Trifles :: :: University of Virginia Library

I'm often drawn to make a stop,
And gaze upon a picture shop.
There have I seen (as who that tarries
Has not the same?) a head that varies;
And as in diff'rent views expos'd,
A diff'rent figure is disclos'd.
This way a fool's head is express'd,
Whose very count'nance is a jest;
Such as were formerly at court,
Kept to make wiser people sport.
Turn it another way, you'll have
A face ridiculously grave,
Something betwixt the fool and knave.
Again, but alter the position,
You're frighted with the apparition:

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A hideous threatening Gorgon head
Appears, enough to fright the dead.
But place it in its proper light,
A lovely face accosts the sight;
Our eyes are charm'd with every feature,
We own the whole a beauteous creature.

Thus true Religion fares. For when
By silly, or designing men,
In false or foolish lights 'tis plac'd,
'Tis made a bugbear, or a jest.
Here by a set of men 'tis thought
A scheme, by politicians wrought,
To strengthen and enforce the law,
And keep the vulgar more in awe:
And these, to shew sublimer parts,
Cast all religion from their hearts;
Brand all its vot'ries as the tools
Of priests, and politician's fools.

Some view it in another light,
Less wicked, but as foolish quite:
And these are such as blindly place it
In superstitions that disgrace it;
And think the essence of it lies
In ceremonious fooleries:
In points of faith and speculation,
Which tend to nothing but vexation.
With these it is a heinous crime
To cough or spit in sermon-time:

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'Tis worse to whistle on a Sunday,
Than cheat their neighbours on a Monday:
To dine without first saying grace, is
Enough to lose in heaven their places;
But goodness, honesty and virtue,
Are what they've not the least regard to.

Others there are, and not a few,
Who place it in the bugbear view!
Think it consists in strange severities:
In fastings, weepings, and austerities.
False notions their weak minds possess,
Of faith, and grace, and holiness:
And as the Lord's of purer eyes
Than to behold iniquities;
They think, unless they're pure and spotless,
All their endeavours will be bootless;
And dreadful furies in æternum,
In unconsuming fires will burn 'em.

But, O how happy are the few,
Who place it in its proper view!
To these it shines divinely bright,
No clouds obscure its native light;
Truth stamps conviction in the mind,
All doubts and fears are left behind,
And peace and joy at once an enterance find.