Iter Boreal
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Project Note
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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
ITER BOREALE.
Attempting something upon the Successful and Matchless March of the Lord General GEORGE MONCK, FROM SCOTLAND, TO LONDON, The last Winter, &c.
Veni, Vidi, Vici.
By a Rural Pen.
LONDON, Printed on S t GEORGE'S Day, for George Thomason, at the Rose and Crown in St Paul's Church-Yard. 1660
ITER BOREALE. Attempting something upon the Successful and Matchless March of the Lord General GEORGE MONCK, from Scotland to London, the last Winter.
I.
THe day is broke!
Melpomene
be gone;
Hag of my Fancy, let me now alone:
Night-mare my soul no more; Go take thy flight;
Where Traitors Ghosts keep an eternal night;
Flee to Mount
Caucasus,
and bear thy part
With the black Fowl that tears
Prometheus
heart
For his bold Sacrilege: Go fetch the groans
Of defunct Tyrants, with them croak thy Tones;
Go see
Alecto
with her flaming whip,
How she firks
Nol,
and makes old
Bradshaw
skip:
Go make thyself away.—Thou shalt no more
Choak up my Standish with the blood and gore
Of English Tragedies: I now will choose
The merriest of the Nine to be my Muse,
And (come what will) I will scribble once again:
The brutish Sword hath cut the Nobler Vein
Of racy Poetry. Our small drink times
Must be contented, and take up with Rhymes.
Thy're sorry toys from a poor Levites pack,
Whose Living and Assessments drink no Sack.
The Subject will excuse the Verse (I trow)
The Ven'son's fat although the Crust be dow,
II.
I He who whilcom sat and sung in Cage
My Kings & Countries Ruines, by the rage
Of a rebellious Rout: Who weeping saw,
Three goodly Kingdoms (drunk with fury) draw
And sheath their Swords (like three enraged Brothers)
In one another's sides, ripping their Mothers
Belly, and tearing out her bleeding heart;
Then jealous that their Father fain would part
Their bloody Fray, and let them fight no more,
Fell foul on him, and slew him at his door.
I that have only dared to whisper Verses,
And drop a tear (by stealth) on loyal Herses,
I that enraged at the
Times
and
Rump,
Had gnaw'd my Goose-quill to the very stump,
And flung that in the fire, no more to write
But to set down poor
Britain's Heraclyte;
Now sing the triumphs of the Men of War,
The glorious rays of the bright Northern Star,
Created for the nonce by Heaven, to bring
The Wisemen of three Nations to their King:
MONCK!
the great
Monk!
That syllable out-shines
Plantagenet
's bright name or
Constantine
's.
'Twas at his Rising that
Our Day
begun,
Be He the
Morning Star
to
Charles
our
Sun:
He took Rebellion rampant, by the Throat,
And made the Canting
Quaker
change his Note
His Hand it was that wrote (we saw no more)
Exit Tyrannus
over
Lambert
's door:
Like to some subtle Lightning, so his words
Dissolved in their Scabbards Rebels swords:
He with success the sovereign skill hath found,
To dress the Weapon, and so heal the Wound.
George,
and his Boys (as Spirits do, they say)
Only by Walking scare our Foes away.
III.
OLd
Holofernes
was no sooner laid,
Before the Idols Funeral Pomp was paid,
(Nor shall a penny ere be paid for me;
Let Fools that trusted, his true Mourners be.)
Richard
the fourth, just peeping out of Squire,
No fault so much as, Th' old one was his Sire;
For men believed—though all went in his Name,
He'd be but Tennant, till the Landlord came:
When on a sudden (all amazed) we found
The seven Years
Babel
tumbled to the ground;
And he, poor heart, (thanks to his cunning Kin)
Was soon in
Querpo
honest
Dick
agen.
Exit Protector.
