English Puritan & Reformed

The Lord Staffords Ghost

Christopher Ness (1621-1705) · 1,010 words · 4 min

The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo2/A52814.0001.001

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

        THE
        
         Lord Staffords
        
        GHOST: OR, A Warning to TRAITORS, WITH His Prophesy Concerning the Blazing-Star.
       
         [illustration]
        
         [illustration]
        
        Printed in the Year, 1680.
       
       THE LORD Staffords Ghost, &c.
      
       FRom
       
        Stygian
       
       shades, lo, my pale Ghost doth rise,
      
       To visit Earth, and these subluhar Skies;
      
       For some few moments I am in Mercy sent,
      
       To bid my Fellow-
       
        Traitors
       
       to
       
        Repent:
       
       Repent before you taste of Horrid Fate,
      
       Your Guilt confess, before it be too late.
      
       I am not here arrived on Earth, to tell
      
       The hidden secrets that belong to
       
        Hell:
       
       Not am I sent to publish for declare,
      
       Who are tormenters, whom tormented there.
      
       For now I know that it is Heavens decree,
      
       These things to Mortals still shall secrets be;
      
       Who have fantastic Dreams, and nothing know,
      
       Of what is done above, or yet below:
      
       But I have seen with my immortal Eyes,
      
       Things that with horror do my Soul surprise;
      
       Too late alas, too late, I see my sin,
      
       With strange
       
        Chymera's
       
       I have deluded been,
      
       By a cursed brood, who sounded in my ear,
      
       Dye obstinate, no Chains of
       
        Conscience
       
       fear,
      
       Upon us firmly let your Faith be built,
      
       We can and do Absolve you from your Guilt;
      
       And after this, you need no more Repent,
      
       For you a
       
        Martyr
       
       die, and
       
        Innocent,
       
       O cursed Men, who on Wretches thus intrude,
      
       And thus poor souls, Eternally delude.
      
       Whilst they believe what these deluders say,
      
       Life is snatched from them, and they drop away;
      
       And falling down, by
       
        Charon
       
       Death they are hurled
      
       Into the
       
        Mansions
       
       of a dismal World,
      
       Where
       
        Conscience
       
       stands, and stares them in the face,
      
       Showing a Table of Eternal Brass,
      
       In which in noted Characters are wrote
      
       Their whole life's crimes, which living they forgot,
      
       With
       
        Conscience
       
       these have an Eternal strife,
      
       And curse the vain delusive dreams of Life:
      
       With torment now their crimes read over and over,
      
       And wakeing, see they did but Dream before;
      
       Too late (and than too late what plague is worse?
      
       They see their folly, and themselves they curse;
      
       They curse themselves, because they did believe,
      
       And doubly curse those who did them deceive.
      
       When to the fatal Scaffold I was brought,
      
       I said and did what I was bid, and laughed,
      
       Tho'
       
        Conscience
       
       said, I did not what I ought.
      
       Stoutly the Guilt; as I was bid, denied,
      
       And for the
       
        Cause,
       
       I
       
        Rome's
       
       great
       
        Martyr
       
       died
      
       I that Religion then esteemed good,
      
       And gladly would have sealed it with my Blood,
      
       Because I then no better understood.
      
       Let not the World to vain delusions fly,
      
       I
       
        •
       
       id for
       
        Treason,
       
       not
       
        Religion
       
       die.
      
       Tho' on the Scaffold I would not confess,
      
       My Ghost, alas! too late, can do no less.
      
       Let all Complotters warning take by me,
      
       The World we may delude, but
       
        God
       
       doth see;
      
       Tho' what we did should never come to light,
      
       It cannot be hid from the Almighty's sight:
      
       Give God the Glory, and confess your Crime,
      
       Confess your horrid
       
        Treason
       
       while you've time;
      
       Public Confession shows you do Repent,
      
       And is the best way to grow Innocent.
      
        ••
       
       e too late, I have been led astray,
      
       And by
       
        Error,
       
       far from
       
        Truth,
       
       was led away;
      
       For that
       
        Religion
       
       never can be good,
      
       That would erect itself by Human Blood.
      
       I pin'd myself upon another's sleeve,
      
       And blindly I did as the Church believe;
      
       What my delusive Guides did bid me do,
      
       That I believed was
       
        Holy, Just,
       
       and
       
        True.
       
       With Zeal Facted, and hoped for Applause,
      
       Of Men and Heaven, in so good a
       
        Cause:
       
       But oh! I sigh, and now my Airy
       
        Ghost,
       
       Shivers to think what Blessings I have lost:
      
       The broad way to Destruction then I took,
      
       And Virtues Road my blinded Zeal mistook.
      
       But you my
       
        Friends,
       
       who yet are left behind,
      
       Now to yourselves, and to your Souls be kind.
      
       Open her Eyes, and be no longer blind,
      
       Pry my sad End, do you your Errors find.
      
       Confess your Crimes before it be too late,
      
       Confess, confess, before you yield to Fate:
      
       Before from Life, and from the World you go,
      
       Before that you descend to Shades below,
      
       Before your Souls taste of Eternal Woe.
      
        Truth
       
       cannot Dye, it stronger is than Death,
      
       Remains when Mortals have resigned their breath;
      
       To amazed Souls with
       
        Conscience
       
       she appears,
      
       To aggravate, and to increase their fears.
      
       Confess her while you live, though drawn to Sin,
      
        Repentance
       
       with
       
        Confession
       
       doth begin.
      
       Believe no longer that Accursed Brood,
      
       Who on the Necks of Kings have proudly trod,
      
       Nor him who thinks himself an Earthly God.
      
       Those
       
        Hectoring Jesuits
       
       who so Zealous be,
      
       Who think to Rule the world by Policy,
      
       Who to the
       
        Gallows
       
       seem with joy to come,
      
       To be the
       
        Martyrs,
       
       and the Saints of
       
        Rome.
       
       When Life is fled, and they are gone from hence,
      
       In tumbling down are waked into Sense;
      
       Where all amazed, and wondering where they've been,
      
       They howl, and cry, and wish to Dye agin.
      
       Beware I say, be fooled no longer here,
      
       For
       
        Rhadamanthus
       
       is a Judge severe.
      
       Hark! I am called, I must descend below,
      
       But let me
       
        Prophesy
       
       before I go:
      
       See the bright Star which over your heads doth shine,
      
       I can as well as
       
        Gadbury
       
       Divine;
      
       What the bright stream of Radient Light doth mean,
      
       Which every Night so frequently is seen.
      
       Hear me, O
       
        Rome,
       
       though in your Cause I died,
      
       Nigh is the setting of your Pomp and Pride:
      
       That
       
        Star
       
       doth show, that
       
        Day
       
       is near at hand,
      
       That
       
        Rome
       
       no longer shall the
       
        World
       
       command,
      
       And many years it hath not now to stand.
      
       By that bright stream, which still points to the
       
        East,
       
       The
       
        Everlasting Gospel's
       
       Light's expressed;
      
       Which just is breaking forth, and doth bespeak,
      
       That its most Glorious Day's about to break:
      
       When
       
        Peace,
       
       and
       
        Truth,
       
       and
       
        Righteousness
       
       shall stand,
      
       Everlasting Pillars set in every Land,
      
       And
       
        Christ
       
       in Power alone the world command.
      
       Then shall the
       
        World
       
       shine with Eternal Glory,
      
       And I perhaps, may then leave
       
        PURGATORY.
       
       Finis.