THE DOWN-FALL OF THE ARK. OR, THE MORNING-EXERCISE AT AN END. AND now the Ark is falling is there ne'er An Uzza left, of so many that dare Lend an obsequious hand, or hath of late The London Clergy met with Ely's Fate? Where is the Dapper Hero? where is he That danced before the Ark so merrily But t'other day, or doth he not resent The Ark, that did defend the Covenant? Say are the Presbyterian Champions fled? Is sturdy Vines, and thundering Marshal dead? Or do they now desert their Cause, or be They (with Cornelius and his Company) Cashiered, exploded, and disbanded all? What ne'er a Rendesvouz Provincial? Go knock at Zion College, ask for Mun, See what's become of Good old Simeon, And weeping Jeremy, than search the Signs For Spurstow, Jackson, and the Club Divines, Tell'em the Ark is falling, and will be ‛ thou't their Assistance lost eternally. Time was my Masters you could draw a sword, Beat Drums, sound Trumpets, and then fall aboard The Enemy, mount the next Pulpit thence, Curse Meros' for his sloth and negligence, St●nd stiffly to the Cause, never give over, Wi●nesse your Brother Ash at Marsenmore. Time was when you could fight with lips & hands, Could turn your Classes into Trained Bands, Thence, go a trouping to the neighbouring Towns, For swords and gauntlets, barter Scarves and Gowns, Court places of Command, swop brass for steel, Make Robin leave his Blow and Jug her wheel, Ferret out of their holes each Mother's son On the strict penance of damnation; But now the Ark is falling, now the vile And sordid Rabel threaten to dispoil Her of each sacred Gem and ornament, The Rod for Aaron and the Covenant; The pot of Money, and the golden Rings, The Bowls, the Spoons, the Lamps and other things She justly claims as hers, and only be The Monuments of pristine Charity; Now that the swearing and debauched spark Vow's that He'll make a Dagon of the Ark, Hue it to pieces, not a shred or bit, Nor the least Atom shall remain of it; But every fragment of it shall be thrown Into the deep gulf of Oblivion; How can you hold your peace and not express A Cruelty great as the Wickedness? Methinks I hear the Echo of your Cry, O use the Ark not so inhumanely! What fault, what fact, what mischief hath it done, 'Twas never friend to superstition, Or sacrilege, though some allied to Hell Avouch the Ark rose as the Temple fell? Saw but you how the scoffing multitude Deride the Ark, in what a scurvy rude Manner they treat the Exercise, you could Not possibly be silent though you would. Saith one, (and than he smiles) it was my Fate To meet the Ark last week at Cripplegate; Then then twent upon its last legs, t'other day 'Twas buried at Sepulchers others say, It had been so indeed a third Replies, But that some did deny it Obsequies And Sepulture, deeming it fitter that It should be brought forth to the City gate There to expire its last, and die, for so Notorious Malefactors use to do. A fourth will break a jest, he therefore cries Pish 'twas Tradiskins Ark of Novelties! A fist steps in and swear's that it was one Of the grand seedplots of Rebellion, The Trojan Horse out of whose fatal side Cohorts of armed Men did lately slide, That did molest, endanger, and annoy The British Kingdoms, and our English Troy. Good Lord how many men have left their wives Their pretty babies, ventured their lives! Taught by the Ark that they must both dispense With Life and Liberty for Conscience And purity, I can remember well The Ark was than the London Oracle. How have I seen the hasty Prentice fling His Apron off, the Brewer leave his sling; The Shoemaker his All, his wife and friend Forsake his Last perhaps to find his End; Weavers their Shuttles break, the Dyers vow They'll trade in none but scarlet colours now; The Merchant pisheth at such civil strife, Scorns now a lesser Venture than his Life, All sorts and ranks of men will now begun, Each doth desert his Occupation. Thus was our Ark for the first seven years Not carried upon staves, but swords and spears. In comes the last, but more ingeniously, Now that the waters are assuaged saith he, Now that the hills and mountains gi'en to peep Out of the bosom of the silent deep, And show themselves, now that the Royal Dove Hath brought an Olive branch of peace and Love, Vow's that he will have every petty crime And injury drowned in the sea of Time, O Let us all (from first and last conclude (In token of our joy and gratitude,) To split the Ark to pieces, may it ne'er stand A Monument of God's revenging hand, And our Offences, or if'ts worth our pains, Let us build Altars out of its remains, Where with devotion and solemnities, Offer we Loyal hearts in sacrifice! London, Printed 1661.