Sad and Deplorable News from New England
The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo2/A62914.0001.001
Project Note
This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.
The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.
This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
Sad and Deplorable NEWES FROM New England. Poetically Related by an Inhabitant there, and Newly sent over to a Merchant in LONDON.
BEING A TRUE NARRATIVE OF NEW-ENGLANDS Lamentable Estate at present, Occasioned by many un-heard of Cruelties, Practised upon the Persons and Estates of its United Colonies, without Respect of Sex, Age or Quality of Persons by the barbarous Heathen thereof.
[illustration] [depiction of scene of David and Goliath]
With Allowance
LONDON, Printed for H. J. Anno Dom. 1676.
THE PROLOGUE.
THE times wherein old
Pompion
was a Saint,
When men far'd hardly yet without complaint
On vilest
Cates;
the dainty
Indian Maize
Was eat with
Clamp shells
out of wooden Trayes
Under thatched
Hutts
without the cry of
Rent,
And the best
Sawce
to every Dish,
Content.
When Flesh was food, and hairy skins made coats,
And Men as well as Birds had chirping Notes.
When Cimnels were accounted Noble Blood,
Among the tribes of common herbage food.
Of
Ceres
bounty formed was many knack,
Enough to fill
poor Robins Almanac.
These golden times (too fortunate to hold)
Were quickly sin'd away for love of gold.
'Twas then among the bushes, not the street,
If one in place did an inferior meet,
Good-morrow Brother;
Is there ought you want?
Take freely of me what I have, you ha'nt.
Plain
Tom
and
Dick
would pass as current now,
As ever since,
Your Servant Sir,
and bow.
Deep skirted doublets,
Puritanick
capes,
(Which now would render men like upright Apes)
Was comelier wear our wiser Fathers thought,
Then the cast fashions from all
Europe
brought.
'Twas in those days an honest
Grace
would hold
Till an hot Puddin grew at heart a cold.
And men had better stomachs to Religion,
Then I to Capon, Turkey cock or Pigeon.
When honest Sisters met to pray, not prate
About their own, and not their Neighbors state.
During
Plain-Dealings
Reign, that worthy Stud
Of th' Ancient Planters Race before the Flood.
These Times were good, Merchants cared not a rush
For other fare then
Jonakin and Mush.
Although men far'd and lodged very hard,
Yet Innocence was better then a Guard.
New England's
Beauties, which still seemed to me
Illustrious in their own simplicity.
'Twas ere the Neighboring
Virgin-land
had broke
The Hogsheads of her worse then hellish smoke.
'Twas ere the Islands sent their Presents in,
Which but to use was counted next to sin.
'Twas ere a
Barge
had made so rich a freight
As
Chocolate,
dust Gold and bits of Eight.
Ere Wines from
France
and
Moscovadoe
too,
Without the which the drink will scarcely do.
From Western Isles, ere fruits and delicacies,
Did rot Maids teeth, and spoil their handsome faces▪
Or ere these times did chance, the noise of War
Was from our towns and hearts removed far.
No Bug-bear Comets in the Crystal Air,
To drive our Christian Planters to despair.
No sooner Pagan malice peeped forth,
But Valour snib'd it; then were men of worth
Who by their Prayers slew thousands, Angel like,
Their weapons are unseen with which they strike.
Then had the Churches rest, as yet the coals
Were covered up in most contentious souls.
Freeness in Judgment, Union in Affection,
Dear Love, sound Truth, they were our grand Protection;
These were the Twins which in our Councils sat,
These gave Prognostics of our future fate;
If these be longer-lived our hopes increase,
These wars will usher in a longer Peace:
But if
New England's
love die in its youth
The Grave will open next for blessed Truth▪
This
Theam
is out of date, the Peaceful Houres
When Castles needed not but pleasant Bowers.
Nor ink but blood and tears now serve the turn
To draw the figure of
New England's
Urn.
New England's
hour of passion is at hand,
No power except Divine can it withstand;
Scarce hath her Glass of fifty years run out,
But her old prosperous Steeds turn heads about,
Tracking themselves back to their poor beginnings,
To fear and fare upon their fruits of sinnings:
So that the Mirrour of the Christian world
Lyes burnt to heaps in part, her Streamers furl'd
Grief reigns, joys flee, and dismal fears surprise,
Not dastard spirits only, but the wise.
Thus have the fairest hopes deceived the eye
Of the big swoln Expectant standing by.
Thus the proud Ship after a little turn
Sinks into
Neptunes
arms to find its Urn.
