Thoughts Upon The Four Last Things Death; Judgment; Heaven; and Hell. A Poem In Four Parts. The Second Edition. To which are added, The I, CIV, and CXXXVII Psalms Paraphras'd [by Joseph Trapp] |
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 | Thoughts Upon The Four Last Things |  |
Corrupt, rapacious Ministers of State
Shall There bewail their ill-got Wealth too late.
Suppose a weak, and wicked Tyrant's Tool,
Pander to Av'rice, Pride, and Lust of Rule;
Most prompt to act in Courts each bidden Part,
A vicious Head, and a more vicious Heart;
A Foe profess'd to Truth, and common Sense,
Lost to all Reason, steel'd with Impudence:
Who made his Country, weeping on the Ground,
The Scorn, and Jest of all the Nations round;
Beggar'd, enslav'd her; proud enjoy'd her Toils,
Laugh'd at Her Woes, and revel'd in Her Spoils;
Debauch'd her Sons with Vice; dispatch'd in Shoals
To Jayls their Bodys, and to Hell their Souls;
Exploded Vertue, Honesty, and Shame;
And taught that Villany alone was Fame:
By whose Example, Influence, and Command,
Hateful Corruption delug'd all the Land:
Who made the Publick Loss his Private Gain;
His Country's Evil Genius, Pest, and Bane;
Corrupted, and Corrupting—Where can dwell
(For such have been, as Time's long Annals tell)
So Heav'n-abhor'd a Monster, but in Hell?
Shall There bewail their ill-got Wealth too late.
112
Pander to Av'rice, Pride, and Lust of Rule;
Most prompt to act in Courts each bidden Part,
A vicious Head, and a more vicious Heart;
A Foe profess'd to Truth, and common Sense,
Lost to all Reason, steel'd with Impudence:
Who made his Country, weeping on the Ground,
The Scorn, and Jest of all the Nations round;
Beggar'd, enslav'd her; proud enjoy'd her Toils,
Laugh'd at Her Woes, and revel'd in Her Spoils;
Debauch'd her Sons with Vice; dispatch'd in Shoals
To Jayls their Bodys, and to Hell their Souls;
Exploded Vertue, Honesty, and Shame;
And taught that Villany alone was Fame:
By whose Example, Influence, and Command,
Hateful Corruption delug'd all the Land:
Who made the Publick Loss his Private Gain;
His Country's Evil Genius, Pest, and Bane;
Corrupted, and Corrupting—Where can dwell
(For such have been, as Time's long Annals tell)
So Heav'n-abhor'd a Monster, but in Hell?
113
If Thus the Tyrant-Minister shall fare;
What Portion shall his Tyrant-Master share?
Hell; in the same, or in a worse Degree;
If possible, more deeply damn'd than He.
Proud, avaricious, impious Kings, who Nought
But their own Pleasure, Wealth and Greatness sought;
Who like Destroyers, not Protectors, reign'd,
Their wretched Subjects pillag'd, fleec'd, and drain'd;
Who to be fear'd, and hated, studious strove,
And chose to rule by Terror, not by Love;
As if to One Heav'n such Distinction gave,
That a whole People should be born His Slave:
Who thought Themselves superior to all Laws;
Oppress'd God's Church, and disavow'd his Cause;
Promoted Ign'rance, Leudness, Cowardise,
Profaneness, Atheism, ev'ry Kind of Vice:
All These (and such portentous Plagues have been,
King, Emp'ror, Empress, Sov'reign Prince, and Queen)
Howe'er They once despis'd these serious Things,
Shall feel, in Hell, there is a King of Kings.
What Portion shall his Tyrant-Master share?
Hell; in the same, or in a worse Degree;
If possible, more deeply damn'd than He.
