The Works of Mr. Robert Gould In Two Volumes. Consisting of those Poems [and] Satyrs Which were formerly Printed, and Corrected since by the Author; As also of the many more which He Design'd for the Press. Publish'd from his Own Original Copies [by Robert Gould] |
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| THE MURMURERS, &c.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
119
THE MURMURERS, &c.
A SATYR. In Two Parts. Written soon after the late Revolution.
1. [The First Part.]
Who ever for Himself wou'd Safety know,
Shou'd Act, alike, for Publick Safety too;
'Tis there our Private Happiness depends;
From thence it rises, and with that it ends.
In Factious Times, with Violence o'errun,
What Human Comfort can we call our own?
Rape, Plunder, Devastation, Fire and Blood
Rage thro' the Land like an Impetuous Flood,
The more Destructive as 'tis more withstood.
But there where Peace and Mutual Trust preside
Dwells Plenty, Wealth, and ev'ry Joy beside;
Who those Advance, and only those approve,
Begin below the Life they'll lead above:
By Peace the Happiness we hope for there
Descends, and lets us first behold it here.
Shou'd Act, alike, for Publick Safety too;
'Tis there our Private Happiness depends;
From thence it rises, and with that it ends.
In Factious Times, with Violence o'errun,
What Human Comfort can we call our own?
Rape, Plunder, Devastation, Fire and Blood
Rage thro' the Land like an Impetuous Flood,
The more Destructive as 'tis more withstood.
But there where Peace and Mutual Trust preside
Dwells Plenty, Wealth, and ev'ry Joy beside;
Who those Advance, and only those approve,
Begin below the Life they'll lead above:
By Peace the Happiness we hope for there
Descends, and lets us first behold it here.
120
What then must the Flagitions Wretch be stil'd
That wou'd subvert, and make her Nature wild,
Who of her Self's so Gentle and so Mild?
Now at a Time when with her Brightest Charms
She, like a Bride, wou'd Sink into our Arms;
Then dive into the Heart and Triumph there,
To shew She can be fond as well as Fair:
When God-like William, Prodigal of Breath,
To Court her dares the last Extremes of Death;
And Gen'rously again himself exiles
To bring her Home, adorn'd with Foreign Spoils,
And with her here enjoy the Harvest of his Toils.
Curst then be they who, siding with our Foes,
Ingratefully his just Designs oppose,
And to that height of Villany advance
To have Him fall a Sacrifice to France:
In vain—His Genious mounts above their Rage,
Shall Honour this, and Bless the Coming Age.
That wou'd subvert, and make her Nature wild,
Who of her Self's so Gentle and so Mild?
Now at a Time when with her Brightest Charms
She, like a Bride, wou'd Sink into our Arms;
Then dive into the Heart and Triumph there,
To shew She can be fond as well as Fair:
When God-like William, Prodigal of Breath,
To Court her dares the last Extremes of Death;
And Gen'rously again himself exiles
To bring her Home, adorn'd with Foreign Spoils,
And with her here enjoy the Harvest of his Toils.
Curst then be they who, siding with our Foes,
Ingratefully his just Designs oppose,
And to that height of Villany advance
To have Him fall a Sacrifice to France:
In vain—His Genious mounts above their Rage,
Shall Honour this, and Bless the Coming Age.
Let it not here be urg'd in their Defence,
Their Passive Temper shews their Innocence;
No Persons tread so near the Verge of Vice
As those that are most Scrupulously Nice;
Rather than not a seeming Slip avoid
They'll run on Ruin, and see all Destroy'd.
What Tenderness of Conscience can they have
That Thousands wou'd destroy for Three they save?
Such Non-Resistance, rightly understood,
Wou'd draw up ev'ry Sluce of War and Blood.
Let Slav'ry Join'd with Pope'ry but advance,
Led on by the Successful Pow'r of France,
And they themselves wou'd soon and sadly see
The Sanguine wild Effects of Passive Policie.
Their Passive Temper shews their Innocence;
No Persons tread so near the Verge of Vice
As those that are most Scrupulously Nice;
Rather than not a seeming Slip avoid
They'll run on Ruin, and see all Destroy'd.
What Tenderness of Conscience can they have
That Thousands wou'd destroy for Three they save?
Such Non-Resistance, rightly understood,
Wou'd draw up ev'ry Sluce of War and Blood.
Let Slav'ry Join'd with Pope'ry but advance,
Led on by the Successful Pow'r of France,
And they themselves wou'd soon and sadly see
The Sanguine wild Effects of Passive Policie.
Ay—But their Oaths;—And grant the Plea were true,
Th'Objection yet wou'd comprehend but few:
For one that has a past Allegiance Sworn,
A Thousand Murmur but to serve a Turn.
But say indeed the former taken Vow,
To many, is the Tye that holds 'em now;
Let such Remember by that very Deed
They're bound to those that Legally Succeed:
The Prince that wou'd not Rule by Law is gone,
And, Abdicating, laid his Scepter down.
And that no Man, or Parties may Repine;
In those that now Succeed Him, Heav'n does join
Both the Direct and the Collateral Line.
Th'Objection yet wou'd comprehend but few:
121
A Thousand Murmur but to serve a Turn.
But say indeed the former taken Vow,
To many, is the Tye that holds 'em now;
Let such Remember by that very Deed
They're bound to those that Legally Succeed:
The Prince that wou'd not Rule by Law is gone,
And, Abdicating, laid his Scepter down.
And that no Man, or Parties may Repine;
In those that now Succeed Him, Heav'n does join
Both the Direct and the Collateral Line.
But let these Cautious Men, that will not Swear,
Be pleas'd to Answer me one Question fair:
Since Scruples only can concern our Selves,
Why wou'd they dash their Neighbours on the Shelves?
Why do they Talk, and Preach, and Write as if
The Present Oath wou'd Ruin all Belief?
Striving to bring (what never can be done,)
(Or, if it cou'd, wou'd yet not better one)
The Size of ev'ry Conscience to their own.
But little is by such that Rule pursu'd,
Of old advanc'd, and thro' all Times renew'd
That Private By-Regards must yield to Publick Good.
The General Voice our Glorious Monarch crown'd,
And still the Few are by the Many bound.
Mark in our Senate when they Laws dispence,
Tho' almost half have, oft, a different Sense,
Yet no Resentment at the Rules express'd,
Because the Major part concludes the rest.
In short, to Sum up all:—The Government
Was alter'd with, or without God's Consent;
If with it then 'tis Impious to complain,
Without, he yet Permits the Present Reign;
So renders either Way their last Engagement vain.
Be pleas'd to Answer me one Question fair:
Since Scruples only can concern our Selves,
Why wou'd they dash their Neighbours on the Shelves?
Why do they Talk, and Preach, and Write as if
The Present Oath wou'd Ruin all Belief?
Striving to bring (what never can be done,)
(Or, if it cou'd, wou'd yet not better one)
The Size of ev'ry Conscience to their own.
But little is by such that Rule pursu'd,
Of old advanc'd, and thro' all Times renew'd
That Private By-Regards must yield to Publick Good.
The General Voice our Glorious Monarch crown'd,
And still the Few are by the Many bound.
Mark in our Senate when they Laws dispence,
Tho' almost half have, oft, a different Sense,
Yet no Resentment at the Rules express'd,
Because the Major part concludes the rest.
In short, to Sum up all:—The Government
Was alter'd with, or without God's Consent;
If with it then 'tis Impious to complain,
Without, he yet Permits the Present Reign;
So renders either Way their last Engagement vain.
122
But madly we to clear this Point pretend;
Let Truth accuse, and Prejudice defend,
And mark if the Debate will ever end:
No Arguments w'ave yet in Publick shown,
(And in no Cause were better ever known)
Have hitherto so much as but Convicted one:
On Future Mischief bent, they will not see
Their Present safety and Felicity.
What ever Doctrine or Perswasion then,
Was first Imbib'd by these Pernicious Men,
(For such a Creed all Ancient Faith devours)
What ever is their Church—They're not of OURS.
Let Truth accuse, and Prejudice defend,
And mark if the Debate will ever end:
No Arguments w'ave yet in Publick shown,
(And in no Cause were better ever known)
Have hitherto so much as but Convicted one:
On Future Mischief bent, they will not see
Their Present safety and Felicity.
