University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Mitre

A Poem [by Edward Perronet]

collapse section 
collapse section 
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 

CANTO I.

Hæ nugæ Seria ducent.
Hor.

1

Exert, my Muse, thy gentle aim,
Light, as unaw'd by fear or shame,
Who censure thee or thine:
Plead thou but truth's eternal cause;
Speak her's and Albion's generous laws,
Nor dread the Sheet or Shrine.

2

Speak what ten thousand have before,
In time permissive to say more;
Till then let this suffice:
Alike the fool's chagrin or smile:
Thy sole design to please a-while
The honest and the wise.

2

3

Abhor the bigot and the knave;
To Rome or England's fold a slave,
For nonsense or for gain:
Too like the spirit of them both;
Their scarlet mind and scarlet cloth;
And numberless their train.

4

I know thou can'st say nothing new;
Too much if not the tythe were true;
Too much the shame and sin:
Come then, thy native freedom use,
Without or preface or excuse,
Thou vent'rous bard begin.

5

While Roman priests their heads adorn
With Mitres, as their Lord's with thorn,
His meekness, but their pride:
More modest ours (yet loth to part
With what still lies so near their heart)
They fix it on their Side.

6

But break the slight partition-wall,
(Disguise of gauze pontifical)
And look behind the skreen;
You'll find 'tis nothing but parade,
The first impression Rome had made,
As fresh as e'er within.

7

Nor marvel this as something strange,
That real priests should seem to change;
'Tis only in pretence:
The present state of things won't bear,
They should be seen but only where
It gives the least offence.

3

8

Besides in them who might recal
Their honours, dignity and pall,
To tolerate's, discreet:
Since if lopt off the cloven crown,
In falling it might chance be sown,
And come up cloven Feet.

9

O what a clamour would be heard!
What dire effects might not be fear'd!
What mutiny of claim!
See multitudes of priests arise!
See mobs of rebels in disguise!
The nation in a flame!

10

And yet, offence it can but give
To all who fain would see them live,
As might their charge become:
The honest, artless, and the plain,
Who (maugre all their fond chicane)
Discern the stamp of Rome.

11

But what mind these the gloomy cant
Of cropt or Oliverian saint,
Or horizontal brim?
Themselves enwrapt in down and lawn,
As plump as Lamies fed with fawn,
Or Guinea-pigs with cream.

12

Besides these blessings would arise,
(Which owls may see with half-shut eyes,
As doctors take their fee:)
If change of time should urge their fadge,
'Tis only to produce their Badge,
And so retain their See.

4

13

Or ask'd, “Why only on their Side?”
(As if dispos'd their claim to hide,
For probity or fear:)
They need not from the truth depart,
But with their hand upon their heart,
Affirm “We wear it here.”

14

And who can scorn or envious blame,
Or in their case would not the same,
But cast that Coat away,
Which, tho' too sultry now to wear,
Their valets or their Arms may bear,
Against a rainy day?

15

Nor is this all that would ensue,
But Deans and Chapters (rev'rence due!)
Might safely sleep or sing;
Nor ever give one farthing more
To widow, fatherless, or poor,
The army, or their king.

16

All these might set their hearts at rest;
Each croaking snug within his nest,
Well-feather'd, warm, and even:
Ev'n he who loves and haunts his Grove,
Need never fear a sad remove
To banishment or heav'n.

17

As eke a troop of hanging sleeves,
Vergers, and choristers, and thieves,
A grinning, greedy band:
Paid (as are hirelings) for nought,
But chaunting, rioting, or ought
Their keepers shall command.

5

18

Nor less the tribe of ghostly forms:
Like lions some, and some like worms;
Or high-bred, generous sparks:
Rectors and Vicars fair and red,
With Curates starv'd for want of bread,
And saucy Parish-clerks.

19

Chaplains that bless the royal board,
Or curse their patron's tardy word;
(Warm brethren of the Cork!)
Who wait till patience out at heels
The lordly Sees or humble Cells
Of London and of York.

20

With these, a group (what raree-shows!)
Half priests, half deacons, and half beaus;
Who lollop, cringe, or while:
What pity so robust a train,
Were not inur'd to plow the main,
Or cultivate the soil!

21

To these succeed the useful men,
Ragged, or patch'd, or darn'd in grain,
Who read, or write, or think;
Or any thing within their pow'r,
E'en trudge from Knightsbridge to the Tow'r
For little thanks or drink.

22

O what an army would appear,
If but a tythe brought up the rear!
How full and deep intrench!
What mighty feats would not be done,
Might these but point or load the gun
'Gainst Satan or the French!

6

23

All these beneath thy shadow sit,
And lounge or worship at thy feet,
Their patroness and guide!
Not doubting, but if times should turn,
To be, or in thy bosom borne,
Or dandled at thy side.

24

Thy Name now mention (tho' not hard
To guess the meaning of the bard)
“The Church” thy children call;
Like Rome, as if or only she,
Or thou, her twin were fit to be
The Mother of us all.”

25

And truth for such a numerous train,
As, or thy ale or rights maintain,
Nought less could well suffice:
Half countless as the sand marine,
Or spangling stars that shine between
Th' extremest polar skies.

26

For scarce could Xerxes with his host,
A tribe more large or loyal boast,
Than what thy muster rolls:
A link that might girt half the globe,
Of raggs, of trowzers, or the robe,
Brave, bellowing, hardy souls!

27

Some lift their stately voice and swear,
By all that's dark or deep or clear,
(Such gasconade of whim!)
“No—they will ne'er resign the Church,
“Tho' flea'd alive with steel or birch,
“Or pendant on a beam!”

7

28

A second blinks and wowls his dread,
Declares alike to 'live or dead,
The danger hard at hand:
Bids all beware the thieves that come
(But or of England or from Rome)
And firm,—rebellious, stand.

29

A third (kind shepherd of his care,)
Roars out aloud his pond' rous fear,
(Deep muddiness of storm!)
Lest grievous wolves (or Pastors-lay)
Should rise and trail whole herds away
From foppery and form.

30

Gape all the list'ning, winking souls;
Struck how divine his dulness rolls!
Now threatn'd, now advis'd:
Now on his right in thunder deals,
Then to the left as fiercely reels:
Indecent as despis'd.

31

What ungain postures of defence,
As void of manliness as sense!
Now smother, now all flame!
Each bellows, squalls, or stamps, or flies,
Blusters and spits or truth or lies;
And all for England's dame.

32

'Tis well they're fill'd with nought but words;
Or sounds as safe as acid curds;
Else thoughtless as they're brave,
If ramm'd with forc'd or iron ball,
They might (in haste) demolish all,
They otherwise would save.

8

33

Some stupid stand, (a mule's amaze!)
Nor feel the universal blaze,
That fires each kindred breast:
But dull as drones or highway-post,
Scarce see enough to count the cost,
Or break their gentle rest.

34

Not so the howl or shrug of all,
Who stanch resolve to stand or fall,
Like platters on their shelves:
Stedfast they cleave like salve or lime,
Till clos'd again the wound in time,
First open'd by themselves.

35

In short, each tribe of various hue,
Or cord or whipping-post their due,
(Converts to various crimes:)
Some prowling still at home for prey,
Or, with a vengeance sent away,
To visit foreign climes.

36

All these compleat thy pregnant list,
Preserv'd in strong parochial-chest,
Thy record sure as free:
Were but their bodies with their names,
(As doubtless all their merit claims,)
Safe under lock and key.

9

37

As many are, who court thy grace,
With pinion'd hands and ghastly face;
Now deem'd the bait of hell:
For scarce a wight at Tyburn swings,
But e'er the closing psalm he sings,
He hangs within thy Pale.

38

And so he should—for 'twas in thine,
He broke the laws of truth divine,
And (as it happen'd) ours:
What pity then when all is done,
To leave the wretch distrest, alone,
In any hands but yours!

39

For yours he liv'd, or yours he dies,
And yours 'tis fear'd he's like to rise,
At that decisive day:
When many a fierce and doughty son,
Whom here thou boastedst as thine own,
Will swift be doom'd away.

40

As will the rest on Packs or post,
Who nothing better have to boast,
Than that thou wast their Dam;
Where grapes will never pass for thorns,
(As here) or sheep's for dragon's horns,
Or stinking goats for lamb.

