Текст оригинала на английском языке
The Scots Apostasie
Is't come to this? What shall the cheeks of fame Stretch'd with the breath of learned Loudon's name, Be flogg'd again? And that great piece of sense, As rich in loyalty and eloquence, Brought to the test be found a trick of state, Like chemist's tinctures, proved adulterate; The devil sure such language did achieve, To cheat our unforewarned grand-dam Eve, As this imposture found out to be sot The experienced English to believe a Scot, Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense, The Commons argument, or the City's pence? Or did you doubt persistence in one good, Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood, Projected first in such a forge of sin, Was fit for the grand devil's hammering? Or was't ambition that this damned fact Should tell the world you know the sins you act? The infamy this super-treason brings. Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings; A crime so black, as being advisedly done, Those hold with these no competition. Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie The assassination of monarchy, Beyond this sin no one step can be trod. If not to attempt deposing of your God. O, were you so engaged, that we might see Heav'ns angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee, Till you were shrivell'd to dust, and your cold land Parch't to a drought beyond the Libyan sand! But 'tis reserv'd till Heaven plague you worse; The objects of an epidemic curse, First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends Your power hath bawded, cease to be your friends; And prompted by the dictate of their reason; And may their jealousies increase and breed Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed. In foreign nations may your loathed name be A stigmatizing brand of infamy; Till forced by general hate you cease to roam The world, and for a plague live at home: Till you resume your poverty, and be Reduced to beg where none can be so free To grant: and may your scabby land be all Translated to a generall hospital. Let not the sun afford one gentle ray, To give you comfort of a summer's day; But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war, Love cherished only by the northern star. No stranger deign to visit your rude coast, And be, to all but banisht men, as lost. And such in heightening of the indiction due Let provok'd princes send them all to you. Your State a chaos be, where not the law, But power, your lives and liberties may give. No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast But each man strive through blood to be the best; Till, for those miseries on us you've brought By your own sword our just revenge be wrought. To sum up all ... let your religion be As your allegiance--maskt hypocrisie Until when Charles shall be composed in dust Perfum'd with epithets of good and just. He saved--incensed Heaven may have forgot-- To afford one act of mercy to a Scot: Unless that Scot deny himself and do What's easier far--Renounce his nation too.
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