—What comes next? I trow▪
Let the State-Hunsmen beat again.—So-ho
Cries
Lambert,
Master of the Hounds,—Here sits
That lusty Puss,
The Good Old Cause,
—whose wits
Shew'd
Oliver
such sport; That, that (cries
Vane)
Let's put her up, and run her once again:
She'l lead our Doggs and Followers up and down,
Whilst we match Families, and take the Crown.
Enter the old Members; 'Twas the Month of
May
These Maggots in the Rump began to play.
Wallingford
Anglers (though they stunk) yet thought,
They would make baits, by which fish might be caught;
And so it proved; They soon by Taxes made
More money then the
Holland
Fishing Trade.
IIII.
NOw broke in
Aegypts
Plagues (all in a day)
And one more worse then theirs;—We must not pray
To be delivered:—Their scabb'd folks were free
To scratch where it did itch;—So might not we.
That Meteor
Cromwell,
though he scared, gave light;
But wewere now covered with horrid Night:
Our Magistracy was (like
Moses
Rod)
Turn'd to a Serpent by the angry God.
Poor Citizens, when trading would not do,
Made brick without straw, & were basted too:
Struck with the botch of Taxes and Excise;
Servants (our very dust) were turned to lice;
It was but turning Soldiers, and they need
Not work at all, but on their Masters feed.
Strang Catterpillers eat our pleasant things;
And Frogs croakt in the Chambers of our Kings.
Black bloody veins did in the Rump prevail,
Lik the Philistines Emrods in the Tayle.
Lightning, Hail, Fire, and Thunder
Egypt
had,
And
England
Guns, Shot, Powder, (that's as bad)
And that Sea-Monster
Lawson
(if withstood)
Threatned to turn our Rivers into blood.
And (Plague of all these Plagues) all these Plagues fell
Not on an
Egypt,
but our
Israel.
V.
SIck (as her heart can hold) the Nation lies,
Filling each corner with her hideous cries;
Sometime Rage (like a burning Fever) heats,
Anon Dispair brings cold and clammy Sweats;
She cannot sleep, or if she doth she dreams
Of Rapes, Thefts, Burnings, Blood, & direful Theames,
Tosses from side to side, then by and by
Her feet are laid there where the head did lie:
None can come to her but bold Empiricks,
Who never meant to cure her, but try tricks:
Those very Doctors who should give her ease,
(God help the Patient) was her worst disease.
Th' Italian Mountebank
Vane
tells us sure,
Jesuits powder will effect the cure:
If grief but makes her swell,
Martin
&
Nevill
Conclude it is a spice of the Kings Evil.
Bleed her again, another cries;—And
Scot
Saith he could cure her, if 'twas—you know what:
But giddy
Harrington
a whimsey found,
To make her head (like to his brains) run round.
Her old and wise Physicians who before
Had well nigh cured her, came again to th' door.
But were kept out—which made her cry the more,
Help, help,
(dear Children)
Oh! some pity take
On her who bore you! Help for mercy sake!
Oh heart! Oh head! Oh back! Oh bones! I feel
They've poison'd me with giving too much Steel:
Oh give me that for which I long and cry!
Something that's
Sovereign,
or else I die.
VI.
KInd
Cheshire
heard; And like some son that stood
Upon the Banck, straight jump'd into the Flood,
Flings out his arms, and strikes some strokes to swim,
Booth
ventured first, and
Midleton
with him,
Stout
Mackworth, Egerton,
and thousands more,
Threw themselves in, and left the safer shore;
Massey
(that famous Diver) and bold
Brown
Forsook his wharfe,—resolving all to drow,
Or save a sinking Kingdom:—But, O sad!
Fearing to lose her prey, the Sea grew mad,
Rais'd all her billows, and resolved her waves
Should quickly be the bold Adventurers graves.
Out Marches
Lambert,
like an Eastern wind,
And with him all the mighty waters join'd.
The loyal swimmers bore up heads and breasts,
Scorning to think of life or interests;
They ply'd their Arms and Thighs, but all in vain;
The furious Main beat them to shore again;
At which the floating Island (looking back,
Spying her loyal Lovers gone to wrack)
Shriekt louder then before,—and thus she cries,
"Can you ye angry Heavens, and frowning Skies,
"Thus countenance Rebellious Mutineers,
"Who if they durst, would be about your ears:
"That I should sink, with Justice may accord,
"Who let my Pilot be thrown over-board;
"Yet 'twas not I (ye righteous heavens do know)
"The Soldiers in me needs would have it so:
"And those who conjur'd up these Storms themselves,
"And first engaged me 'mongst these Rocks & Shelves,
"Guilty of all my woes, erect this weather,
"Fearing to come to Land, & choosing rather
"To sink me with themselves.—O! Cease to frown,
"In tears (just Heavens!) behold! myself I drown:
"Let not these proud Waves doit: Prevent my fears,
"And let them fall together by the Ears.
VII.
HEaven heard, & struck th' insulting Army mad,
Drunk with their
Cheshire
Tryumps, straight they
NewLights appeared; And new Rosolves they take, had
A Single Person once again to make.
Who shall be he? Oh!
Lambert,
without Rub,
The fittest Devil to be
Belzebub.
He, the fierce Friend, cast out o' th' house before,
Return'd, & threw the House now out of door:
A Legion then he raised of Armed Sprights,
Elves, Goblins, Fairies, Quakers, & new Lights,
To be his under-Devils; with this rest
He Soul and Body (Church and State) possessed:
Who though they filled all Countries, Towns, & Rooms,
Yet (like that Fiend that did frequent the Tombs)
Churches, and Sacred Ground they haunted most,
No Chapel was at ease from some such Ghost.
The Priests ordained to Exorcise those Elves,
Were Voted Devils, and cast out themselves:
Bible, or Alchoron, all's one to them,
Religion serves but for a Stratagem:
The holy Charms these Adders did not heed,
Churches themselves did Sanctuary need.
VIII.
THe Churches Patrimony and rich store,
Alas! was swallowed many years before:
Bishops
and
Deans
we fed upon before,
They were the
Ribs
and
Surloyns
of the Whore:
Now let her Legs (the Priests) go to the Pot,
(They have the
Pop's eye
in them) spare them not:
We have fat Benefices yet to ear,
(Bell,
and our
Dragon-
Army must have meat)
Let us devour her Limb-meal, great & samll,
Tythe Calves, Geese, Pigs, the Pettitoes & all:
A Vicarage in Sippets, though it be
But small, will serve a squeamish Sectary.
Though Universities we cannot endure,
Ther's no false Latin in their Lands (be sure.)
Give
Oxford
to our Horse, and let the Foot
Take
Cambridge
for their booty, and fall toit.
Christ-Church
I will have (cries
Vane) Disbrow
swops
At
Trinity; King
's is for
Berry
's chops;
Kelsey,
take
Corpus Chrifii; All-Souls, Packer;
Carve
Creed,
St
John's; New College,
leave to
Hacker;
Fleetwood
cries,
Weeping Maudlin
shall be mine,
Her tears I will drink instead of Muscadine:
The smaller
Halls
and
Houses
scarce are big
Enough to make one dish for
Hesilrig;
We must be sure'to stop his mouth, though wide
Else all our Fat will bei'th' fire (they cried:
And when we have done these, we'll not be quiet
Lordships, and Landlords Rents shall be our diet.
Thus talked this jolly crew, but still mine Host
Lambret,
resolves that he will rule the Rost.
XI.
BUt hark! Me thinks I hear old
Boreas
blow,
What mean the North winds that they bluster so?
More storms from that black nook? Forbear!(bold
Scot)
Let not
Dunbar
and
Worcester
be forgot:
What? Would you chasser w'us for one
Charles
more?
The price of Kings is fallen, give the Trade over.
And is the price of Kings and Kingdoms too,
Of Laws, Lives, Oaths, Souls, grown so low with you?
Perfidious Hypocrites! Monsters of men!
(Cries the good
Monk)
We'll raise their price agen.
Heaven said
Amen;
and breathed upon that spark;
That spark (preserved alive in the' cold and dark)
First kindled and enflam'd the British Isle,
And turned it all to Bonfires, in a while:
He and his fuel was so small, no doubt,
Proud
Lambart
thought to tread, or piss thē out.
But
George
was wary;—His cause did require
A Pillar of a Cloud as well as Fire:
'Twas not his safest course to flame, but smoke;
His Enemies he will not burn, but choke:
Smal Fires must not blaze out, lest by their light
They show their weakness, and their Foes invite:
But Furnaces the stroutest Mettals melt
(And so did He) by fire not seen but felt:
Dark-Lanthorn Language, and his peep-boe play,
Will-E-Wispt Lambert
's New-Lights out o'th' way.
George,
and his Boys, those thousand (Ostrange thing)
Of
Snipes
and
Woodcocks,
took by Lowbelling.
His few Scotch-Coal kindled with English fire,
Made
Lambert
's great
Newcastle
heaps expire.
X.
SCotland,
(though poor, and peevish) was content
To keep the Peace, and (O rare!) money lent;
But yet the blessing of their Kirk was more;
George
had that too; and with this slender store
He & his Mirmidons advance—Kind Heaven
Prepar'd a frost to make their march more even,
Easie, and safe; it may be said That year
Of th' Highways, Heaven itself was Overfeer,
And made
November
ground as hard as
May;
White as their Innocence, so was their way:
The Clouds came down in feather-beds, to greet
Him and his Army, and to kiss their feet.
The Frost and foes both came and went together,
Both thaw'd away, and vanished God knows whither.
Whole Countries crowded in to see this Friend,
Ready to cast their bodies down, to mend
His Road to
Westminster;
and still they shout,
Lay hold of th'
Rump,
and pull the
Monster
out:
A new one, or a whole one
(Good my Lord)
And to this cry the Island did accord.
The Echo of the Irish hollow ground
Heard
England,
& her language did rebound.
XI.
PResto—Jack Lambert,
and his Sprights are gone
To dance a Jigg with's brother
Oberon:
George
made him, and his cut-throats of our lives,
Swallow their Swords, as JugIers do their Knives.
And Carter
Disborough
to wish in vain,
He now were Waggoner to
Charles
his Wain.
The Conqueror is now come into th' South,
Whose warm Air is made hot by every mouth;
Breathing his welcome, and in spite of
Scot,
Crying,—
The whole child
(Sir)
divide it not.
The Rump begins to stink; Alas! (cry they)
W'have raised a Devil which we cannot lay;
I like him not—His belly is so big,
There's a King init, cries furious
Hesilrig,
Let's brib Him (they cry all) Carve him a share
Of our stolen Venison.—Varlet, forbear,
In vain you put your Lime-twiggs to his Hands
Gorge Monk
is for the King, not for his Lands.
When fair means would not do, next foul they try,
Vote him the City Scavenger (they cry)
Send him to scowr their Streets—Well, let it be,
Your Rumpships wants a scouring too (thinks he)
That fonl House where your Worships many year
Have laid your Tayl, sure wants a Scavenger:
I smell your Fizle, though it make no Crack,
You'ld mount me on the Cities galled back,
In hope she'l cast her Rider: If I must
Upon some Office in the Town be thrust,
I will be their Sword-bearer- and to their Dagger
I will join my Sword:—Nay (goodRump) do not swagger:
The City feasts me, and as sure as Gun)
I will mend all
England's
Commons e're I have done.
XII.
ANd so He did: One Morning next his heart
He goes to
Westminster,
and played his part,
He vampt their Boots (which
Hewson
never could do)
With better leather, and made them go upright too.
