THE NEW LITANY.
From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum. Satires in the form of a litany were common from 1646 to 1746, and even later.
From an extempore prayer and a godly ditty,
From the churlish government of a city,
From the power of a country committee,
Libera nos, Domine.
From the Turk, the Pope, and the Scottish nation,
From being govern’d by proclamation,
And from an old Protestant, quite out of fashion,
Libera, etc.
From meddling with those that are out of our reaches,
From a fighting priest, and a soldier that preaches,
From an ignoramus that writes, and a woman that teaches,
Libera, etc.
From the doctrine of deposing of a king,
From the Directory, [2] or any such thing,
From a fine new marriage without a ring,
Libera, etc.
From a city that yields at the first summons,
From plundering goods, either man or woman’s,
Or having to do with the House of Commons,
Libera, etc.
From a stumbling horse that tumbles o’er and o’er,
From ushering a lady, or walking before,
From an English-Irish rebel, newly come o’er, [3]
Libera, etc.
From compounding, or hanging in a silken altar,
From oaths and covenants, and being pounded in a mortar,
From contributions, or free-quarter,
Libera, etc.
From mouldy bread, and musty beer,
From a holiday’s fast, and a Friday’s cheer,
From a brother-hood, and a she-cavalier,
Libera, etc.
From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you,
From Thomas Turn-coat, that will never prove true,
From a reverend Rabbi that’s worse than a Jew,
Libera, etc.
From a country justice that still looks big,
From swallowing up the Italian fig,
Or learning of the Scottish jig,
Libera, etc.
From being taken in a disguise,
From believing of the printed lies,
From the Devil and from the Excise, [4]
Libera, etc.
From a broken pate with a pint pot,
For fighting for I know not what,
And from a friend as false as a Scot,
Libera, etc.
From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can,
From an old woman and a Parliament man,
From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man,
Libera, etc.
From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men,
From Independents and their tub-men,
From sheriffs’ bailiffs, and their club-men,
Libera, etc.
From one that cares not what he saith,
From trusting one that never payeth,
From a private preacher and a public faith,
Libera, etc.
From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff,
From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough,
From beads and such idolatrous stuff,
Libera, etc.
From holydays, and all that’s holy,
From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that’s jolly
From Latin or learning, since that is folly,
Libera, etc.
And now to make an end of all,
I wish the Roundheads had a fall,
Or else were hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall.
Amen.
Benedicat Dominus.