Thus hath the Heir to many thousands born
Been in an instant from the Mother torn.
Even thus thine Infant-cheeks begin to pale.
And thy supporters, through great losses, fail.
This is the
Prologue
to thy future woe
The
Epilogue
no Mortal yet can know.
Sad and Deplorable News from New-ENGLAND.
IN
Seventy Five
the
Critick
of our years
Commenc'd our war with
Philip
and his Peers.
Whither the Sun in
Leo
had inspired
A feav'rish heat, and
Pagan
spirits fired?
Whither some Rom
•
sh Agent hatched the plot?
Or whither they themselves? appeareth not.
Whither our Infant-thrivings did invite?
Or whither to our Lands pretended right?
Is hard to say; but
Indian spirits
need
No grounds but Lust to make a Christian bleed.
And here, methinks, I see this greazy
Lout
With all his Pagan slaves coil'd round about,
Assuming all the Majesty his throne
Of rotten stump, or of the rugged stone
Could yield; casting some bacon-rine-like looks,
Enough to fright a Student from his books,
Thus treat his Peers, and next to them his Commons,
Kennel'd together all without a summons.
My friends, our Fathers were not half so wise
As we ourselves who see with younger eyes
:
They sell our Land to English Men, who teach
Our Nation also fast to pray and preach.
Of all our country they enjoy the best,
And quickly they intend to have the rest.
This no wunnegin so big matchit law
Which our old fathers fathers never saw.
These English make, and we must keep them too,
Which is too hard for them or us to do.
We drink we so big whipt, but English they
Go sneep, no more, or else a little pay.
Me meddle Squaw me hanged, our fathers kept
What Squaws they would whether they wakit or slept
Now if you will fight I will get you English coats,
And wine to drink out of their Captains throats
:
The richest Merchants houses shall be ours,
We'll lie no more on mats or dwell in bowers.
We'll have their silken wives, take they our Squaws,
They shall be whipt by virtue of our Laws:
If ere we strike, 'tis now before they swell
To greater swarms then we know to quell.
This my
Resolve,
let neighboring
Sachems
know,
And everyone that hath Club, Gun or Bow,
This was assented to, and for a close
He strokit his smutty beard, and cursed his foes.
This counsel lightning like their tribes invade,
And something like a muster's quickly made,
A ragged regiment, a naked swarm,
Whom hopes of booty doth with courage arm,
Set forth with bloody hearts, the first they meet
Of men or beasts, they butcher at their feet.
They round our skirts▪ they pare, they fleece, they kill,
And to our bordering towns do what they will.
Poor Hovills (better far then
Caesar's
Court
In the experience of the meaner sort)
Receive from them their doom next execution;
By flames reduced to horror and confusion
:
Here might be seen the smoking funeral Piles
Of wildred towns pitched distant many miles.
Here might be seen the infant from the breast
Snatcht by a pagan hand to lasting rest
:
The mother
Rachel-like
shrieks out my child,
She wrings her hands and raves as she were wild.
The brutish wolves suppress her anxious moan
By crueltyes more deadly of her own.
Will she or nill the chastest turtle must
Taste of the pangs of their unbridled lust.
From farms to farms, from towns to towns they post
They strip, they bind, they ravish, flea and roast.
The beasts which wont their masters crib to know,
Over the ashes of their shelters low.
What the inexorable flames do spare
More cruel Heathen lug away for fare.
These tidings ebbing from the outward parts,
Makes Tradesmen cast aside their wonted Arts
And study Arms
:
the craving Merchants plot
Not to augment but keep what they have got.
And every soul which hath but common sense
Thinks it the time to make a just defense.
Alarum
everywhere resound in streets,
From
West
sad tidings with the
Eastern
meets.
Our common Fathers in their Councils close
A martial treaty with the Pagan Foes;
All Answers center here, that Fire and Sword
Must make their
Sachem
universal Lord.
This arms the English with a resolution
To give the vapouring
Scab
a Retribution.
Heavens they consult by Prayer, the best design
A furious foe to quell or undermine.
RESOLV'D
that from the
Massachusetts
bands
Be pressed on service some
Herculean
hands;
And certainly he well deserved a jerk,
That slipped the Collar from so good a work.
Some Volunteers, some by compulsion go,
To range the hideous Forest for a foe.
The tender Mother now's all bowels grown,
Clings to her son as if they'd melt in one.
Wives clasp about their Husbands as the Vine,
Hugs the fair Elm while tears burst out like Wine.