41

Record we now ten thousand more,
Of strumpets many a flagrant score,
Pick-pockets and physicians:

10

Factors, and publicans, and knaves,
With bailiffs, ketches, scribes and sh'riffs,
Kidnappers and musicians.

42

Pawn-brokers, agents, auctioneers,
Tide-waiters, painters, sonnetteers,
A sniv'ling, snarling crew:
Turnkeys and critics, hungry, keen,
As full of emptiness as spleen,
Me, W*rb*rt*n, and you.

43

Courtiers and merchants—trading band,
With all who pad or haunt the Strand,
The opera or the masque:
House-breakers, horse-jockies, and cits,
Thief-takers, Jews, and jilts, and wits,
That smell the tap or flask.

11

44

Bakers, an allom'd, earless race;
Farmers, a rude, unthankful, base,
And discontented train:
Maintain a God, yet blame his pow'r,
First ask, then deprecate the show'r,
And curse th' impending rain.

45

Lawyers, and highwaymen, and thieves;
O what a contrast she receives,
If contrast can be found
'Twixt thieves who rob you here or there,
Or thieves who rob you only where
Both laws and thieves abound!

46

Church-wardens, sides-men, overseers,
Who starve the poor, then mock their tears:
Yet guardians of their wealth!
A knot of villains—who combine
T'embezzle, cheat, carouse, and dine;
Then drink the parish health.

47

Envoys, and messengers, and spies,
With mails that fetch and carry lies,
From change, the camp, or court:
Returning-officers and cryers,
Gamblers and looby-country 'squires,
Each others bait and sport.

48

All the blasphemers in the land;
Foremost of whom and high shall stand,
Foul Nor wich-blasphemy:

12

Where hell's prophaneness roars aloud,
Cats represent the Lamb of God;
As they themselves do thee.

49

A seat of riot, lust, and pride!
Scarce one so much as aims to hide
His insolence or shame:
Where perjur'd juries villains clear:
Villains, who honest at the bar,
Plead guilty to their name.

50

Distillers, panders, parasites,
Gin-drinkers, bawds, and catamites;
Gossips at cards or pray'r:
Tories, and jacobites, (half knaves)
With fierce Creolians and their slaves;
All triumph as thy care!

51

Prudes and coquets—a mottled band,
Who knit their brows, or beck the hand,
And boast a coxcomb's smile:

13

Who paint, or patch, or romp, or sing,
Alike devout at church or ring,
All decorate thine isle.

52

Next see two huge Academies:
School of disloyalty and lies,
Where wit and treason shines:
Her rival, trustier of the two;
But stain'd (if blown the trumpet true)
With atheists and divines.

53

With these conjoin a thousand more,
Of vaulted roof, or humble floor;
With pedagogues—their Dames:
Where swish the rods or whirl the toys;
With packs of saucy, free-school boys,
Who call their betters names.

54

Guardians of orphans, and trustees;
(Publick or private charities:)
A miser leaves an heir;
Or else, a sum to save his soul,
The Ward—or Chanc'ry—ask the whole,
'Tis vanish'd—none knows where!

55

Pilots, a surly, brutish band;
Boatswains, sea-tyrants, blust'ring stand,
All hail the Church's worth!
Wake with a roar the starting crew,
Wou'd stun e'en Boreas, tho' he blew
A tempest from the North.

56

Disturbers of your private peace;
For pride, or hate, or wantonness;
All heroes of mis-rule!

14

The scholar, drab, and draggle-tail,
Of Marg'ret's round-house, or her pale,
The gate-house and the school.

57

Keepers of Bedlams—cursed crew!
Would make e'en tortur'd spirits rue
That ever they were born:
Where starve, or howl the friendless poor,
Chain'd to the sacking or the floor,
Unpity'd and forlorn.

58

Colliers and miners, ghastly race!
With horny hands and grimy face,
Enflam'd with vice and zeal:
Their throats (more hoarse than ravens) sing
(Tho' in their hearts they curse the king)
Thy dignity and ale.

59

All villains yet unhang'd: L---
Their horror, he who crowns the top
Of Justice' portly train:
Equal to hear, discern, decide,
Untaint or by a world bely'd:
Jew-biters and R---n.

15

60

Palmers of others books or notes,
Decyph'rers of another's thoughts,
For knavery or ease:
Take words or vowels as they want,
Turn it to treason or to rant,
As, or unbrib'd, or pleas'd.

16

61

Dutch-priests, that broil like toasted cheese:
With meagre upstart Refugees,
Their origin their shame:
And why? because of foreign blood?
No—but their ancestors were good:
Half lost or chang'd their name.

62

But who need wonder at their pride?
(The beggar's proverb on their side:)
Who if they once can mount,
(Like windmills) fly with hands and heels,
Bound o'er the lawn or Spittal-fields,
A weaver—or a count!

63

No censure on their call or trade;
If any 'tis themselves have made;
Such burlesque and grimace!
Who not long since wore naked toes,
At best conceal'd by wooden shoes;
Now lacquer'd o'er with lace.

17

64

Another trips a fribbled fop:
His father now keeps on that shop:
But if believ'd his word,
Or saucy mien, ye ne'er would guess
Him or his sire could well be less
Than sheriff, knight, or lord.

65

Another strides a long leg'd fool,
A citizen's or villain's tool:
A daughter to dispose:
No fear of making up the match,
Each lie incog. upon the catch:
The Thistle and the Rose.

66

Now mend the breed—one more remove
From all they hate to all they love:
Now sprout the gilded horn:
They drum, they masque, they play, they dance,
Their children's Sire ne'er came from France:
(One ancestor ne'er born.)

67

Or if abroad—'twas only once,
And then to heal him as a Dunce:
Paternal, kind intent!
But like the Fondlings of the day,
Took with a spitting came away,
A greater than he went.

68

Another (more oblique his line)
Or coins himself, or springs a mine:
(What have not ideots found!)
Compels his son to tend a Mule,
Or keeps his daughter for a fool,
With twenty thousand pound.

18

69

Thus mean, they'd hide their former state,
Yet prove it all by looking great;
(As Wild-air ne'er were Wilks:)
“Why, yes, we're Weavers, that is true,
“But then the difference, Sir, you know,
“We only weave your Silks.”

70

“Nor this ourselves—we all keep men,
“And only step in now and then;
“For fellows left at will,
“Are mighty apt to run astray,
“Or idle, lownge the time away,
“While stands our engine still.”

71

Your servant, Sirs, ye then do weave,
But do not work, yet, by your leave,
You still are but a Trade:
And, to your shame, with hearts as stones,
Ye starve your brethren or their sons,
Whose fathers gave you bread!

72

A double meaning here interr'd,
To them, or to the State referr'd;
Ye rule with hard command:
Or threat, or chain (as slaves) to work,
Then pay with more regret than Turk,
The labour of their hand.

73

What wonder then no more your boast,
Whose refuge here your fathers cost
Their heritage or blood!
Ye must have more than common brass,
To own yourselves the lineal race
Of martyrs for their God.

19

74

We own they fled from Priests and war,
From sword, from violence, and fear,
This then their broken song:
Yet after all their deaths or pain,
Would none of you return again,
Si s'offriroit l'Argent?

75

If then contemn'd your Names or Trade,
The alteration's easy made;
A gentle, satin'd tone:
You know—to chouse an Englih ear;
Soit il “merchands des Poux,” mes freres,
Et—“Messieurs les Fripons.”

76

Blame then not Louis, nor his guards,
The unmeant source of your rewards,
Now glitt'ring at your side:
But blame yourselves, ye fallen race,
For rising from your dread disgrace,
By cruelty or pride.

77

Ye cannot blush a deeper hue,
Than would your Ancestors for you,
Were they to rise once more:
Tho' chance if you would own alive,
But bid the parish-beadles drive
Your Parents from their door.

78

To close our reasons why you're here,
Because in many points so near
Our Liturgy and Text:
This then the reason just, as plain,
Why, after all this length of pain,
You're coupled with the next.

