The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy Prose and Verse [by Edward Ward] |
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To that Celebrated Idol, Mammon,
Chief Governor of Men's Consciences; and both Spiritual and
Temporal Lord of all Christendom.
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 | The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy |  |
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To that Celebrated Idol, Mammon, Chief Governor of Men's Consciences; and both Spiritual and Temporal Lord of all Christendom.
Mammon
, thou Heathenish Oar, but Christian Lord,
By Saints and Sinners equally ador'd,
Thy pow'rful Charms with Gladness we Obey,
For thee we labour, and for thee we pray.
When e'er thy Lustre does our sight surprise,
It dazzles both our Reason and our Eyes,
Makes stubborn Conscience vary from those Rules,
Imbib'd from Pulpits, or deriv'd from Schools,
And with entire Submission condescend,
To grasp and hug thee as her surer Friend,
So wicked Man, by Beauty's Charms decoy'd,
Leaves, for the tempting Miss, his Faithful Bride.
By Saints and Sinners equally ador'd,
Thy pow'rful Charms with Gladness we Obey,
For thee we labour, and for thee we pray.
When e'er thy Lustre does our sight surprise,
It dazzles both our Reason and our Eyes,
Makes stubborn Conscience vary from those Rules,
Imbib'd from Pulpits, or deriv'd from Schools,
And with entire Submission condescend,
To grasp and hug thee as her surer Friend,
So wicked Man, by Beauty's Charms decoy'd,
Leaves, for the tempting Miss, his Faithful Bride.
205
Virtue, tho ne'er so rigid or severe,
Starts from her narrow Paths when you appear.
No longer can your Conq'ring Force dispute,
But falls at once your humble Prostitute.
Honour and Valour which so oft unite,
And make (as Fools believe) the Hero fight,
Would thro no Dangers wade, or Wonders do,
Lest tempted on and influenc'd by you.
'Tis not for Laurels, or for Windy Fame,
Triumphant Arches, or a Glorious Name,
That blustring Heroes arm with Sword and Shield,
And try the Battle in the wreaking Field:
But 'tis alass for Mammon they contend;
Mammon, the Cause, the Sinews and the End.
Without thy Aid no Wars would be begun,
No Feuds arise, or Quarrels carry'd on:
But e'ery Discord in a trice would cease,
And all Mankind unite in Love and Peace.
But since from Guiney thou hast cross'd the Line,
And do'st from Afric Mines in Europe shine;
The Christian World thy Heath'nish Charms adore,
Make thee the Ballance of Terrestrial Pow'r:
And now thou art adorn'd with Royal Face,
And made so Holy as to wears God's Grace:
By Modern Saints thou'rt Worshipp'd more by half,
Than that old Idol, Aaron's Golden Calf.
It is for thee that Men such Hazzards run;
And by thy Aid that Victories are won:
In short, without thee nothing can be done.
Starts from her narrow Paths when you appear.
No longer can your Conq'ring Force dispute,
But falls at once your humble Prostitute.
Honour and Valour which so oft unite,
And make (as Fools believe) the Hero fight,
Would thro no Dangers wade, or Wonders do,
Lest tempted on and influenc'd by you.
'Tis not for Laurels, or for Windy Fame,
Triumphant Arches, or a Glorious Name,
That blustring Heroes arm with Sword and Shield,
And try the Battle in the wreaking Field:
But 'tis alass for Mammon they contend;
Mammon, the Cause, the Sinews and the End.
Without thy Aid no Wars would be begun,
No Feuds arise, or Quarrels carry'd on:
But e'ery Discord in a trice would cease,
And all Mankind unite in Love and Peace.
But since from Guiney thou hast cross'd the Line,
And do'st from Afric Mines in Europe shine;
The Christian World thy Heath'nish Charms adore,
Make thee the Ballance of Terrestrial Pow'r:
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And made so Holy as to wears God's Grace:
By Modern Saints thou'rt Worshipp'd more by half,
Than that old Idol, Aaron's Golden Calf.
It is for thee that Men such Hazzards run;
And by thy Aid that Victories are won:
In short, without thee nothing can be done.
