The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

And thus, at length, analogy conducts
Our hearts to Thee, the consummation dire
Of myst'ries all by Antichrist sustain'd!
Around it more than twice six hundred years
Have travail'd, in the pride of priestly art;
And now, a very prodigy of mind

204

Depraved, of truth corrupt, and power abused,
It moulds, and masters all whom it beguiles.
Compact, complete, symmetrically form'd
To fit all hearts, whate'er the sensual frame,
Or oscillate to each exacting move,
Mental or moral, varied life presents,—
This myst'ry plays the Proteus with mankind.
From character it draws responsive tones;
From all condition wins a pleased support;
In circumstance, the very crisis wields,
And of weak conscience takes advantage vile:
Virtue and vice alike its charm obey;
And, forging chains that with no clanking fall
The ear arrest, or rouse the dormant soul,
The heart it manacles with fettering guile,
And binds it down, deluded to the last.

“A myst'ry” was this antichristian spell
In wisdom by prophetic Paul foretold;
Nor aught which infidels have dared, or done
The Lord of souls to crucify again,
Like this imposture hath mankind seduced.
There, falsehood in its open vileness reign'd;
Conspicuous, mark'd, and branded as the bad,
The heart may shun it, and securely keep
Both principle and purity awake.
But here, false Darkness, with a face of Light
Deceptively upon its victim smiles;
And, by the aspect of an angel's love,
Ruins the spirit with a demon's guile.
Here lies the danger, lurks the full deceit,—
Pretension, high as heaven's meridian truth,
Performance, low as hell's absorbing lie!
Religion thus, with suicidal hand
Herself destroys; and into death transmutes
A living zeal, which, else, for God and souls
Like inspiration might the world employ:—
Dilates a precept, or a truth contracts,
Can mould a doctrine, or a creed erect;
And round salvation such a dimness cast
That Christ is hidden, and the Church alone
In sacramental mist at length adored.

But yet, how stern, how lofty, how refined,
Thy vast professions, Romanistic creed!
Not Purity itself, is pure as Thou
In strictness, and severity of aim.
From the mix'd world, monastically free,
Our spirit thou would'st fain entice; and cast
Its powers in moulds of superhuman faith;
And thus, from foul entanglements of flesh
The mind deliver, till, to earthless heights
Of dazzling purity at length arrived,
That consummation of the church is reach'd,—
Meekness and martyrdom, in one combined!

The Devil is the parodist of God;
And priestly colours are the paint employ'd
To tinge his counterfeits of Truth divine
With holy semblance; and that flaming zeal
For saintliness, apostate Rome affects,
For Him has wrought satanically well.
Pollution's self on Purity's clear throne
In veil'd enchantment thus hath ruled, and reign'd,
Deceiving others, and itself deceived.
The Roman myst'ry is a mask of lies,
While yet thy countenance, celestial Truth!
It borrows; Mercy is the mild pretence,
Justice her theme, and love for God the law,
And zeal for Christ the Church's ardent soul
That makes Her all that miracle she is!—
Satan himself can thus religious seem,
And poison Virtue with her very smile.

Gospel and Grace in this dread system die,
And Love and Light to cruel darkness turn,
Shade upon shade, impenetrably deep,
Investing Godhead with a vile array
Of terrors, forged by sacerdotal guile,
And summon'd forth as guilt, or gain demands.
Where is The Father, in that fiction dread,
That ghastly Something, for a God believed,
Which Popery to the harrow'd Mind presents?
Or, when the ague of a guilty heart
Rages in secret, what paternal voice
From God in Christ subdues it into tears?
Then, not direct through Son and Spirit looks
A soul repentant, from the pleading eye
Of faith, on God reveal'd; but damning frowns,
Blacker than Sinai's legal night of death
To daunt the sinner, are at once evoked,
Hiding the cross with intercepting gloom:
Infinite Cruelty thus God becomes;
His throne all blackness, and His heart begirt
With stern-eyed Saints, who awe the spirit down
Till first their mediatorship is moved,
And God, persuaded by their prayer, relents!
As if by impulse an Almighty moved,
Nor in Himself His own great motive was.