The New Atlantis A Poem, in Three Books. With Some Reflections upon the Hind and the Panther [by Thomas Heyrick] |
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| 1. |
| 2. | THE SECOND PART. |
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 | The New Atlantis |  |
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2. THE SECOND PART.
Our Golden Age and happy Times are gone;
When undisputed All our Power did own.
And suppliant Monarchs at our feet fell down.
When flowing Tides of Wealth came rowling in,
The sale of Vice, and easie price of Sin.
When blindfold Ignorance did Devotion give,
The less men knew the more they did believe,
The Blind and Credulous will all receive.
When Croisades for an holy War did come,
And Princes in far distant Coasts did roam,
While our Great Queen usurp'd upon their Rights at home.
When every one on what She said rely'd,
Clos'd up her Eyes and took her for their guide,
Nor sneering Heretick the Consequence deny'd.
When with full Power the World did her invest
Implicitely subscribing to her Test,
‘That She alone is Christ's Immaculate Bride,
‘Harlots and Sorceresses all beside.
‘That her Communion all th' Elect doth hold;
‘Heaven, though 'tis Infinite confined to her fold.
‘That the Sun rises onely in the West,
‘Forgets his Bridal Chamber in the East,
‘And black Damnation shades o'er all the rest.
‘That she doth hold Eternal Truth alone,
‘And what she doth is Truth, because by her 'tis done,
‘That she the powerful Keys of Heaven doth hold,
‘The Wards unchang'd, and what she hath inroll'd
‘In Books below, in those above are writ,
‘And Heaven to' her grant of Saintship doth submit.
‘And whom by fatal Sentence she doth doom
‘Heaven must exclude, and Hell for them make room,
‘That th' charge of Souls is Hers, and therefore she
‘Hath over all a boundless Sovereignty:
‘As great Precedence over earthly Kings,
‘As have Immortal over Mortal things.
‘And since the End the Mediums must command,
‘And Heaven the Butt of all our Aims must stand;
‘She the great Guide of the Eternal state,
‘Must act, must alter, counsel and debate
‘All things Supream, and all Subordinate.
‘May plant, root out, establish and depose,
‘May alter and dispence, may bind and loose
‘All that may fix the Churches sure defence,
‘At least all that may merit that pretence.
‘That all that her unbridled Power withstand
‘Are stigmatiz'd with an Heretick Brand:
‘Not Cain's for safety, but a mark for Death.
‘(Happy the Saint that can the blow bequeath)
‘That all the World by Conscience bound must bring
‘Their help to' extirpate th' accursed thing:
‘To stab the hated Race, and to root out
‘With Fire and Sword the Pestilential Rout.
When undisputed All our Power did own.
And suppliant Monarchs at our feet fell down.
When flowing Tides of Wealth came rowling in,
The sale of Vice, and easie price of Sin.
When blindfold Ignorance did Devotion give,
The less men knew the more they did believe,
The Blind and Credulous will all receive.
When Croisades for an holy War did come,
And Princes in far distant Coasts did roam,
While our Great Queen usurp'd upon their Rights at home.
When every one on what She said rely'd,
Clos'd up her Eyes and took her for their guide,
Nor sneering Heretick the Consequence deny'd.
When with full Power the World did her invest
Implicitely subscribing to her Test,
25
‘Harlots and Sorceresses all beside.
‘That her Communion all th' Elect doth hold;
‘Heaven, though 'tis Infinite confined to her fold.
‘That the Sun rises onely in the West,
‘Forgets his Bridal Chamber in the East,
‘And black Damnation shades o'er all the rest.
‘That she doth hold Eternal Truth alone,
‘And what she doth is Truth, because by her 'tis done,
‘That she the powerful Keys of Heaven doth hold,
‘The Wards unchang'd, and what she hath inroll'd
‘In Books below, in those above are writ,
‘And Heaven to' her grant of Saintship doth submit.
‘And whom by fatal Sentence she doth doom
‘Heaven must exclude, and Hell for them make room,
‘That th' charge of Souls is Hers, and therefore she
‘Hath over all a boundless Sovereignty:
‘As great Precedence over earthly Kings,
‘As have Immortal over Mortal things.
‘And since the End the Mediums must command,
‘And Heaven the Butt of all our Aims must stand;
‘She the great Guide of the Eternal state,
‘Must act, must alter, counsel and debate
‘All things Supream, and all Subordinate.
‘May plant, root out, establish and depose,
‘May alter and dispence, may bind and loose
‘All that may fix the Churches sure defence,
‘At least all that may merit that pretence.
‘That all that her unbridled Power withstand
‘Are stigmatiz'd with an Heretick Brand:
26
‘(Happy the Saint that can the blow bequeath)
‘That all the World by Conscience bound must bring
‘Their help to' extirpate th' accursed thing:
‘To stab the hated Race, and to root out
‘With Fire and Sword the Pestilential Rout.
These the Precarious grounds are we have laid,
And th' Superstructure's equal to them made.
Our claim of heavenly right, the ground of all,
With which the gawdy Edifice will fall,
Is prov'd or wholly forg'd, or much debas'd,
And in the Room a Prior Title's plac'd.
Our shatter'd Evidence our Foes deride,
Expose the blots and falshoods we would hide,
And bring Authentick Witness on their side.
Our narrow Thoughts of Heaven experience finds
The fault of purblind Eyes and narrow Minds;
To whom as t' men in Vales it doth befall,
They see some part of Heaven, and think 'tis all.
Heavens Mercy and his Goodness these restore
The Priviledge we had rob'd him of before.
Our claim to' Infallibility they laughing own,
As they do Constantine's Donation.
Show the Eccentrick Dances it hath mov'd,
The various Epicycles thro' which 't hath rov'd:
How it hath follow'd every foolish Fire
That Lust, or Pride, or Interest did inspire:
And when a Golden Ball was drop'd i' th' way,
It stoop'd like Atalanta to the Prey.
Our Apotheosis and Gift of Heaven,
To Traitors and to perjur'd Villains given,
All scorn, nor will with such a Consort dwell,
But, like the Indian, rather venture Hell.
Ensigns of Honour when become the Meed
Of Persons of low worth and servile breed,
Th' offended Nobles all, with needful pride,
The tainted badge of Honour lay aside.
Our Thunder that did once the World appall,
Breaks unregarded and contemn'd doth fall,
And like Salmoneu's Thunder's scorn'd by all.
The Magick Charms that fetter'd Kings are broke,
And fearless they throw off the galling Yoke:
Grow jealous of their State, secure their Throne,
And from usurping Power do fence their Crown.
And th' Superstructure's equal to them made.
Our claim of heavenly right, the ground of all,
With which the gawdy Edifice will fall,
Is prov'd or wholly forg'd, or much debas'd,
And in the Room a Prior Title's plac'd.
Our shatter'd Evidence our Foes deride,
Expose the blots and falshoods we would hide,
And bring Authentick Witness on their side.
Our narrow Thoughts of Heaven experience finds
The fault of purblind Eyes and narrow Minds;
To whom as t' men in Vales it doth befall,
They see some part of Heaven, and think 'tis all.
Heavens Mercy and his Goodness these restore
The Priviledge we had rob'd him of before.
Our claim to' Infallibility they laughing own,
As they do Constantine's Donation.
Show the Eccentrick Dances it hath mov'd,
The various Epicycles thro' which 't hath rov'd:
How it hath follow'd every foolish Fire
That Lust, or Pride, or Interest did inspire:
And when a Golden Ball was drop'd i' th' way,
It stoop'd like Atalanta to the Prey.
27
To Traitors and to perjur'd Villains given,
All scorn, nor will with such a Consort dwell,
But, like the Indian, rather venture Hell.
Ensigns of Honour when become the Meed
Of Persons of low worth and servile breed,
Th' offended Nobles all, with needful pride,
The tainted badge of Honour lay aside.
Our Thunder that did once the World appall,
Breaks unregarded and contemn'd doth fall,
And like Salmoneu's Thunder's scorn'd by all.
The Magick Charms that fetter'd Kings are broke,
And fearless they throw off the galling Yoke:
Grow jealous of their State, secure their Throne,
And from usurping Power do fence their Crown.
These are the least o' th' numerous Ills they do,
The prying Hereticks our Secrets know;
Have search'd the Stream up to th' Eternal Spring,
And tracts of Truth down thro' all Ages bring;
Have with much Diligence and Justice shown
The various change of our Foundation:
Th' admittance of Impostures, and the Times
When we made Love to meretricious Crimes;
The Errors of our Doctrine have expos'd,
But, what doth deepest strike, our Lives disclos'd.
The head of these our Emulous Neighbor stands,
The frustrate hopes of all our Heads and Hands,
And with Angelick Face o'relooks her Native Lands.
(Our shame) her Vertues every where we spy,
Her decent Rites, her warming Charity,
Her Truth and her Angelick Piety.
Her steady Loyalty, nor are less known
Her Learning, Wisdom, Moderation.
Propitious Stars, if I guess right, appear,
And dawns of our long wish'd for Day draw near:
Much in this Critical Juncture's to be done,
Give speedy Counsel, when this Moment's gone,
Bid long farewel, for 'tis for ever flown.
The prying Hereticks our Secrets know;
Have search'd the Stream up to th' Eternal Spring,
And tracts of Truth down thro' all Ages bring;
Have with much Diligence and Justice shown
The various change of our Foundation:
Th' admittance of Impostures, and the Times
When we made Love to meretricious Crimes;
The Errors of our Doctrine have expos'd,
But, what doth deepest strike, our Lives disclos'd.
The head of these our Emulous Neighbor stands,
The frustrate hopes of all our Heads and Hands,
And with Angelick Face o'relooks her Native Lands.
28
Her decent Rites, her warming Charity,
Her Truth and her Angelick Piety.
Her steady Loyalty, nor are less known
Her Learning, Wisdom, Moderation.
Propitious Stars, if I guess right, appear,
And dawns of our long wish'd for Day draw near:
Much in this Critical Juncture's to be done,
Give speedy Counsel, when this Moment's gone,
Bid long farewel, for 'tis for ever flown.
A sullen murmur follow'd, when there rose
A meager shape, a shape that Envy chose,
And spoke; With studied Malice we have try'd
Our Enemies Rites, Lives, Learning to deride,
But the cast Darts down on our heads did glide.
'Tis now too late worn Methods to recall,
They'r flat and dull, the most refin'd of all
Will by their Virtue be to make them fall.
Loyalty is their glory, pride and crown,
Make but that totter and all tumbles down.
Load them with vile reproaches; Truth and Lies
When once on Wing do curious search despise,
The swiftness of the Motion doth delude our Eyes.
With low designs their lofty Honour blot,
Say Interest hath their Loyalty begot,
And hopes of tasted power th' Increase hath brought:
And what beyond Hells Malice hath a strain,
Lay to their Charge a Martyr'd Sovereign.
