University of Virginia Library

[CANTO I.]

After some short retirement from the Bench,
Their fiery Drowths with Stygian Juice to quench,
Th'infernal Judge refresh'd with his retreat,
Return'd, and reassum'd his Judgment seat:
The grave Chief-Justice thus in order plac'd,
And Hell's black Bar with Learned Council grac'd,
The loud-mouth Cryer in King Pluto's Name,
(Commanding Silence) did the Court proclaim.
This done, the Turnkey of the deep Abyss,
Where Souls lay scorching for their Wickedness,
Was loudly call'd, in order to prepare
His sinful Remnants for the Stygian Bar,
The swarthy ill-look'd Goaler soon appear'd,
With his grim Whiskers, and his grisly Beard,
Arm'd with dire Serpents, of a size o'ergrown,
And Scorpions tuck'd into a Leathern Zone;
Follow'd by sighing Troops, thin-jaw'd and pale,
Ratling their Chains like Fellons in a Goal.
The languid Tribe all sorrowful appear'd,
Bemoaning what eternal Doom they fear'd,
Foretold by Conscience e're their Souls were try'd,
The sad Rewards of Avarice and Pride;
For Conscience will fore-judge, tho' ne'er so sear'd,
And damn the Guilty e're their Cause be heard.
When the stern Cerb'rus had with painful Care,
Marshal'd his drooping Pris'ners round the Bar.
The awful Court beheld the trembling Sprites,
And thus the Clerk the sinful Herd indicts.
My Lord, these impious Shades behind the Bar,
Whose guilty Looks their horrid Crimes declare,
Wanting the Grace of G---d before their Eyes,
Did, upon Earth, most trait'rously devise
Sundry base means to trouble and inflame
Their native Kingdom, whence the Pris'ners came,
In foreign fruitless Wars involv'd the State,
To draw the Publick low, and make themselves more great;
Crept slyly into every Place of Trust,
By branding with false Infamy the Just;
Advanc'd new Projects, subtly to ingross
The Nations Treasure, to the Nations loss.
And then at Usurers extortion lent
Their ill-got Thousands, with a base intent
To serve their wicked selves, and not the Government.
So faithless Stewards basely act their Cheats,
Who at a distance manage great Estates,
Oft receive Money, to their Lords unknown,
And make them, when they want, pay Int'rest for their own.
Further, my Lord, the Pris'ners at the Bar,
Who so demure before the Court appear,
By lying Pamphlets labour'd to delude
And lead astray the brainless Multitude:
Fill'd with vile Notions ev'ry empty Pate,
Bad for their Souls, and dangerous for the State:
Render'd all those that did their Ends oppose,
To the believing Crowd, the Nations Foes:
Imploy'd each scandalous invective Pen,
T'abuse and stigmatize the best of Men;
Friends to the Church, to Pop'ry disavow'd,
With odious Names, obnoxious to the Crowd,
That the rude Mob might take the wicked cry,
And hunt down those did their Intrigues defy,
Who would, for no bye Ends, with base Designs comply;
But like true Patriots always firmly stood,
To save the Nation from a Factious Brood;
True to the Church, their Country, and the State,
And only aim'd to be in Goodness Great:
Such in their barren Pamphlets they bely'd;
Such they perplex'd, and such they villifi'd.
So mercenary Jilts, bred up in Stews,
Do the most virtuous of their Sex abuse,
And to defend their own lascivious Fau't,
Will swear the modest are in private naught,
And are the silent Sows that drink up all the draught.
Nay, more, my Lord, dead Worthies they defam'd,
Whose Reliques justly Veneration claim'd,
Rak'd in their Annals, and revil'd their Dust,
With base Reports, unchristian and unjust;
What Truths they found that would their Work supply,
Their Malice still improv'd into a Lye:
Pass'd by their Vertues which will out-live Time,
And magnify'd each slip into a Crime.
So angry Statesmen, enviously bent
To harrass or subvert the Government,
Select their Kings bad Actions from the Good,
And shew him monstrous to the Multitude.
In close Cabals they wicked Plots contriv'd,
And ev'ry old rebellious Fewd reviv'd.
