MS43.04: Francis Nicholson Papers
Poem, "Virginia's Complaint Against the Plaintiffs", N. D.


Virginia's Complaint,
Against the Plaintiffs.

     O Endless Evill Day!
(Our Mournfull Land of late was heard to say)
     That still more Gloomy grows,
And Storms on Storm, on Sorrow Sorrow blows:
     Since first Rebellious men,
Against Good Bartlett drew their Angrie Pen,
     And Cruel Swords Unsheath'd,
And nought but Death & Desolation breath'd.
     No wars had I till then,
But with that Slow-pac'd Matchcote Indian.
     The Homeliest of my Race
Thrô all their Tents o'reflow'd in wealth & Peace.
     Bliss did on Blissing Shove
All Good things then, in Sweet Returns of Love.
     Whitehall (where shines my Queen)
By Idle, False, ill-tim'd Complaints hath seen
Too much my Childrens Gall, too much their spleen,
     Even now when close Employ'd
To stem the Empirs Universal's Tyde:
Till then, that Royal Palace ne're did chide,
     Nor ever heard from me;
But by Complaints from other Shores did see,
     And did me Happie call
And in my Silence Heard me blest of all.
     But since that Wofull wight
(I lothe his Name) by Crawling Vermin dyd;
     In his foull deeds enthrauld
And (in that Blood He Dam'd) by Furys hauld,
     And into Factions tore,
What erst I was, I'm happie now no more.
     No Laws, Oaths, Bonds, Disgrace,
Nor Honour, Nor best Nature of this Race,
     Do now so much engage
Fidelity, as Whispers in that Golden Age.
p2     Lampoon & satyr now,
(Those Luckless Birds of Night) too, me persue
     And grett my wearied Ears,
With factions noise of Skulking Balladeers,
That Spread in Vain False Rumors, Doubts, & Fears,
     To vex my troubled Shores:
Which the Sagacious Statesman thus deplores,
     And with much Grief repeats, My Lord Bacon
As the Sad Ushers of dissolving States in his Essays.
     So true, alas! too true,
The Symptoms of old Evills are in View,
     Sedition, Spite, & Rage,
Churchmen abusd, New Baconeers presage.
     Go, Sacrifice ye then
The Best of Rulers to the Worst of men:
     Him that my wealth increasd
Both in the Publick & the Private Chest;
     Me with the Muses blest,
And my Collegiate Brows with Lawrell drest,
     With Justice Rules my Bench,
My Stragling Cottagers with Strong Defence.
     All ye my Treasuries
Of Wealth, Witt, Justice, Conduct, Courage, rise;
     And ye that Grace the whole,
Attest your Founders Worth: Themis, in Capitoll
Let thy Immortal Praise His evergreen enroll.
     Rouse next thy Royall Head,
By unseen Incubus suckt almost dead,
     Fair Lodge of learned Nine!
By Him these Lights both on & from Thee Shine
In evercircling Arms Him to thy Breast entwine
     Thy Birth, thy Life, thy Wealth,
To Him thou ow'st & now (much more) thy Health.
     This Nursing Father blast?
This truest Friend I never harbourd cast?
Who, more than's own, your Good wrought first & last.
p3     Oust this my Present Power,
Henceforth shall None Rule with content one Hour,
Each Jack shall check & dare his Governour.
     Thou English man! be gon,
That we may ride a Native of our own,
Or Scot, who may our Purseproud wishes crown.
     That Springs their Brooks may 'dore
That every Creek his River may outroar,
And spreading streams may own their Banks no more.
     While thus my Shield ye treat,
Ye quite invert the highest Ends of state,
Subjecting Judges to the subjects Heat.
     Ill-natured Haughty men
Transfusd this Evill blood in many a vein;
Let such amend, or Law will stop & drain.
     Bad juice flows up apace,
And runs in poisoned Groves from Race to Race;
Bark ye the Trees e're they their Saplings raise.
     Thus Guards must Guards ensure,
Each Lower Orb Supports the Highers Power,
He Shakes the Throne that rudely treads the floor.