Blot their Allegiance, touch that tender place,
They will their God and King revile unto their Face.
Vex them with wrongs, and work them up with Fears,
Threaten the Issue of succeeding years;
Disgrace the great, and trample on the small,
With undeserv'd Reproaches taint them all.
Make them but Malecontents the work is done,
A soft descent leads to Sedition;
None do the ferment of high Passions know,
What generous Souls loaded with wrongs may do;
Patience long tir'd doth unto Fury grow.
Incense them, push them on, the step we'd choose
Is that they would Cæsar's Protection lose;
Stir up the mutinous Rabble, if they flame,
The fatal Fire to all shall lay a claim.
A meager shape, a shape that Envy chose,
And spoke; With studied Malice we have try'd
Our Enemies Rites, Lives, Learning to deride,
But the cast Darts down on our heads did glide.
'Tis now too late worn Methods to recall,
They'r flat and dull, the most refin'd of all
Will by their Virtue be to make them fall.
Loyalty is their glory, pride and crown,
Make but that totter and all tumbles down.
Load them with vile reproaches; Truth and Lies
When once on Wing do curious search despise,
The swiftness of the Motion doth delude our Eyes.
With low designs their lofty Honour blot,
Say Interest hath their Loyalty begot,
And hopes of tasted power th' Increase hath brought:
And what beyond Hells Malice hath a strain,
Lay to their Charge a Martyr'd Sovereign.
29
They will their God and King revile unto their Face.
Vex them with wrongs, and work them up with Fears,
Threaten the Issue of succeeding years;
Disgrace the great, and trample on the small,
With undeserv'd Reproaches taint them all.
Make them but Malecontents the work is done,
A soft descent leads to Sedition;
None do the ferment of high Passions know,
What generous Souls loaded with wrongs may do;
Patience long tir'd doth unto Fury grow.
Incense them, push them on, the step we'd choose
Is that they would Cæsar's Protection lose;
Stir up the mutinous Rabble, if they flame,
The fatal Fire to all shall lay a claim.
The Counsel was embrac'd with joyful crys,
When one did from among the crowd arise
And thus reply'd; Th' advice is deep and wise:
But we ne'r yet upon one string rely'd,
But various Draughts have wove, new Arts have try'd;
Mines under Mines; if one discover'd fail,
That th' other yet may hit and blow up all:
We've other Tasks to do. Wise Kings when they
With their Ambitious Neighbours war for Sway,
With wary Eyes survey the Enemies state,
And th' Motions of the Malecontents do wait,
Foment Divisions, widen still the breach,
And their Foes Arms do to their Ruine stretch.
A Viperous brood lies in our Enemies Breast
That tear her Bowels, and her Peace molest:
At best half Friends and Jealous, 'tis our parts
To make them open Foes by private Arts;
Revile their Mother, draw a monstrous shape,
Fill it with Cruelty, Oppression, Rape,
And with remorsless Fury fill the Map;
And hang't out as her Picture, 'bove the rest,
Write th' Author and Abettor of the Test.
Spot her with Dirt from our own Malice wrought,
Insinuate into the Crowd the thought
That 'tis her genuine look and Natural Draught.
Till they with Phantoms scar'd, and Horrors driven
Mistake the Road, and fly to Hell from Heaven.
Smile on the cheated Slaves, their hopes increase,
(For whom you cannot love yet you may please)
And draw them to the wrack with hopes of ease.
Invite, and like a treacherous Sea beguile;
Embrace, and kill, and while you ruine smile.
Divide, set them their Tasks, and when that's done,
The just Reward of Traitors is well known.
When one did from among the crowd arise
And thus reply'd; Th' advice is deep and wise:
But we ne'r yet upon one string rely'd,
But various Draughts have wove, new Arts have try'd;
Mines under Mines; if one discover'd fail,
That th' other yet may hit and blow up all:
We've other Tasks to do. Wise Kings when they
With their Ambitious Neighbours war for Sway,
With wary Eyes survey the Enemies state,
And th' Motions of the Malecontents do wait,
Foment Divisions, widen still the breach,
And their Foes Arms do to their Ruine stretch.
30
That tear her Bowels, and her Peace molest:
At best half Friends and Jealous, 'tis our parts
To make them open Foes by private Arts;
Revile their Mother, draw a monstrous shape,
Fill it with Cruelty, Oppression, Rape,
And with remorsless Fury fill the Map;
And hang't out as her Picture, 'bove the rest,
Write th' Author and Abettor of the Test.
Spot her with Dirt from our own Malice wrought,
Insinuate into the Crowd the thought
That 'tis her genuine look and Natural Draught.
Till they with Phantoms scar'd, and Horrors driven
Mistake the Road, and fly to Hell from Heaven.
Smile on the cheated Slaves, their hopes increase,
(For whom you cannot love yet you may please)
And draw them to the wrack with hopes of ease.
Invite, and like a treacherous Sea beguile;
Embrace, and kill, and while you ruine smile.
Divide, set them their Tasks, and when that's done,
The just Reward of Traitors is well known.
With deep Attention the Discourse was heard,
And every one for the Attempt prepar'd,
To which by Natural Bent his Temper steer'd;
Till from below a Spectre did ascend,
And seemed half a Man and half a Fiend.
His baleful Eyes like direful Comets show'd,
Diffusing Mischief and ill Fate abroad:
His Mouth like Ætna belch'd out Smoke and Fire,
And thus he spoke, or bellow'd out his Ire.
