Poem by Thomas Parnell

On Ye Plott Against King William

Rome when she could King Pyrrhus Life have bought
She scornd a triumph So ignobly gott,
The treason & ye traitor both disdaind,
& ever Justly conquerd ever Justly reignd.
But (Like an Affrick) England serpents bears
Which would their parent country's bowels teare,
Our better Genius tumble Headlong down,
& sett our evil one upon ye throne.
The Titans wickedness nere reacht so high,
They fought but for ye empire of ye sky,
When Jove unjustly held the soveraignity.
That Godlike soul which doth inform our state
Gerion-like, ye'de conquer by deceit.
Ye in one stroke would make three kingdomes bleed,
& Leave our Iles as nile without a head.
Cease fooles with Hellish plotts to wrack your brain,
Ye Cannot wound a God, ye strive in vain;
Ixions fate again is acted here,
He for a Deity imbrac't, ye wounded, air. 

1. On Content
2. When Ore My Temples Balmy Vapours Rise
3. My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free
4. Since Bearing of a Gentle Mind
5. On the Death of Mr. Viner

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