Proud, avaricious, impious Kings, who Nought
But their own Pleasure, Wealth and Greatness sought;
Who like Destroyers, not Protectors, reign'd,
Their wretched Subjects pillag'd, fleec'd, and drain'd;
Who to be fear'd, and hated, studious strove,
And chose to rule by Terror, not by Love;
As if to One Heav'n such Distinction gave,
That a whole People should be born His Slave:
Who thought Themselves superior to all Laws;
Oppress'd God's Church, and disavow'd his Cause;
Promoted Ign'rance, Leudness, Cowardise,
Profaneness, Atheism, ev'ry Kind of Vice:
All These (and such portentous Plagues have been,
King, Emp'ror, Empress, Sov'reign Prince, and Queen)
Howe'er They once despis'd these serious Things,
Shall feel, in Hell, there is a King of Kings.
Among his Damn'd great Maro places Those
Who, sway'd by Bribery, made, and unmade Laws:
Who, venal ev'n Themselves, for Sums of Gold
Impos'd a Tyrant, and their Country sold.
And can That Crime deserve a milder Doom
In Christian Senates, than in Pagan Rome?
Who, sway'd by Bribery, made, and unmade Laws:
Who, venal ev'n Themselves, for Sums of Gold
Impos'd a Tyrant, and their Country sold.
114
In Christian Senates, than in Pagan Rome?
To These, however diff'rent seemed their Guilt,
Must Those be added, who their Grandeur built
On Patriotism's usurp'd and injur'd Name;
Wise and good Princes labour'd to defame:
Always Seditious, Restless, Turbulent,
Factious, and without Reason Malecontent,
Mouth'd Tyranny, and Freedom, when no Fear
Of Tyranny, but from Themselves, was near;
Skill'd with the Sound of Liberty t'enslave,
And ruin Those they boasted they would save.
Must Those be added, who their Grandeur built
On Patriotism's usurp'd and injur'd Name;
Wise and good Princes labour'd to defame:
Always Seditious, Restless, Turbulent,
Factious, and without Reason Malecontent,
Mouth'd Tyranny, and Freedom, when no Fear
Of Tyranny, but from Themselves, was near;
Skill'd with the Sound of Liberty t'enslave,
And ruin Those they boasted they would save.
Loose, vicious Writers, who debauch'd Mankind,
And to Their own the Sins of Others join'd,
Shall There deplore the Triumphs of their Wit,
Of All they lewdly, or profanely writ;
Their Heresies, their Blasphemys, the Pride
Of having Truths most evident deny'd.
Those chiefly, who, God's Ministers ordain'd,
Traduc'd the Office which Themselves sustain'd;
(For such a Prodigy may be conceiv'd,
Since sure Experience makes the Fact believ'd;)
Who, to their utmost Pow'r, That Church destroy'd,
Whose wealthiest Posts and Honours They enjoy'd.
And to Their own the Sins of Others join'd,
Shall There deplore the Triumphs of their Wit,
Of All they lewdly, or profanely writ;
Their Heresies, their Blasphemys, the Pride
Of having Truths most evident deny'd.
Those chiefly, who, God's Ministers ordain'd,
Traduc'd the Office which Themselves sustain'd;
(For such a Prodigy may be conceiv'd,
Since sure Experience makes the Fact believ'd;)
Who, to their utmost Pow'r, That Church destroy'd,
Whose wealthiest Posts and Honours They enjoy'd.
115
But lest the Muse should seem, while keen on Vice,
Herself to flatter, as she That decrys;
The worst of Men she loves, and would reform,
Howe'er against their wicked Actions warm:
Would warn them to escape Hell's dreadful Doom,
And fly, repentant, from the Wrath to come.
Few shall, she sings, a Vengeance more severe,
Than th'Evil-speakers, and Censorious, bear;
Th'Incontinent of Tongue, and Pen; who take
Delight in Scandal, for mere Scandal's sake.
Nor only Those, who darken the fair Fame
Of the most Innocent, and blast their Name;
But Those who love to dwell on Crimes, tho' true,
And blazon Facts in the worst Point of View:
Who to all Faults quick-sighted, but their own,
Speak ill of Many; good, of Few, or None.
Such Tongues, which Now, with Inflammation dire,
Can the whole Course of Nature set on fire,
Tho' Nothing Here should their Malignance quell,
Shall There indeed be set on fire of Hell.