Mean Souls low Arts and Policies do try,
The great at lofty noble Actions fly,
Worms crawl upon the Ground, but Eagles brush the Sky.
Such dilatory Arts do blast our Fame,
Such proling is unworthy our great Name.
Could we secure our Empire by such ways,
The very means the Victory would debase.
Act like your selves, your former Fame restore;
Strike thro' at once and need to strike no more.
I with a Firebrand o're the Piedmont Vale
The many headed Hydra did assail.
Lovely in dust and gore my Legions stood,
Wading in Streams of curs'd Heretick Blood.
Down fell the glorious Harvest, and not one
Was left to future Times to give Relation.
With state I the Parisian Feasts maintain'd,
When Hecatombs the crowded Altars stain'd:
When pious Massacres did fill each Street,
When Death did Death, and Ruine Ruine meet.
I fill'd the Irish Shambles, and did call
From Boggs, from Loughs and Woods each bloody Cannibal.
When dying groans thro' every Soul did fly,
Eccho'd thro' Earth, and pierc'd th' astonish'd Sky;
To every barbarous Ear sweet Melody.
Why should I mention things of lesser Note,
Or Bonner's Smithfield-Fires, or Powder Plot:
Oh! 'twas a brave Attempt, thô't did not hit,
Althô Hell wanted Fire the Match to light,
Brave, as was Satan's, that with Heaven did fight.
The Path is easie where one went before;
I've told you what I did, and need no more.—
This said, his Speech and he at once did end,
With Sulphurous stench he downward did descend,
And by's departure truly shew'd the Fiend.
And every one for the Attempt prepar'd,
To which by Natural Bent his Temper steer'd;
Till from below a Spectre did ascend,
And seemed half a Man and half a Fiend.
His baleful Eyes like direful Comets show'd,
Diffusing Mischief and ill Fate abroad:
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And thus he spoke, or bellow'd out his Ire.
Mean Souls low Arts and Policies do try,
The great at lofty noble Actions fly,
Worms crawl upon the Ground, but Eagles brush the Sky.
Such dilatory Arts do blast our Fame,
Such proling is unworthy our great Name.
Could we secure our Empire by such ways,
The very means the Victory would debase.
Act like your selves, your former Fame restore;
Strike thro' at once and need to strike no more.
I with a Firebrand o're the Piedmont Vale
The many headed Hydra did assail.
Lovely in dust and gore my Legions stood,
Wading in Streams of curs'd Heretick Blood.
Down fell the glorious Harvest, and not one
Was left to future Times to give Relation.
With state I the Parisian Feasts maintain'd,
When Hecatombs the crowded Altars stain'd:
When pious Massacres did fill each Street,
When Death did Death, and Ruine Ruine meet.
I fill'd the Irish Shambles, and did call
From Boggs, from Loughs and Woods each bloody Cannibal.
When dying groans thro' every Soul did fly,
Eccho'd thro' Earth, and pierc'd th' astonish'd Sky;
To every barbarous Ear sweet Melody.
Why should I mention things of lesser Note,
Or Bonner's Smithfield-Fires, or Powder Plot:
32
Althô Hell wanted Fire the Match to light,
Brave, as was Satan's, that with Heaven did fight.
The Path is easie where one went before;
I've told you what I did, and need no more.—
This said, his Speech and he at once did end,
With Sulphurous stench he downward did descend,
And by's departure truly shew'd the Fiend.
A sudden horror on each mind did light,
Or from the Counsel bred, or from the sight;
But the Advice out-lasted the affright.
Some lik'd the Counsel, but the Times displeas'd:
And some the want of Agents did molest:
Some, or in Truth, or in Appearance good,
Mislik'd Foundations laid on slippery blood;
Nor had they quite forgot the due of Gratitude:
Some Piety, some Policy did sway;
But that on which the greatest stress yet lay
Was Cæsar's Word, and that they must obey.
But 'twas with gnashing Teeth and flaming Eyes.
Or from the Counsel bred, or from the sight;
But the Advice out-lasted the affright.
Some lik'd the Counsel, but the Times displeas'd:
And some the want of Agents did molest:
Some, or in Truth, or in Appearance good,
Mislik'd Foundations laid on slippery blood;
Nor had they quite forgot the due of Gratitude:
Some Piety, some Policy did sway;
But that on which the greatest stress yet lay
Was Cæsar's Word, and that they must obey.
But 'twas with gnashing Teeth and flaming Eyes.
When one with jolly Miene and look did rise
And speak: the Counsel with the Times should hit,
The late Advice don't with the Juncture fit:
We in Atlantis ne're by force could gain,
We've bravely dar'd indeed, but dar'd in vain,
Our Bulwarks are beat down, and what is left
Is little more than Policy and shift.
In vain we to Antiquity do fly,
No footsteps of Infallibility,
Or of our Universal Claim there ly.
We've brib'd her oft to speak upon our side:
But when our Gifts and Presents were deny'd,
With Wracks and Tortures her consent we've claim'd,
And by our purging Indices have maim'd,
Lopp'd and cut off what our Impostures nam'd.
Our Cobweb Frame of new Divinity,
Made to uphold our Pageant Hierarchy,
By dint of Argument is tumbled down,
That had built upon Smoke its weak Foundation.
Our Miracles for pleasing Chat make way,
Our Exorcisms in Laughter spend the Day.
The Scene is open, if we would be wise,
We with new paint must clothe our Fopperies.
