Poems on several occasions

The Tories long have claim'd it as their pride,
That unbelief still sought the adverse side:
No Blount, no Tindal, on their part declares:
No stiff, pert, empty Shaftesbury is theirs;
No Whiston, that deposes Christ alone;
No Chubb, that God the Father dares dethrone;

412

No Locke, embodying God in warm debates,
Who spirit from the world annihilates,
Whose pen identity so nicely draws
It makes the' effect the source of its own cause.
Ye Tories, your peculiar pride is gone:
Your party has produced a Middleton;
Full of himself, and other men despising,
His small theology too highly prizing,
Pertly dogmatic against dogmatizing.

But he, good man! disclaims all bad designs;
Mere slanders these of orthodox divines.
He only raises errors long forgot,
And searches every corner for a blot;
Objections often-answer'd calls to light,
And sets exploded blasphemies in sight;
Points out to ready infidels their way,
And conjures demons up he does not lay;
Bids rabbies witnesses for truth arise,
Exceeding monks in nonsense and in lies;
Bids Pagans Doctors in our schools proceed,
And teach the Christians to explain their Creed;
Scoffs at the fall which God's first vengeance drew,
And, by sure sequel, at redemption too;
And sees, in books his wit has long admired,
Moses a cheat, and scripture uninspired.
This usage, if revived on earth's vain stage,
Might tempt the meekest of mankind to rage,
Ruffle the calm by heaven so justly prized,
And make him once again be unadvised.

413

If ancient Jews were stubborn rightly thought,
Who slighted miracles by Moses wrought;
What, then, our lively writer shall we call,
Who doubts his mission, and yet owns them all?
Or seems to own, and disbelieves them still?
A sad alternative of wretched ill!

But every page displays before our sight
How deep his learning, and his wit how bright:
And his whole life, he makes us understand,
He leads as well as Pearce or Waterland;
As if for virtue more than Clarke extoll'd,
Or stricter than Pelagius was of old;
As if he nobler parts or learning show'd,
Than drew Apollinaris from his God!
O foolish boast, that balks the wish'd-for end!
O crime, that turn'd an angel to a fiend!
As though his doughty pamphlets first began
From sneaking envy to superior Dan!
Suppose him wrong, what Christian priest would send
Such keen reproaches as a seeming friend?
A life in service of religion worn
Deserves our gratitude, and not our scorn.
For this some fair professions, thinly sown,
Some cold, unwilling compliments, atone.
E'en frantic Woolston, using Jesu's name,
Seeks out for fig-leaves to conceal his shame;

414

And, while he antiquated lies explores,
In fact blasphemes him, but in word adores.

Is this the way a lasting fame to raise?
Is his best honour but a sceptic's praise?
How vain the' attempt! True glory is denied
To Bentley's reading, join'd with Bentley's pride.
One only path remains to real fame,—
With retractation full to print his name,
With glad repentance and with glorious shame.
But if he still persists with haughty mind,
Stiff in his doubt, and by his wisdom blind;
May Israelites indeed his guilt resent,
And drive the' infectious leper from their tent!
Let him, his honest name condemn'd to lose,
Go seek new friends, and fitter patrons choose,
Whose height derives a lustre on their voice:—
The age affords him plenty for his choice.
Let him go boast of diligence mis-spent,
In Puritanic taunts his malice vent,
And difficulties urge, and paint discouragement.
Let him to Hoadly, friend of Clarke, repair,
And gain applauses and preferments there.
Or if a layman's friendship more he likes,
As faithless Collins had his moral Sykes,
So, Gordon, that his fame complete may be,
Let him be father-confessor to thee.

University of Virginia Library

ON DR. MIDDLETON.