'Tis for thy sake that Partizans contend,
Whatever's the Pretence thou'rt still the end:
And tho Religion, Liberty and Laws,
Are made by cunning Heads the specious Cause;
Yet when aspiring Parties disagree,
Their Hearts and Eyes are fixt alone on thee;
And those that have thee most at their Command,
Are sure at length to have the upper hand.
Thou art the true Palladium of the Town,
That warms the Saint, the Hero and the Clown.
In thee their Safety chiefly they repose,
And for thy sake fight keenly with their Foest
But should thy 'nspiring Presence be withdrawn,
The Party which before you shin'd upon,
Their Swords and Targets from their Hands would throw,
And soon become poor spirited and low.
For Pay and Plunder make the Soldier bold,
And when those Hopes are fled the Hero's cold;
Who, when no Prospect but of Want appears,
Changes his side, or else declines the Wars.
None will a desp'rate Enterprize pursue,
Longer than Glorious Mammon is in view:
And tho a Heathen God, thou'rt now become
The only Idol of all Christendom.
Whatever's the Pretence thou'rt still the end:
And tho Religion, Liberty and Laws,
Are made by cunning Heads the specious Cause;
Yet when aspiring Parties disagree,
Their Hearts and Eyes are fixt alone on thee;
And those that have thee most at their Command,
Are sure at length to have the upper hand.
Thou art the true Palladium of the Town,
That warms the Saint, the Hero and the Clown.
In thee their Safety chiefly they repose,
And for thy sake fight keenly with their Foest
But should thy 'nspiring Presence be withdrawn,
The Party which before you shin'd upon,
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And soon become poor spirited and low.
For Pay and Plunder make the Soldier bold,
And when those Hopes are fled the Hero's cold;
Who, when no Prospect but of Want appears,
Changes his side, or else declines the Wars.
None will a desp'rate Enterprize pursue,
Longer than Glorious Mammon is in view:
And tho a Heathen God, thou'rt now become
The only Idol of all Christendom.
Tho Beauty charms us, 'tis for Gold we wed,
That draws both Sexes to the Marriage-bed:
Tho ne'er so fair and tempting, when we find
No Golden Angels to her Graces join'd,
The Virgin's slighted and the Match declin'd.
That draws both Sexes to the Marriage-bed:
Tho ne'er so fair and tempting, when we find
No Golden Angels to her Graces join'd,
The Virgin's slighted and the Match declin'd.
The whining Zealot who from Church dissents,
Follows not Conscience, but the powerful Pence;
Makes pious Gold the Standard of his Faith,
And chuses for himself the gainfull'st Path.
So varies from the Truth, and runs astray,
To Worship Heav'n, the profitablest way.
Follows not Conscience, but the powerful Pence;
Makes pious Gold the Standard of his Faith,
And chuses for himself the gainfull'st Path.
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To Worship Heav'n, the profitablest way.
Nor does the sordid Lay-man pay alone,
His Slavish Homage to the Golden Throne
Of Pluto, but the grave Dissenting Guide
By a rich Living easily is decoy'd,
To change his Faith, his Doctrine, and his Side.
His Slavish Homage to the Golden Throne
Of Pluto, but the grave Dissenting Guide
By a rich Living easily is decoy'd,
To change his Faith, his Doctrine, and his Side.
In short, the Great, the Good, the Wise, the Just,
Those whom we Love the most, and those we trust,
Will all be influenc'd by the Pow'r of Gold,
To chuse new Friends, and to betray the old.
Could I two Votes obtain, one Wish should be,
That Gold from Humane Sight should banish'd be;
To its Infernal Mines again return,
And there lie bury'd in its Native Urn.
Those whom we Love the most, and those we trust,
Will all be influenc'd by the Pow'r of Gold,
To chuse new Friends, and to betray the old.
Could I two Votes obtain, one Wish should be,
That Gold from Humane Sight should banish'd be;
To its Infernal Mines again return,
And there lie bury'd in its Native Urn.
FINIS.
| The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy | |