The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse :: :: University of Virginia Library

All pow'r's of God! and every Soul on Earth
From Him derives an equal right at birth;
And all Usurpers, who presume to bind
Another's Frame, or faculties of Mind.
No Pow'r but that which gave him Life and Pow'r
Can justly claim one talent, limb, or hour.
Can truly call him Subject—Servant—Slave—
Controul his will, or doom him to the grave;
Except some bond, or mutual compact's broke,
By which he bows himself to bear the yoke—
Some wilful act of murder, theft, or strife,
To forfeit freedom, property, or life;
Or other breach of moral rules be found,
By which time, faculties, and strength were bound.
No Mortal may another's rights command,
Whate'er his Office, Wisdom, Wealth, or Land.
No King can claim till People rights resign,
However Dupes may deem His right divine—
To rule Man's will; to exercise the rod;
Or life infringe, belongs, alone, to God!
All else who aim to conquer, or compel,
Derive their false prerogatives from Hell!
Usurp a spurious pow'r, by falshood built,
Which, practised, must incur most grievous guilt;
And Christ will try them at the close of Time,
And deem them curs'd for such a devilish crime!

Kings are but Creatures, ruling years, or hours,
And draw, from Equals, but deputed pow'rs—
All temporal Magistrates the Mass appoints;
Not graceless Novices that Heav'n anoints.
Tho' every Government from God begins;
He ne'er by Providence can sanction sins.
No Fiends on thrones by His high suffrage set,
Peace to destroy, and ruin Realms with debt—
Not making Peers, more pow'r, or gold, to gain,
Or seek their pleasures through their Subjects' pain.
Not yearly to enlarge their civil List,
And hampering Statutes, by the people hiss'd.
For fresh corruptions to enact new clause,
In penal pacts, or nummulary Laws—
To punish, or imprison, weaker Wight,
Who dares to speak what's reason, act what's right.
Still turning round the pence Inferiors pay
For courtly Fools, who flatter, and betray.
Not filling Treasuries with a wealthy flood,
From Labour drawn, by drops of sweat and blood;
Nor o'er that mass of Riches mirth enjoy,
Which fifty thousand Slaves can scarce supply,
Throughout each Year, with labouring heads and hands,
In Arts, or Trades, or Toils in culturing Lands.
Not ruling nations with tyrannic nods,
Nor claiming glory like their sov'reign God's
But more like His who fills infernal Throne;
And dares to call Earth's kingdoms all his own!

But where's the Despot who will dare attest
He claims a Kingdom, by Heaven's high behest?
Where is the head that holds the holy oil
Which gives a title to the Seas and Soil?
Where are the hands which Orb and Sceptre hold,
Bestow'd by God, with Mind of gracious mould?
Or where those temples that with terror shine
In sparkling Crown, put on by Pow'rs divine?
Who can celestial deputation show,
To reign and rule o'er subject Slaves below;
And proves that deputation stands full plea
To force their Sons to fight by Land or Sea?
Empow'r'd Descendants, on that Throne to place,
To rule, thro' every Age, an endless Race?
And tho' that Seat, rank Fools, or Scoundrels, fill,
Make Millions bow before their brutal Will.

Should Christians thus the sacred Scriptures read,
And weakly crouch to such a servile Creed;
Should deem such Doctrine right, and just, and true,
Then, farewell Freedom! Justice, Truth, adieu!
Fair Freedom then must fly—pure Truth retire—
All Justice perish! Peace and Hope, expire!

But must Man Sense and Reason, both, resign?
Deem Demons—Brutes—or Ideots—divine?
See their own Understanding void of sight,
And think such Doctrines, such rash Dogmas, right?
Will not cool Reason—will not Common-sense,
Grant such Impostures give profound offence?
And may not humblest, meekest, Christian's Mind
Investigate the good of all Mankind?

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Bring Truth and Justice to their Judgment's test,
And try, by Reason's balance what weighs best?
Their Saviour's doctrines, and clear sentence, trust,
Ordaining what is righteous; what is just;
And while they yield all mortal Men their due,
Maintain integrity in all that's true?
Ought not their simple, their unbiass'd Souls,
Enquire whence Magistrates derive Controuls;
And, with discriminations clear, and nice,
Declare that Virtue's Virtue, Vice is Vice?
With wise distinction, word, and action, trace
That springs from Nature, or that grows from Grace;
Pronouncing selfish Tyrant's Satan's Tools;
Kings crafty Foxes, Hypocrites, or Fools?
Sure they may ask whence Kings derive their dow'r,
From Christ's decree, or from the People's pow'r—
Whether their proud Prerogative was giv'n,
Thro' some pure Seraph, sent express from Heav'n,
Or by some compact, clearly understood
As meant to govern Men for mutual good—
But should an Angel Documents produce
To sanction Villainy, or vile Abuse,
Christians could ne'er surmise it made above,
Where all is Wisdom—Harmony—and Love;
But some base instrument from Fiends below,
To further Discord—Strife—and War—and Woe!

If Kings can show no warrant from the Skies,
And Christians know few faithful, good, or wise,
How can their Conscience innocently act,
Themselves not parties in the mutual pact?
Must Revelation's literal meaning tell,
Whether each word, and act, is ill, or well?
How shall they reconcile the various things
There spoke of Priests, of Prophets, and of Kings?
Must not right Reason and clear Sense decide
Against all Hypocrites, and Sons of Pride?
Must they not Vice and Villainy condemn
With all the Knaves, in Pow'r, that practise them?
Must not their Spirits every Priest despise,
Whose Words are Truth but all their Lives are Lies?
Yea, every Prince, and Potentate, abhor,
Who practise fraud—oppression—wiles—and war?
Must they still stoop to every courtly Tool?
To every titled Fop, or scepter'd Fool?
With such Idolatry their Souls degrade,
Adoring devilish Gods that Man has made?
Implicitly obey each selfish pact,
That Misers, Profligates, and Pimps, enact?
In no one case the basest compact break,
Tho' every item's wicked, false, or weak?
Tho' Justice—Truth—or Heav'n's unerring Laws,
Or God's own Glory justify the Cause?

Shall Frantics, Dupes, or Despots, keep their place,
In every varying circumstance, and case?
Still, every Pow'r, and Privilege, maintain,
Tho' planning measures for mere private gain?
Tho' manufacturing misery, fraud, and strife,
And legalizing all the ills of Life?

Shall they, appointed for the People's good,
Consume their property, and spill their blood?
And no resentment feel—remonstrance meet—
But hail such Savage on his tyrant Seat?
Feel no resistance, no coercion try,
To balk such stratagems, such bonds destroy?
Suffer fresh mischief, still, from Year to Year,
And still submit, obey, and fawn, and fear?
Why then did Courts, which could such Idols kiss,
For misdemeanours from their Thrones dismiss?
Or conscientious christian Priests refuse
To pay Superiors their establish'd dues?
Why did high Courtiers owning kingly claims,
Judge, and expel, the papal Bigot, James?
Or, Christian Priests, whilst giving Reason scope,
Deny the Pow'r, and Doctrines of the Pope?
At his false claims, and privileges, scoff,
And, finally, fling all his fetters off.

Shall Christians, now, with Priests' proud claims comply,
And countenance King's crimes, of devilish dye?
Religion's liberties, and dues, disgrace,
And throw back Freedom in their Maker's face!
The common Sense of faithful Christians flout,
And puff Heav'n-lighted lamps of Reason, out!
Rather than thus be duped by despot Men,
Let Smithfield's gorey region smoke agen.
Forbid it, Heav'n! that christian Brethren, now,
Should to a Tyrant stoop—a Bigot bow!
That Friends, or Governors, like Fiends, should reign,
And Christians ne'er encounter? ne'er complain?
While all despotic Tyrants, copying them,
Push their worst Codes to punish or Condemn;

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Till, Christian Order, into Chaos hurl'd,
Hell makes a prey of all the apostate World!

Whoe'er deserts the sacred cause of Truth,
From fear, from interest, or from natural ruth,
May that mistaken Creature's Conscience know
He's Conscience's—Man's—God's, most grievous Foe:
And all who will not with each talent strive,
To keep Faith—Truth—and Justice, still alive,
However bless'd, beyond Man's common brood,
With every graceful gift, and gracious good,
Are all with folly ting'd, and fleshly leav'n;
Most dangerous Enemies of Earth and Heav'n!

Mistaken Man, when once a Despot's prey,
All goods, and chattels, soon, are swept away;
And Pride that wounds with words a feeling heart,
Would promptly scarify each outward part.
The Pow'r, uncheck'd, that strikes the Cheeks in strife,
Devoid of danger, would purloin the Life—
That Fraud, or Force, which Coat, and Cloak, will take,
Would spare no covering rag for Conscience's sake—
And grim Oppression, that, thus, grasps the whole,
Would feel no kind Compassion for the Soul!
In vain were Want's petition—Woe's complaint—
When slumbering Conscience quits her strong restraint.
When sacred Truth, implicitly, complies,
And sanctions, with her silence, Cunning's lies;
Or, carelessly confirms, with witless word,
Falshood's assertions, foolish, or absurd;
And, with mere breezes of unmeaning breath;
Signs the dread sentence of her temporal death;
While knavish Villainy with vicious aim,
Will, thence encourag'd, stablish bolder claim,
When dire Injustice pleads one Mile's his due,
And simple Man submits to travel two,
The selfish Scoundrel soon would claim a score;
Yea—make tame Christians trudge the World all o'er!

Heav'n meant no Mortal's tryal so severe—
The unresisting Tool of Tyrants, here—
Suffering each arbitrary Hand to strip,
And bend his back to every waling whip—
No—Paul, himself, could plead for full relief,
Against the Threats of churlish Roman Chief;
And, when imprison'd, like a Hero stout,
Commands the Magistrates to take him out.
The wandering Wretch thus left without resource,
Becomes the constant Dupe of Fraud, or Force;
An engine, mov'd at each weak Despot's will—
A sacrifice to fleece—or scourge—or kill—
His moving, labo'ring, strength, alone, remains,
To toil for churls, while clogg'd with galling chains;
For, Freedom gone, he, like a Galley-Slave,
Tugs oars, thro' Life, then drops into the grave!

Could such a Creature shine without alloy,
Love's perfect Pattern; copied from the Sky;
In path of duty could, like Enoch, plod,
And walk, thro' Life, in faith and love, with God,
He must, like him, and all blest Saints below,
Experience, from the Wicked, pain and woe;
Till, bless'd with Enoch's beatific lot,
His God had taken him, and he was not;
Or, like Elijah, persecuted, still,
By arbitrary Tyrant's wicked will,
Join the blest Twain—walking by Heav'n's word,
Till God, in mercy, might translate a Third.
Could he, like Christ fulfil his Father's Law,
Without a fracture, and without a flaw,
Such pure fulfilment would no pity find
Among the murderous Race of carnal kind.
Malice would most such character deride—
Pow'r still would spurn; and Wealth, and Pomp, and Pride.
Such Mortals must each courtly scoff sustain—
Such Piety must meet Pride's deep disdain—
Bear Spite's foul spittings—Envy's vengeful scorns—
Feel Cruelty's fell thongs, and Hatred's thorns—
While Superstition's troops, when standing by,
Would join blaspheming Bigots' cruel cry.
Justice, itself, blest attribute of Heav'n!
Tho' purg'd, and purified from earthly leav'n;
Traduced, and trodden down, like Mercy, here,
Can only flourish in celestial sphere;
Where both, by genuine Love, eternal, join'd,
Compose the essence of Almighty Mind;
Like Bride and Bridegroom, by the Spirit's band,
In endless Marriage joining hand in hand;
There just Jehovah, and pure Paraclete,
In mystic junction pardoning Jesus meet,
To form Earth's happiest, Heav'n's completest, plan,
Uniting perfect God and perfect Man!

Such was the human Soul, while Adam stood,
When God pronounc'd all Nature “Very good!”
And such the Soul of Woman, after, made,

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Till Flattery fawn'd, and Falshood Truth betray'd;
When, with Satanic poison, enter'd in
Remorse, and Shame, and each sad curse of Sin!
This cost of Culprit's Heav'n's ingrafted Grace,
To death condemning all Man's guilty Race,
Each suffering, since, inevitable doom
Of cold corruption, laid in loathsome tomb!
But Christ, the Soul of sinful Man to save,
Redeem His Body from the gloomy grave,
And, righteous Judgment's rigid course controul,
To nameless misery stoop'd His spotless Soul!
Paid all the Debt incurr'd by Pride, and Lust!
A just Redeemer, rescuing Man, unjust!
Bent down His back to cruel smiters, bare!
Expos'd His cheeks to Imps who pluckt the hair!
His injur'd shoulders, Rebels' burdens bore!
His stripes heal'd each Believer's sinful sore!
The faults and frailties of His foes bemoan'd!
O'er all their miseries wept—and griev'd—and groan'd!
While from His body, in a purple flood,
Ooz'd agonizing drops of blameless blood!
More precious than the oil, of savoury smell,
That over Aaron's fragrant garments fell!
In pity for His Murderers pray'd, and died,
A Victim to vile Envy, Spite, and Pride!