The World with nauseous Syllogisms is tir'd,
Major and Minor now no more admir'd;
Nor have we ought by that dull War acquir'd.
Wise Heads do know too much, and search too deep,
The looser minds we must in Ignorance keep.
Since then our Cause we most on Fiction build,
It must by what it is compos'd be' upheld;
By Poetry; whose ravishing Art doth tell
Not what is true, but what is plausible.
This will young heads with pleasing Notions fill,
Not thorny Questions, but fair Schemes instill:
And unseen Fetters cast upon the Will.
'Twill every temper, every Genius suit,
But most the Ignorant and Dissolute.
Weak reasons Gorgeous Metaphors array,
And chiming Verse the Sense will bear away.
And speak: the Counsel with the Times should hit,
The late Advice don't with the Juncture fit:
We in Atlantis ne're by force could gain,
We've bravely dar'd indeed, but dar'd in vain,
Our Bulwarks are beat down, and what is left
Is little more than Policy and shift.
In vain we to Antiquity do fly,
No footsteps of Infallibility,
Or of our Universal Claim there ly.
33
But when our Gifts and Presents were deny'd,
With Wracks and Tortures her consent we've claim'd,
And by our purging Indices have maim'd,
Lopp'd and cut off what our Impostures nam'd.
Our Cobweb Frame of new Divinity,
Made to uphold our Pageant Hierarchy,
By dint of Argument is tumbled down,
That had built upon Smoke its weak Foundation.
Our Miracles for pleasing Chat make way,
Our Exorcisms in Laughter spend the Day.
The Scene is open, if we would be wise,
We with new paint must clothe our Fopperies.
The World with nauseous Syllogisms is tir'd,
Major and Minor now no more admir'd;
Nor have we ought by that dull War acquir'd.
Wise Heads do know too much, and search too deep,
The looser minds we must in Ignorance keep.
Since then our Cause we most on Fiction build,
It must by what it is compos'd be' upheld;
By Poetry; whose ravishing Art doth tell
Not what is true, but what is plausible.
This will young heads with pleasing Notions fill,
Not thorny Questions, but fair Schemes instill:
And unseen Fetters cast upon the Will.
'Twill every temper, every Genius suit,
But most the Ignorant and Dissolute.
Weak reasons Gorgeous Metaphors array,
And chiming Verse the Sense will bear away.
34
This Counsel rous'd the President, who reply'd
Th' Advice upon firm Principles rely'd,
And what might give most hopes 'twas yet untry'd.
But tho' the noblest flights for Poetry,
Things that even the very Art outvy,
Do in our heaps of fabulous Legends ly:
Such is our rigid Fate, in vain I've sought
Among our Train to find a Man of Note.
The Lists are ready, nor Rewards we want,
At hand are all things but the Combatant.
Th' Advice upon firm Principles rely'd,
And what might give most hopes 'twas yet untry'd.
But tho' the noblest flights for Poetry,
Things that even the very Art outvy,
Do in our heaps of fabulous Legends ly:
Such is our rigid Fate, in vain I've sought
Among our Train to find a Man of Note.
The Lists are ready, nor Rewards we want,
At hand are all things but the Combatant.
Th' Adviser reassum'd his Post, and cry'd,
We've late come over to the Royal side
A Proselite, whose servile Pen can write
For fear, reward, for mischief, or for spite:
With as much ease can praise, and then revile
As with the Romans 'twas to change the Style.
His Nature to his Calling laid a Claim
As due, for Verse from turning hath its Name.
'Tis true of late fearing th' effects of chance,
He Horoscop'd about for Maintenance:
Proffer'd his Venal Pen to serve our Foes,
To plead the Panthers Cause, and ours expose.
And had they been in their Subscriptions kind,
He' had vow'd to write the Panther and the Hind.
But they with scorn his proffer'd Pains did slite,
(An Act of generous Courage, not of Wit)
Nor's Mercenary Pen would bribe to write,
Which once did Cromwell's odious Fame recite;
A Poet fit for such an Hypocrite.
He may be useful, and we have him sure,
No matter why he did his Faith abjure;
Such Proselytes the greatest Bigots be,
And while their warmth doth last no danger see;
Strive an assurance of their Zeal to give,
And former faults by' obsequiousness retrieve.
He for our turn is fit, by Nature bred
He rails at all before him, and is fed
Hyæna like, by tearing up the dead.
Th' unluckiest Satyrist alive, that still
Writes his own Character in all that's ill.
Of all the World most fit a Vice t' expose,
That all its Cause, Effects and Motions knows,
Stranger to none, can no advantage lose.
Big with Conceit, the empty shape looks great,
His own dear self obligingly doth treat;
In melting accents his own praises glide,
In keen Iambicks all mankind's beside.
Rewards his Soul in any garb will lap,
His ductile Soul will put on any shape;
Vice hath his Patronage, and there's no fear
But Hell in time may his Protection share,
The rather cause the God of Gold is there.
He courts loud Rumour, but lets Truth alone,
Conscious of Guilt he shuns being justly known,
And by's oft changing flyes a Definition.
Learn'd, but in Ill: Ingenious, but in spite:
Vertuous, from Impotence: from Need a Wit:
Modest, when beat: in suffering Valiant:
Honest, when forc'd: And moderate, when in want.
True, but for Interest; Civil, but for dread;
Devout, for Almes; and Loyal, but for Bread
We've late come over to the Royal side
A Proselite, whose servile Pen can write
For fear, reward, for mischief, or for spite:
With as much ease can praise, and then revile
As with the Romans 'twas to change the Style.