20

79

Tag-rag and bob-tail, small and great;
Who die in barns or lie in State;
Informers and Directors:
With all the fortune telling crew
Of Canning's foes or Ashley's Jew,
Rat-catchers and Inspectors.

80

Hoymen and beadles, Whigs and pimps,
Custom-house officers and crimps,
(All brethren of thy lath!)
Commanders, mariners, and clerks,
Pursers and knights (as keen as sharks)
Of Post, or of the Bath.

81

Sharpers, and sodomites, and beaux,
Masters of bagnios, stage, and shows;
Haunters of pits or pews:
The saint and sinner, plump or thin,
With fasting fat, with feeding lean,
All members of thy house.

82

Next, bloods and bucks, and dancing-masters,
With poet-laureats, poetasters,
A rhyming, scribbling band:
Brandish their bludgeon, plume, or toe;
Play on your violin or you,
As nearest at command.

83

Watchmen, who reel their midnight round,
And stern or feeble, hoarse resound,
“The sky—how dark or bright!”

21

Tell you the time—let Albion hear;
Her sons attend—alarm'd their fear:
Past twelve o'clock at night!

84

The night of senselessness and sin;
The time thy lawless sons begin
The riot of their Day:
The day, unblest by light or sun;
Nay, struck with fear, the trembling moon
Withdraws her beams away.

85

Surgeons, soft butchers of mankind,
In all the arts of pain refin'd;
But—“Knowledge must be had:”
They slash, they wound, ampute, divide,
Then curse the patient or deride,
Nay damn him—for he's dead.

86

Tinners, a hardy savage brood,
Thirsty alike of ale or blood;
A subterraneous herd:
Monsters of brutishness and noise,
Whose mobs (like waves) lift up their voice:
What horrible regard

87

For thee the Mother of them all!
Nay, thine ev'n greater monsters call,
The cursed, lawless line
Of Cornish plunderers, whose hands
Imbru'd in blood, a witness stands
They must be Rome's or Thine.

88

Nurses and searchers of the dead;
Fell terrors of a dying bed,
E'er ends the senseless groan!

22

Seize on a garment as their prey,
Or drunken bear their prize away,
The mortmain of their loan.

89

Mayors, and aldermen, and cooks,
Recorders, chamberlains, and Rooks
Grim serjeants of the mace:
Hoppers, and justices, and scolds;
With pilferers of silk or coals;
And draw-boys, shoeless race!

90

Smugglers, with who abet or buy;
With all the wanton flimsy fry,
Of fribbles and of belles;
Who only sit in thee to stare,
At painted glass or painted Fair,
But neither pray nor kneel.

91

Sweep-chimneys, link-boys, night-men run,
(How vastly like each kindred-son!)
Desert their jakes or lurch:
And drunken reel, or dead drunk fall,
To help support the tott'ring wall,
Of feeble Mother-Church.

23

92

Writers and printers of obscene;
Who vend, or buy, or read, or mean;
Alike impure and vile:
Rakers of kennels, or debauch,
Who beat their trulls, or beat the watch;
All glory in thy smile.

93

Traitors and rebels—cursed band!
Foes of their sov'reign and the land;
Supporters of thy shrine!
Whate'er profest, wherever found,
Above, beneath, or under ground,
Are either Rome's or Thine.

94

Monopolizers of our trade:
“But Dives has his fortune made.”
Dives! Pray who is he?
Why, ev'ry villain you can name,
That (to his country's hurt or shame)
Wou'd sell the State for Tea.

95

Fishmongers—scaly, water'd fry,
Who drink, and sweat, and stink, and lye,
“How bounteous Providence!”
True—but his bounty is your Bane;
'Tis Scarcity that brings you gain;
“How lawful Self-defence!”

96

Free-Masons—strange, promiscuous brood,
Of vulgar-great and low-bred lewd:
The Peer and peerless one:
Sworn to conceal—what, if proclaim'd,
Were or too filthy to be nam'd,
Or worthless to be known.

24

97

Juries and jurymen—a crew!
Yet all twelve honest men and true,
“Here, gentlemen, you swear,
“A legal verdict ye will bring
“Between our sov'reign lord the king,
“And pris'ner at the bar.”

98

The cause is heard—perplex'd the case;
But ev'ry thing you know gives place:
“We've waited here from nine.”
Thus “wretches hang (as sings the bard,
But pray, my lords, is it not hard?)
“That jurymen may dine.”

99

Court-martials—how august a train!
All gracious military men:
How charming the parade!
'Tis no great crime “come—thirty score,
“'Tis for the honour of the corps,
“And judgment is our trade.”

100

See there a trembling coward stand,
The Ensign totters from his hand,
His knees disjointed smite:
Out steps a hero from the line,
“Here, take it, Sir, again, 'tis thine;
“And see you hold it tight.”

101

Trembling, he touches it once more;
Then drops it as 'twas dropt before,
“For shame! a second time!”
But, miss'd the hazard of the day,
Unshot himself he bears away,
The Standard of his crime!

25

102

And what is more than this—Revenge,
This and insult—to pimp or cringe,
Is all a Coward can.
A health is drank—not at the State
“The court—I hope will vindicate
“My honour and it's stain.”

103

They do—and what's the consequence?
Why, you have neither grace nor sense,
And they as void of thought:
The brave is punish'd in your room,
Tho' hanging was by right your doom,
Or else to have been shot.

104

Recruiting officers—a line,
How tall, how manly, or how fine!
But hark, the martial strife;
The king wants men—“come, beat away,
“Here, who's for blood and present pay?”
While—Thraso steals a wife!

105

Millers—a thievish, dusty race,
How like the grinders of thy grace!
Who starve or feed the soul:
Not as they ought, but as they're paid,
Each has his grist (so much per head)
These Tythe, as they their Toll.

106

Keepers of taverns and of inns,
Drivers of stages and machines,
A drinking, surly crew;
“You want a cast, an outside seat;
“Well, sir, you'll walk before and wait,
“We'll easy make it do.”

26

107

'Tis done, he mounts, as if by chance,
The gentleman's just come from France,
A barber or a 'Squire;
No matter which, within, if room,
'Tis but a Surgeon or a groom:
While Jehu steals the hire.

108

Smithies, a black, besmeared band,
With goggled eyes precinctive stand,
And strike the tortur'd bar:
Burning themselves with drink and zeal,
They mob or plunder for thy weal:
A hot, infernal war!

109

Writers of Epitaphs and Lives,
Where each his character derives
Not from his own desert:
But from his modesty or pride,
Who pays an architect to hide
The baseness of his Heart.

110

But here's a rule will never fail,
('Tis plain as if the bard should tell)
A Fool is always wise:
In ev'ry page the Contrast read,
That is the portrait of the dead:
The statue stands and lies.

111

Writers and readers of romance,
Where virtue's nothing but a trance,
And vice the real flame:
E'en Pamela with all her grace.
Wears nothing but an angel's Face:
A jilt, her end and aim.

27

112

Thus is corruption sent abroad,
In hers and in the name of God:
What poison of the pen!
But such the taste, and such the age!
That cry the wanton and the sage,
“Pray won't he write again?”

113

Coroners Inquests and their head:
You see that felon lately dead,
They swear “He dy'd insane:
He might, but not as means the Law,
Who by her threats would keep in awe
The Felo-de-se-an Train.

114

She holds no other lunacy,
Than what may come from family,
Or loss of something here:
But his was quite another thing,
It strikes a beggar or a king:
'Twas Conscience and despair.

115

Conscience of guilt and various sin;
The loss of happiness within,
Nor hope of future weal:
Cover'd with infidel-distress,
Of God forsaken and his peace,
He seeks for rest in Hell.

116

Where else can plunge the horrid ghost,
Of souls to grace and virtue lost?
Perhaps deny'd a God:
Can any such behold his face?
For ever number'd with the race
Of Erebus' abode!

28

117

Deal-men and duellers, fell pair!
Drown'd drunk, or stabb'd, thy blessing share,
And boast their filial line:
Ruffians and murderers for pride,
Their guilt beneath thy banner hide,
And help pollute the shrine!

118

Milliners, (Virtue's hate and bane)
A forward, wanton, flimsy train,
Designing, shrewd, and sly:
Upstarts from nothing, or from worse:
The Templar's idol and his curse:
Now paint a kindred fry.

119

Upholsterers, a saucy race,
With clumsy hands, and brazen face,
Assure you “all is clean.”
They've taken more than they could find,
That is, a few are left behind,
To breed and bite again.

120

Black undertakers, who'd interr
The dead or living:—what their care,
But to secure their aim?
Like vultures watch your dying breath,
Then nail you in the case of death,
Less dreadful than their name.

121

Pirates and pages of the stairs;
Butchers, and hell-born privateers;
A furious, sanguine crew!
Plunder or scrape, blaspheme or roar,
Infest the main, the court, or shore;
Unchangeable, true blue!

29

122

What trusty friends thy Body guard!
But what of most the sole reward?
Why orthodox', and Gin.
Give them but these, they'll give thee all,
Or fair or foul, or great or small;
And thy reward their Sin.

123

These, with the laws thy fathers made,
(For making laws was once their trade,
As since it has been thine)
Will safe defend thy lawless claims,
A proof beyond what Scripture names,
Of Tythes or Rights divine.

124

Yet some of them not always pleas'd,
Oft grumble that they are not eas'd
Of what they feel a yoke:
And which, but for more cogent ties,
Than all thy menaces or lies,
Had long ago been broke.

125

Nor could they justly have been blam'd,
If dubious ought thy pride had claim'd,
Had been reclaim'd again;
Till better prov'd than only said,
And so have made thee earn thy bread,
Like other honest men.

126

Nor can we still the injury see,
That would accrue to them or thee,
If this was now the case:
For should'st thou all thy claims disown,
The prince and poor would but their own,
And thou resume thy place.

30

127

And what less righteous be desir'd,
Than that thy sons with virtue fir'd,
Should seek not theirs but them?
Not to oppress but save the souls,
Who long have wander'd from the folds
Of thy Jerusalem.

128

However this was not thy task,
But theirs who might do more than ask
A favour from thy call?
Might have compell'd thee full and large,
To feed thy flock and keep thy charge,
For less than Tythe of all.

129

But they were dull and thou wast keen,
As full of guile as they of spleen;
E'er watchful o'er thine ends:
But leaving these tho' not unblam'd,
Recount (with dignity) unnam'd,
Thy more conspicuous friends.

130

High in the front, and foremost stand,
K---g, L---s, and C---s of the land:
But be not over vain,
For wary of thy craft and pride,
Reserv'd they curb, or slack' ning guide
Thy legislative rein.

131

These are the pillars of thy state:
Base of thy vast, unwieldy weight;
Yet, while they seem to crown
The Dome of thine aspiring head,
Let fall the talent of their lead,
To keep thy Genius down.

31

132

Well knowing, that if left at large,
The sole dominion and the charge
Of either them or theirs,
In time there's nothing would remain,
But, or the galley or the chain,
For them and for their Heirs!

133

Next view some monsters, horrid N---h!
P---m, P---n and A---h!
With Nuda flagrant lass!
All bare of honesty or shame,
As e'er was northern ice of flame,
Or, Barrister of grace.

134

Base Reneg adoes, who desert
Their native cast, untouch'd in Heart,
Tho' circumcis'd their skin:
And with the blasphemy of pride,
Insult of wealth, embronz'd deride
The base-born Nazarene.

135

Yet these are thine; egregious boast!
Thy converts, converts to thy cost,
And converts to their own:
Replete with infamy of Fame,
Enhanc'd your mutual guilt and shame,
Till mutually undone!

136

Long-Acre ruffians and their noise,
Coachmakers, Papists, Bridewell-boys,
Puffs, Cl---d---n, W---t, and R---k:

32

Monmouth, high fam'd for knaves and clothes,
With all the red hot high church foes
Of Cromwell, Boyle, and Locke

137

Old wives that sit on stalls or Benches,
Bear-garden heroes, orange wenches,
Or Billingsgate's loud glee:
Scullions and turn-spits, chamber-maids,
'Prentices bound, or free from trades,
Decide or scream for thee.

138

Opposers of the publick good:
See there a nusance long has stood:
A Bridge to ferry Mules!
“It should be taken down no doubt.”
Why then, content with giving out,
Your Ancestors were Fools?

139

And what are you, whose lust of gain,
Oppones the just concerted plan
For Safety or for Use?
Read here your name at length, a Knave,
To thieves or bacchanals a slave,
The Target of the Muse.

33

140

Nay more, a Murderer esteem'd:
Nor let the vengeful bard be blam'd,
While with resentive eye,
He draws the huge, compressive crowd,
Squeezing to dangers, deaths, or blood:
Unheard their helpless cry.

141

Where age, or impotence infirm,
Extend their unsupported arm;
No refuge here is found:
While clattering wheels absorp their voice
Suffus'd amidst the direful noise
Of hurry and it's sound.

142

Where furious drivers fierce contend:
Where next is seen on either hand,
A drove of madden'd herd:
Gor'd by the arms of brutes humane,
Tortur'd they roar or turn again,
Unsane and undeterr'd.

143

Who then obstructs, his Genius shows;
Shares in the guilt of present woes,
And vindicates the past:
Murders the nations that have been,
Adopts his rude forefather's sin,
And struts a civic beast!

144

Nor less their memory abhor,
Their taste accurst, nor mean, adore
Their Grandeur or their Fame:

34

Plump sons of dulness and renown,
In Size or Substance overgrown:
Our patterns to our shame!

145

Whose muddy'd steps their offspring trace;
A stupid, earthy-minded race,
Of Citizens or swine!
Like these emplung'd in filth, they thrive,
While cleanlier souls are doom'd to live
In darkness, dirt and sin.

146

With these a more pernicious clan,
Their City's and the Nation's bane;
Tho' now extinct their breath:
Who bore the sword of Justice' law:
Yet justice but Injustice saw,
Herself adjudg'd to Death.

147

Brow-beat the fervent and the good,
Revil'd the jealous for his God,
From pride, despite, or gain:
Favour'd the profligate and base;
Their Office and it's End's disgrace:
They bore the sword in vain.

148

The sword of subalternate rule;
Lean, puisné judges in the school
Of Albion's sire supreme;
But how unlike his equal hand,
Who waves his sceptre o'er the land;
Her benefit his aim.

35

149

Nor them forget, if yet are found
Their like unlifted from the ground,
The many or the few:
Who with the air of Mercy's friend,
An Exon's furious imps desend,
Or, Denbigh's lawless crew!

150

Chemists, apothecaries, brewers,
Who cleanse or foul the common sewers
Of all thy sickly sons:
Poison'd with ale or oil, or drug,
They die—the sharpers mimp or shrug;
Then canonize their bones!

151

Next, see a group of formal sons,
Solemn as owls, or Spanish Dons;
Half sober, half devout:

36

Who quaff, and sip, and hum, and haw,
With hiccup shake their heads—“No Law!
“She's ruin'd, there's no doubt!”

152

Ruin'd by whom? ye tippling tribe!
Her ale and tenets ye imbibe;
What has she more to lose?
Unless yourselves, or any worse,
'Gainst whom the law sues her divorce:
And these bequeath their shoes!

153

With them enroll a kindred-clan,
All true-blue church-men to a man,
Who wave their rags or birch:
But never sigh, or care, or think,
Save when conven'd, athirst they drink,
“Come, brother, here's the Church!”

154

Stock-jobbers, bankers, keen as steel,
Who'd eat the gold their fingers feel,
But gold will Freedoms buy:
Born, or to mend, or lacker shoes;
How black their heels! how white their hose!
How arrogant their Tye!

155

Draymen and us'rers court thy door,
Who fleece their cattle or the poor,
Cruel, severe, and fierce:
Coachmen and porters, drinking band!
Who drive or carry half the land,
On shoulders or their hearse.

156

Domestic-servants, hellish brood.
Idle, lascivious, bold, and proud,
A base, purloining fry:

37

Attend in droves, (half in thy court)
Their Lords their Patterns, and their Sport,
Like whom they live, or die.

157

Footmen and valets, above all,
That trip the salon or the hall;
These too revere thy dome:
Who cry (their lady half in view,
Leering at them, herself, and you,)
Her Grace is not at home.”