What ever Doctrine or Perswasion then,
Was first Imbib'd by these Pernicious Men,
(For such a Creed all Ancient Faith devours)
What ever is their Church—They're not of OURS.
Of OURS! That takes from Scripture all her Rules,
Her Business, saving, not perverting Souls.
Of OURS! Howe'er at home by such decry'd,
Envy'd, or Prais'd thro' all the World beside.
Of OURS! allow'd the Primitively true;
'Tis Insolence and Dullness make the New:
Her Pedigree we from th'Apostles draw,
All the Reformers were but Sires in Law:
They saw the Errors which her Charms did hide,
Impos'd by Rome's Unconscionable Guide,
That grasp'd at Earthly Pow'r with Unexampl'd Pride;
Saw 'em, and of those Failings stript her bare,
When streight, like Op'ning Buds, She did appear
In all the Sweetness of Her Native Dress;
Nor has her Age yet made her Beauties less:
And thus Originally pure, Embrac'd
Her in their Arms, and held the Blessing fast.
Nor does She too much Her own Worth prefer
But owns Her Members, and her Self may err.
What e'er is urg'd by Rome's Pontificate ,
Not Peter ever reach'd a Sinless State;
Nor did (by what we in his Writings see)
Assert his own Infallibility.
But let us here the different Ways behold
Of Him that fish'd for Men, and Popes that fish for Gold.
From what He Writes a strict Obedience Springs;
But They set up ev'n for Dethroning Kings.
He as a Servant did himself Survey;
And These assume a more than Regal Sway.
Where e'er He went Attendance still was spar'd;
But They can never move without a Guard.
He with one Sermon did his Thousands save;
And These have made their Thousands Fool and Knave.
He with Contempt did Yellow Earth behold,
For which, with Them Salvation's Bought and Sold.
O Scandal! Which in Ancient Times they ne'er
Cou'd have Conceiv'd wou'd Sit in Peter's Chair!
Thus Pride or Frenzy gave that Notion Birth
That plac'd a Guide Infallible on Earth;
A Grace on Angels not bestow'd, and then
How much less likely to be found in Men?
Search all the Annals since the World began
You'll Sinless find but one,—And He was more than Man.
Th'Eternal Word was with our Nature join'd,
And God Himself Transfus'd into the Mind,
Before that Wonder he was pleas'd to rear
Of Human Birth to reach Perfection here.
'Tis Him we Imitate, and Righteous call;—
But Copies ne'er cou'd reach th'Original:
The Wond'rous Race of Fau'tless Life He ran;
And He's the Wise, the Happy, Holy Man
That comes as near the Pattern as he can:
So to Endeavour Sets all Heav'n in view;
And so t'Endeavour's all we here can do.
Her Business, saving, not perverting Souls.
Of OURS! Howe'er at home by such decry'd,
Envy'd, or Prais'd thro' all the World beside.
Of OURS! allow'd the Primitively true;
'Tis Insolence and Dullness make the New:
Her Pedigree we from th'Apostles draw,
All the Reformers were but Sires in Law:
They saw the Errors which her Charms did hide,
Impos'd by Rome's Unconscionable Guide,
That grasp'd at Earthly Pow'r with Unexampl'd Pride;
Saw 'em, and of those Failings stript her bare,
When streight, like Op'ning Buds, She did appear
In all the Sweetness of Her Native Dress;
Nor has her Age yet made her Beauties less:
And thus Originally pure, Embrac'd
Her in their Arms, and held the Blessing fast.
Nor does She too much Her own Worth prefer
But owns Her Members, and her Self may err.
What e'er is urg'd by Rome's Pontificate ,
Not Peter ever reach'd a Sinless State;
123
Assert his own Infallibility.
But let us here the different Ways behold
Of Him that fish'd for Men, and Popes that fish for Gold.
From what He Writes a strict Obedience Springs;
But They set up ev'n for Dethroning Kings.
He as a Servant did himself Survey;
And These assume a more than Regal Sway.
Where e'er He went Attendance still was spar'd;
But They can never move without a Guard.
He with one Sermon did his Thousands save;
And These have made their Thousands Fool and Knave.
He with Contempt did Yellow Earth behold,
For which, with Them Salvation's Bought and Sold.
O Scandal! Which in Ancient Times they ne'er
Cou'd have Conceiv'd wou'd Sit in Peter's Chair!
Thus Pride or Frenzy gave that Notion Birth
That plac'd a Guide Infallible on Earth;
A Grace on Angels not bestow'd, and then
How much less likely to be found in Men?
Search all the Annals since the World began
You'll Sinless find but one,—And He was more than Man.
Th'Eternal Word was with our Nature join'd,
And God Himself Transfus'd into the Mind,
Before that Wonder he was pleas'd to rear
Of Human Birth to reach Perfection here.
'Tis Him we Imitate, and Righteous call;—
But Copies ne'er cou'd reach th'Original:
The Wond'rous Race of Fau'tless Life He ran;
And He's the Wise, the Happy, Holy Man
That comes as near the Pattern as he can:
So to Endeavour Sets all Heav'n in view;
And so t'Endeavour's all we here can do.
Nor let the Private Spirit here oppose
With Canting Terms, and Sniv'ling thro' the Nose;
Who tho' it most reviles the Papal Sin,
Sets up a like unfailing Judge within.
Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there
Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair;
And, Unappealable, can there decide
All Truth,—His own Illuminated Guide.
But certainly (if I may Judge for one)
The Mind is best by what it utters known:
If Fau'tless they can live, it follows, too,
They're so in what they Preach as well as what they do:
But in this Point we need but only here
Their Holding forth, and the Conviction's clear.
What e'er they boast of Supernatural Light,
There's little taught but Prejudice and Spite:
One set of Blockheads vending Fustian here,
Another Senseless Class inverting there
Clearness to Doubt, and Comfort to Despair.
So strange a blending we of Doctrines view,
So vilely do they Scriptures dash and brew,
That no Belief is wanting—But the True.
Whatever from their Guide the Rout requires,
All Sense he darkens, and all Ears he tires,
Yet Impudently says he speaks as God Inspires:
Whereas His Spirit Nothing does dictate
But what is Wisdom, Congruous, Fau'tless, Fate,
Unchang'd, Immortal, and Immaculate.
A Glimpse we have of it indeed, a Ray
That like the Magi's Star does point the Way,
And shew, among Opinion's dangerous Shelves,
W'are not in things too deep to rest upon our Selves.
His Spirit all sustains, and all does see;
There's nothing else Infallibilitie.
But grant he were dispos'd that Gift to give,
What Mortal Mind's Capacious to receive?
The Burst of Glory wou'd consume our Frame,
As Wings of Flies singe in a Pow'rful Flame.
Enough it is, and shou'd all Doubt decide,
That He has left the Scriptures for our Guide
Dictated by that Spirit, and contain
All Precepts, needful to Salvation, plain.
For Points Abstruse lie out of Human Sight,
And while vain Men wou'd make that Darkness Light,
And, big with Notion into Secrets pry
That have forbid Access to Mortal Eye,
They weave themselves in their own Web so close,
Nor Falshood, Truth, nor Wit can get 'em loose;
From this to that for ever whirl'd about;
Uneasy, in Disputes; yet more Uneasy, out.
With Canting Terms, and Sniv'ling thro' the Nose;
124
Sets up a like unfailing Judge within.
Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there
Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair;
And, Unappealable, can there decide
All Truth,—His own Illuminated Guide.
But certainly (if I may Judge for one)
The Mind is best by what it utters known:
If Fau'tless they can live, it follows, too,
They're so in what they Preach as well as what they do:
But in this Point we need but only here
Their Holding forth, and the Conviction's clear.
What e'er they boast of Supernatural Light,
There's little taught but Prejudice and Spite:
One set of Blockheads vending Fustian here,
Another Senseless Class inverting there
Clearness to Doubt, and Comfort to Despair.
So strange a blending we of Doctrines view,
So vilely do they Scriptures dash and brew,
That no Belief is wanting—But the True.
Whatever from their Guide the Rout requires,
All Sense he darkens, and all Ears he tires,
Yet Impudently says he speaks as God Inspires:
Whereas His Spirit Nothing does dictate
But what is Wisdom, Congruous, Fau'tless, Fate,
Unchang'd, Immortal, and Immaculate.
A Glimpse we have of it indeed, a Ray
That like the Magi's Star does point the Way,
And shew, among Opinion's dangerous Shelves,
W'are not in things too deep to rest upon our Selves.