Herself to flatter, as she That decrys;
The worst of Men she loves, and would reform,
Howe'er against their wicked Actions warm:
Would warn them to escape Hell's dreadful Doom,
And fly, repentant, from the Wrath to come.
Few shall, she sings, a Vengeance more severe,
Than th'Evil-speakers, and Censorious, bear;
Th'Incontinent of Tongue, and Pen; who take
Delight in Scandal, for mere Scandal's sake.
Nor only Those, who darken the fair Fame
Of the most Innocent, and blast their Name;
But Those who love to dwell on Crimes, tho' true,
And blazon Facts in the worst Point of View:
Who to all Faults quick-sighted, but their own,
Speak ill of Many; good, of Few, or None.
Such Tongues, which Now, with Inflammation dire,
Can the whole Course of Nature set on fire,
Tho' Nothing Here should their Malignance quell,
Shall There indeed be set on fire of Hell.
116
But This, thou say'st, is Priestcraft all; th'Effect
Of Superstition, which wise Minds reject.
I ask thee, tho' perhaps obdur'd long since,
Whom Nought, I fear, but Hell, will e'er convince;
Is it, at least, not safer to suppose,
Than disbelieve, These dreadful threaten'd Woes?
Wise Minds will by These Terrors sure be mov'd;
Since, were they false, they cannot be disprov'd:
They may be true—And Oh! suppose they shou'd—
Does not ev'n That Suppose congeal thy Blood?
Hast thou not, anxious for thy final Fate,
At least, Suspicions of a future State?
Some sad Misgivings? No; Thou wilt reply:
I tell thee, That's not Error, but a Lye.
To All, to Humane Nature I appeal;
Ev'n to Thyself—The Thing's impossible.
In Vice, and Luxury however sunk,
Thou canst not, certainly, be always drunk:
Th'intruding Thoughts of Hell with sometimes pall
Thy Wine, and sometimes dash thy Cups with Gall.
But Oh! the sage, dry Atheist; He who thinks,
Deliberately reasons, rarely drinks;
(Whoredom, not Drinking, is the Vice He loves)
Who Human Understanding much improves;
Dispensing, while God's Threats he ridicules,
Sententious Nonsense to his Ring of Fools;
With Sneer, and Shrug explodes Religion's Dreams,
And over Coffee's sober Fume blasphemes:
Is not He happy? Yes, belike; Of Fear,
And Doubt His Philosophic Soul is clear:
He can demonstrate—Can demonstrate What?
That there's no Hell? that after Death is Nought?
Atheist, Begin thy Demonstration; say,
How prov'st Thou This? In Us is no Delay.
That such a State there is, We oft have shown
By solid Proofs: How prov'st Thou there is None?
Is it a Contradiction? If it be;
To shew That Contradiction, lies on Thee.
Meanwhile, I tell thee, Thou'rt a Wretch forlorn;
Thou know'st, Thou feel'st it: Publick Hate, and Scorn
Justly attend thee: While thou turn'st to Jest
Hell, and its Terrors, Hell is in thy Breast.
In thy wild, thoughtful Face, thy haggard Air,
We trace plain Marks of Anguish, and Despair.
Inly thou tremblest at the vengeful Rod
Of Him whom thou blasphem'st, the Mighty God:
That Thought confounds thy Atheistic Pride;
He fears Hell most, by whom it is deny'd.
Of Superstition, which wise Minds reject.
I ask thee, tho' perhaps obdur'd long since,
Whom Nought, I fear, but Hell, will e'er convince;
Is it, at least, not safer to suppose,
Than disbelieve, These dreadful threaten'd Woes?
Wise Minds will by These Terrors sure be mov'd;
Since, were they false, they cannot be disprov'd:
They may be true—And Oh! suppose they shou'd—
Does not ev'n That Suppose congeal thy Blood?
Hast thou not, anxious for thy final Fate,
At least, Suspicions of a future State?
Some sad Misgivings? No; Thou wilt reply:
I tell thee, That's not Error, but a Lye.