158

Quack-doctors, midwives, and buffoons;
With conjurers who wax by moons,
And fools that wane by them:
Stewards, and wood-reeves, pilf'ring fry;
Who steal their coach, or ride and tye:
With poachers wild and tame.

159

Arians, socinians, and deists,
Gluttons and drunkards, (human beasts!)
Time servers, palm'd or vext:
'Tis well, thy limits are confin'd
To proselytes of human kind,
Or whom might we have next?

160

To close, we add a fearful crew,
Bigots and hypocrites, (thy due)
Who growl or whine thy praise:
With malice cry, “O what a shame
“T' abuse our Mother's sacred name,
“In these harmonious days!”

161

“Days of such harmony and peace,
“(O might they ne'er grow short or cease!)
“When all without or in,

38

“Do as they list without controul,
“The Church and Schism, all one soul,
“And love and live in—Sin.

162

Infidels, sceptics, calvinists,
And half-reforming Methodists,
Are at thine altars seen:
Nay these have (arch enough) in Song
Late prov'd thee neither right nor wrong,
Or worst half way between.

163

Just as they'd set their wits to work,
To prove thee neither Jew nor Turk,
As if unknown before,
That take away the bad from all,
E'en foul mouth'd L*v---g---n's a Paul,
Nor Rome herself a Whore!

164

These know that take away their pride,
Homil's and Articles aside,
Scarce one poor reed so vile,
But tho' 'tis now esteem'd our own,
Yet did, or might at least have grown,
On her prolific soil.

165

To such, thou'rt equally oblig'd,
As citadels when close besieg'd,
By foes encompass'd round:
Are to their friends who make a rout,
T' annoy the enemy without,
Yet undermine the ground.

166

For were their Tenets to take place,
(Alike for once both theirs and Grace)
Which still were meetly just:

39

Down rush thy pride, and pomp, and all,
As ramparts batter'd from their wall,
Low levell'd with the dust.

167

And yet they aim thy tow'rs to raise,
Attend thy courts, affect thy praise,
Reciprocally given:
Allow there may be more than one,
But still persuaded thine alone,
The safest way to heaven.

168

Indeed all know there is but one;
Yet not restrain'd to thine alone,
E'en where thou bear'st the sway:
There's many that ne'er saw thy face,
At least ne'er saw thy fund of grace,
And yet they find their way.

169

Nay this perhaps with small ado,
As naked of thy farce and show,
Their hindrance so much less:
Pursue the crown reserv'd on high,
Mount easier to their native sky,
Compleat as sure their bliss.

170

But here we must a moment stop,
To pick up what thou would'st not drop,
Tho' not of Right divine:
“Not found Dissenter here—not one;”
Yet O that among them were none
Who too resemble thine!

171

Who, tho' they may not make thy noise,
Yet slander with low, whisp'ring voice,
Poison'd as hemlock-tree:

40

Or join'd the gen'ral hue and cry,
As frighted at thy mobs, deny,
“They differ much from thee.”

172

And truly in the sense they mean,
Who well know how to trim between
Religion and the Times:
They differ mighty little more
Than does the cold Norwegian shore
From Hyperborean climes.

173

Alike your zeal, alike your love,
For those who stand the least remove
From you or from your Mode:
Alike in gen'ral both your aims,
For each divine protection claims,
And Forms and Gain your god!

174

Now thine, from out whose dew-lap'd mouth
Are bellow'd round from North to South
Thy honours all abroad!
Who drunk, or sober, sane, or mad,
Or blind, or lame, or brisk, or sad,
All wait thy pow'rful Nod.

175

Sure ne'er magician with his wand,
In Egypt or Chaldean land,
Could e'er so just divine:
Or raise such swarms of frogs or mice,
As in a moment for thee rise,
With but a cast of thine!

176

For wave but this, O what a shout
Of noise, confusion, and of rout
From ev'ry quarter flows!

41

Houses and buildings and their wall,
With fame and furniture all fall:
Fell slaughter of thy foes!

177

Or sound the trump's pontific clang,
Or pulpit drum, parochial bang,
What squadrons soon are seen!
(As vultures flying from afar)
Around thy standard they repair,
Quadrangle, street, or green!

178

Some like a lion roar, or howl
Like dogs, or stand aloof and growl;
Like apes their brethren grin:
All well employ'd in one design,
To save thy corps and Rights divine,
Without or sly within.

179

O what a group of high and low!
Who stick at nothing they can do
To keep out Heresy!
But stamp or squeak, and swear or lye,
Nay steal, and murder, hang and die,
Or any thing for thee.

180

All these of different sorts and size,
Or small, or great, or fool, or wise,
The frisking old or young:
With male and female, bond and free,
Adorn a staff or grace a tree,
Or bribe or bore the tongue.

181

These all are thine, as theirs thou art,
Alike their hand, their head, and heart;
Who thy protection share:

42

To what a sum does all amount,
As soon might wizard-Moore recount
The atoms of the air!

182

To what compare thy fertile womb?
A den, a cavern, or the tomb?
Why not compare to all?
Dark, hollow, teeming, large and deep;
Or wild, or dead, or fast asleep;
And stubborn as a wall.

183

Or like a Mart, high vending place;
Open for every age and face,
Who loiter, steal, or range:
Or, like the common road or street,
Where knaves, as honest, walk or meet;
As Albion's grand Exchange.

184

In short, thou'rt like a common shore,
Filling and emptying, never pure
From pride, or pomp, or sin:
That (speak they truth who say they know)
With all thy Scavengers can do,
They cannot keep thee clean.

185

Sure 'tis thy Courtesy receives
Them all; who ought beside believes,
Without the least dispute,
He must conclude thee false as kind;
Free as a haven or the wind,
A common Prostitute.

186

And yet exceeds thy Charity!
To dandle all upon thy knee,
And never once repine:

43

Can Rome more patient candour boast?
Whene'er she's drunk, be thou her toast,
And she again be thine!

187

For such indulgence sure and care,
Is hardly seen in wedded pair,
As long discern'd in you:
For me, I scarce can think you twain,
So like your tempers and your mien,
As mickle that ye do!

188

But now thine answer to the whole;
(I know it speaks thy very soul)
“Pray how shall we prevent?
“They all were born within our fence,
“And if we seem to drive them thence,
“They then will all dissent.

189

Dissent from what? from thee or Sin?
If both before, pray where had been
The infamy or wrong?
Thou might'st perhaps some credit lost,
Satan a smaller number boast,
And heav'n a brighter throng!

190

Well, and suppose who do should come
And supplicate your porch or dome:
How large your own disgrace!
The very thing that some would want,
Your Posts and Offices supplant;
And ye yourselves give place.

191

A thing your pride would burst to find,
And yet how just! the same their mind,
The same neglect or care:

44

The same their right to all your claims,
Of tythes and ranks, and dues and names,
Equal their pains and share.

192

But now they stand so far aloof;
There's none dare stir, no not a hoof,
A mite receive or straw:
So far from this, compell'd to bear,
Their burden but of Loss or Care;
So bids the Church's law.

193

“They have their own,” why that is true,
And do they not help nourish you,
Who else care not a shell,
Whether they sink, or whether swim,
Whether they wake, or whether dream,
And sudden start in hell?

194

Suffice it then that all's secur'd,
Your pride, and pomp, and rights immur'd,
Ye call the land your own:
Leave them unenvy'd to enjoy
Without or censure or annoy,
Their legislative boon.

195

No thanks to you or yours the leave,
They now possess to think or live,
As native right might claim:
Or even worship as they wou'd,
Whom once their fathers serv'd with blood;
Their present offspring's shame!

196

Time was when these their rights could boast;
Time now when these and more is lost,
Than ever Racks could move:

45

Their former liveliness and zeal;
Their flame for heav'n, their scorn of hell;
Their meekness and their love.

197

Now lost and swallow'd up in sin!
Demure without, how proud within!
How quench'd the former flame!
Extinct and wither'd by the world,
Their order to confusion hurl'd,
And all their boast a name!

198

A name to live, but oh how dead!
Slaves to their own or thine for bread,
Their whole pretence a form:
Full of themselves with thee deride,
And e'en Dissenters swell'd with pride,
Can emulate a storm.