The new sprung love in many a Virgin-heart
Swells to a Mountain when the Lovers part.
Nephews and Kindred turn all springs of tears,
Their hearts are so surprised with panic fears:
But doleful shrieks of captives summon Forth
Our walking Castles, men of noted worth,
Made all of life, each Captain was a
Mars,
His name too strong to stand on wat'rish verse
:
Due praise I leave to some
Poetic
hand,
Whose Pen and Wits are better at command.
Methinks I see the
Trojan-Horse
burst ope,
And such rush forth as might with Giants cope:
These first the
Natives
treachery felt, too fierce
For any but eye witness to rehearse.
Yet sundry times in places where they came
Upon the
Indian
skins they carv'd their name.
The trees stood Sentinels, and bullets flew
From every bush (a shelter for their crew)
Hence came our wounds and deaths from every side,
While sculking enemies squat undescri'd,
That every stump shot like a Musquetier,
And Bows with Arrows every tree did bear.
The Swamps were Courts of Guard, thither retired
The straggling blew-Coats when their Guns were fired
In dark Meanders, and these winding Groves,
Where Bears and Panthers with their Monarch moves.
These far more cruel slily hidden lay,
Expecting
English
men to move that way.
One Party lets them slip, the other greets
Them with the next thing to their winding sheets;
Most fall, the rest thus startled back return,
And from their by-past foes receive an urn.
Here fell a Captain, to be named with tears,
Who for his Courage left not many Peers,
With many more who scarce a number left
To tell how treacherously they were bereft.
This flusht the Pagan-courage, now they think
The victory theirs, not lacking meat or drink.
The ranging Wolves find here and there a prey,
And having filled their paunch they run away
By their Hosts light, the thanks which they return
Is to lead Captives, and their Taverns burn.
Many whose thrift had stored for after-use
Sustain their wicked plunder and abuse.
Poor people spying an unwonted light,
Fearing a Martyrdom, in sudden fright
Leap to the door to fly, but all in vain,
They are surrounded with a Pagan train;
Their first salute is death, which if they shun,
Some are condemned the Gauntelet to run;
Death would a mercy prove to such as those
Who feel the rigor of such hellish foes.
Posts daily on their
Pegase
••
Steeds,
Bring sad Reports of worse then
Nero
's deeds;
Such brutish Murthers as would paper stain,
Not to be heard in a
Domitians
Reign.
The Field which Nature hid is common laid,
And Mothers Bodies ripped for lack of aid.
The secret Cabinets which Nature meant
To hide her Master-Piece is open rent;
The half-formed Infant there receives a death
Before it sees the light, or draw its breath;
Many hot welcomes from the Natives arms,
Hid in their sculking holes, many alarms
Our brethren had, and weary weary trants,
Sometimes in melting heats and pinching wants:
Sometimes the Clouds with sympathizing tears,
Ready to burst, discharged about their ears;
Sometimes on craggy hills, anon in bogs
And miry swamps better befitting hogs,
And after tedious Marches, little boast
Is to be heard of stew'd, or back'd, or roast,
Their b
•
ds are Hurdles, open house they keep
Through shady boughs the sta
•
s upon them peep;
Their Crystal drink drawn from the Mothers breast
Disposes not to mirth, but sleep and rest.
Thus many days and weeks some months run out
To find and quell the vagabonding Rout,
Who like Inchanted Castles fair appear,
But all is vanished if you come but near;
Just so we might the
Pagan
Archers track
With towns and Merchandize upon their back;
And thousands in the
South
who settled down,
To all the Points and Winds are quickly blown.
At many Meetings of their fleeting crew,
From whom, like hail, arrows and bullets flew
:
The
English
courage with whole swarms dispute,
Hundreds they hack in pieces in pursuit.
Sed haud impune, English
sides do feel,
As well as tawny skins, the lead and steel;
And some such gallant Sparks by bullets fell,
As might have cursed the Powder back to Hell
:
Had only Swords these Skirmishes decided
All
Pagan Sculls
had been long since divided.
The lingering War out-lives the Summer-Sun,
Who hence departs hoping it might be done
Ere his Return at
Spring;
but ah, he will find
The Sword still drawn, men of unchanged mind.
Cold Winter now nibbles at hands and toes
And shrewdly pinches both our friends and foes.
Fierce
Boreas
whips the
Pagan
tribe together,
Advising them to fit for Foes and Weather
:
The Axe which late had tasted Christian blood,
Now sets its steely teeth to feast on wood.
The forests suffer now, by weight constrained
To kiss the Earth with soldiers lately brained.
The lofty Oaks and Ash do wag their head
To see so many of their Neighbors dead;
Their fallen Carcasses are carried thence
To stand our Enemies in their defense.
Their Myrmidous enclosed with clefts of Trees,
Are busy like the Ants or nimble Bees:
And first they limber Poles fix in the ground,
In figure of the Heavens convex
•
all round
They draw their Arras-mats, and skins of beasts,
And under these the E
•
ves do make their Nests.
Rome
took more time to grow then twice six hours,
But half that time will serve for
Indian
bowers.
A City shall be reared in one days space
As shall an hundred English-men out-face.
In several Precincts there swarms unite,
Rather to keep a Winter-Guard then fight;
A dem and dismal Swamp some Scout had found
Whose bosom was a spot of rising ground,
Hedg'd up with mighty Oaks, Maples and Ashes,
Nurst up with springs, quick bogs, and miry plashes,
A Place which Nature coin'd on very nonce
For tygers, not for Men to be a Sconce.
'Twas here these Monsters, shap'd and faced like men,
Took up their Rendezvouz and b
•
umal den,
Deeming the depth of snow, hail, frost and ice,
Would make our Infantry more tame and wise,
Then by forsaking beds and loving Wives,
Meerly for
Indian
skins to hazard lives:
These hopes had something calm'd the boiling passion
Of this in
•
orrigible warlike Nation.
During this short
Parenthesis
of Peace
Our forces found, but left him not at ease.
Here English valor most illustrious shone,
Finding their numbers ten times ten to one.
A shower of leaden Hail our Capt
•
ins feel,
Which made the bravest Blades among us reel.
Like to some Ant-hill newly spurn'd abroad,
Where each takes heels and bears away his load:
Instead of Plate and Jewels
Indian
Trayes,
With baskets up they snatch, and run their ways.
Sundry the Flames arrest, and some the blade,
By bullets heaps on heaps of
Indians
laid.
The Flames like lightning in their narrow streets,
Dart in the face of everyone it meets.
Here might be heard an hideous
Indian
cry,
O
•
wounded ones who in the Wigwams fry.
H
•
d we been
Cannibals,
here might we feast
On brave
Westphalia
Gammons ready dressed.
The tawny Hue is
Ethiopic
made
Of such, on whom
Vulcan
his clutches laid.
Their fate was sudden, our advantage great
To give them once for all a grand defeat;
But tedious travel had so crampt our Toes,
It was too hard a task to chase the foes.
Distinctness in the numbers of the slain,
Or the account of Pagans which remain,
Are both uncertain, losses of our own
Are too too sadly felt, too sadly known.
Warr digs a common Grave for friends and foes,
Captains in with the private soldier throws.
Six of our Leaders in the first assault,
Crave re-admission to their Mothers Vault,
Who had they fell in ancient
Homers
days,
Had been enroll'd with
Hecatombs
of praise.
As Clouds dispersed, the
Natives
Troops divide,
And like the Streams along the thickets glide.
Some breathing time we had, and short God knows,
But new alarums from recruited foes
Bounce at our ears, the mountain clouds of smoke
From martyred towns the Heavens for aid invoke;
Churches, Barns, Houses, with most pond'rous things
Made volatile, fly over the Land with wings.
Hundreds of Cattle now they sacrifice
For aiery spirits up to gormandize;
And to the
Molech
of their Hellish guts,
Which craves the flesh in gross, their Ale in Butts.
Lancaster, Mendon, Medfield,
wildred
Groton,
With many Villages by me not thought on,
Dy in their youth by Fire that useful foe,
Which this grand Cheat the world will overflow.
The wandering Priest to everyone he meets
Preaches his Churches Funeral in the streets.
Sheep from their Fold are frighted. Keepers too
Put to their trumps not knowing what to do.
This Monster War hath hatched a beauteous Dove
In dogged hearts, of most unfeigned love;
Fraternal love, the livery of a Saint
Being come in fashion, though by sad constraint;
Which if it thrive and prosper with us long
Will make
New-England
forty thousand strong.
But off the Table Hand, let this suffice
As the Abridgement of our miseries.
If Mildew Famine, Sword, and Fired Towns,
If Slaughter, Captivating, Deaths and Wounds,
If daily Whippings once Reform our Ways,
These all will issue in our Fathers Praise;
If otherwise, the Sword must never rest
Till all
New-England's
Glory it divest.
FINIS.