King Arthur An Heroick Poem. In Twelve Books. By Richard Blackmore. To which is Annexed, An Index, Explaining the Names of Countrys, Citys, and Rivers, &c |
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| X. |
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 | King Arthur |  |
Subjects who Tribute to their Monarch pay,
And Peacefully his just Commands obey,
With highest Justice from their Prince expect
He should their Lives and Libertys protect.
No Errors in Religion can destroy
Th'Immunitys which we, as Men, enjoy.
Those whom the Churchmen as Sectarians blame,
Lose not the Rights which they as Subjects claim.
The Sacred Laws our Heav'nly Author made,
Were not to force Belief, but to Perswade.
Prisons were ne'er for Christian Schools design'd,
Nor Whips and Racks for Arguments enjoyn'd.
Unless our Wills could Laws to Reason give,
And Man could what he pleas'd, as Truth believe,
Force for Conversion is employ'd in vain;
Whose Judgment ever was inform'd by Pain?
Churches should Arms forbear till they agree
On some unerring mark of Heresy.
Some Christians call'd, of Antichristian mind,
To Force and not to Argument inclin'd.
To take the Sword lay down the Pastor's Crook,
And into Wolves convert their Peaceful Flock.
Forth against Schism they march exclaiming loud,
And make the Church a reeking Field of Blood.
These Sons of Thunder thus the Gospel Preach,
And red in Slaughter Heav'nly Meekness teach.
These Men perswade, and make their Doctrines known,
Not by th'Almighty's Terrours, but their own.
Declining Reason's mild perswasive Course,
They Press for Heav'n, and Christians Lift by force.
These from the Temple's Battlements display
The bloody Flag, and draw out in Array
Their Warlike Orders, who Embattled stand
With Sabres, not the Gospel in their hand.
Then breathing Fire, they March Mankind to free
From Hereticks, as well as Heresy.
How ill her Arms and Military dress
The Gentle, Meek and Passive Church express?
How will this Equipage and strange disguise,
The mild Restorer of Mankind surprise?
How will he like his Vineyard which appears
A Bulwark'd Camp all planted o'er with Spears?
How will he know his Church in Tented Fields,
Midst Chariots, Steeds, bright Helms and blazing Shields?
How will he know her when with Conquest proud,
Laden with Spoils and Garments roll'd in blood?
These Arm'd Evangelists must sure displease
Their Gentle Lord, the Prince of Love and Peace.
When Converts first were in Britannia made,
The Christian Planters only did perswade.
When they were few, easy to be supprest,
Then the Religion which the Sword possest,
Was not allow'd a Right to crush the rest:
Then Persecution was aloud condemn'd,
And Violence the highest Crime esteem'd.
And shall the Christians strong and numerous grown,
The Maxims which advanc'd their Church disown?
Shall they Assert an Antichristian Power
Their disagreeing Neighbours to devour,
Which if the Pagan Princes had employ'd,
The Christian Church long since had been destroy'd?
And Peacefully his just Commands obey,
With highest Justice from their Prince expect
He should their Lives and Libertys protect.
135
Th'Immunitys which we, as Men, enjoy.
Those whom the Churchmen as Sectarians blame,
Lose not the Rights which they as Subjects claim.
The Sacred Laws our Heav'nly Author made,
Were not to force Belief, but to Perswade.
Prisons were ne'er for Christian Schools design'd,
Nor Whips and Racks for Arguments enjoyn'd.
Unless our Wills could Laws to Reason give,
And Man could what he pleas'd, as Truth believe,
Force for Conversion is employ'd in vain;
Whose Judgment ever was inform'd by Pain?
Churches should Arms forbear till they agree
On some unerring mark of Heresy.
Some Christians call'd, of Antichristian mind,
To Force and not to Argument inclin'd.
To take the Sword lay down the Pastor's Crook,
And into Wolves convert their Peaceful Flock.
Forth against Schism they march exclaiming loud,
And make the Church a reeking Field of Blood.
These Sons of Thunder thus the Gospel Preach,
And red in Slaughter Heav'nly Meekness teach.
These Men perswade, and make their Doctrines known,
Not by th'Almighty's Terrours, but their own.
Declining Reason's mild perswasive Course,
They Press for Heav'n, and Christians Lift by force.
These from the Temple's Battlements display
The bloody Flag, and draw out in Array
Their Warlike Orders, who Embattled stand
With Sabres, not the Gospel in their hand.
136
From Hereticks, as well as Heresy.
How ill her Arms and Military dress
The Gentle, Meek and Passive Church express?
How will this Equipage and strange disguise,
The mild Restorer of Mankind surprise?
How will he like his Vineyard which appears
A Bulwark'd Camp all planted o'er with Spears?
How will he know his Church in Tented Fields,
Midst Chariots, Steeds, bright Helms and blazing Shields?
How will he know her when with Conquest proud,
Laden with Spoils and Garments roll'd in blood?
These Arm'd Evangelists must sure displease
Their Gentle Lord, the Prince of Love and Peace.
When Converts first were in Britannia made,
The Christian Planters only did perswade.
When they were few, easy to be supprest,
Then the Religion which the Sword possest,
Was not allow'd a Right to crush the rest:
Then Persecution was aloud condemn'd,
And Violence the highest Crime esteem'd.
And shall the Christians strong and numerous grown,
The Maxims which advanc'd their Church disown?
Shall they Assert an Antichristian Power
Their disagreeing Neighbours to devour,
Which if the Pagan Princes had employ'd,
The Christian Church long since had been destroy'd?
| King Arthur | |