199

Laugh in their sleeves at all the fears,
The sufferings, sorrows, and the tears
That lav'd their fathers eyes:
To see a nation sunk in sin,
Their children now emplung'd therein,
And hunting after flies.

200

How chang'd their manners and the times!
The Church establish'd and her crimes,
Adopted for their own:
So much alike their mien and air,
Why not their stock as well as care,
Incorporate in one?

46

201

What harmony of thought subsists
Between their Pastors and thy Priests?
How like their aim and ends!
Alike their prejudice and pride,
And both unite in all (beside
The House of God) are Friends.

202

No wonder censur'd their Dissent!
What pity ought should e'er prevent
The junction of your hands?
So much alike your mutual state,
Neither can find a meeter mate;
What can forbid the Banns?

203

These scorn and hate (what can ye more?)
The men who would their life restore,
And call them up from death:
From dulness, emptiness, or form;
Their heart with ancient ardor warm;
Resin'd their baleful breath.

204

Stop the loud clamour of the day,
To peace and honour pave their way,
Regardless of their own:
Take all the burden of their shame,
Patient, expect a better name,
To Martyrs yet unknown.

205

But ah! what hopes the least return!
Who all reproof or caution scorn;
The madman's voice despise:
Keep at a distance as from fear,
Listen a lie or pausing leer,
And turn away their eyes.

47

206

Mean, narrow, dull, constricted souls,
Pinion'd (like geese) within their folds,
Scarce justify the pen
Drawn in their cause, unask'd as kind,
But if they knew, (so base their mind!)
Would vilify the Man.

207

And from a heart of pride malign,
Of envy, spite, and low design,
The kind regard would wound:
Or with an air of insolence,
Devoid of candour as of sense,
Exclaim “They are not sound.”

208

“Not sound!” ye hypocrites, why so?
Who taught you Sound or Sense to know?
Is orthodox' your trade?
Go tell your own to blush and learn,
To wound, reprove, invite, or warn,
Unfearful and unpaid.

209

Here then we leave you and your crimes,
For better hopes and better times,
When ye may be restor'd:
Or wait with trembling fear the doom
Pronounc'd alike on more than Rome,
For calling Jesus “Lord”

210

But to resume our talk with thee,
Who scarce can'st with thine own agree;
But highly discompos'd,
If any e'en within thy pale,
Are wrested not from thee, but hell;
As if thy shame expos'd.

48

211

But put the worst, they shou'd dissent,
Pray what by all this rout is meant,
Unless the horrid aim
(Tremble my heart as on the brink
Of deepest hell) that none may think
Diversive of thy Scheme?

212

Was ever found so hard or vain?
So opposite to God or Man?
Say why the mind it's own?
But to discern, accept, refuse,
Or form to any other use,
By many or by one.

213

Why not then theirs as well as ours,
To use or light or native pow'rs
Of God or reason giv'n?
Was it not this? that these might judge
(Freely from all the dupe or drudge)
Their claim or path to heav'n?

214

Come don't oppose your sacred call,
To point or pave the way for all,
Or ideot or wise:
Go find yourselves the paths of bliss,
Or never prophesy of peace;
Ye blind of heart and eyes!

215

Nor false pretend thy love to them,
While yet (how base neglect and shame!)
Thine own are dead in sleep!
Hard seeking death amidst their life,
In pride, or wantonness, or strife;
Fast hurrying to the deep!

49

216

For know, 'tis not who swerves from thee,
In point of Mode or Theory,
That risks his future weal:
But who dissents from truth and peace,
Who breaks the laws of righteousness,
He seeks the path to hell.

217

Besides what is it ye would have?
Wish ye a universe to save,
Against or law or right?
What can ye more than now possess?
Except that purity and peace
So far beyond your sight!

218

What have ye not that ye esteem?
May ye not range, or sink, or swim
For ought that these impede?
Did not we know your constant lay,
One should but deem you as in play,
Or lunatic your Head.

219

Nay—if the failure prov'd no worse,
A cure might chance be found in course
Of providence and time:
But now what can be said or done?
For plain from what yourselves must own,
'Tis not Defect but Crime.

220

Sure ye forget the hardy day,
When first your fathers brake their way
From Rome, now turn'd behind:
You do not think they only came
Half naked from the sanguine dame,
And brought away her Mind!

50

221

Was it not this they just abhorr'd?
(Her pride of thought and pomp of word!)
To speak or think forbid:
'Till first obtain'd her Papal nod,
High sitting in the place of God,
His Church's lordly head?

222

Whence sprang the darkness of her night?
Whence the remove of all her light?
Whence all her matchless crimes?
Whence inquisitions, racks, and caves?
Whence broken hearts and howling slaves?
Feel ye not yet the times?

223

Whence sprang the whole, and myriads more?
Some broil'd in flames, or bath'd in gore,
Or stretch'd beneath their pain?
Whence all their sorrows and distress?
The loss of property or peace?
Whence Rome's infernal reign?

224

Sprang it not hence (bleed thou my heart,
At those who wish re-plung'd her dart,
In Albion's fairest breast:)
Sprang it not hence, the pride of men,
Drunk with the lore of lust and gain?
Rise hell and speak the rest!

225

And would ye then be thought like these?
Long ye again to break our peace?
Our very thoughts confine?
Away then all your plaint of Rome,
Awake your rant—now reeking come,
From her successive line.

51

226

But can ye this succession boast?
What lies, what lives, what livres cost
Her lineal descent!
Yclep'd the apostolic line,
Yet wove at Rome—pontific twine;
How strong and permanent!

227

Made of that scourge—the Saviour's pain,
Now drawn at length—a lineal chain,
Of Prelates and their Laws:
Extended line of pomp and lies,
Of blood, of torture, and of vice:
The sweet-meats of her jaws!

228

Broken and knotted like a cord,
That hangs a traitor to his lord,
His country or his king:
Snapt in ten thousand pieces—ty'd,
To stretch their neck or lash the hide;
How worn the sacred string!

229

A rope of villains and of Priests,
Fierce as the tyger or the beasts,
Of Afric's wild domain:
Yet they and all their claims divine!
All of a piece, the same their line,
The same their future pain.

230

Enough now seen, on what depend?
Patient await till seen their end,
What double torment feel!
When justice cuts the long-stretch'd cord,
And priests now pendant with their lord,
For ever plung'd in hell!

52

231

O what a plunge of guilty weight!
(Ne'er yet so plung'd a falling state)
All hell the splash resounds!
Her nations flee the dread surprize,
While floods of liquid sulphur rise,
And overflow their bounds!

232

Such are the crimes, and such the doom,
Of all who follow her and Rome,
For just alike their aim:
Each seeks his own and nothing more,
Each serves alike the Scarlet Whore,
And justifies her claim.

233

Alike the scornful empty smile
Of saucy flirts, or the revile
Of saints invective breath:
The beau, the rake, the sot, the 'squire,
'Tis all a spark of the same fire,
Emitted from beneath!

234

Who laughs your conscience—soon would frown!
Fair the occasion change his tone,
Condemn you to the flame:
Nor here confine the curst decree,
But lost to all humanity,
Would stand, and see you damn.

235

'Tis all revenge, and spite, and scorn:
You think and they would see you burn,
Alike devout and civil:
'Tis by them all or spoke or meant;
In judgment or in vengeance sent,
To prison or the devil.

53

236

Who then in thought, or word, or deed,
Would see us pine, would see us bleed,
For sentiment or mode:
Shews that he feels a Murderer's mind,
Approves her slaughters unconfin'd,
A monster in his brood!

237

Beside, if Liberty's destroy'd,
All reason, grace, and nature void,
All or of place or times:
All soon to dire confusion hurl'd,
Nor God himself repays the world,
The vengeance of their crimes.

238

Plead not of Rome the dire mistake,
(She pleads it something else to make,
All her designs are one)
“That all are not enough endu'd,
“With light of evil or of good,
“To chuse or leave alone.”

239

This reason hers, she proves it good,
But such her zeal, 'tis prov'd by blood;
Her charity how kind!
Seizes a wretch, (what fair Intent!)
Tortures him thoughts he never meant,
And screws him to her mind.

240

From hence what base deceit and fraud?
The priest and loaf are both a God;
Half worship'd, half devour'd!
And yet within, are both despis'd,
As nothing more when just revis'd,
Than priest-crast and it's gourd.

54

241

Despis'd by all, constrain'd to cry,
From fear or pay, or truth or lye,
As they themselves have done:
By this evinc'd their call a trade,
Who by their force or guile have made
Another's crimes their own.

242

For who another's mind directs,
Answers his sins or his defects,
In reason or in grace:
Nor less shall answer in that day,
When God with recompence shall pay
Each tyrant to his face.

243

Then rather dread the horrid thought,
A stranger to thy sentence brought,
By violence or fraud:
If found at length thyself a knave,
Or pupil, an extorted slave;
How answers each his God?

244

Who then but for some base reward
(Conscience asleep or disregard)
Would of himself assume
As meet or just, or fair or wife,
To claim or close a stranger's eyes?
For ever felt his doom!

245

Reply'd, “But is it not enjoin'd,
“That all should bear one heart, one mind,
“And think and speak the same?
“That all should seek the common weal,
“Another's joy or torture feel,
“His glory or his shame?”

55

246

Speaks this thy candour or thy pride?
Thy love for Union, or to hide
The secret of thy hate
At those who chuse to think from thee,
And deem thy fractur'd unity,
A creature of the State?

247

If but the former were the case,
With ease and with a milder grace,
Thy meekness would submit:
No more thy wrath as thunders roll,
Disclos'd the meanness of thy soul;
Or weakness of thy feet!

248

Great minds are like the stately oak;
Unmov'd, at least are mov'd unbroke,
Nor heed the tempest's roar:
While little souls, like whiffling trees,
Are ruffled by a common breeze,
As from their surface tore!

249

Yet just the reas'ning, nay divine:
But what an angle draws their line?
Deviate the point from Love:
Drawn from the centre of their pride,
Themselves eccentric, base deride
The needful, just remove.

250

Love is the centre of the soul!
Magnetic sun, that draws the whole,
Enflames the mind humane
With all the virtues of her Sire,
Primeval, uncreated Fire,
That warms the Cherubin!

56

251

Angels but love, what can they more?
Cause why they burn, rejoice, adore,
Yet see not all the same:
To these more heighten'd scenes reveal'd,
On those yet larger raptures seal'd;
But who dare angels blame?

252

Why then to blame, another's sight
More than thine own—a dimner light?
What each that is not given?
Hast thou the clearer of the two?
Or, not the blind, more clear than you?
The gracious boon of heav'n!

253

To move the matter from dispute,
Much to the general Fall impute,
To Nature much or Age:
Much to the Nurture of the mind,
In all to error most inclin'd:
The infant or the sage.

254

Much to the Genius of the times,
Much to the bane of foreign climes,
Much to thyself ascribe:
Another place in thy own stead,
Or, on his shoulders fix thy head;
His principles imbibe.

255

Or, if thou canst a horn-book read,
Hear this (O were it in thy creed!)
The argument is strong:
“'Tis plain as just—(why look so small?)
“Who licence has to think at all,
“Has licence to think wrong.

57

256

Not this to harden or excuse
Or nature's errors or abuse
Of freedom or of grace:
But to abate thy vast surprize,
That others see with other's eyes,
Or wear another's face.

257

To move thy pity, and to warm
Thy frozen heart, to teach, inform,
Reprove, or fervid raise
The smallest sparks of weak desire,
Till kindled the ethereal fire
To an ethereal blaze.

258

Lastly, to move thy grateful boon,
If greater light on thee has shone,
Or ardor warm'd thy mind:
Not to exaggerate thy pride,
Much less to punish or deride,
Unmanly as unkind.

259

Again, if all in all agree,
All might appear as harmony,
Thro' just distinction void:
Like octav'd chords, of equal tone,
Monotic notes, alike, alone,
The list'ning hearer cloy'd.

260

But finish'd harmony is form'd,
And music's graceful soul is warm'd,
By Difference of sound:
Well-mingled tones, of flats or sharp,
While softest lute, or sprightly harp,
Or echoing stops rebound.

58

261

Where different parts and different chords
Each in their place it's aid affords,
Nay, Discords help the choir:
Chromatic sounds, of jarring strains,
While all the rumbling bass maintains:
All harmony and fire!

262

So in the Band of charity,
Where differ all, yet all agree,
As Seraphim above!
Scarce one so vile, or lost, or base,
But must or kind compassion raise,
Or, meet demand our love.

263

And this the part to us assign'd;
Not to bring all to think our mind,
But to regard our own:
Whether to tune the pipe or string,
Or to the lute more mildly sing,
Or swell the bursting tone.

264

Or, like a building large and fair,
Whose parts their diff'rent burdens bear,
Invisible or seen:
Some form the solid, nervous base,
Others the cone or cornish grace,
Or graceful shine between.

265

All yet cement by nicest art,
Adorns or strengthens each his part,
Unpolish'd as polite:
E'en Rubbish helps the load support,
Or smoothly spreads the path or court,
Or garden trimly dight.

59

266

Where in their diff'rent orders stand,
Tall, sprightly Pines, on either hand
The Myrtles gravely smile:
With flow'ry Shrubs (low sited plants,)
Of various forms and various scents;
As best befits the soil.

267

Where view the harsh, rough-coated Elm;
Or trembling Asp, while Briars embalm
The warm, high-scented air:
Where cypress'd Groves erect their heads,
Dilate their emblematic shades,
Asylums of despair.

268

Where mix the Lily and the Rose,
Diverse in hue, yet fair compose
The garland or the crown:
While Daisies, meek, neglected race,
Or, parterr'd Box, the borders grace,
And deck the genial ground.

269

Where of unnumber'd kinds are seen
Or annual or ever-green,
Laurel or Daffodil:
Where all is sweet, serene, or gay,
And with united force display
Their verdure, shape, or smell.

270

Nor here omit the empoison'd root,
The dead'ning leaf, or baleful fruit,
A dark, tremendous train:
Taught to imbibe each noxious juice,
They speak their just, specific use,
And vindicate their Bane.

60

271

So all their part in the machine,
Of Grace, of Nature, or of Sin,
Each fills his own abode:
And in his sphere, his lot, or line,
Compleats the Harmony divine,
Of Providence and God.

272

But “these for Trifles swerve you know:”
And can't you let a Trifle go?
A trifle of a thought!
Have patience, they may all in time
Obey thy lore, attend thy chime;
Triflers are easy bought.

273

Is not this thy complaint of Rome,
Condemn'd a universe to come
For Sentiment or Mode?
Art thou then guilty of the same,
And blushless deem'd unworthy blame,
Nor tremblest at her Rod?

274

“But, we are right, and she is wrong;”
Know this is thine, and not her song,
She sings another lay:
With her, thou'rt wrong and she is right,
She calls thick darkness all thy light,
And heresy thy way.

275

So say all parties and all sects,
Each only right, the wrong rejects,
Why then this fruitless stir?
On this, thy jaunt might be to Rome,
For she's not farther off from home,
Than home is far from her.

61

276

Here then you differ, yet agree;
What discord, yet what harmony!
She thunders and you roar:
And such her charity to you,
As ye esteem to others due;
Blush both and speak no more.

277

I'll tell thee what I've often thought,
And here for thy regard is wrote,
Had'st thou been more employ'd
About the welfare of mankind,
Than bringing all to think thy mind,
Thy aim had not been void.

278

For if thy view had only been
The wretch to save, the injur'd screen,
From hard despair or wrong,
Thou ne'er hadst lost or rich or poor,
Crowded thy straitn'd courts or door
The universal throng.

279

Instead of this thy constant pain,
Has been not Hearts but Heads to gain,
In order to prevent
(What ne'er has been prevented yet,
Nor will,) thy foes contemptuous hate,
Or children's discontent.

280

Just like a prince prepar'd for war,
Whose sole ambition, pride, or care
His numbers to encrease:
Not deeming 'tis not force or might,
But arms undaunted and unite,
That prophesies success.

62

281

So thou, more militant than wise,
For fear the scorner should despise
Thy despicable few:
Has sooth'd, or menac'd, seiz'd, or brib'd
The myriads just before describ'd;
A huge, unhealthy crew!

