The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
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XX.—AN EPITAPH ON BIGOTRY, TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN,
Which was written by the late pious and ingenious MR. JOHN REYNOLDS,
And inserted in the Occasional Paper, Vol. III. Numb. 6
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
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XX.—AN EPITAPH ON BIGOTRY, TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN, Which was written by the late pious and ingenious MR. JOHN REYNOLDS, And inserted in the Occasional Paper, Vol. III. Numb. 6 .
I.
Here lies (and may it here for ever lie)The carcase of dead piety,
Shadow of grace, substantial sin,
Religion's mask and gaudy dress,
The form and foe of holiness,
The image and the plague of zeal divine.
Its dwelling was the church; in double shape,
Half was a murdering wolf, and half a mimic ape.
II.
A monster horrid to the sight,Hideous, deform'd, and void of light;
'Twas born at Rome,
'Twas nurs'd at home,
In the dark cloisters of the Vatican;
Its lungs inspir'd with heaving lies,
Its bulk well-fatten'd to prodigious size
With gun-powder and blood of man.
III.
Ancient inhabitant of Spain,And long in France a welcome guest;
Over the continent and main,
Over the old world and the new,
Mankind and money to pursue,
On dragons' wings the harpy flew,
And gave its feet no rest.
IV.
All languages the fury spake,And did of either sex partake:
Flaming enlight'ner of the mind,
And headlong leader of the blind,
Oft has it dragg'd the doubtful tongue to speak,
While the pain'd conscience left the truth behind.
By gibbet, sword and fire,
It made whole tribes of men expire;
And to the skies their groaning ghosts it hurl'd,
A swift converter of the world.
Dext'rous in all the arts of blood:
Skill'd to contrive or counterfeit
Mysterious mischief, plots of state,
Those murd'rous engines to destroy the good.
[_]
[The muse here tiring, begs the reader's leave to release herself from the bonds and labours of rhyme and meter, by a mere imitation of the next thirty lines in prose.]
V.
Under the name and habit of the church,Under the countenance and clothing of a sheep,
It became the most savage and rampant
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Made fearful inroads on all civil commerce,
And left religious liberty expiring.
VI.
A warrior well furnish'dWith all arts politic and polite,
With the knotty embarrassments of criticism,
The hampering chains and subtleties of logic,
And the javelins of pen and tongue,
With the roaring ordinance of councils and canons,
And all the artillery of the schools and gown.
VII.
Fury, hatred and mischief,Love of this world, pride and disdain,
With perjuries, falsehoods, and pious frauds,
And raging party-zeal,
Were its necessary and everlasting attendants.
High encomiums and endless applause
Of guides infallible, and faith implicit,
Of hereditary and divine right,
Of unlimited power and passive obedience
To tyrant priests and kings,
With the immortal praise and merit
Of stupid ignorance, and blind submission,
Were heralds to prepare its way.
VIII.
Trifles, and tricks, and solemn fooleries,Legends and silly tales,
Old almanacks, and mouldy musty relics,
Sweepings of ancient tombs,
Vows, pilgrimages, charms and consecrations,
Rites obsolete, and novel ceremonies
Both decent and indecent,
Monkish vows, and superstitious austerities,
With words of sacerdotal absolution,
And sacerdotal vengeance,
Squibs, crackers, excommunications, curses,
Roaring bulls, and vain thunders,
Mixt up with priestly choler, bitter and black,
Were its delicious food.
IX.
A purple prelate, chosen to presideOver the whole Ignatian drove,
And all the clergy-tribes beside,
All but the sacred few that mix their zeal with love.
In ev'ry different sect 'twas known,
It made the cassock and the cowl its own,
Now stalk'd in formal cloak, now flutter'd in the gown.
X.
At what dark hour soe'er,The curst divan at Rome were met,
Catholic faith to propagate,
This monster fill'd the chair.
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With three-crown'd tyrant at their head,
Made it their privy-counsellor.
The inquisition court (a bloody crew,
Artful to set the solemn trap
That lets no heretic escape)
Owns it her president and founder too.
XI.
Oft as the church in east or western landsRising against herself in arms,
In her own blood imbru'd her hands,
This chief led on th'unnatural war,
Or did the bloody standards bear,
Or sound the fierce alarms;
Victorious still. (And what can more be said
Of all the living warriors, or the heroes dead?)
XII.
Britain, a land well stor'd with every good,That nature, law, religion gives;
A land where sacred freedom thrives;
Blest isle! If her own weal she understood!
Her sons, immur'd with guardian ocean, sleep,
And castles floating on the deep,
Fenc'd from all foreign foes, O shame! O sin!
Her sons had let this baleful mischief in;
This hellish fury, who with flatt'ring breath
Did first divide, and then devour,
And made wild waste where'er she spread her pow'r,
Behold she meets her fatal hour
And lies inchain'd in death.
XIII.
Shout at thy grave, O traveller;Triumphant joys that reach the skies
Are here the justest obsequies:
Shout thrice; then flee afar
The pois'nous steams and stenches of the sepulchre;
Go, turn thy face to heaven, and pray,
That such a hateful monster never may
Obtain a resurrection-day.
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |