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<DATE>2007-10-04</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Jason Colman</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B070811.apex.</ITEM>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="OX" ID="A88632">
<STC T="W">L3372</STC>
<STC T="T">669.f.14[56]</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99869967</BIBNO>
<VID>163044</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
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<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB REF="1"><!-- PDF PAGE 7 -->
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<HEAD>The Loyall Subjects Jubilee, or <HI>Cromwels</HI> Farewell to <HI>England,</HI> being a Poem on his ad|vancing to <HI>Ireland,</HI> <DATE>July the 11. 1649.</DATE></HEAD>
<L>TIs high contempt not for to Fa&s;t and pray,</L>
<L>And hold as ble&s;t Saint <HI>Cromwels</HI> Holy day,</L>
<L>The Devils a Saint, if he de&s;erves to be</L>
<L>One for his Machivillian Treacherie.</L>
<L>In&s;atiate Mon&s;ter, that doth &s;wallow downe</L>
<L>At once a Kingdome and a glorious Crowne,</L>
<L>Who&s;e &s;plendor dazled Mortalls while it &s;tood</L>
<L>On <HI>Charles</HI> his head, but dim'd &s;ince dipt in blood</L>
<L>May every &s;tone that did adorne it round,</L>
<L>As witne&s;&s;es again&s;t thee once be found,</L>
<L>And weigh thee down to Hell, thou horrid fel lion,</L>
<L>To have reward for this thy grand Rebellion.</L>
<L>But fir&s;t thy progre&s;&s;e into <HI>Ireland</HI> take,</L>
<L>And &s;ee what preparations they will make,</L>
<L>(To entertaine thee) for that end a day</L>
<L>Weel &s;et apart, and for thee this we'l pray;</L>
<L>Come yee grim Furies of the <HI>Stigian Lake,</HI></L>
<L>With hideous cryes, and make the welking &s;hake,</L>
<L>Rouze <HI>Charon</HI> up, winds, Seas, and all implore,</L>
<L>To waft this Rebell to the <HI>Iri&s;h</HI> &s;hore,</L>
<L>Where &s;uch a Fea&s;t prepar'd for him &s;hall be,</L>
<L>The like at <HI>Grocers-Hall</HI> he ne're did &s;ee:</L>
<L><HI>Ormond</HI> chief Cook will be to plea&s;e his pallet,</L>
<L>And &s;end a fiery Bullet for a Sallet,</L>
<L>Which &s;hall &s;uch terrour to his Saint&s;hip bring,</L>
<L>And make him cry, would he had &s;par'd our King;</L>
<L>The blood methinks doth &s;tartle in his face,</L>
<L>That he no re&s;t can take in any place,</L>
<L>His <HI>Exits</HI> come, <HI>Ireland</HI> the Stage mu&s;t be,</L>
<L>Where he mu&s;t act his late&s;t Tragedie,</L>
<L>Where he his life &s;hall &s;pend in di&s;content,</L>
<L>And bid farewell to <HI>Englands</HI> Parliament.</L>
<L>May thy hor&s;es founder, thy Souldiers weary grow</L>
<L>Upon their march they can no further goe,</L>
<L>Or if march on upon the <HI>Iri&s;h</HI> &s;ight,</L>
<L>Take to their heeles, and finely give thee flight,</L>
<L>And may this noi&s;e of their mo&s;t eager running,</L>
<L>Still make thee think that <HI>Charles</HI> the II comming</L>
<L>To claime his due with a victorious hand,</L>
<L>And purge all Rebels from his <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Land.</L>
<L>May the day look black, and &s;oon convert to night,</L>
<L>Onely thy ruby No&s;e to give thee light;</L>
<L>And that thou may&s;t to &s;hipping &s;afely get,</L>
<L>Hell for thy life-guard &s;hall the Furies &s;et,</L>
<L><HI>Charon</HI> thy Ferry-man &s;hall be, and once being ore,</L>
<L>May&s;t thou nere come to vex the <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> &s;hore.</L>
<TRAILER>Finis.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
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