LONDINENSES LACRYMAE LONDON'S Second Tears mingled with her Ashes A POEM By John Crouch Non Priamus tanti totaque Troja fuit CRONOGRAM Vrbs LonDon CoMbVsta fVIt M.DC.LXVI London Printed for T. Palmer at the Crown in Westminster-Hall 1666. Londinenses Lacrymae A POEM THou Queen of Cities whose unbounded fame Shadowed thy Country and thy Country's Name London that word filled the vast Globe Japan Saluted Londoner for Englishman 'T was thy peculiar and unrivalled pride At greatest distance to be magnified When thy next * Paris Christian Sister scarce does know Whether there be another World or no When the false  more known in Foreign parts Buy scorn with gold Merchants of wealth not hearts Good Heavens good in the most severe Decree Must London first burn in Epitome And then in gross Must O sharp vengeance must The Glory of the World kiss her own dust Shall then this Molehill and its Ants expire By parcels some by water some by fire Or do great things like restless Circles tend From their first point unto the last their End When neither Foreign nor Domestic Wars The Distillations of malignant Stars Thunder from Heaven nor its Terrestrial Ape Gunpowder could thy total ruin shape Nor the long smotherings of Fanatic heats Which when they broke out ended in cold sweats Shall Balls of Sulphur Hell's blue Tapers light Poor London to its funeral in one night Shall Britain's great Metropolis become Alike in both her Fortunes to old Rome Whose Seat if we believe Antiquity Is full as old though not so proud as she Survived the Cornucopia of her Hills Time strongest Towns as well as Bodies kills But when her Life had drawn so long a breath Must she be mowed down by a sudden Death Three days undo three thousand years O yes One day when that one comes shall more than this Shall make the World one fatal Hearth That Day The last that ever Hearth shall Tribute pay Though now as just as Law And they that Curse This Duty may they want both Hearth and Purse But as in three days our jerusalem fell And gave the World an easy miracle So three O golden Number years being gone Shall spring old London's Resurrection Now dearest City let my Pencil trace The scattered lines of thy disfigured Face Dropping tears as I pass tears shed too late To quench thy Heats and bribe thy stubborn fate This dreadful Fire first seized a narrow Lane As if the Dutch or French had laid a Train But grant they or that Boutifeu their Roy Formed this Cheval for Britain 's envied Troy These might the stroke did not the wound dispense Were but the Vulcan's of Jove's Providence Sin was the Common Cause no faction freed Here all dissenting Parties were agreed And let the Author of our welfare be The welcome Author of our Misery Rather than Enemies who but fulfil Heavens just decrees more by Instinct then Skill The fierce flame gathering strength had warmed th' Air And chilled the people into cold despair With swift wing from it straitened Corner posts And forthwith Fish-street and fat East-cheap roasts Sunday to scourge our guilty Rest with shame Had given full dispensation to the flame Now London-Bridge expected to provide Auxiliar forces from the other side Alarmed by the fall of Neighbouring Bells Takes fire and sinks into its stony Cells Blocks up the way with rubbish and dire flames Threatening to choke his undermining Thames Southwark shut out on it 's own banks appeared As once when fiery Cromwell domineered Thames-street hastens it ashes to prevent All aids and succours from the River sent The heated wind his flaming arrows cast Which snatched both ends and burned the middle last Now the proud flame had took the open field And after hearts were vanquished all things yield Rores through Cannon-street and Lombardie Triumphing o'er the City's Liberty This fiery Dragon higher still it flies The more extends his wings and louder cries Just so that spark of Treason first suppressed In the dark angles of some private breast Breaks through the Mouth and Nostrils into Squibs And having fired the Author's reins and ribs Kindles from man to man by subtle Art Till Rebels are become the major part Thus late fanatics in their Zeal of pride March from close Wood-street into broad Cheapside Now all in Coaches Cars and Wagons fly London is sacked without an Enemy All things of beauty shattered lost and gone Little of London whole but London-stone As if those Bulwarks of her Wall and Thames Served but to Circle and besiege her flames Such active Rams beat from each opposite Wall You would have judged the fire an Animal When strangely it from adverse Windows roared Neighbour his Neighbour kindled and devoured Houses the Churches Churches Houses fired While profane Sparks against divine conspired This devastation makes one truth appear How sanctimonious our forefathers were How thick they built their Temples long concealed By lofty Buildings now in flames revealed Then one small Church served many Priests but they The truth is eat not roast meat every day Now the profane not superstitious Rout Whose faith ascends no higher than to doubt May without help of weekly papers tell Their