Upon the stately structure of Bow-Church and steeple, burnt, an. 1666, rebuilt, 1679, or, A second poem upon nothing Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680. 1679 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A57504 Wing R1761A ESTC R213194 31355831 ocm 31355831 110704 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A57504) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 110704) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1752:10) Upon the stately structure of Bow-Church and steeple, burnt, an. 1666, rebuilt, 1679, or, A second poem upon nothing Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680. 1 sheet ([1] p.). s.n., [London : 1679?] Attributed by Wing (2nd ed.) to John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. Imperfect: cropped, with loss of text. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Saint Mary le Bow (Church : London, England) -- Poetry. Church buildings -- England -- London. London (England) -- History -- 17th century. Broadsides -- London (England) -- 17th century. 2002-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-05 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-06 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2002-06 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-07 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Upon the Stately Structure OF Bow-Church and Steeple , Burnt , An. 1666. Rebuilt , 1679. OR A Second PsM upon NOTHING ! LOok how the Country-Hobbs with wonder flock To see the City-crest , turn'd Weathercock ! Which with each shifting Gale , veres to and fro ; London has now got twelve Strings to her Bow ! The Wind 's South-East , and straight the Dragon russels His brazen wings , to court the Breeze from Brussels ! The Wind 's at North ! and now his Hissing fork , Whirles round , to meet a flattering gale from York ! Boxing the Compass , with each freshing Gale , But still to London turns his threatning Tayle . But stay ! what 's there ; I spy a stranger thing ; Our Red-cross brooded by the Dragon's wing ! The wing is warm ; but O! beware the sting ! Poor English-Cross , expos'd to winds , and weathers , Forc't to seek shelter in the Dragon's feathers ! Ne're had old Rome so rare a Piece to brag on , A Temple built to Great Bell , and the Dragon ! Whilst yet undaunted Protestants , dare hope , They that will worship Bell , shall wear the Rope . O how our English Chronicles will shine ! Burn't , sixty six ; Rebuilt , in seventy nine . When Iacob Hall on his High Rope shews tricks , The Dragon flutters ; the Lord Mayor's Horse , kicks ; The Cheapside-crowds , and Pageants scarcely know Which most t' admire , Hall , Hobby-horse , or Bow ! But what mad Frenzy set your Zeal on fire , ( Grave Citizens ! ) to Raise Immortal Spire On Sea-coal Basis ? which will sooner yield Matter to Burn a Temple , than to Build ! What the Coals build , the Ashes bury ! no men Of wisdom , but would dread the threatning Omen ! But say ( Proud Dragon ! ) now preferr'd so High , What Marvels from that Prospect dost thou spy ? Westward thou seest , and seeing hat'st the Walls Of , sometimes Rev'rend , now Regenerate , Pauls , Thy envious eyes , such glories cannot brook , But as the Devil once o're Lincoln , look : And envys Poison , will thy Bowels Tear Sooner than Daniel's Dose , of Pitch , and Hair ! Then Eastward , to avoid that wounding sight , Th 〈…〉 light Adorn'd with Monstrous forms to clear the scope , How much thou art out-dragon'd by the Pope . Ah fools ! to dress a Monument of woe In whistling Silks , that should in Sackcloth , go ! Nay strangely wise , our Senators appear To build That , and a Bedlam in a year , That if the Mum-glass crack , they may inherit An Hospital becoming their great merit ! To Royal Westminster , next turn thine eye ; Perhaps a Parliament thou mayst espy , Dragons of old gave Oracles at Rome ; Then Prophesie , their Day , their Date , and Doom ● And if thy Visual Ray can reach the Main ; Tell 's when the Duke , new gone , returns again ! Facing about ; next view our Guildhall well , Where Reverend Fox-furrs charm'd by potent spell Of Elephants , ( turn'd wrong side outward ) dare Applaud the Plays ; and yet hiss out the Player : Player ! whose wise Zeal for City , Country , King , Shall to all points of the wide Compass ring Whilst Bow has Bells , or Royal Thames a Spring ! Thy Roving Eye perhaps from Hague may send 's How the New League , has made old Foes , new Friends : But let substantial witness , Credence give it , Or Ne're believe me , if the House believe it ! If true , I fear too late ! France at one sup , ( Like Pearls dissolv'd in Cloepatra's Cup ) Trade , Empire , Neatherlands has swallowed up ! But heark ! The Dragon speaks from Brazen Mouth , Whose words , though wind , are spoken in Good south ! To you of Ratling fame , and great esteem ; The higher placed , the less you ought to seem ! To you of noble souls , and gallant minds , Learn to outface ( with me ) the Huffing winds ! To tim'rous feeble spirits , that live beneath ; Learn not of me to turn with every breath ! To those who like ( Camelions ) live on Air ; Popular Praise is thin Consumptive fare ! To you who Steeple upon Steeple set , Cut my Cocks-comb if e're to Heaven you get .