The good old Laws they slyly undermin'd,
And step by step for Pow'r supream design'd;
Labour'd the Church establish'd to subdue;
But, to conceal their Plots from common view,
Did Reformation to the Crowd pretend,
To draw them in to work their wicked End;
But whilst their secret Ills in Embrio lay,
Advancing to Perfection day by day,
To improve their Projects and conceal their aim,
They made the Pope and Devil bear the blame;
Their Plots they hid, by some sham Popish blind,
That broke and vanish'd into Smoke and Wind,
And in the Mist they manag'd what themselves design'd.
So cunning Divers oft cry out aloud,
Beware your Pockets, to amuse the Crowd,
That by such Cautions they may pass as Friends,
And creep the closer to effect their Ends.
For Liberty aloud they croak'd and cry'd,
Which, when they'd Pow'r, to others they deny'd,
Nor ever could they peaceably enjoy
A kind Indulgence, or a great Employ,
But when obtain'd, the favour they abus'd,
And clamour'd when the Throne their Suit refus'd:
Forgot the former Bounties they receiv'd,
And were, at one Repulse, so vex'd and griev'd,
That all the Thanks and Duty which they ow'd,
Were basely turn'd into Ingratitude.
So envious Witches, on the least disgust,
Torment their greatest Benefactors most;
Because Infernal Malice but extends,
Instead of hurting Foes, to injure Friends.
The Church, for Persecution, they arraign'd,
And both her holy Sacraments profan'd;
Condemn'd her Doctrines to a vile degree,
And call'd her decent Rites rank Popery;
Revil'd her Members, did her Priests disgrace,
And stil'd her Common-Pray'r the dregs of Mass;
Despis'd her Prelates and the Robes they wore,
As Marks and Badges of the Scarlet Whore;
Did for no Cause her Hierarchy degrade,
And ridicul'd with Spight her Female Head.
So murmu'ring Fools, Illiterate and Rude,
Too oft reproach the Vertuous and the Good,
And Cavil at those things they never understood.
In the High-Church they Moderation lov'd,
Yet never us'd the Vertue they approv'd,
But show'd invet'rate Enmity to those
Which their own Malice had proclaim'd their Foes:
Thus did to others those abuses give,
Themselves deserv'd, but hated to recieve.
They rent God's House, and did Divisions sow,
One part they call'd High-Church, the other Low;
The High they held as Papists, in disdain,
But prais'd the Low as just and mod'rate Men,
Whose cool Indifference to their Faith was such,
They serv'd God little, and themselves too much.
These by the grunting Faction were Carest,
As moderate Saints, with tender Conseience blest,
Altho' but Luke-warm Christians at the best.
One way they Look'd and did the other Row,
Would little Zeal without much Int'rest show;
Run with the Church, and with Dissenters hold,
And would comply with any side for Gold;
Made that the standard of their wavering Faith,
And thought the richest way the surest Path;
Which, to their sorrow, they at last have found
Has brought them to the place they'd fain have shun'd.
So harden'd Thieves pursue their Ills, with hope
To baffle Justice, and escape the Rope;
But Justice still o'vertakes them in the end,
And punishes as sure as they offend.
Now, my good Lord, I've open'd to the Court,
A Catalogue of Crimes o'th' blacker sort;
I've Spirits of Integrity and Worth
Ready to witness what the Charge sets forth.
The stubborn Sinners thus arraign'd at Bar,
Pleaded Not-guilty, tho' they guilty were;
But Pluto's Evidence soon stretch'd their Throats,
And made the false Offenders change their Notes,
Who having not one Plea in their defence,
Left them to justifie their Innocence,
They in a rage fell foul upon the Evidence,
Call'd them High-Flyers, mercenary Rogues,
Non-jurants, Perkenites, and Popish Dogs,
Fools, Traytors, Jacobites, and fawning Slaves,
Tories, French Pensioners, and perjur'd Knaves.
This saucy usage in the open Court,
Inflam'd the Bench, and did themselves most hurt:
The Judge provok'd with such an envious Huff,
Gave the rash Pris'ners a severe reproof:
The Jury mov'd to hear them so enrag'd,
Found them all guilty of the Crimes alledg'd;
Which being done, the angry Judge arose,
Turn'd up his sable Whiskers to his Nose,
Compos'd his Looks, then gravely as he cou'd,
Pronounc'd the following Sentence as he stood.
Here take 'em Goaler to their final home,
And punish them according to their Doom:
If any Mercy by your Imps be shown,
The Convicts Torments shall become your own;
Mercy's an Attribute above our Sphere,
Our only Talent must be Justice here,
Heav'n may be kind, but Hell must be severe.