores With Foreign Courtiers and with Foreign Whores And carefully repeopled us again Throughout his Lazy Long Lascivious Reign With such a blest and True-born English Fry As much Illustrates our Nobility A Gratitude which will so black appear As future Ages must abhor to hear When they look back on all that Crimson Flood Which stream'd in Lindsey's and Caernarvon's Blood Bold Strafford Cambridge Capel Lucas Lisle Who crown'd in Death his Father's Fun'ral Pile The Loss of whom in order to supply With True-Born English Nobility Six Bastard Dukes survive his Luscious Reign The Labours of Italian C n French P h Tabby S t and Cambrian Besides the Num'rous Bright and Virgin Throng Whose Female Glories shade them from my Song This Offspring if one Age they multiply May half the House with English Peers supply There with true English Pride they may contemn S g and P d new-made Nobleman French Cooks Scotch Pedlars and Italian Whores Were all made Lords or Lords Progenitors Beggars and Bastards by his new Creation Much multipli'd the Peerage of the Nation Who will be all e're one short Age runs o're As True-Born Lords as those we had before Then to recruit the Commons he prepares And heal the latent Breaches of the Wars The Pious Purpose better to advance H' invites the banish'd Protestants of France Hither for God's sake and their own they fled Some for Religion came and some for Bread Two hundred thousand Pair of Wooden Shooes Who God be thank'd had nothing left to lose To Heav'n's great Praise did for Religion fly To make us starve our Poor in Charity In ev'ry Port they plant their fruitful Train To get a Race of True-Born Englishmen Whose Children will when riper Years they see Be as Ill-natur'd and as Proud as we Call themselves English Foreigners despise Be surly like us all and just as wise Thus from a Mixture of all Kinds began That Het'rogeneous Thing An Englishman In eager Rapes and furious Lust begot Betwixt a Painted Britton and a Scot Whose gend'ring Offspring quickly learnt to bow And yoke their Heifers to the Roman Plough From whence a Mongrel half-bred Race there came With neither Name nor Nation Speech or Fame In whose hot Veins new Mixtures quickly ran Infus'd betwixt a Saxon and a Dane While their Rank Daughters to their Parents just Receiv'd all Nations with Promiscuous Lust. This Nauseous Brood directly did contain The well-extracted Blood of Englishmen Which Medly canton'd in a Heptarchy A Rhapsody of Nations to supply Among themselves maintain'd eternal Wars And still the Ladies lov'd the Conquerors The Western Angles all the rest subdu'd A bloody Nation barbarous and rude Who by the Tenure of the Sword possest One part of Britain and subdu'd the rest And as great things denominate the small The Conqu'ring Part gave Title to the Whole The Scot Pict Britain Roman Dane submit And with the English-Saxon all unite And these the Mixture have so close pursu'd The very Name and Memory 's subdu'd No Roman now no Britain does remain Wales strove to separate but strove in vain The silent Nations undistinguish'd fall And Englishman's the common Name for all Fate jumbl'd them together God knows how Whate're they were they 're True-Born English now The Wonder which remains is at our Pride To value that which all wise men deride For Englishmen to boast of Generation Cancels their Knowledge and lampoons the Nation A True-Born Englishman's a Contradiction In Speech an Irony in Fact a Fiction A Banter made to be a Test of Fools Which those that use it justly ridicules A Metaphor invented to express A man a-kin to all the Universe For as the Scots as Learned Men ha' said Throughout the World their Wandring Seed ha' spread So open-handed England 't is believ'd Has all the Gleanings of the World receiv'd Some think of England 't was our Saviour meant The Gospel should to all the World be sent Since when the blessed Sound did hither reach They to all Nations might be said to Preach 'T is well that Virtue gives Nobility Else God knows where we had our Gentry Since scarce one Family is left alive Which does not from some Foreigner derive Of Sixty thousand English Gentlemen Whose Names and Arms in Registers remain We challenge all our Heralds to declare Ten Families which English-Saxons are France justly boasts the Ancient Noble Line Of Bourbon Mommorency and Lorrain The Germans too their House of Austria show And Holland their Invincible Nassau Lines which in Heraldry were Ancient grown Before the Name of Englishman was known Even Scotland too her Elder Glory shows Her Gourdons Hamiltons and her Monroes Dowglas Mackays and Grahams Names well known Long before Ancient England knew her own But England Modern to the last degree Borrows or makes her own Nobility And yet she boldly boasts of Pedigree Repines that Foreigners are put upon her And talks of her Antiquity and Honour Her S lls S ls C ls De M rs M ns and M ues D s and V rs Not one have English Names yet all are English Peers Your H ns P llons and L liers Pass now for True-Born English Knights and Squires And make good Senate-Members or Lord-Mayors Wealth howsoever got in England makes Lords of