Coll. Sidney's Lamentation and Last Farewel to the World

Now, now too weak, alas! I find our Cause,
To'th over-ruling Powers the King & Laws
The force of our Impregnant Torrent's turn'd,
The Plots and Shams of our Inventions scorn'd:
Now I do fear what I could ne'r believe,
Some Powers above doth all our Wits deceive;
And laughs at our Assosiatious Vow,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

These Forty Years I've Reign'd in Roguery,
With kind success, 'gainst Lawful Monarchy;
And now must my gray Head be over-reacht,
And my stiff Neck by strength of halter stretcht
In the beginning Friends, it was not so,
In Forty-One, now Forty Years ago;
I fear'd not then no God, nor King, nor Law,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

On the late King I sat as Judge most stout,
By vertue of our Senate, Rump, and Rout;
Saw him condemn'd and Murder'd at White-hall
His Sacred Blood doth now for Vengeance call:
With his own Gold I did Command and fight,
Against his Son, and all Successive Right;
And ne'r repented yet, nor can I bow,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

This King return'd, which I with arms persu'd
With Tony I for Pardon did intrude;
What e're we askt his Grace did freely grant,
Preferment too, which his best friends did want
My pride in opposition still did shew,
A crooked Plant will never straighter grow;
And now too late I grieve all wou'd not do,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

With Tony, Gray, and Russel, I Conspir'd
My Princes death, and many thousands hyr'd
To Arm themselves in ev'ry Town and Shire,
To Murther both this King and Lawful Heir,
And lay it all upon the Papists backs,
Which with the weight of our own Treason cracks;
And for our Crimes, to murther them allow,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

We draw'd in M—h to advance the Cause
And made him Populer by Fools Applause;
We made his Soul swell big to be a King,
When we alas! intended no such thing:
Now all's Unravel'd, both Cabals and Plot,
My poor old Head must hang & go to'th Pot;
Zounds I'de still Rebell did I know how,
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?

At Oxford we were Rampant, over-fed,
The Tayl was ten times stronger than the Head;
Yet quite out-witted by too kind a King,
Then we to Rumbolds House our Arms did bring
Yet all was still prevented by strange Fate,
Had I with Tony made a safe Retreat,
Then Ketch had ne'r held up my Trayterous jaw
Poor Traytors! where's our Ignoramus now?