The restored Members
(Cato
like no doubt)
Did only Enter that They might go out,
They did not mean within those Walls to dwell,
Nor did they like their Company so well:
Yet Heaven so blest them, that in three weeks space
They gave both Church and State a better face,
They gave
Booth, Massey, Brown,
some kinder lots;
The last years Traitors, this years Patriots:
The Churches poor Remainder they made good,
And washed the Nations Hands of Royal Blood,
And that a Parliament (they did devise)
From its own ashes
(Phoenix-
like) might rise;
This done, By
Act
and
Deed
that might not fail,
They past a Fine, and so cut off
th' Entail.
XIII.
LEt the Bells ring these Changes now from
Bow
Down to the Country Candlesticks below,
Ringers
Hands of; The Bells themselves will dance
In memory of their own deliverance:
Had not
George
showed his Mettle, and said Nay,
Each Sectary had born the Bell away:
Down with them all, they are Christened (cried that Crew)
Tye up their Clappers, and the Parsons too;
Turn then to Guns, or sell them to the
Dutch,
Nay, hold (quoth
George)
my Masters, that's too much;
You will not leap over Steeples thus, I hope,
I will save the Bells, but you may take the Rope.
Thus lay Religion panting for her life,
Like
Isaac,
bound under the bloody knife;
George
held the falling Weapon, saved the Lamb:
Let
Lambert
(in the Briars) be the
Ram.
So lay the Royal Virgin (as 'tis told)
When brave St
George
redeemed her life, of old.
Oh that the Knaves that have consumed our Land,
Had but permitted Wood enough to stand
To be his Bonfires;—We'd burn every stem,
And leave no more but Gallow-Trees for them:
XIV.
MArch on, Great Heore! as thou hast begun,
And Crown our happiness before Th'ast done:
We have another
Charles
to fetch from
Spain,
Be thou the
George
to bring him back again:
Then shalt thou be (what was denied that Knight)
Thy Princes, and the Peoples Favorite.
There is no danger of the winds at all,
Unless together by the Ears they fall,
Who shall the honor have to waft a King,
And they who gain it, while they work, shall sing.
Me-thinks I see how those triumphant Gales,
Proud of the great Employment, swell the Sails;
The Joyful ship shall dance, the Sea shall laugh,
And loyal Fish their Masters health shall quaff;
See how the
Dolphins
crowd & thrust their large
And scaly shoulders, to assist the Barge:
The peaceful Kingfishers are met togother
About the Decks, and prophesy calm weather,
Poor Crabs & Lobsters are gone down to creep
And search for Pearls and Jewels in the deep;
And when they have the booty—crawl before
And leave them for his welcome to the Shore.
XV.
MEthinks I see how throngs of people stand
Scarce patient till the Vessel come to land,
Ready to leap in, and if need require
With Tears of Joy to make the waters higher:
But what will
London
do? I doubt Old
Paul
With bowing to his Sovereign will fall.
The Royal Lions from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore:
The Conduits will be ravished, and combine
To turn their very water into wine:
And for the Citizens, I only pray
They may not overjoy'd all die that day.
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to
Caesar
and to God their due.
We'l make his Fathers Tomb with tears to swim,
And for the Son, we'll shed our blood for him:
England
her penitential Song shall sing
And take heed how she quarrels with her King.
If for our sins—Our Prince shall be misled,
We'll bite our nails rather then scratch our Head.
XVI.
ONe English
George
out-weighs alone (by odds)
A whole Committee of the Heathen God's;
Pronounce but
Monk,
and it is all his due)
He is our
Mercury, Mars,
and
Neptune
too.
Monk
(what great
Xerxes
could not) proved the Man
That with a word shackled the Ocean;
He shall command
Neptune
himself to bring
His Trident, and present it to our King.
Oh do it then great Admiral.—Away,
Let him be here against St
George
's day;
That
Charles
may wear His
Dieu et Mondroit,
And Thou the Noble Garter'd
Honi Soit.
And when thy aged Corps shall yield to Fate,
God save that soul that saved our
Church
and
State:
There thou shalt have a glorious Crown, I know,
Who Crown'dst our King and Kingdoms here below.
But who shall find a Pen fit for thy glory?
Or make Posterity believe thy Story.
Vive St GEORGE.