282

And all this from the dire mistake
(What blunders wizzards often make!)
It would thy fame approve:
Unweeting, 'twas not names or votes,
That proves the truth, or ends disputes,
But purity and love.

283

This then seek thou, and let them seek,
With hearts benevolent and meek,
Who glory in thy line:
Or else with all thy tricks of state,
Thou'lt ne'er support thy falling weight,
Or prove thy right divine.

284

A moment then we here shall cease,
A moment part on terms of peace,
Yet unextinct our zeal
For thee and thine—this still my pen
Unsheath'd records—a moment then,
Thou mitr'd dame, farewel!
 

The authority and censure of the Spiritual Courts; that bane and blast of English liberty, and an indelible blemish and clog upon the Protestant Reformation.

Lamies, a sort of She Demons that are supposed to suck the blood of young children.

This refers Ist to such members of the Church of England, as, either in principle or practice, imitate too closely the bad example of their ancient mother the Church of Rome: And 2dly to such of the Dissenters, or other Reformers, whose primitive zeal and love being waxed cold, are, from their bigoted attachment to forms, modes, habits, &c. just ripe for a connection with either; and, with a proper degree of variation, may become very creditable members of them both.

It cannot be too soon or too seriously observed, 1. That what follows is no more than one amongst many very reasonable objections made by the Dissenters to the established Church, viz. “That she receives all, how bad or scandalous soever either in principle or life.—That she admits even avowed Atheists into the most high and important offices of herself or the State, while (at her instigation) the most exemplary for doctrine or manners, if not of her communion, are branded as hereticks, &c.” 2. That, besides it subjects her to many other inconveniencies, and renders both her honour and authority very contemptible, it is certainly an indubitable evidence and effect of her total loss of purity and scriptural discipline: and is, in the last place, one of those malignant and offensive evils, that, as it calls aloud for the efficacious interposition of the legislature, must necessarily, in due season, bring down the most searching judgments of God upon her, and upon all who by their superstition or flattery both countenance and aggravate her sins.

An instance of this happened not a great while since, when a grand little Jew walked in the publick procession to Bow Church with the members of a certain religious society —for propagating the gospel, or something else—who admitted him as an humble attendant (perhaps a brother) for the sake of his money—when he pretended to be most hugely affronted with the preacher, for speaking too much about Jesus Christ.—Was not the whole of this, think you, something most uncommonly new?

This business (as now managed) is totally unlawful. It enriches an handful at the expence of millions: and where is the difference between poisoning a man slowly or at once? What pity ratsbane is not authorized! I dare say, there are many that would vend it for the publick good—and the man who sells the one, would, on the same principle, sell the other. I know their plea, “But how “are we to live?” Pray how are highway-men to live? (Their way is as lawful though not so legal) as yours. Why change hands—go you on the highway, and let them turn distillers.—Is it any wonder that both human vengeance and divine, should fall upon such miscreants? Nay even Quakers can stab their fellow creatures with their liquid sword.—They had better draw one of steel, in defence of their tottering liberties, or else cut their own throats with it, and then every murderer would have his deserts.

The uncommonly bitter and uncharitable spirit of this writer, at a time when the government were granting that body of people very little more than the natural privileges of every human creature, (especially as it has never been publickly recanted,) calls for a far severer censure, than any that can drop from this pen. The utmost I can express is, that he seemed actuated by the self-same spirit of malevolence and contempt towards them, with which they are recorded (and I believe very justly) to have crucified the Messiah; tho' perhaps this gentleman would not have done amiss to reflect, that (as a people) They are still beloved for the fathers sake. And that, as one grand visible cause of their present disbelief and abhorrence of the Christian religion, is the wicked lives and tempers of it's preachers and professors, he should rather have lamented, and endeavoured to have removed that prejudice, by his own sweetness and purity of behaviour; than to have made one of the number of their inveterate stumblingblocks and foes. Besides, that upon a principle of respect to the legislature, it not only became him to have been a little more mild and temperate, but as a theologist, he might have considered such a step in the view of divine Providence, (who brings to pass the greatest of events by the most trivial and unthought of means; That the power may be of him and not of man,) as an occurrence symptomatic of their further admittance into his favour, if not (in due season) a token of their return (if it is ever to be literal) under the auspicies of the present house and government, into their own land. I know the objections that may be started upon this head, but this is not a place to consider them in: my business is with the unexemplary spirit of bigotry and pride, which nothing could exceed, but the most inimitable absurdity of supposing “it would bring to nought the prophecies of the Old and New Testament.” As if the truth or completion of these were to depend upon any privileges that could be granted the Jews by all the legislatures in Europe, any more than by some of them being burnt alive every year at Lisbon. To all which we may farther add, the ever memorable and droll addresses of several corporations in England (for that cause assembled) “That (among other perils and afflictions then and there hanging over their heads) their most holy religion (truly) was in danger.”—Of what? Why, of being devoured by the Jews: never once dreaming, that their own most antichristian spirit of avarice, debauchery, dishonesty and pride, was infinitely more scandalous and destructive, both to the nation, the King, God's glory, and their own interest, than the highest priviledges the Jews could ever have desired or obtained.

A plain evidence this, that their terrors were not for the sake of religion, (if it had, they would mend their own manners) but for fear of their idol mammon, the great Diana of Great-Britain, (whom in common with the Heathens of Ephesus,) her merchants worship.

No—nor on any other—(one or two infamous ones excepted) but only on those who follow them in such a manner, as to become the scandal of their profession, and a nusance to the publick: a remark, I must beg the reader will be so just as to bear in mind from the beginning to the end.

The reader will naturally observe the Contrast in this, and many other similar places; otherwise a similitude of Sound may lead him into a very unfortunate mistake, and make him apprehend there is a similitude of Manners.

This term (and more especially in this place) needs some distinct explanation. In general, it stands for knaves or sharpers of any kind. But here, in particular, for all such as embezzle or squander away the monies extorted for fines, &c. in any city or corporation, either on their own private uses, or in publick entertainments. It stands here likewise as a contrast with the first word in the same line; as it does likewise for a kind of commentative term upon the second, whenever that office happens to be executed by a person of a peculiar genius and address; and then it serves (as in logic) to connect the two extremes: as that post, from it's natural conveniency of situation, may be so dextrously served, as to render the possessor somewhat amphibious, i. e. a something between them both.

For many years I was at a loss to guess what could be the reason why no Papist, Jacobite, Rebel, High- Church-man, or true Oxonian could ever bear the name of this great man, but my wonder was soon at an end, when, about two years since, I read (with the utmost extasy of surprize) that most invaluable piece of his upon Toleration; that third magna charta of this kingdom, as the Bible is the first.

This word is here used in the military sense, and signifies a But or mark to be shot at.

Those who from stupidity, or brutishness of avarice, opposed the plan of Sir Christopher Wren for rebuilding the city of London after the great fire in the year 1666.

The magistrates, ministers, &c. who opposed and prevented the Reformation of Manners begun by Dr. Woodward, some years since, to their own shame, and the nation's irreparable loss.

These are a set of gentry, that, in general, we must not let go unreprehended. They are not mentioned here as if their business was unlawful, or as if all of them made it so; but that many of them do, is most certain, by adulterating their commodities; and thereby, with their brethren the wine-coopers, vitiating them oft-times very injuriously, for which the two former are perpetually calling one another names, and I dare say with very good reason.

The latter incur some censure on the same account, and above all, for promoting their private interest at the publick expence; I mean the health and happiness of their countrymen, who drink away soul and body; are tempted to idleness, gaming, &c. distress their families, and at last are brought to the parish and a morsel of bread. And yet these gentlemen, with their customers the publicans, truly, think themselves most highly aggrieved, when the necessities of the times call for a little of that income they would amass or squander, at the ruin of thousands, both here and hereafter!

If any dissenter, especially of the presbyterian or independent party, cast their eye upon this page, let him not censure the author as uncharitable; but blush, and remember it is no more, no, nor half so much, as some of their own most valuable writers (especially the late learned Dr. Watts) have affirmed, with the utmost degree of certainty and concern.

Luke vi. 46.