Churches to their Eyes made visible Our Non-conformists if not hardened may Scatter some tears where once they scorned to pray Now the Imperious Element did range Without Control kept a full Evening Change Where the religious Spices for some Hours Seemed to burn Incense to th' incensed Powers At last the flame grown quite rebellious calls Our Sacred Monarches to new Funerals The Conqueror here Conquered tumbles down As Conscious of the burden of a Crown Only the good old Founder standing low His Station kept and saw the dismal Show Though the Change broke he 's not one penny worse Stands firm resolved to visit his new Burse Which by her * Mr. Hooke Optics happily was saved And for the honour of the City paved Here a good sum of active Silver raised Th' ingenious Beggar and wise Donors praised All fall to work assisted by the Guard To whom and money nothing seemed hard Here fires met fires but industry reclaims Lost hope and quenched a Parliament of flames Mean time the Neighbouring Steeple trembling stood Defended not by Stone nor Brick but Wood Yet was secure 'cause low to let us see What safety waits upon humility When Laurence Three-Cranes Cornhill lofty Bow Are all chastised for making a proud show One Steeple lost its Church but not one Bell Reserved by fate to Ring the City's Knell Now the Circumference from every part The Centre scalds poor London pants at heart Cheapside the fair is at a fatal loss Wants the old blessing of her golden Cross Poor Paul the Aged has been sadly tossed Reformed then after Reformation lost Placed in a Circle of Heaven's fiery wrath The Saint was tortured when he broke his Faith At the East-End a spacious sheet of Lead Rend from the rest his Altar canoped But from its Coal below strange fires did rise And the whole Temple proved the sacrifice Altars may others save but cannot be When Heaven forsakes 'em their own Sanctuary Then was their doleful Music as the Choir When the sweet Organs breath was turned to fire Was 't not enough the holy Church had been Invaded in her Rites and Discipline Must her known Fundamentals be baptised In purging flames and Paul's School catechized She that had long her tardy Pupils stripped Is now herself with fiery Scorpions whipped But when I pass the sacred Martyr's West I close my Eyes and smite my troubled Breast What shall we now for his dear Memory do When fire un-carves and Stones are mortal too Let it stand un-repaired for ever keep Its mournful dress thus for its Founder weep By this time Lud with the next Newgate smokes And their dry Prisoners in the Dungeon chokes Who left by Keepers to their own reprives Broke Goal not for their Liberty but Lives While good Eliza on the outside Arch Fired into th' old Mode stands in Yellow Starch Though fancy makes not Pictnres live or love Yet Pictures fancied may the fancy move Methinks the Queen on White-Hall cast her Eye An Arrow could not more directly fly But when she saw her Palace safe her fears Vanish one Eye drops smiles the other tears Where Christ-Church is thy half-Cathedral now Fallen too then all but Heaven to Fate must bow Where is thy famous Hospital must still The greatest good be recompensed with ill That House of Orphans clad in honest blue The VVorld's Example but no parallel knew Cold Charity has been a long Complaint Here she was too warm like a martyred Saint Where are those stately Fabrics of our Halls Founders of sumptuous Feasts and Hospitals Where is the Guild that place of grand resort For Civil Rights the Royal City's Court Forced to take Sanctuary in the Tower To show what safety is in Regal Power Not Gog or Magog could defend it These Had they had sense had been in Little-Ease Chimneys and shattered Walls we gaze upon Our Body Politics sad Skeleton Now was the dismal Conflagration stopped Having some branches of the Suburbs lopped Though most within the verge As if th' add showed Their mutual freedom was to be destroyed When after one day's rest The Temple smokes And with fresh fires and fears the Strand provokes But with good Conduct all was slacked that night By one more valiant than a Templar Knight Here a brisk Rumour of affrighted Gold Sent hundreds in more Covetous than bold But a brave Seaman up the Tiles did skip As nimbly as the Cordage of a Ship Bestrides the singsed Hall on its highest ridge Moving as if he were on London-Bridge Or on the Narrow of a Skullers' Keel Feels neither head nor heart nor spirits reel Had some few Thousands been as bold as he And London in her fiery Trial free Then with submission to the highest will London now buried had been living still Thus Chant the people who are seldom wise Till things be past beforehand have no Eyes But when I sigh myself into a pause I find another more determined cause Had Tiber swelled his monstrous Waves and come Over the seven Hills of our flaming Rome 'T had been in vain no less than Noah's flood Can quench flames kindled by a Martyr's blood Now Loyal London has full Ransom paid For that Defection the Disloyal made Whose Ashes hatched by a kind Monarch's breath Shall rise a fairer Phoenix after Death FINIS