To All, to Humane Nature I appeal;
Ev'n to Thyself—The Thing's impossible.
In Vice, and Luxury however sunk,
Thou canst not, certainly, be always drunk:
Th'intruding Thoughts of Hell with sometimes pall
Thy Wine, and sometimes dash thy Cups with Gall.
But Oh! the sage, dry Atheist; He who thinks,
Deliberately reasons, rarely drinks;
(Whoredom, not Drinking, is the Vice He loves)
Who Human Understanding much improves;
117
Sententious Nonsense to his Ring of Fools;
With Sneer, and Shrug explodes Religion's Dreams,
And over Coffee's sober Fume blasphemes:
Is not He happy? Yes, belike; Of Fear,
And Doubt His Philosophic Soul is clear:
He can demonstrate—Can demonstrate What?
That there's no Hell? that after Death is Nought?
Atheist, Begin thy Demonstration; say,
How prov'st Thou This? In Us is no Delay.
That such a State there is, We oft have shown
By solid Proofs: How prov'st Thou there is None?
Is it a Contradiction? If it be;
To shew That Contradiction, lies on Thee.
Meanwhile, I tell thee, Thou'rt a Wretch forlorn;
Thou know'st, Thou feel'st it: Publick Hate, and Scorn
Justly attend thee: While thou turn'st to Jest
Hell, and its Terrors, Hell is in thy Breast.
In thy wild, thoughtful Face, thy haggard Air,
We trace plain Marks of Anguish, and Despair.
118
Of Him whom thou blasphem'st, the Mighty God:
That Thought confounds thy Atheistic Pride;
He fears Hell most, by whom it is deny'd.
If Hell be Not; We, who believe it Is,
Lose Nothing in the Next World, nor in This,
By That erroneous Faith; Nay more, we gain;
Since Vertue has more Pleasure Here, than Pain.
If neither Heav'n Above, nor Hell Beneath
Exist; no State, or Being after Death;
Thou can'st not laugh at Us: But if There Be;
How will Eternal Justice laugh at Thee?
Thou art undone forever. But if sure
That Vengeance be, and always shall endure;
As God's unerring Oracles proclaim:
Hear, Thou Freethinker of immortal Fame;
The Frenzy of a Lunatic in Chains,
Who baffles the Physician's Care, and Pains,
Whom Keepers in a darken'd Room confine,
Is sober Reason, if compar'd with Thine:
Thou Wit, of thy clear Thoughts so proud and glad,
Thou deep Philosopher, art more than Mad.
Thou art so; should we ev'n allow that Hell,
As 'tis most certain, were but possible.
Lose Nothing in the Next World, nor in This,
By That erroneous Faith; Nay more, we gain;
Since Vertue has more Pleasure Here, than Pain.
If neither Heav'n Above, nor Hell Beneath
Exist; no State, or Being after Death;
Thou can'st not laugh at Us: But if There Be;
How will Eternal Justice laugh at Thee?
Thou art undone forever. But if sure
That Vengeance be, and always shall endure;
As God's unerring Oracles proclaim:
Hear, Thou Freethinker of immortal Fame;
The Frenzy of a Lunatic in Chains,
Who baffles the Physician's Care, and Pains,
Whom Keepers in a darken'd Room confine,
Is sober Reason, if compar'd with Thine:
Thou Wit, of thy clear Thoughts so proud and glad,
Thou deep Philosopher, art more than Mad.
Thou art so; should we ev'n allow that Hell,
As 'tis most certain, were but possible.
119
Weigh well thy present, and thy future State;
Yet, yet Repent—perhaps 'tis not too late:
And to us All be such true Wisdom giv'n,
So to reflect on Hell, as to be bless'd in Heav'n.
Yet, yet Repent—perhaps 'tis not too late:
And to us All be such true Wisdom giv'n,
So to reflect on Hell, as to be bless'd in Heav'n.
Such as the Favourites of Those weak, and wicked Kings, Edward II. and Richard II. of England; and many Others, in all History.
| Thoughts Upon The Four Last Things | |