Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Accept, Dear Sire, this humble Tribute paid,
This small Memorial to a Parent's Shade.
Tho' fair the Hope Thou reign'st enthron'd on high,
Where Sin can never stain, nor Sorrow sigh;
Yet still a Son may duteous Mourning wear,
And Nature unreprov'd may drop a Tear.
No glosing Falshood on thy Name is thrown,
Which oft pollutes the Monumental Stone.
Plain Truth shall speak, which thou thyself might'st hear,
As far from Flatt'ry, as it is from Fear.

A Parish Priest, not of the Pilgrim Kind,
But fix'd and faithful to the Post assign'd,
Through various Scenes with equal Virtue trod,
True to his Oath, his Order, and his God.
Wise without Art he shone in doubtful days
Of Fear, of Shame, of Danger, and of Praise.
When Zealous James unhappy sought the way
T' establish Rome by Arbitrary Sway,
Whose Crime from Fondness for Religion springs,
(A Crime ne'er pardon'd in the Lives of Kings!)
'Twas then the Christian Priest was nobly try'd,
When hireling Slaves embrac'd the stronger Side,
And saintly Sects and Sycophants comply'd.

In vain were Bribes shower'd by the guilty Crown,
He sought no Favour, as he fear'd no Frown.
Nor loudest Storms his steady Purpose broke,
Firm as the beaten Anvil to the Stroke.
Secure in Faith, exempt from worldly Views,
He dar'd the Declaration to refuse:
Then from the sacred Pulpit boldly show'd
The dauntless Hebrews true to Israel's God,
Who spake regardless of their King's Commands,
“ The God we serve can save us from thy Hands;
“If not, O Monarch, know we chuse to die,
“Thy Gods alike and Threatnings we defy;
“No Pow'r on Earth our Faith has e'er controll'd,
“We scorn to Worship Idols, tho' of Gold.”
Resistless Truth damp'd all the Audience round,
The base Informer sicken'd at the Sound;
Attentive Courtiers conscious stood amaz'd,
And Soldiers silent trembled as they gaz'd.
No smallest Murmur of distaste arose,
Abash'd and vanquish'd seem'd the Church's Foes.
So when like Zeal their Bosoms did inspire,
The Jewish Martyrs walk'd unhurt in Fire.

Nor yet could Romish Faith so dreadful seem,
To fright his Judgement to a worse Extreme;
To throw up Creeds for fear of Papal Pow'r,
And blame St. Peter for his Successor.
For when the Church her Danger had subdu'd,
And felt on Earth the usual Gratitude,
When favour'd Sects o'erspread Britannia's Plains,
Like Frogs thick-swarming after Summer Rains;

Against far diff'rent Foes alike prepar'd,
No wild Disputer found him off his guard.
Nor those who following late Socinus' Plan,
Degraded God Incarnate to a Man;
Nor those, who wresting Texts with greater slight,
With Heav'n, as taught by elder Arius, fight:
Reasoners, who no Absurdity can see
In a new-made dependent Deity.
Amongst his Corn no Tares neglected spring;
That free-born Subjects ought to rule their King,
That Sense and Revelation disagree,
That Zeal is still at war with Charity;
That dust-born Reptiles may their God disown,
And place their foolish Reason in his Throne.
No Colours false deceiv'd his wary Eye,
Nor lukewarm Peace, nor Atheist Liberty.
Scripture and Fathers guide his Footsteps right;
For Truth is one, but Error infinite.
With Love to Souls, and deepest Learning fraught,
His Master's Gospel undisguis'd he taught.
He show'd the Pow'r of King's, the Mitre's Sway,
Which Earth can neither give nor take away.
That Duty from Divine Command is known,
Fix'd on th' Almighty's Will, and not our own.
That Unbeliever's must receive their Hire,
The sure Allotment of eternal Fire.
And God the faithful Sower pleas'd to bless,
And crown'd his Harvest with a vast Success.
While forty Years his heav'nly Doctrine charms,
No single Son forsakes the Church's Arms:

No Romish Wolf around his Fences prowl'd,
Nor Fox Dissenter earth'd within his Fold.

Not but when Parties fierce in Feuds engage,
When Moderation spurs her Sons to Rage,
When all Elect or Reprobate have been,
In these no Virtue dwells, in those no Sin;
Then their low Scandals on his Head they show'r,
As Friend to Papal and Despotick Pow'r.
E'en those who once were Tools to Popish Aims,
The treach'rous Darlings of deluded James,
Who now the purest Reformation boast,
Tho' then their tender Consciences were lost,
E'en those far off with Lies his Fame assail,
And their bad Patrons help the wicked Tale.
'Tis thus the Serpent to his Cavern glides,
And safe his wily Head from Winter hides;
But when returning Seasons Warmth inspire,
And wake his sleeping Poison into Fire,
With Youth renew'd, behold the Reptile rise,
He waves and glitters in the Dog-day skies,
Shoots cross the Road, when sounding Steps draw near,
And springs t' assault the way-beat Traveller;
Who durst his Course in Rains and Whirlwinds hold,
And pass'd unshelter'd through December's Cold.

Griev'd for the Church's Shame, with pitying eye,
He saw the worthless Abjects lifted high;
Empty alike of Learning and of Brain,
As if the Pope had re-assum'd his Reign,
And brought our antient Mumpsimus again.

With fruitless Toil let midnight Scholars pore,
And dig the Mine, while others gain the Ore;
Proud of Demerit, claiming as their own
The Stall Prebendal, or Prelatick Throne:
While Johnson from his Cranbrook ne'er shall part,
And Fiddes pining sighs with broken heart;
While Grabe in vain t' unthankful Britain flies,
And Wall neglected in a corner lies,
And poor, and unrewarded, Bingham dies;
While Names obscure undue Advancement meet,
And T--- could conquer Stilling fleet.
Nor yet on those prefer'd he cast the blame,
Far more the Patrons than the Clerks inflame.
Patrons afraid of Sense, but not of Vice,
Elate with Pride, or sunk with Avarice.
Patrons by Villains sought, by Slaves ador'd;
Scorn'd by the Gen'rous, by the Good abhor'd.
Or private Rascals, who from Conscience free,
Search ev'ry latent Nook of Simony;
Who but on base Conditions ne'er present,
And future Tithes by present Bonds prevent:
Or Knaves more publick, studious to promote
Elections, bart'ring Benefice for Vote.
Is he self-will'd, or knows he to obey?
Enough! no farther tittle need you say:
An useful Man may as he pleases live,
But Worth's a Crime we never can forgive.
So when the Roman Peter wants an Heir,
If Rogues of both Religions we compare,

Tho' worthy Candidates the Popedom seek,
Expert in Latin, and well-read in Greek;
The Conclave sly with Machiavilian Views,
One to be govern'd, not to govern chuse.
Like Quakers, human Learning they forswear,
And Ignorance best fills th' unerring Chair.
The Statesmen laugh, Let Bellarmine go fume,
No fam'd Perron the Purple shall assume,
No, nor Baronius' self, the Atlas of their Rome.

When Age, not hasten'd on by Guilt or Cares,
Grac'd him with Silver Crown of hoary Hairs,
His Looks the Tenour of his Soul express,
An easy unaffected Chearfulness;
Stedfast, not stiff; and awful, not austere;
Tho' courteous, rev'rend; and tho' smooth, sincere:
In Converse free; for ev'ry Subject fit,
The coolest Reason join'd to keenest Wit;
Wit, that with Aim resistless knows to fly,
Disarms unthought-of, and prevents Reply:
So Lightning falls the Mountain Oaks among,
As sure, as quick, as shining, and as strong.
Skilful of sportive Stories forth to pour,
A gay, an humorous, an exhaustless Store,
With sharpest Point and justest Force apply'd,
The Purport never dark and never wide.
Not Adversaries selves Applause forbore,
And those who blam'd him most, admir'd him more.
Scarcely the Phrigian fam'd for moral Tales,
Who useful Truth in pleasing Fiction veils,

Who Wisdom deep in Plants and Brutes can find,
And makes all Creatures Tutors to Mankind;
In apter Fable solid Sense convey'd,
With sounder Substance, or with finer Shade.