His Spirit all sustains, and all does see;
There's nothing else Infallibilitie.
But grant he were dispos'd that Gift to give,
What Mortal Mind's Capacious to receive?
The Burst of Glory wou'd consume our Frame,
As Wings of Flies singe in a Pow'rful Flame.
125
That He has left the Scriptures for our Guide
Dictated by that Spirit, and contain
All Precepts, needful to Salvation, plain.
For Points Abstruse lie out of Human Sight,
And while vain Men wou'd make that Darkness Light,
And, big with Notion into Secrets pry
That have forbid Access to Mortal Eye,
They weave themselves in their own Web so close,
Nor Falshood, Truth, nor Wit can get 'em loose;
From this to that for ever whirl'd about;
Uneasy, in Disputes; yet more Uneasy, out.
Thus, owning She may Err, our Church is Right,
And in that seeming Failing hits the White;
Our Saviour's Blood is then for Sin apply'd,
Or else in vain he Liv'd in vain he Dy'd:
For, as for Merit properly our Own,
Nature and Frailty say we can have none.
A Saviour of Mankind had needless been,
If Human Worth cou'd have aton'd for Sin:
Good Works is but Morality, no more,
In which the Jews Excell'd us heretofore;
And (tho' with Grief we must the Truth allow)
The very Turks, 'tis fear'd, excell us now.
But Christianity, that fines our Thoughts,
Is Faith, Hope, Patience, and Remorse for Fau'ts.
If after Adam GOD must Human be
E'er Man cou'd from that fatal Lapse be free,
It argues our own Insufficiencie.
Boundless Compassion! for by Him w'ave been
Freed from the Forfeit—tho' not freed from Sin.
The Sacred Page says Positively thus—
He bore our Griefs and was Chastiz'd for us,
Which cou'd we Sinless be in very Deed,
Were a Compassion Man wou'd never need.
Beside, this Principle is fixt and true,
That what's not Needful GOD wou'd never do;
And thence we to this sure Conclusion run,
That it was Needful, too, because 'twas done:
Then Man must Err;—and Romish Councils had
Retracted many Things perversely bad,
(So by themselves confess'd) but that 'twou'd tell
Their Papal Church was not Infallible;
And make their poor bigotted Followers see
Th'Unerring Chair was all a Fallacie.
Is then that Church Infallible that will,
Owning She Errs, run on in Error still?
That knows not which Her Mighty Guide to call
Whether a Pope, a Council, Church, or all?
How justly then (while thus they disagree
Which is that One) may we Exclude all Three?—
And so Good-Night—Infallibility.
And in that seeming Failing hits the White;
Our Saviour's Blood is then for Sin apply'd,
Or else in vain he Liv'd in vain he Dy'd:
For, as for Merit properly our Own,
Nature and Frailty say we can have none.
A Saviour of Mankind had needless been,
If Human Worth cou'd have aton'd for Sin:
Good Works is but Morality, no more,
In which the Jews Excell'd us heretofore;
And (tho' with Grief we must the Truth allow)
The very Turks, 'tis fear'd, excell us now.
But Christianity, that fines our Thoughts,
Is Faith, Hope, Patience, and Remorse for Fau'ts.
If after Adam GOD must Human be
E'er Man cou'd from that fatal Lapse be free,
It argues our own Insufficiencie.
Boundless Compassion! for by Him w'ave been
Freed from the Forfeit—tho' not freed from Sin.
The Sacred Page says Positively thus—
He bore our Griefs and was Chastiz'd for us,
Which cou'd we Sinless be in very Deed,
Were a Compassion Man wou'd never need.
126
That what's not Needful GOD wou'd never do;
And thence we to this sure Conclusion run,
That it was Needful, too, because 'twas done:
Then Man must Err;—and Romish Councils had
Retracted many Things perversely bad,
(So by themselves confess'd) but that 'twou'd tell
Their Papal Church was not Infallible;
And make their poor bigotted Followers see
Th'Unerring Chair was all a Fallacie.
Is then that Church Infallible that will,
Owning She Errs, run on in Error still?
That knows not which Her Mighty Guide to call
Whether a Pope, a Council, Church, or all?
How justly then (while thus they disagree
Which is that One) may we Exclude all Three?—
And so Good-Night—Infallibility.
But notwithstanding all the Fau'ts they've shown,
They yet expect in our Demeanour none:
For why that horrid Cry, with Frowning Brow,
Where's (Passive Fops) Your Non-Resistance now?
As if to save our Throats had been a Crime
Unprecedented in all former Time;
Or yet a Mark of Anti-Christ cou'd be
Not to be Slaves, when Heav'n had set us Free.—
But we shall prove, in its due Order shown,
The Fault so little—that perhaps 'tis none.
They yet expect in our Demeanour none:
For why that horrid Cry, with Frowning Brow,
Where's (Passive Fops) Your Non-Resistance now?
As if to save our Throats had been a Crime
Unprecedented in all former Time;
Or yet a Mark of Anti-Christ cou'd be
Not to be Slaves, when Heav'n had set us Free.—
But we shall prove, in its due Order shown,
The Fault so little—that perhaps 'tis none.
I say as many of our Church have done,
(We have, perhaps, a Thousand Votes for one)
The Passive Doctrine in the former Reign
Was what cou'd never Settle in my Brain.
What People ever bore all Human Harms
Ev'n then when they cou'd right themselves by Arms?
Had I been to have Preach'd up Kingly Right,
I wou'd have blown the Bubble from my Sight;
Nor, puffing up a proud and Dangerous Mind,
Ascribe it Pow'r which Nature ne'er design'd.
A Principle like this defends the Throne,
Tho' Lucifer himself shou'd Sit thereon,
And leaves us Nothing we can call our Own.
It makes the Monarch Arbitrary still,
And sets no bound to a Licentious Will;
Destroys the Magna Charta's sacred Right,
And makes our very Guards against us Fight;
Puts Arms in Tyrants Hands, augments their Pow'rs;
And gives our best Defences out of Ours:
For Non-Resistance is but sitting still,
And let the Men in Pow'r do what they will,
Enslave, Demolish, Ravish, Burn, or Kill.
But say it were a Fault, and Grace we want
In thus Dissenting from the Passive Cant;
Allowing this, why is it push'd so far?
Alas! w'ave own'd already Man may Err.
But since with this You may not be Content,
(For Guiltiest Men can say they're Innocent,)
We'll fairly offer other Argument.
(We have, perhaps, a Thousand Votes for one)
The Passive Doctrine in the former Reign
Was what cou'd never Settle in my Brain.
What People ever bore all Human Harms
Ev'n then when they cou'd right themselves by Arms?
127
I wou'd have blown the Bubble from my Sight;
Nor, puffing up a proud and Dangerous Mind,
Ascribe it Pow'r which Nature ne'er design'd.
A Principle like this defends the Throne,
Tho' Lucifer himself shou'd Sit thereon,
And leaves us Nothing we can call our Own.
It makes the Monarch Arbitrary still,
And sets no bound to a Licentious Will;
Destroys the Magna Charta's sacred Right,
And makes our very Guards against us Fight;
Puts Arms in Tyrants Hands, augments their Pow'rs;
And gives our best Defences out of Ours:
For Non-Resistance is but sitting still,
And let the Men in Pow'r do what they will,
Enslave, Demolish, Ravish, Burn, or Kill.
But say it were a Fault, and Grace we want
In thus Dissenting from the Passive Cant;
Allowing this, why is it push'd so far?
Alas! w'ave own'd already Man may Err.
But since with this You may not be Content,
(For Guiltiest Men can say they're Innocent,)
We'll fairly offer other Argument.
If I'm not culpable by Law to Dy,
(For Lawless Force is not Authority)
Rather than You shou'd take this Life of mine
I'd save it tho' the Struggle cost thee Thine:
At least, so far ev'n Reason bids me Arm;
Divest him of the Pow'r of doing harm.
Nor rises any Error from the Fact,
For Heav'n it self does Authorize the Act.
Nor Laws Divine, or Human, give Pretence
To let him suffer, who thy Insolence
Repressing, kills thee in his own Defence.
Well then, we'll put the Case the best we may:—
The Contracts between Kings and Subjects say,
They bound are to Protect and These Obey:
We own our Distance;—they are Seated high,
We lick the Dust;—but e'en they are, thereby,
Not Priviledg'd to do us Injury:
Tho', without Subjects, pray what is a King?
A little, poor despis'd, defenceless Thing:
What e'er is urg'd by Favorites wanting Sense,
It is the General Homage makes the Prince:
In vain their Birth and Soveraignty they boast
The People not assenting all is lost.
Happy! when neither side does Law controul,
Nor these for Liberty, nor those for Rule:
For while they keep within that Legal Pale,
Nor Arbitrary Sway, nor Faction can prevail:
Then Kings are Great, and then their Subjects thrive;
These have their Rights, they their Prerogative.
So that the Monarch Seated on a Throne,
Must weave the Publick Inte'rest with his Own,
Allow the Ancient Rights Prescription gave,
And more than those the Subject must not crave:
For Profuse Princes, if they give too fast,
May whoop for their Prerogative at last.
Now, when e'er Subjects, swell'd with Hate or Pride,
Assume what Law and Nature have deny'd,
Conspire in their Ambition, Rage, or Spite,
And make Attempts upon the Regal Right,
They break the Contract; broken, they are brought
To Punishment Proportion'd to the Fau't:
In such a Case the Soveraign You will find
Absolv'd from his,—it can no longer bind;
And tho' his Oath was to Protect, yet now
He cuts' em off,—nor is it Breach of Vow:
Just as we lop a Gangreen'd Limb away
To save the rest, and make th'Infection stay.
With equal Reason then, when Kings themselves
(That shou'd be Pilots) dash us on the Shelves;
Making th'Establish'd Constitution fly,
And shoot the Dreadful Gulf of Anarchy;
Dispence with Laws that long in force have stood,
Meant, made, and prov'd to be for Publick Good,
And side with Principles that strike at Blood;
Pulls down the Good old Frame, a bad one rears,
He breaks the Contract; and it plain appears,
The Subjects then too are absolv'd from Theirs;
And Jointly stand oblig'd by strength of Hand
The Aggressor's Lawless Forces to withstand,
Who Tyrant like, to keep his Slaves in awe,
By Will wou'd rule, and make his Pow'r his Law.
Oppress'd so far, for their Defence they may,
Must fly to Arms, there is no middle Way:
For then 'tis God the Difference does decide,
He who the Great Machine of War does Guide,
And knows the best which is the Juster Side.
(For Lawless Force is not Authority)
Rather than You shou'd take this Life of mine
I'd save it tho' the Struggle cost thee Thine:
At least, so far ev'n Reason bids me Arm;
Divest him of the Pow'r of doing harm.
Nor rises any Error from the Fact,
For Heav'n it self does Authorize the Act.
Nor Laws Divine, or Human, give Pretence
To let him suffer, who thy Insolence
Repressing, kills thee in his own Defence.
128
The Contracts between Kings and Subjects say,
They bound are to Protect and These Obey:
We own our Distance;—they are Seated high,
We lick the Dust;—but e'en they are, thereby,
Not Priviledg'd to do us Injury:
Tho', without Subjects, pray what is a King?
A little, poor despis'd, defenceless Thing:
What e'er is urg'd by Favorites wanting Sense,
It is the General Homage makes the Prince:
In vain their Birth and Soveraignty they boast
The People not assenting all is lost.
Happy! when neither side does Law controul,
Nor these for Liberty, nor those for Rule:
For while they keep within that Legal Pale,
Nor Arbitrary Sway, nor Faction can prevail:
Then Kings are Great, and then their Subjects thrive;
These have their Rights, they their Prerogative.
So that the Monarch Seated on a Throne,
Must weave the Publick Inte'rest with his Own,
Allow the Ancient Rights Prescription gave,
And more than those the Subject must not crave:
For Profuse Princes, if they give too fast,
May whoop for their Prerogative at last.
Now, when e'er Subjects, swell'd with Hate or Pride,
Assume what Law and Nature have deny'd,
Conspire in their Ambition, Rage, or Spite,
And make Attempts upon the Regal Right,
They break the Contract; broken, they are brought
To Punishment Proportion'd to the Fau't:
In such a Case the Soveraign You will find
Absolv'd from his,—it can no longer bind;
And tho' his Oath was to Protect, yet now
He cuts' em off,—nor is it Breach of Vow:
Just as we lop a Gangreen'd Limb away
To save the rest, and make th'Infection stay.
129
(That shou'd be Pilots) dash us on the Shelves;
Making th'Establish'd Constitution fly,
And shoot the Dreadful Gulf of Anarchy;
Dispence with Laws that long in force have stood,
Meant, made, and prov'd to be for Publick Good,
And side with Principles that strike at Blood;
Pulls down the Good old Frame, a bad one rears,
He breaks the Contract; and it plain appears,
The Subjects then too are absolv'd from Theirs;
And Jointly stand oblig'd by strength of Hand
The Aggressor's Lawless Forces to withstand,
Who Tyrant like, to keep his Slaves in awe,
By Will wou'd rule, and make his Pow'r his Law.
Oppress'd so far, for their Defence they may,
Must fly to Arms, there is no middle Way:
For then 'tis God the Difference does decide,
He who the Great Machine of War does Guide,
And knows the best which is the Juster Side.
But 'tis not now as in our Father's Time,
Their Case was then undoubtedly a Crime;
A Crime, perhaps, ev'n yet not Expiated;
Some fell by Plague and Fire, and some have bled,
And more, more Blood, perhaps, too may be shed.
They fear'd what they'd, indeed, no Cause to fear
They dream'd of Danger that it wou'd appear,
And Knaves and Fools were hir'd to place the Object near.
But we were certain, we both heard and saw;
In vain we pleaded Property and Law:
So sure they were, that the most moderate Mind
Wou'd fairly own our Ruin was design'd.
The Arm was held up and the shining Knife,
With a strong Swing, descending swift on Life:
But who can what Heav'n pre-ordains withstand?
An Angel, as of old, did stop the Hand,
And like the Ram caught in the Thorny Snare
Seiz'd them—but us the Sacrifice did spare.
What Safety then had Non-Resistance giv'n
Tho' boasted as a Precept taught by Heav'n?
Our Case (while we the Papal Burthen bore)
Was just like that of Samsons's heretofore.
Our Laws, that shou'd our Properties secure,
Were bound with Cords of Arbitrary Pow'r;
And by a set of Treach'rous Men, were just
Delivering o'er to mad Philistian Lust:
But as He then to hear the Foe but nam'd
Broke from his Bands, to Glorious Deeds inflam'd,
So when from Warlike William, and from Heav'n
The Signal for our LIBERTY was giv'n,
(Like Him endanger'd to the last Degree,)
Exerting all our Strength, we all at once were free.
Their Case was then undoubtedly a Crime;
A Crime, perhaps, ev'n yet not Expiated;
Some fell by Plague and Fire, and some have bled,
And more, more Blood, perhaps, too may be shed.
They fear'd what they'd, indeed, no Cause to fear
They dream'd of Danger that it wou'd appear,
And Knaves and Fools were hir'd to place the Object near.
But we were certain, we both heard and saw;
In vain we pleaded Property and Law:
So sure they were, that the most moderate Mind
Wou'd fairly own our Ruin was design'd.
The Arm was held up and the shining Knife,
With a strong Swing, descending swift on Life:
But who can what Heav'n pre-ordains withstand?
An Angel, as of old, did stop the Hand,
130
Seiz'd them—but us the Sacrifice did spare.
What Safety then had Non-Resistance giv'n
Tho' boasted as a Precept taught by Heav'n?
Our Case (while we the Papal Burthen bore)
Was just like that of Samsons's heretofore.
Our Laws, that shou'd our Properties secure,
Were bound with Cords of Arbitrary Pow'r;
And by a set of Treach'rous Men, were just
Delivering o'er to mad Philistian Lust:
But as He then to hear the Foe but nam'd
Broke from his Bands, to Glorious Deeds inflam'd,
So when from Warlike William, and from Heav'n
The Signal for our LIBERTY was giv'n,
(Like Him endanger'd to the last Degree,)
Exerting all our Strength, we all at once were free.
“Shall I my Mother tortur'd see, or worse,
“Behold her Ravish'd by Insulting Force,
“And not to her Assistance fiercely bend
“Because he is a Prince or was a Friend?
My Country is my Mother, She beset
With Spoilers, jointly to her Ruin met,
And crying out for Succour;—if her Aid
I run not to, or Factious, or Affraid,
Ev'n I am one by whom She is betraid.
“Behold her Ravish'd by Insulting Force,
“And not to her Assistance fiercely bend
“Because he is a Prince or was a Friend?
My Country is my Mother, She beset
With Spoilers, jointly to her Ruin met,
And crying out for Succour;—if her Aid
I run not to, or Factious, or Affraid,
Ev'n I am one by whom She is betraid.
How Slavish then, or of a Blacker Dye,
Were those that screw'd the Passive String so high,
And still defend, precarious Pow'r to get,
Perversly what so foolishly was writ?
Our Sons might well have blam'd our Want of Sense,
Had we been Preach'd out of our own Defence,
And to the Papal Rage expos'd their Innocence.
Had they forseen this Change they had not wrote;
Much less wou'd have Imbib'd the Dangerous Thought
That true Religion (whence our Freedom Springs)
And Liberty are Inconsistent Things;
Or that no Man a Christian can commence
That shakes not Hands with Honesty and Sense.
O Men in Policy much, much to seek!
So finely Twisted, and the Stuff so weak
No Wonder that this Rope of Sand did break.
But with their Principles we now have done,
And in our Second Part they shall themselves be shown.
Were those that screw'd the Passive String so high,
And still defend, precarious Pow'r to get,
Perversly what so foolishly was writ?
Our Sons might well have blam'd our Want of Sense,
Had we been Preach'd out of our own Defence,
And to the Papal Rage expos'd their Innocence.
Had they forseen this Change they had not wrote;
Much less wou'd have Imbib'd the Dangerous Thought
131
And Liberty are Inconsistent Things;
Or that no Man a Christian can commence
That shakes not Hands with Honesty and Sense.
O Men in Policy much, much to seek!
So finely Twisted, and the Stuff so weak
No Wonder that this Rope of Sand did break.
But with their Principles we now have done,
And in our Second Part they shall themselves be shown.
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2. The Second Part.
When
Pharaoh's Num'rous Host was now no more,
And Israel's Guide had reach'd the happy Shore,
One wou'd have thought, so many Wonders past,
They wou'd have been all Gratitude at last;
And with loud Voices, in Eternal Lays,
Have Prais'd their God, and kept his Right'ous Ways.
And Israel's Guide had reach'd the happy Shore,
One wou'd have thought, so many Wonders past,
They wou'd have been all Gratitude at last;
And with loud Voices, in Eternal Lays,
Have Prais'd their God, and kept his Right'ous Ways.
Quite contrary we Read th'Event was found;
In a few Days, thro' all the Camp around,
'Twas Slight, Despondence, and a Murmuring Sound:
Their downward Souls, not daring to be free,
Abhor'd the Hand that gave 'em Liberty.
In a few Days, thro' all the Camp around,
'Twas Slight, Despondence, and a Murmuring Sound:
Their downward Souls, not daring to be free,
Abhor'd the Hand that gave 'em Liberty.
But never was there known, as Authors tell,
(Gifted alike to Murmur and Rebel)
Before our Times that People's Parallel.
What more from Impious Pharaoh cou'd they fear
Than we from Rome's more fatal Slavery here?
Not a worse Scene was the Erythrean Shore
Behind their Tyrant, and the Sea before.
And yet e'er we cou'd think Defence was near,
The Storm was silenc'd, and the Heav'ns were clear;
Away at once the threat'ning Terrors fled,
And Peace and Safety settl'd in their stead.
We all cry'd Liberty! Enfranchisment!
Trade! Plenty! Property! with one Consent;
And Orange under Heav'n was own'd the Mighty Instrument.
(Gifted alike to Murmur and Rebel)
Before our Times that People's Parallel.
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Than we from Rome's more fatal Slavery here?
Not a worse Scene was the Erythrean Shore
Behind their Tyrant, and the Sea before.
And yet e'er we cou'd think Defence was near,
The Storm was silenc'd, and the Heav'ns were clear;
Away at once the threat'ning Terrors fled,
And Peace and Safety settl'd in their stead.
We all cry'd Liberty! Enfranchisment!
Trade! Plenty! Property! with one Consent;
And Orange under Heav'n was own'd the Mighty Instrument.
The very Men themselves that now we blame
For changing Masters, then believ'd the same;
Their Service in the Common Cause they'd boast,
And argu'd but for Him w'ad all been lost:
Their Danger then had made 'em lose their Spite,
And in their very Fears they found their Sight:
But Cowardice no Gen'rous Fruit can bear,
And a forc'd Duty is the least sincere:
For soon Conversing with the Popish Crew,
(Nor to their Safety, nor their Reason true,)
They left their Party—and their Senses too.
For changing Masters, then believ'd the same;
Their Service in the Common Cause they'd boast,
And argu'd but for Him w'ad all been lost:
Their Danger then had made 'em lose their Spite,
And in their very Fears they found their Sight:
But Cowardice no Gen'rous Fruit can bear,
And a forc'd Duty is the least sincere:
For soon Conversing with the Popish Crew,
(Nor to their Safety, nor their Reason true,)
They left their Party—and their Senses too.
Why else, when so much Publick Good is done,
Is such a strange Dissatisfaction shown?
Why shou'd they wish his Ruin who so late
Sav'd 'em from theirs, and rais'd a sinking State?
Why shou'd they wear so diffident a Brow?
All smiling lately, and all Railing now!
Unless 'twas only Change they aim'd at then,
And, not Preferr'd, are for a Change agen:
More Proud than Just, and more Perverse than Wise,
Nor care if Kingdoms fall so they can rise.
Is such a strange Dissatisfaction shown?
Why shou'd they wish his Ruin who so late
Sav'd 'em from theirs, and rais'd a sinking State?
Why shou'd they wear so diffident a Brow?
All smiling lately, and all Railing now!
Unless 'twas only Change they aim'd at then,
And, not Preferr'd, are for a Change agen:
More Proud than Just, and more Perverse than Wise,
Nor care if Kingdoms fall so they can rise.
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But that we may the livelier paint their Crimes,
Once more we'll touch upon the Papal Times.
The Bow stood bent and levell'd at our Lives,
Our Throats were stretch'd beneath the Roman Knives,
While Rape but for the Word expecting stood,
First to begin in Lust, and end in Blood.
The Rights and Freedoms we so much admire,
All Hopeless lay, and Gasping to expire.
Torn Charters fell, thick as a Fleecy Show'r,
Blown thro' the Land by Arbitrary Pow'r.
Reliev'd of all these Evils, who'd have here
Deny'd the Tribute of their Praise and Pray'r?
Quite contrary (with equal Jewish Spite)
These Men are blind amidst the Glare of Light;
And over to a strong Delusion giv'n,
Murmur at Mercies in the Face of Heav'n.
Once more we'll touch upon the Papal Times.
The Bow stood bent and levell'd at our Lives,
Our Throats were stretch'd beneath the Roman Knives,
While Rape but for the Word expecting stood,
First to begin in Lust, and end in Blood.
The Rights and Freedoms we so much admire,
All Hopeless lay, and Gasping to expire.
Torn Charters fell, thick as a Fleecy Show'r,
Blown thro' the Land by Arbitrary Pow'r.
Reliev'd of all these Evils, who'd have here
Deny'd the Tribute of their Praise and Pray'r?
Quite contrary (with equal Jewish Spite)
These Men are blind amidst the Glare of Light;
And over to a strong Delusion giv'n,
Murmur at Mercies in the Face of Heav'n.
In vain our Hero's happy in his Toils,
In vain the War does spare the British Isles,
In vain Augusta triumphs, and Eusebia smiles;
In all the Blessings Subjects can possess,
Their only Comfort is to make 'em less.
In vain the War does spare the British Isles,
In vain Augusta triumphs, and Eusebia smiles;
In all the Blessings Subjects can possess,
Their only Comfort is to make 'em less.
By what strange Witchcraft cou'd their Papal Friends
Work 'em so quickly to their Treach'rous Ends?
Where cou'd they the accurst Ingredients have,
That can so soon compose the Fool and Knave?
Disposing so their Poison thro' the whole;
It quite inverts the Truth, and black'ns to the Soul.
Work 'em so quickly to their Treach'rous Ends?
Where cou'd they the accurst Ingredients have,
That can so soon compose the Fool and Knave?
Disposing so their Poison thro' the whole;
It quite inverts the Truth, and black'ns to the Soul.