His Nature to his Calling laid a Claim
As due, for Verse from turning hath its Name.
'Tis true of late fearing th' effects of chance,
He Horoscop'd about for Maintenance:
Proffer'd his Venal Pen to serve our Foes,
To plead the Panthers Cause, and ours expose.
And had they been in their Subscriptions kind,
He' had vow'd to write the Panther and the Hind.
But they with scorn his proffer'd Pains did slite,
(An Act of generous Courage, not of Wit)
Nor's Mercenary Pen would bribe to write,
Which once did Cromwell's odious Fame recite;
A Poet fit for such an Hypocrite.
35
No matter why he did his Faith abjure;
Such Proselytes the greatest Bigots be,
And while their warmth doth last no danger see;
Strive an assurance of their Zeal to give,
And former faults by' obsequiousness retrieve.
He for our turn is fit, by Nature bred
He rails at all before him, and is fed
Hyæna like, by tearing up the dead.
Th' unluckiest Satyrist alive, that still
Writes his own Character in all that's ill.
Of all the World most fit a Vice t' expose,
That all its Cause, Effects and Motions knows,
Stranger to none, can no advantage lose.
Big with Conceit, the empty shape looks great,
His own dear self obligingly doth treat;
In melting accents his own praises glide,
In keen Iambicks all mankind's beside.
Rewards his Soul in any garb will lap,
His ductile Soul will put on any shape;
Vice hath his Patronage, and there's no fear
But Hell in time may his Protection share,
The rather cause the God of Gold is there.
He courts loud Rumour, but lets Truth alone,
Conscious of Guilt he shuns being justly known,
And by's oft changing flyes a Definition.
Learn'd, but in Ill: Ingenious, but in spite:
Vertuous, from Impotence: from Need a Wit:
Modest, when beat: in suffering Valiant:
Honest, when forc'd: And moderate, when in want.
36
Devout, for Almes; and Loyal, but for Bread
The Person pleas'd, and so did the Design,
And soon the Proselite was called in.
Trembling he stood; while thus the President cry'd,
We various ways for our defence have try'd,
Our careful Sons their secret Methods take,
That were not falshood naturally weak,
So hidden are the Plots and Mines we've laid,
We the whole World long since had Captive made.
All that is left, is that with show and paint,
We hide what doth in real value want.
The Basis fails, the Building tho' 'tis fair,
And high in Clouds its lofty Head doth rear,
Yet sinks, and greater still its Ruines are.
This be thy Province, trick the Mormo fine;
Rich in appearance tho' there's nought within.
That Art thy empty Metaphors dispence,
The rather cause there is no need of sence.
But shun a near Inspection, prying Eyes
(And Hereticks are mischievously wise)
May break the spell, and see thro' the disguise.
Think out a Fable of some Bird or Beast,
Matter not Reason if it be well drest.
What tho' the borrow'd Feathers others own,
Few will detect the cheat, few tell when known.
Æsop, did first on the Invention hit,
Æsop thy like in every thing but Wit.
And soon the Proselite was called in.
Trembling he stood; while thus the President cry'd,
We various ways for our defence have try'd,
Our careful Sons their secret Methods take,
That were not falshood naturally weak,
So hidden are the Plots and Mines we've laid,
We the whole World long since had Captive made.
All that is left, is that with show and paint,
We hide what doth in real value want.
The Basis fails, the Building tho' 'tis fair,
And high in Clouds its lofty Head doth rear,
Yet sinks, and greater still its Ruines are.
This be thy Province, trick the Mormo fine;
Rich in appearance tho' there's nought within.
That Art thy empty Metaphors dispence,
The rather cause there is no need of sence.
But shun a near Inspection, prying Eyes
(And Hereticks are mischievously wise)
May break the spell, and see thro' the disguise.
Think out a Fable of some Bird or Beast,
Matter not Reason if it be well drest.
What tho' the borrow'd Feathers others own,
Few will detect the cheat, few tell when known.
Æsop, did first on the Invention hit,
Æsop thy like in every thing but Wit.
By this time Bavius had compos'd his fear,
And something thought in his own Praise to' infer,
When an unlucky Accident did reign
That stop'd his Praise, and rais'd his Fear again.
The utmost Scouts had a strange Monster took,
Cruel in action, and a Fiend in look,
Drew him by force thro' the amazed throng,
VVhich with wild outcrys usher'd him along:
Such shapes before Atlantis ne're array'd,
Such Pliny ne're, or Gezner found or made,
Nor e're such Schemes in Travellers Brains were laid.
From every Creature he a portion stole,
And seemed an Epitome o' th' whole.
The Pawes o' th' Bear, and Fangs o' th' VVolf he wore,
The Tail o' th' Fox, and Bristles of the Boar:
The Tricks o'th' Ape, and Eyes o'th' quaking Hare,
Still backward cast, to see if th' Foe was near:
A Limb of every Species did he wear.
And some (for Fancy, or cold fear will do't)
Affirm'd they saw the Devils cloven foot.—
Some thought he was a piece o' th' Chaos, made
E're Order, Form, or Simmetry was laid,
E're similar parts their Troops into one Mass convey'd.
Some thought a VVretch from Native shape estrang'd
By Circes Cups into a Monster chang'd,
Some thought a living wild Chymæra rang'd.
Th' Opinions various as his shapes were dress'd,
But most concluded that he was possess'd.
This Rumour took, strait all their Heads attend
VVith mystick Charms to dispossess the Fiend,
Vain rites were us'd, and to as vain an end.
He knew them all, but was to them unknown,
Strangers even to their own disguises grown,
Till thus with trembling Tongue the Monster said
I'm an Atlantian born, a Roman bred,
With high Commissions to Atlantis sped.
Among the various Sects to' insinuate
The secret seeds of Enmity and Hate;
Of endless Quarrels, and as endless Woe,
And have with Joy beheld the Harvest grow.
Much have I done, no certain shape or place
Could limits set to my unbounded race.
Where e're was mischief hatching there was I
Thrô unseen Paths, and thrô dark Roads I fly,
I light the Fire, no matter how or why.
Wher'ever discontented Humours rise,
Bred of self-pride, nourish'd with Jealousies,
My useful Presence never miss'd the prize.
Tumult in State, and Schism in Church was mine,
I stretch'd the breach, mark'd out the parting Line,
And set the Bars that they could never joyn.
Thick flew my poison'd Arrows in the dark,
When matter was Combustible I brought the Spark.
Disguis'd I hearded with the Wolfish Crew,
With Cant and Tone my gaping Hearers drew;
Chose pleasing Topicks, such as might invite
(What makes their Crowd) the Female Proselite:
Did Heaven by Gods Decrees to them divide,
I sainted them, and damned all beside.
New Lights and wild Enthusiastick Fire
Into the bristled Herd I did inspire,
Their Rage too fierce and hot I work'd up higher.
Cry'd Monarchy and all Church-Order down,
Kings I call'd Tyrants, Laws Oppression:
Till down steep Rocks the headlong Rabble press'd,
As tho' the Devil once more had th' Swine possess'd.
I in each Faction stubborness did breed,
Did bitter hatred to'ward all others feed,
But chiefly Poison o're th' establish'd Church did shed.
Nor did I only to great Actions tend,
To mean Employments I could condescend,
Foming on Bulks I could loud Nonsence rear,
And plead the Cause of our sure Friend the Hare.
In Woods and Groves to Conventicles creep,
Such as i' th' German Forrests Witches keep,
And naked to the Feasts of Adamites could slip.
These, and the Sects, like Sins without a Name,
That never a distinctive mark could claim,
My willing Aid and speedy Help implor'd,
Deluding all, and yet by all ador'd.
And something thought in his own Praise to' infer,
37
That stop'd his Praise, and rais'd his Fear again.
The utmost Scouts had a strange Monster took,
Cruel in action, and a Fiend in look,
Drew him by force thro' the amazed throng,
VVhich with wild outcrys usher'd him along:
Such shapes before Atlantis ne're array'd,
Such Pliny ne're, or Gezner found or made,
Nor e're such Schemes in Travellers Brains were laid.
From every Creature he a portion stole,
And seemed an Epitome o' th' whole.
The Pawes o' th' Bear, and Fangs o' th' VVolf he wore,
The Tail o' th' Fox, and Bristles of the Boar:
The Tricks o'th' Ape, and Eyes o'th' quaking Hare,
Still backward cast, to see if th' Foe was near:
A Limb of every Species did he wear.
And some (for Fancy, or cold fear will do't)
Affirm'd they saw the Devils cloven foot.—
Some thought he was a piece o' th' Chaos, made
E're Order, Form, or Simmetry was laid,
E're similar parts their Troops into one Mass convey'd.
Some thought a VVretch from Native shape estrang'd
By Circes Cups into a Monster chang'd,
Some thought a living wild Chymæra rang'd.
Th' Opinions various as his shapes were dress'd,
But most concluded that he was possess'd.
This Rumour took, strait all their Heads attend
VVith mystick Charms to dispossess the Fiend,
Vain rites were us'd, and to as vain an end.
38
Strangers even to their own disguises grown,
Till thus with trembling Tongue the Monster said
I'm an Atlantian born, a Roman bred,
With high Commissions to Atlantis sped.
Among the various Sects to' insinuate
The secret seeds of Enmity and Hate;
Of endless Quarrels, and as endless Woe,
And have with Joy beheld the Harvest grow.
Much have I done, no certain shape or place
Could limits set to my unbounded race.
Where e're was mischief hatching there was I
Thrô unseen Paths, and thrô dark Roads I fly,
I light the Fire, no matter how or why.
Wher'ever discontented Humours rise,
Bred of self-pride, nourish'd with Jealousies,
My useful Presence never miss'd the prize.
Tumult in State, and Schism in Church was mine,
I stretch'd the breach, mark'd out the parting Line,
And set the Bars that they could never joyn.
Thick flew my poison'd Arrows in the dark,
When matter was Combustible I brought the Spark.
Disguis'd I hearded with the Wolfish Crew,
With Cant and Tone my gaping Hearers drew;
Chose pleasing Topicks, such as might invite
(What makes their Crowd) the Female Proselite:
Did Heaven by Gods Decrees to them divide,
I sainted them, and damned all beside.
39
Into the bristled Herd I did inspire,
Their Rage too fierce and hot I work'd up higher.
Cry'd Monarchy and all Church-Order down,
Kings I call'd Tyrants, Laws Oppression:
Till down steep Rocks the headlong Rabble press'd,
As tho' the Devil once more had th' Swine possess'd.
I in each Faction stubborness did breed,
Did bitter hatred to'ward all others feed,
But chiefly Poison o're th' establish'd Church did shed.
Nor did I only to great Actions tend,
To mean Employments I could condescend,
Foming on Bulks I could loud Nonsence rear,
And plead the Cause of our sure Friend the Hare.
In Woods and Groves to Conventicles creep,
Such as i' th' German Forrests Witches keep,
And naked to the Feasts of Adamites could slip.
These, and the Sects, like Sins without a Name,
That never a distinctive mark could claim,
My willing Aid and speedy Help implor'd,
Deluding all, and yet by all ador'd.
Long time I reign'd, but whether too secure,
Depending much on my ill gotten Power,
I had too loosely put on my disguise,
Or whether Hereticks are grown more wise,
Or 'twas my Fate: some of the long-nos'd rout
Saw thro' the Cloud, and found th' Imposture out.
I saw their Visage change, but gave no Ground,
When in a Moment 'twas all whisper'd round.
Th' inraged Crowds do up in Tumult rise,
Arms fill'd their Hands, and sparkling Fire their Eyes,
All that is wanting furious rage supplies.
Not more the Neighb'ring Dorps to Vengeance crowd,
When the sly Fox, the common Foes pursu'd,
Men call to Men, and Towns to Towns aloud.
In vain 'twas to resist or to intreat,
Rocks hear as much when angry Surges beat;
Debarr'd of Force to Policy I fly,
Thought I might hid in my Disguises ly;
But every shape and garb that I put on
Some one or other of the Crowd had known,
Bootless it was to stay, hard to be gone:
The Avenues all ways the Crowd did keep,
Till I beneath a Zealot's Cloak did creep,
And in the form of Sanctity away did slip:
Yet not so clearly but I was pursu'd
With Batts and Stones, and Curses still renew'd.
No place to hide my loathed head I spy'd,
In vain I for a Sanctuary cry'd.
Accursed Land, where there's no sacred place
That may a Malefactor's Crimes embrace!
I invocated every Saint in vain,
They all were deafned with the shouting train.
At last, loaded with Injuries and Blows,
Twice down I sunk and fell, and twice arose:
A third time beaten down, I there had staid,
Had not the list'ning Saint to whom I pray'd,
Or th' horror that my trembling Soul put on,
(Strange things by Phantasy and fear are done)
My Body in this monstrous Habit shap'd,
As Man I suffer'd, as a Monster scap'd.
I found the change, felt the wild Members bred,
Was glad by any means to hide my Head,
And saw my furious Persecutors fled.
Under this shelter I securely past,
The Guards still looking horrid and agast.
But fear, insulting fear doth hag my Mind,
They still pursue me whom I left behind.
My Fellows that the same Commission bear,
Live a curs'd Life, rack'd with eternal fear.
Some do them Sphynxes, some Chamelions call,
But Trimmer is the currant'st Name of all.
Depending much on my ill gotten Power,
I had too loosely put on my disguise,
Or whether Hereticks are grown more wise,
Or 'twas my Fate: some of the long-nos'd rout
Saw thro' the Cloud, and found th' Imposture out.
I saw their Visage change, but gave no Ground,
When in a Moment 'twas all whisper'd round.
40
Arms fill'd their Hands, and sparkling Fire their Eyes,
All that is wanting furious rage supplies.
Not more the Neighb'ring Dorps to Vengeance crowd,
When the sly Fox, the common Foes pursu'd,
Men call to Men, and Towns to Towns aloud.
In vain 'twas to resist or to intreat,
Rocks hear as much when angry Surges beat;
Debarr'd of Force to Policy I fly,
Thought I might hid in my Disguises ly;
But every shape and garb that I put on
Some one or other of the Crowd had known,
Bootless it was to stay, hard to be gone:
The Avenues all ways the Crowd did keep,
Till I beneath a Zealot's Cloak did creep,
And in the form of Sanctity away did slip:
Yet not so clearly but I was pursu'd
With Batts and Stones, and Curses still renew'd.
No place to hide my loathed head I spy'd,
In vain I for a Sanctuary cry'd.
Accursed Land, where there's no sacred place
That may a Malefactor's Crimes embrace!
I invocated every Saint in vain,
They all were deafned with the shouting train.
At last, loaded with Injuries and Blows,
Twice down I sunk and fell, and twice arose:
A third time beaten down, I there had staid,
Had not the list'ning Saint to whom I pray'd,
Or th' horror that my trembling Soul put on,
(Strange things by Phantasy and fear are done)
41
As Man I suffer'd, as a Monster scap'd.
I found the change, felt the wild Members bred,
Was glad by any means to hide my Head,
And saw my furious Persecutors fled.
Under this shelter I securely past,
The Guards still looking horrid and agast.
But fear, insulting fear doth hag my Mind,
They still pursue me whom I left behind.
My Fellows that the same Commission bear,
Live a curs'd Life, rack'd with eternal fear.
Some do them Sphynxes, some Chamelions call,
But Trimmer is the currant'st Name of all.
This said; mix'd Passions did i'th' Council rise,
Some joy'd in's 'scape, some griev'd in's miseries;
All variously the Tumult did revile,
Traduc'd the State, and curs'd th' unlucky Soil.
The murmur ceas'd, and Bavius that was fled,
Driven by his usual fear, recovered.
After Advice that Courage might renew,
The President thus did his Discourse pursue.
Some joy'd in's 'scape, some griev'd in's miseries;
All variously the Tumult did revile,
Traduc'd the State, and curs'd th' unlucky Soil.
The murmur ceas'd, and Bavius that was fled,
Driven by his usual fear, recovered.
After Advice that Courage might renew,
The President thus did his Discourse pursue.
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