He mourn'd with those who Pain or Want endure,
A Guardian Angel to the Sick and Poor;
Where the two best of Charities he join'd,
To cure the Body, and to heal the Mind.
Across his Path no Wretch expiring lies,
Nor querulous Blind bewail their Loss of Eyes:
No mangled Cripple there expos'd his Maim,
The Shock of Nature, and the Nation's Shame:
The Stranger's view no startling Object meets,
And no complaining griev'd his happy Streets.
Oft as the Year brought back the glorious Day
When Infant Jesus in a Manger lay,
Or when from Death the God triumphant came,
Or when the Holy-Ghost descends in Flame,
Around his Board the welcome Needy fate,
And croud his Parlour, not besiege his Gate;
T' obey their Word his Children waited near,
And learnt their Saviour's Image to revere.
This Charity perform'd, the wealthier Guest
Was call'd to share his hospitable Feast;
The Poor invited first, his Table grace,
And Riches only held the second Place.

While silken Courtiers and embroider'd Lords,
To whom the Earth her Mines in vain affords,
Too oft their Need unable to supply,
In spite of Wealth are pinch'd with Poverty;

His scanty Rent suffic'd for ev'ry Call,
Large was his Plenty, tho' his Income small;
Alike in Prudence and in Bounty skill'd,
He never drain'd his Purse, nor ever fill'd.
None e'er did twice his ready Alms desire,
Nor lack'd the Lab'rer his expected Hire:
Enrich'd by doing good a Thousand-fold,
He rarely gain'd, and never wanted Gold.
Well-stor'd to give, and furnish'd still to lend,
To raise the Friendless, and support the Friend.
With ceaseless Streams his well-plac'd Treasure flows,
When spent increases, and by less'ning grows.
So when Elijah dwelt on Earth, (as far
As Miracle with Conduct we compare,)
Sarepta's Widow, hoping no Supply,
Thought on her little Store to eat and die:
Soon as she welcom'd her Prophetick Guest,
The Cruse flow'd lib'ral, and the Corn increas'd;
Th' Almighty Pow'r unfailing Plenty sent,
The Oil unwasted, and the Meal unspent.

Such was the Man by Friends and Foes confest,
Worthy the glorious Name of Parish Priest.
Had not kind Heav'n some Champions pleas'd to show,
In Merit high, tho' in Preferment low;
Whose Pray'rs and Tears might stop th' Almighty's hand,
Protecting Angels to a guilty Land,
From earth's vain Hopes and base Ambition free,
Whose slighted but effectual Piety
Stood like a Mound unshaken, to repress
Th' o'erbearing Floods of prosp'rous Wickedness;

The Christian Faith had left Britannia's Coast,
Her Lamp extinguish'd, and her Gospel lost:
Our Eyes e're this had seen Religion fall,
And black Apostacy had delug'd all;
Nor more Remains of Truth had flourish'd here,
Than where poor Asia's Ruins scarce appear,
And Unitarian Turks their impious Crescent rear.
O could the Priest by God and Angels priz'd,
By Fiends insulted, and by Fools despis'd,
His Fight well-fought, when summon'd hence to go,
Not then regardless of his Charge below,
Tho' sudden snatch'd from our desiring Eyes,
Bequeath his Mantle, as he mounts the Skies!

O may his Friends at the last dreadful Day,
When all the frail Creation fades away,
When God incarnate fills the Judgement Throne,
Crown'd with his Father's Radiance and his own,
Arise with Gladness, Bliss ordain'd to share,
And I transported meet a Father there!
See him lead up his Flock with happy Boast,
“These Sheep thou gav'st me, and not one is lost.”
Exulting hear the final Euge giv'n,
“Enter thou faithful Servant to my Heav'n.
Glory, which here tho' Faith may well believe,
No Speech can utter, and no Thought conceive;
When weary Time his utmost Race has run,
Glory through endless Ages but begun,
Beyond the glimm'ring Spark of our meridian Sun.

He preached on Dan. iii. 17, 18.

There was not a Dissenter or Papist in his Parish.

There were no Beggars in his Town.