University of Virginia Library

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174

A new Address to Mr. Bays, on his late Conversion to the Church of Rome.

Hast thou at last that Mother Church too quitted,
To which thy Laymans Faith so oft submitted?
To gain whose Grace, and keep thy self from want,
Thou didst thy Fathers Principles recant;
Sinn'd against all the sense thou didst inherit,
And choak'd the Motions of thy Grandsire's Spirit.
Has then establish'd VVorship lost her Charms?
And does blind Admirer Bays fly to an Outlaws arms?
She who thy VVit to joyn with Law still bred,
And of thy Conscience had the Maidenhead;
VVho nurs'd with Care thy pliant-passive Nature,
And sanctify'd thy base-time-serving Satyr;
Can she e're lose that true Adorers Heart,
VVhom from Bawd R***s three Shankers could not part?
Thou, who thy Neck, thy Ears, thy Soul did venture,
To libel Whiggs, art thou turn'd a Dissenter?
VVell doth this Change, which thou to curse may'st live,
Expound thy blustering for Prerogative;
Some Sense those Rhymes had, which we thought all Rank,
This is the Key to thy complying Cant;
Drawing the Curtain from Long-framing Scenes,
Thou tell'st us (now at last) what [Loyal] means,
See here, ye Sots who serv'd the same vile Cause,
The end of Faith, that hangs on Human Laws!
VVere with more ease did Love from friendship grow,
Than Toryism up to Popery will flow.

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175

From having sold, with a Poetic Dotage,
Our ancient Birthrights for a Mess of Pottage;
From a Defence of Civil Cheat, and Nonsense,
VVith a Brass-Forehead, and Case-hard'n'd Conscience,
Like a Bilow, who durst all Laws defy,
To like Imposture in a Church thou dost for a safety fly;
After long Floating to a Faith thou'rt driven,
Where all thy villany may be forgiven,
Nay us'd, and hallow'd, to restore her see,
Rome has no Hope while Men from Force are free,
But by such Fortune-Followers, as Thee.
How did the Whore open her filthy Breast,
And with spread Arms receive a Rogue profest!
Methinks already with the Beasts own brand
Mark'd, in her Calender I see thee stand!
Hard by the Noble Army of Church-braves,
Among the goodly Fellowship of Knaves!
Who, to allay the Ferment of Divisions,
Have into Veins Basilic made Incisions,
And play'd the Devils Part in Apparations;
To give fresh Dread to the Pope's slighted Thunders,
Have at the Altar acted Lying Wonders,
As Boys do Proverbs, and reviv'd the spell,
To prove Impossible by Miracle,
The better with their Bubble to succeed,
And Faith in Stubborn-Stony-Hearts to bleed,
Made Pictures bow, and broken Wafers bleed;
VVhen e're this Bitch, their spiritual Mother, will'd,
Their Countrey's Father have depos'd or kill'd;
Brought Hecatombs of Hereticks to the Flame,
And VVorlds laid wast to spread her impious Name.

This Party may'st thou never disavow,
Ne're were thy Morals so well-match'd, as now,

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176

Fact, Scripture, Reason, Common sense defying,
'Tis they alone could equal thee in Lying:
Since Man in Gods Name cheated, never yet
Was Church for Saint, or Saint for Church more fit.
Oh, may'st thou reason for it, as of late
Thou did'st in Prefaces for the Crown and State!
In spite of a Fr--- League, and Jesuit's Wit,
Such fulsom Fooling might preserve us yet;
Such Teaguish Arguments, to whipe one's Br---,
VVould turn Men's stomachs, worse than the K---S---.
Since in low Fawning thou do'st so delight,
Art siding still with Power against Right,
And, like a Turk, success in Peace, or VVar,
To all the Moral vertues do'st prefer,
As the worst Curse we can wish England's Foe,
May'st thou at last truly a Papist grow;
So many Heav'n's wrath confound thy servile Brain,
Thou may'st in Earnest all their Trash maintain,
Damn'd to believe what now thou do'st but feign?
Since on Rome's Truth thou wou'd'st have all relye,
That be thy Comfort, when thou com'st to dye;
VVhen all the Terrors of grim Death attend thee,
Have not one vertuous Action to befriend thee;
No, in the Church's Pale think thy self safer,
And find no God to save thee, but her VVafer;
For thy past Life full of a just Confusion,
And given over to a strong Delusion,
Put thy sole Trust in a Priest's Absolution;
Let his vain Unction, on thy outward skin,
Be thought to heal thy ulcerous Soul within;
Take't for the Balm which Gilead did afford,
And have no hope of Heaven, but his word.