Nor do they only Silly Sheep infect,
But oft the Hand that shou'd those Sheep protect,
Of this we've bloody Instances of old;
But nothing than their last more Base, and Bold,
Which made us Objects of that Monarch's Hate
Whom we had lifted to the Regal State,
In Spite of Factions, and almost in Spite of Fate.
The Ways and Means we need not mention here,
Seen by all Eyes, and heard by ev'ry Ear,
How e'er our Loyal Deeds had like to cost so dear:
But, hood-wink'd by Apocryphal Divines,
He owes his Ruin to their damn'd Designs.
'Tis true, they Threatn'd, Flatter'd, Brib'd and Writ
But Fools and Women, (which may shew their Wit)
Were all the Proselytes they e'er could get:
Unless by chance, among the Thoughtless Fry,
Some Hireling Pens deserted by the By.
All ways to buoy their Sinking Cause they us'd;
The Bloodiest, Blackest Methods stood excus'd,
If fast to their Design;—which was to do,
Ev'n worse than Lewis by his Hugonot Crew;
Not pack'd us off for Charity to Roam,
But making surer Work, hang'd us like Dogs at Home.
But oft the Hand that shou'd those Sheep protect,
Of this we've bloody Instances of old;
But nothing than their last more Base, and Bold,
135
Whom we had lifted to the Regal State,
In Spite of Factions, and almost in Spite of Fate.
The Ways and Means we need not mention here,
Seen by all Eyes, and heard by ev'ry Ear,
How e'er our Loyal Deeds had like to cost so dear:
But, hood-wink'd by Apocryphal Divines,
He owes his Ruin to their damn'd Designs.
'Tis true, they Threatn'd, Flatter'd, Brib'd and Writ
But Fools and Women, (which may shew their Wit)
Were all the Proselytes they e'er could get:
Unless by chance, among the Thoughtless Fry,
Some Hireling Pens deserted by the By.
All ways to buoy their Sinking Cause they us'd;
The Bloodiest, Blackest Methods stood excus'd,
If fast to their Design;—which was to do,
Ev'n worse than Lewis by his Hugonot Crew;
Not pack'd us off for Charity to Roam,
But making surer Work, hang'd us like Dogs at Home.
Such would have been the Times, we must allow,
Had that Persuasion flourish'd here till now:
(The Jehu's drove on with a furious Pace,
But by their very Swiftness lost the Race:)
And such will be the Times and such the Reign,
If that curst Doctrin mount the Stage again.
We once oblig'd 'em,—and some Authors say
We then were thought a duller Race than they,
For trusting Wolves, (whose Nature's to devour,)
And putting into dang'rous Hands the Reins of Soveraign Power.
'Tis true, we did so;—nor can sorry be,
For acting by the Rules of Equity;
Possest of all the Glories of a Throne,
He was but yet invested in his own.
Nor less her self our Loyal Church appears
To do her Duty, tho' they fail'd of Theirs.
The higher we advanc'd their Wealth and Pow'r,
The more our Treatment was Morose and Sour;
And cou'd they've found the Means to slake their Thirst,
The Arm that rais'd 'em had been Blooded first.
If then upon a just Survey, we find
Them most ungrateful, when we most were kind;
What can w'expect upon the certain Proof
W'are not their Friends—but made 'em glare aloof;
What milder Dealing can Britannia hope
From French Dragoons, and a yet Bloodier Pope,
But Fire and Faggot, Poison, Sword and Rope?
Had that Persuasion flourish'd here till now:
(The Jehu's drove on with a furious Pace,
But by their very Swiftness lost the Race:)
And such will be the Times and such the Reign,
If that curst Doctrin mount the Stage again.
We once oblig'd 'em,—and some Authors say
We then were thought a duller Race than they,
For trusting Wolves, (whose Nature's to devour,)
And putting into dang'rous Hands the Reins of Soveraign Power.
'Tis true, we did so;—nor can sorry be,
For acting by the Rules of Equity;
Possest of all the Glories of a Throne,
He was but yet invested in his own.
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To do her Duty, tho' they fail'd of Theirs.
The higher we advanc'd their Wealth and Pow'r,
The more our Treatment was Morose and Sour;
And cou'd they've found the Means to slake their Thirst,
The Arm that rais'd 'em had been Blooded first.
If then upon a just Survey, we find
Them most ungrateful, when we most were kind;
What can w'expect upon the certain Proof
W'are not their Friends—but made 'em glare aloof;
What milder Dealing can Britannia hope
From French Dragoons, and a yet Bloodier Pope,
But Fire and Faggot, Poison, Sword and Rope?
'Tis needful then, we here should scan the Man,
That would retrieve so bad a Cause again:
That cry the BARQUE of State will overwhelm,
If the old PILOT come not to the HELM;
(He that engag'd us among Rocks and Shelves,
Then angry grew we wou'd not Wreck our selves.)
That say the CHURCH is tott'ring and will fall,
And ah!—You see we are divided all;
When they so very far mistake the Point,
There's nothing but their Faction out of Joint.
Imagine one Man worse than all beside,
Made up of Rashness, Virulence and Pride;
Imagine him Licencious, False and Vain,
His Notions wrested, and his Biass Gain;
Conceive him last his Country's Dang'rous Foe,
Without one Grain of Reason to be so:
Blood his Design, Subversion his Delight,
And then you truly paint a Jacobite.
That would retrieve so bad a Cause again:
That cry the BARQUE of State will overwhelm,
If the old PILOT come not to the HELM;
(He that engag'd us among Rocks and Shelves,
Then angry grew we wou'd not Wreck our selves.)
That say the CHURCH is tott'ring and will fall,
And ah!—You see we are divided all;
When they so very far mistake the Point,
There's nothing but their Faction out of Joint.
Imagine one Man worse than all beside,
Made up of Rashness, Virulence and Pride;
Imagine him Licencious, False and Vain,
His Notions wrested, and his Biass Gain;
Conceive him last his Country's Dang'rous Foe,
Without one Grain of Reason to be so:
Blood his Design, Subversion his Delight,
And then you truly paint a Jacobite.
A Jacobite! the other French Disease,
And more Malignant if we let it seize;
For fluxing there relieves the Patient's Pains,
But give this Scope, and like a Plague it banes:
Of these there are two Sorts;—and one takes Pride
To shew what t'other strives as much to hide:
But tho' the last demurely Act his Part,
'Tis not for want of Rancour at the Heart;
Tho' what he means to do, he does not tell,
W'ave fatal Proof he serves the Turn as well:
Inveigles, Undermines, Allures, Betrays,
And plies his Task a hundred various ways:
Sad Times he cries;—then let him have our Curse,
That grants 'em wicked, and wou'd make 'em worse.
Thus one's a Bigot at full Length display'd,
While t'other Skulks about in Masquerade:
Yet tho' the first talks loud, and keeps a Pother,
He's not so dang'rous as his Silent Brother.
What Ward for Arrows flying in the Dark?
Or the Sly Cur, that Bites and will not Bark?
Such is this Man,—and can he miss the Mark?
And more Malignant if we let it seize;
137
But give this Scope, and like a Plague it banes:
Of these there are two Sorts;—and one takes Pride
To shew what t'other strives as much to hide:
But tho' the last demurely Act his Part,
'Tis not for want of Rancour at the Heart;
Tho' what he means to do, he does not tell,
W'ave fatal Proof he serves the Turn as well:
Inveigles, Undermines, Allures, Betrays,
And plies his Task a hundred various ways:
Sad Times he cries;—then let him have our Curse,
That grants 'em wicked, and wou'd make 'em worse.
Thus one's a Bigot at full Length display'd,
While t'other Skulks about in Masquerade:
Yet tho' the first talks loud, and keeps a Pother,
He's not so dang'rous as his Silent Brother.
What Ward for Arrows flying in the Dark?
Or the Sly Cur, that Bites and will not Bark?
Such is this Man,—and can he miss the Mark?
The Bully boldly shoots the Brothel Door,
And mounts the Stairs, Audacious to his Whore;
Nor cares to whom the Impious Crime is known,
But takes his Turn, and instantly is gone:
And tho' the Drab to Truth has no Pretence,
He ne'er Disputes her want of Innocence,
But Ventures Life and Fortune,—all in its Defence.
The secret Leacher, like a Guilty Spright,
Ne'er lets his Strumpet see him till 'tis Night;
And tho' 'tis Dark will yet be in Disguise,
And, Conscious of his Crime, thinks all are Spies.
Pray which of these is worst?—I know you'll say,
The Private Drudge that ply'd his Task till day,
And mounts the Stairs, Audacious to his Whore;
Nor cares to whom the Impious Crime is known,
But takes his Turn, and instantly is gone:
And tho' the Drab to Truth has no Pretence,
He ne'er Disputes her want of Innocence,
But Ventures Life and Fortune,—all in its Defence.
The secret Leacher, like a Guilty Spright,
Ne'er lets his Strumpet see him till 'tis Night;
And tho' 'tis Dark will yet be in Disguise,
And, Conscious of his Crime, thinks all are Spies.
Pray which of these is worst?—I know you'll say,
The Private Drudge that ply'd his Task till day,
These two Pernicious Monsters paint aright
Our Bare-fac'd, and our Vizor'd Jacobite.
One is a Papist, careless who does know
That he was bred, and will continue so:
What e'er He's bid the Implicit Fop will do,
Without Examining if false, or true,
And so keeps bright Conviction out of view.
The other in his Conduct shews you Skill,
And is at best but more discreetly ill:
What e'er his Brother openly intends,
He is for bringing round by Private Ends:
(For Your true Rascal must much cunning have
Tho' something still of Fool we find in ev'ry Knave:)
Will not he is of that Persuasion own,
(For little cou'd he serve his Party known:)
But, for a Blind declares He's one of Us;
And whether so, or not, we'll next discuss.
Our Bare-fac'd, and our Vizor'd Jacobite.
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That he was bred, and will continue so:
What e'er He's bid the Implicit Fop will do,
Without Examining if false, or true,
And so keeps bright Conviction out of view.
The other in his Conduct shews you Skill,
And is at best but more discreetly ill:
What e'er his Brother openly intends,
He is for bringing round by Private Ends:
(For Your true Rascal must much cunning have
Tho' something still of Fool we find in ev'ry Knave:)
Will not he is of that Persuasion own,
(For little cou'd he serve his Party known:)
But, for a Blind declares He's one of Us;
And whether so, or not, we'll next discuss.
Is He a Protestant that wou'd o'erthrow
The Pillars that support his Being so?
A Child wou'd have the Answer ready—No.
But since so Brief an Answer may not do,
We'll take one other Step to prove it too,
Tho' needless, since so manifestly true.
The Pillars that support his Being so?
A Child wou'd have the Answer ready—No.
But since so Brief an Answer may not do,
We'll take one other Step to prove it too,
Tho' needless, since so manifestly true.
'Tis a known Lesson in the Roman School,
Who e'er makes one of us Embrace their Rule,
From sure Damnation does redeem a Soul.
Tho' we see thro' the Lawn of this Pretence,
It's want of Truth, of Honesty, and Sense,
Yet they run on; Conversion is the Cry,
And Peter's Keys are his that will comply.
With Truth they never yet one Convert made,
But flatter, threaten, or with Gold persuade;
Weakness may slip where so much Ice is laid:
We saw this Plain; our Chambers ne'er were free
From these loose Emp'ricks of Divinitie,
Who mixing the Divine Ingredients ill,
And worse applying, with that very Pill
By which we cure, deprave, insnare and kill:
For Christianity (the Scriptures show)
Needs not the Crutch of Cruelty to go;
She best supports her self; and can aspire
To Heav'n, or to an Humble Brest retire,
Without the aid of Inquisitions, or a Smithfield Fire
These are the gentle Means that Church has took
To gain us; Christian Bowels they've forsook,
And made a Murd'ring Sword of the Mild Shepherds Crook.
Stubborn in Principle, devout in ill,
Of Restless Nature, and Licentious Will.
The only Reformation they advance
Is to turn us from our Allegiance,
Or make the Prince assume a Lawless Pow'r,
While, sparing only them, He does all else devour:
Yet ev'n to Him they their Contempt reveal
In making Popes their Earthly last Appeal;
Transferring so his Rights to Foreign Hands,
For if that Priest but bid, in vain the Prince Commands:
Their Soveraigns thus his Properties are made
Their Royalties usurp'd, the People's Rights betray'd:
For Rome's curs'd Mufti aims but at two things,
The Coin from Subjects, and the Pow'r from Kings.
The Man that does advance a Popish Reign
Wou'd set all these Designs afoot again:
All Sense of Human Shame he then must want
And have, Seven-fold, a Jesuit's Brazen Front,
Who after this concludes himself a Protestant.
Who e'er makes one of us Embrace their Rule,
From sure Damnation does redeem a Soul.
Tho' we see thro' the Lawn of this Pretence,
It's want of Truth, of Honesty, and Sense,
Yet they run on; Conversion is the Cry,
And Peter's Keys are his that will comply.
With Truth they never yet one Convert made,
But flatter, threaten, or with Gold persuade;
Weakness may slip where so much Ice is laid:
We saw this Plain; our Chambers ne'er were free
From these loose Emp'ricks of Divinitie,
139
And worse applying, with that very Pill
By which we cure, deprave, insnare and kill:
For Christianity (the Scriptures show)
Needs not the Crutch of Cruelty to go;
She best supports her self; and can aspire
To Heav'n, or to an Humble Brest retire,
Without the aid of Inquisitions, or a Smithfield Fire
These are the gentle Means that Church has took
To gain us; Christian Bowels they've forsook,
And made a Murd'ring Sword of the Mild Shepherds Crook.
Stubborn in Principle, devout in ill,
Of Restless Nature, and Licentious Will.
The only Reformation they advance
Is to turn us from our Allegiance,
Or make the Prince assume a Lawless Pow'r,
While, sparing only them, He does all else devour:
Yet ev'n to Him they their Contempt reveal
In making Popes their Earthly last Appeal;
Transferring so his Rights to Foreign Hands,
For if that Priest but bid, in vain the Prince Commands:
Their Soveraigns thus his Properties are made
Their Royalties usurp'd, the People's Rights betray'd:
For Rome's curs'd Mufti aims but at two things,
The Coin from Subjects, and the Pow'r from Kings.
The Man that does advance a Popish Reign
Wou'd set all these Designs afoot again:
All Sense of Human Shame he then must want
And have, Seven-fold, a Jesuit's Brazen Front,
Who after this concludes himself a Protestant.
Either these Men notorious Coxcombs be,
Or very firmly think, that—such are we:
To bring in Popery, and take off the Test,
Yet of th'Establish'd English Church profess'd,
Is Inconsistent with all Reasons Rules;—
But they are Knaves that wou'd have all be Fools.
Some few past Years before your Memory set,
And mark if e'er such Contradictions met.
Engagements, Vows, and Oaths may once deceive,
So far methinks 'tis Human to believe:
But He that does Implicitly run on
When so much Publick Injury is done,
And thinks 'tis for our Safety and our Fame,
Must be an Ass,—or else he wants a Name.
Or very firmly think, that—such are we:
To bring in Popery, and take off the Test,
Yet of th'Establish'd English Church profess'd,
140
But they are Knaves that wou'd have all be Fools.
Some few past Years before your Memory set,
And mark if e'er such Contradictions met.
Engagements, Vows, and Oaths may once deceive,
So far methinks 'tis Human to believe:
But He that does Implicitly run on
When so much Publick Injury is done,
And thinks 'tis for our Safety and our Fame,
Must be an Ass,—or else he wants a Name.
How strangely is the Papal Herd misled!
But what's a Body with so false a Head?
To Heav'n the Holy Scriptures point their way,
And Truth (a greater Light than rules the Day)
Stands for their Guide;—in vain, they will not stir,
But follow One that will not follow Her,
Yet Impiously assert he cannot Err:
Not Err? when in the Eucharist they declare
The Flesh that Suffer'd on the Cross is there?
That tho' we Bread to outward Seeming see,
'Tis yet th'intire Essential Deitie?
No not at all;—nay further (adds the Priest)
'Tis but with Fools that Miracles are ceas'd:
Our Sons will give, (and Credit rightly Plac'd,)
More Faith ev'n to their Teachers, than their Tast.
So the Good Woman, tho' her Husband saw
Her in the Fact, not valu'd it a Straw;
But cry'd, at once to end all future Strife,
What? trust your Eyes before your nown Sweet Wife?
But what's a Body with so false a Head?
To Heav'n the Holy Scriptures point their way,
And Truth (a greater Light than rules the Day)
Stands for their Guide;—in vain, they will not stir,
But follow One that will not follow Her,
Yet Impiously assert he cannot Err:
Not Err? when in the Eucharist they declare
The Flesh that Suffer'd on the Cross is there?
That tho' we Bread to outward Seeming see,
'Tis yet th'intire Essential Deitie?
No not at all;—nay further (adds the Priest)
'Tis but with Fools that Miracles are ceas'd:
Our Sons will give, (and Credit rightly Plac'd,)
More Faith ev'n to their Teachers, than their Tast.
So the Good Woman, tho' her Husband saw
Her in the Fact, not valu'd it a Straw;
But cry'd, at once to end all future Strife,
What? trust your Eyes before your nown Sweet Wife?
But to return: Suppose the Man we here
Have mention'd, really no Papist were,
He shou'd be ne'er a Jot the less our Fear;
Since all his Actions to their Centre tend,
As fierce an Enemy, as false a Friend.
Were I seiz'd by two Ruffians strong and bold,
And one does cut my Throat, and t'other hold,
Or gag me, while he perpetrates the Act;
Which of the two is guilty of the Fact?
Why thus, e'en handy dandy chuse you whether,
For Law will tell you both must hang together.
Have mention'd, really no Papist were,
He shou'd be ne'er a Jot the less our Fear;
Since all his Actions to their Centre tend,
As fierce an Enemy, as false a Friend.
141
And one does cut my Throat, and t'other hold,
Or gag me, while he perpetrates the Act;
Which of the two is guilty of the Fact?
Why thus, e'en handy dandy chuse you whether,
For Law will tell you both must hang together.
Well then, if not a Protestant, (as we
Have cause to doubt) 'tis proper now to see
Of whence, and what Communion He can be.
—Not a Fanatick; they his Converse shun,
And fast enough to Wickedness can run,
Without th'Encouragement of Looing on:
Not but thus far we ought to Right their Fame,
The Jesuit 'tis, that finds and springs their Game.
Tho' here he can't devour so much as they,
He yet fills up their Cry, and shoots them at their Prey.
—Nor must he be a Quaker understood;
For 'tho' their bad, he yet is not so Good:
Prepost'rously they both Religion ply;
Those make it Farce, and these a Tragedy.
—Nor is he Baptist, Dryden's Bristl'd Boar,
Who tho' in Germany his Tusks he tore,
His Friends have deeper dip'd their Hands in Christian Gore:
In Piedmont was their Restless Fury try'd,
In Ireland too, their Butch'ry rag'd as wide
Nor only there, but half the World beside:
O blest Religion! sure to gain the Heart,
That wou'dst with Blood and Massacre convert!
Booted Apostles thy Converters are,
But, Search the Scriptures, find such Monsters there.
—Nor is he Turk or Jew—but if we scan
Him Rightly, a much more opprobrious Man;
His Kings and Countreys Traytor, so profess'd,
As he supports the Gallick Interest:
And who advances that (to name him right)
Must bear the odious Brand of Jacobite,
And next a Papist; half an Eye may see
Two Tallies more exactly can't agree,
Than now a Murm'ring Tongue with Popery.
A Papist to the Common-Weal's a Foe,
By Interest, Nature, and by Doctrine so;
That Common Foe a Villain we may write;
Of that Communion is a JACOBITE.
Have cause to doubt) 'tis proper now to see
Of whence, and what Communion He can be.
—Not a Fanatick; they his Converse shun,
And fast enough to Wickedness can run,
Without th'Encouragement of Looing on:
Not but thus far we ought to Right their Fame,
The Jesuit 'tis, that finds and springs their Game.
Tho' here he can't devour so much as they,
He yet fills up their Cry, and shoots them at their Prey.
—Nor must he be a Quaker understood;
For 'tho' their bad, he yet is not so Good:
Prepost'rously they both Religion ply;
Those make it Farce, and these a Tragedy.
—Nor is he Baptist, Dryden's Bristl'd Boar,
Who tho' in Germany his Tusks he tore,
His Friends have deeper dip'd their Hands in Christian Gore:
In Piedmont was their Restless Fury try'd,
In Ireland too, their Butch'ry rag'd as wide
Nor only there, but half the World beside:
O blest Religion! sure to gain the Heart,
That wou'dst with Blood and Massacre convert!
Booted Apostles thy Converters are,
But, Search the Scriptures, find such Monsters there.
—Nor is he Turk or Jew—but if we scan
Him Rightly, a much more opprobrious Man;
His Kings and Countreys Traytor, so profess'd,
As he supports the Gallick Interest:
142
Must bear the odious Brand of Jacobite,
And next a Papist; half an Eye may see
Two Tallies more exactly can't agree,
Than now a Murm'ring Tongue with Popery.
A Papist to the Common-Weal's a Foe,
By Interest, Nature, and by Doctrine so;
That Common Foe a Villain we may write;
Of that Communion is a JACOBITE.
'Tis time to rouze our Selves, nor longer lie
In the cold Bosom of Indifferency,
While, careless of what Times are comming on,
That Danger seize us which we yet may shun;
For Laughter, Laziness, and Luke-warm Zeal,
Are but weak Mail to keep out Popish Steel.
Who e'er stands Neuter now is doubly base,
Springs from a Traytor's or a Coward's Race,
Thoughtless of Shame and harden'd in Disgrace.
In our Defence half Europe are in Arms,
And all our Enemies have took th'Alarms;
Unanimous as One, then, let us go,
And not be sought but let us seek the Foe:
Our Cause is ripe and Justice is our own;
Freed from our Bondage, let th'Egyptian Groan.
And that to this Great Work we may be gone
The sooner, think Great William leads us on:
Nurs'd up in War ev'n from his tender Years,
As fam'd for Conduct as contempt of Fears;
On that sure Basis he his Glory rears.
A Prince whose Vict'ries we with Wonder view,
And ev'ry Day gives Birth, or Teems with new.
Not a vain Promiser that breaks his Word,
But of a Temper Constant as his Sword;
H'has sav'd two Kingdoms and shall save the Third;
Nor then the Just, the needful War give o'er,
But, that Reduc'd, go on and Conquer more.
France then, perhaps, tho' now her Airy Pride,
Wrapt in the Clouds, her Tyrant's Head do's hide,
May tumble down, and such a Time behold
As Edward and our Henry shew'd of old,
When in that Countries Bowels they did draw
Their Conq'ring Swords, and gave its Members Law.
'Tis done!—I see 'em Fly, and Dye, and Yield,
As then they did at Crescy's Fatal Field.
Our Courage and our Strength are still the same,
And God-like William as Renown'd a Name,
And stands as fair for Everlasting Fame!
In the cold Bosom of Indifferency,
While, careless of what Times are comming on,
That Danger seize us which we yet may shun;
For Laughter, Laziness, and Luke-warm Zeal,
Are but weak Mail to keep out Popish Steel.
Who e'er stands Neuter now is doubly base,
Springs from a Traytor's or a Coward's Race,
Thoughtless of Shame and harden'd in Disgrace.
In our Defence half Europe are in Arms,
And all our Enemies have took th'Alarms;
Unanimous as One, then, let us go,
And not be sought but let us seek the Foe:
Our Cause is ripe and Justice is our own;
Freed from our Bondage, let th'Egyptian Groan.
And that to this Great Work we may be gone
The sooner, think Great William leads us on:
Nurs'd up in War ev'n from his tender Years,
As fam'd for Conduct as contempt of Fears;
On that sure Basis he his Glory rears.
A Prince whose Vict'ries we with Wonder view,
And ev'ry Day gives Birth, or Teems with new.
Not a vain Promiser that breaks his Word,
But of a Temper Constant as his Sword;
H'has sav'd two Kingdoms and shall save the Third;
143
But, that Reduc'd, go on and Conquer more.
France then, perhaps, tho' now her Airy Pride,
Wrapt in the Clouds, her Tyrant's Head do's hide,
May tumble down, and such a Time behold
As Edward and our Henry shew'd of old,
When in that Countries Bowels they did draw
Their Conq'ring Swords, and gave its Members Law.
'Tis done!—I see 'em Fly, and Dye, and Yield,
As then they did at Crescy's Fatal Field.
Our Courage and our Strength are still the same,
And God-like William as Renown'd a Name,
And stands as fair for Everlasting Fame!
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |