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Nero or a Caligula: though they have not seen the man, they can help their imagination by a statue of him, and find out the colouring from Suetonius and Tacitus. Truth is, you might have spared one side of your Medal: the head would be seen to more advantage if it were placed on a spike of the Tower, a little nearer to the Sun; which would then break out to better purpose. You tell us in your preface to the No-protestant Plot, that you shall be forced hereafter to leave off your modesty: I suppose you mean that little which is left you: for it was worn to rags when you put out this Medal. Never was there practised such a piece of motorious impudence in the face of an established government. I believe, when he is dead, you will wear him in thum-rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg ; as if there were virtue in his bones to preserve you against monarchy. Yet all this while you pretend not only zeal for the public good, but a due veneration for the person of the king. But all men who can see an inch before them, may easily detect those gross fallacies. That it is necessary for men in your circumstances to pretend both, is granted you; for without them there could be no ground to raise a faction. But I would ask you one civil question, what right has any man among you, or any association of men, to come nearer to you, who, out of parliament, cannot be considered in a public capacity, to meet as you daily do in factious clubs, to vilify the government in your discourses, and to libel it in all your writings Who made you judges in Israel ? Or how is it consistent with your zeal for the public welfare, to promote sedition ? Does your definition of loyal, which is to serve the king according to the laws, allow you the licence of traducing the executive power with which you own he is invested You complain, that his majesty has lost the love and confidence of his people; and, by your very urging it, you endeavour what in you lies to make him lose them. All good subjects abhor the thought of arbitrary power, whether it be in one or many: if you were the patriots you would seem, you would not at this rate incense the multitude to assume it; for no sober man can fear it, either from the king's disposition or his practice; or even, where you would odiously lay it, from his ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the government and benefit of laws under which we were born, and which we desire to transmit to our posterity, You are not the trustees of the public liberty: and if you have not right to petition in a crowd, much less have you to intermeddle in the management of affairs; or to arraign what you do not like; which in effect is every thing that is done by the king and council. Can you imagine that any reasonable man will believe you respect the person of his majesty, when it is apparent, that your seditious pamphlets are stufted with particular reflections on him 2 If you have the confidence to deny this, it is easy to be evinced from a thousand passages, which I only forbear to quote, because I desire they should die and be forgotten. I have perused many of your papers; and to show you that I have, the third part of your Noprotestant Plot is much of it stolen from your dead author's pamphlet, called the Growth of Popery; as manifestly as Milton's Defence of the English People is from Buchanan De Jure Regni apud Scotos: or your first Covenant and new Association from the holy league of the French Gu'sards. Any

one who reads Davila, may trace your practices all along. There were the same pretences for reformation and loyalty, the same aspersions of the king, and the same grounds of a rebellion. I know not whether you will take the historian's word, who says it was reported, that Poltrot, a Hugonot, murdered Francis duke of Guise, by the instigations of Theodore Beza, or that it was a Hugonot minister, otherwise called a presbyterian, for our church abhors so devilish a tenet, who first writ a treatise of the lawfulness of deposing and murdering kings of a different persuasion in religion: but I am able to prove, from the doctrine of Calvin, and principles of Buchanan, that they set the people above the magistrate; which, if I mistake not, is your own fundamental, and which carries your loyalty no further than your liking. When a vote of the house of commons goes on your side, you are as ready to observe it as if it were passed into a law; but when you are pinched with any former and yet unrepealed act of parliament, you declare that in some cases you will not be obliged by it. The passage is in the same third part of the No-protestant Plot; and is too plain to be denied. The late copy of your intended association, you neither wholly justify nor condemn; but as the papists, when they are unopposed, fly out into all the pageantries of worship; but in times of war, when they are hard pressed by arguments, lie close intrenched behind the council of Trent: so now, when your affairs are in a low conditiou, you dare not pretend that to be a legal combination; but whensoever you are afloat, I doubt not but it will be maintained and justified to purpose. For indeed there is nothing to defend it but the sword: it is the proper time to say any thing, when men have all things in their power. In the mean time, you would fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this association, and that in the time of queen Elizabeth. But there is this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly opposite to the other: one with the queen's approbation and conjunction, as head of it; the other without either the consent or knowledge of the king, against whose authority it is manifestly designed. Therefore you do well to have recourse to your last evasion, that it was contrived by your enemies, and shuffled into the papers that were seized; which yet you see the nation is not so easy to believe as your own jury; but the matter is not difficult, to find twelve men in Newgate who would acquit a malefactor. I have only one favour to desire of you at parting, that when you think of answering this poem, you would employ the same pens against it, who have combated with so much success against Absalom and Achitophel: for then you may assure yourselves of a clear victory, without the least reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a custom, do it without wit: by this method you will gain a considerable point, which is wholly to wave the answer of my arguments. Never own the bottom of your principles, for fear they should be treason. Fall severely on the miscarriages of government; for if scandal be not allowed, yout are no freeborn subjects. If God has not blessed you with the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome: let your verses run upon my feet: and for the utmost refuge of notorious blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines upon me, and in utter despair of your own satire, make me satirize myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already; but, above all the rest, commend me to the nonconformist parson, who writ the Whip and Key. I am afraid it is not read so much as the piece deserves, because the bookseller is every week crying help at the end of his Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a kindness, that it may be published as well as printed; and that so much skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for waste-paper in the shop. Yet I half suspect he went no further for his learning, than the index of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of some English Bibles. If Achitophel signify the brother of a fool, the author of that poem will pass with his readers for the next of kin. And perhaps it is the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verses are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity; for I hear the conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service.

Now footmen, you know, have the generosity to nake a purse for a member of their society, who has had his livery pulled over his ears: and even protestant socks are bought up among you out of veneration to the name. A dissenter in poetry from sense and English will make as good a protestant rhymer, as a dissenter from the church of England a protestant parson. Tesides, if you encourage a young beginner, who knows but he may elevate his style a little above the vulgar epithets of prophane, and saucy Jack, and atheistic scribbler, with which he treats me, when the fit of enthusiasm is strong upon him: by which wellmannered and charitable expressions I was certain of his sect before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man He has damned me in your cause from Genesis to the Revelations: and has half the texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to yourselves as to take him for your interpreter; and not to take them for Irish witnesses. After all, perhaps, you will tell me, that you retained him only for the opening of your cause, and that your main lawyer is yet behind. Now if it so happen he meet with no more reply than his predecessors, you may either conclude, that I trust to the goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or disdain him, or what you please; for the short of it is, it is indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your party says or thinks of him.

THE MEDAL.

Or all our antic sights and pageantry,
Which English ideots run in crowds to see,
The Polish Medal bears the prize alone:
A monster, more the favourite of the town
Than either fairs or theatres have shown.
Never did Art so well with Nature strive ;
Nor ever idol seem’d so much alive:
So like the man; so golden to the sight,
So base within, so counterfeit and light.
One side is fill'd with title and with face;
And, lost the king should want a regal place,
On the reverse, a tower the town surveys;
O'er which our mounting Sun his beams displays.

The word, pronounc'd aloud by shrieval voice.
Lartamur, which, in Polish, is rejoice.
The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd.
And a new canting holiday design'd.
Five days he sat, for every cast and look;
Four more than God to finish Adam took-
But who can tell what essence angels are,
Or how long Heaven was making Lucifer?
Oh, could the style that copy'd every grace,
And plough’d such furrows for an eunuch face,
Could it have form'd his ever-changing will,
The various piece had tir'd the graver's skill
A martial hero first, with early care,
Blown, like a pigmy by the winds, to war.
A beardless chief, a rebel, ere a man:
So young his hatred to his prince began.
Next this, how wildly will ambition steer :
A vermin wriggling in th' usurper's ear.
Bartering his venal wit for sums of gold,
He cast himself into the saint-like mould ;
Groan'd, sigh'd, and pray'd, while godliness was gain,
The loudest bagpipe of the squeaking train.
But, as 'tis hard to cheat a juggler's eyes,
His open lewdness he could ne'er disguise.
There split the saint; for hypocritic zeal
Allows no sins but those it can conceal.
Whoring to scandal gives too large a scope:
Saints inust not trade; but they may interlope.
Th'ungodly principle was all the same;
But a gross cheat betrays his partner's game.
Besides, their pace was formal, grave, and siack,
His nimble wit outran the heavy pack.
Yet still he found his fortune at a stay;
Whole droves of blockheads choking up his way;
They took, but not rewarded, his advice;
Villain and wit exact a double price.
Power was his aim: but, thrown from that pretence,
The wretch turn'd loyal in his own defence;
And malice reconcil'd him to his prince.
Him, in the anguish of his soul he serv'd ;
Rewarded faster still than he deserv'd.
Behold him now exalted into trust;
His counsel 's oft convenient, seldom just.
Fv’n in the most sincere advice he gave
He had a grudging still to be a knave.
The frauds he learn'd in his fanatic years.
Made him uneasy in his lawful gears.
At best as little honest as he could,
And like white witches mischievously good.
To his first bias longingly he leans;
And rather would be great by wicked means.
Thus fram'd for ill, he loos'd our triple hold;
Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold.
From hence those tears! that Ilium of our woe:
Who helps a powerful friend, fore-arms a foe.
What wonder if the waves preval so far,
When he cut down the banks that made the bar *
Seas follow but the r nature to invade;
But he by art our native strength betray'd.
So Samson to his foe his force confest;
And to be shorn, lay slumbering on her breast.
But when this fatal comisel, found too late,
Expos'd its author to the public hate;
When his just sovereign, by no inpious way
Could be seduc’d to arbitrary sway;
Forsaken of that hope, he shifts his sail,
Drives down the current with a popular gale,
And shows the fiend confess'd without a veil.
He preaches to the crowd, that power is lent,
But not convey'd to kingly government;

That claims successive bear no binding force,
That coronation oaths are things of course;
Maintains the multitude can never err;
And sets the people in the papal chair.
The reason 's obvious; interest never lies:
The most have still their interest in their eyes;
The power is always theirs, and power is ever wise.
Almighty crowd, thou shortenest all dispute,
Power is thy essence; wit thy attribute!
Nor faith nor reason make thee at a stay,
Thou leap'st o'er all etermal truths in thy Pindaric
Athens no doubt did righteously decide, [way!
When Phocion and when Socrates were try’d:
As righteously they did those dooms repent;
Still they were wise whatever way they went:
Crowds err not, though to both extremes they run;
To kill the father, and recal the son.
Some think the fools were most as times went then,
But now the world 's o'erstock'd with prudent men.
The common cry is ev'n religion's test,
The Turk's is at Constantinople best;
Idols in India; popery at Rome;
And our own worship only true at home. -
And true, but for the time ’tis hard to know
How long we please it shall continue so."
This side to day, and that to morrow burns;
So all are God-almighties in their turns.
A tempting doctrine, plausible, and new ;
What fools our fathers were, if this be true !
Who, to destroy the seeds of civil war,
Inherent right in monarchs did declare:
And that a lawful power might never cease,
Secur'd succession to secure our peace.
Thus property and sovereign sway at last
In equal balances were justly cast:
Put this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd horse;
Instructs the beast to know his native force;
To take the bit between his tecth, and fly
To the next headlong steep of anarchy.
Too happy England, if our good we knew,
Would we possess the freedom we pursue!
The lavish government can give no more;
Yet we repine, and plenty makes us poor.
God try'd us once; our rebel-fathers fought,
He glutted them with all the power they sought;
Till, master'd by their own usurping brave,
The free-born subject sunk into a slave.
We loath our manna, and we long for quails:
Ah, what is man when his own wish prevails'
How rash, how swift to plunge himself in ill!
Proud of his power, and boundless in his will !
That kings can do no wrong, we must believe;
None can they do, and must they all receive?
Help, Heaven! or sadly we shall see an hour,
When neither wrong nor right are in their power!
Already they have lost their best defence,
The benefit of laws which they dispense.
No justice to their righteous cause allow'd;
But baffled by an arbitrary crowd.
And medals grav'd their conquest to record,
The stamp and coin of their adopted lord.
The man who laugh’d but once, to see an ass
Mumbling to make the cross-grain'd thistles pass,
Might laugh again to see a jury chew
The prickles of unpalatable law.
The witnesses, that leech-like liv'd on blood,
Sucking for them was med'cinally good;
But, when they fasten’d on their fester'd sore,
Then justice and religion they forswore;
Their maiden oaths debauch'd into a whore.

Thus men are rais'd by factions, and decry’d ;
And rogue and saint distinguish’d by their side.
They rack ev'm Scripture to confess their cause,
And plead a call to preach in spite of laws.
But that 's no news to the poor injur'd page,
It has been us'd as ill in every age;
And is constrain'd with patience all to take,
For what defence can Greek and Hebrew make?
Happy who can this talking-trumpet seize;
They make it speak whatever sense they please ! .
'Twas fram'd at first our oracle to inquire;
But since our sects in prophecy grow higher,
The text inspires not them, but they the text inspire.
London, thou great emporium of our isle,
O thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile !
How shall I praise or curse to thy desert?
Or separate thy sound from thy corrupted part?
I call'd thee Nile; the parallel will stand:
Thy tides of wealth o'erflow the fatten’d land;
Yet monsters from thy large increase we find,
Engender'd on the slime thou leav'st behind.
Sedition has not wholly seiz'd on thee,
Thy nobler parts are from infection free.
Of Israel's tribe thou hast a numerous band,
But still the Canaanite is in the land.
Thy military chiefs are brave and true;
Nor are thy disenchanted burghers few.
The head is loval which thy heart commands,
But what's a head with two such gouty hands 2
The wise and wealthy love the surest way,
And are content to thrive and to obey.
But Wisdom is to Sloth too great a slave;
None are so busy as the fool and knave.
Those let me curse; what vengeance will they urge,
Whose ordures neither plague nor fire can purge?
Nor sharp experience can to duty bring,
Nor angry Heaven, nor a forgiving king !
In gospel-phrase their chapmen they betray;
Their shops are dens, the buyer is their prey.
The knack of trades is living on the spoil;
They boast ev'n when each other they beguile.
Customs to steal is such a trivial thing,
That 'tis their charter to defraud their king.
All hands unite of every jarring sect;
They cheat the country first, and then infect.
They for God's cause their monarchs dare dethrone,
And they'll be sure to make his cause their own.
Whether the plotting jesuit lay'd the plan
Of murdering kings, or the French puritan,
Our sacrilegious sects their guides outgo,
And kings and kingly power would murder too.
What means that traitorous combination less,
Too plain to evade, too shameful to confess.
But treason is not own'd when 'tis descry'd;
Successful crimes alone are justify'd.
The men who no conspiracy would find
Who doubts? but had it taken, they had join'd,
Join'd in a mutual covenant of defence;
At first without, at last against, their prince.
If sovereign right by sovereign power they scan,
The same bold inaxim holds in God and man:
God were not safe, his thunder could they shun;
He should be forc'd to crown another son.
Thus, when the heir was from the vineyard thrown,
The rich possession was the murderer's own.
In vain to sophistry they have recourse:
By proving their's no plot, they prove 'tis worse;
Unmask'd rebellion, and audacious force;
Which, though not actual, yet all eyes may see
'Tis working in th’ immediate power to be:

For from pretended gricvauces they rise, First to dislike, and after to despise. Then cyclop-like in human flesh to deal, Chop up a minister at every meal: Perhaps not wholly to melt down the king; But clip his regal rights within the ring. From thence t'assume the power of peace and war; And ease him by degrees of public care. Yet, to consult his dignity and fame, He should have leave to exercise the name; And hold the cards while commons play'd the game. For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think? These are the cooler methods of their crime, But their hot zealots think 'tis loss of time; On utmost bounds of loyalty they stand, And grin and whet like a Croatian band, That waits impatient for the last command. Thus outlaws open villany maintain, They steal not, but in squadrons scour the plain: And if their power the passengers subdue, The most have right, the wrong is in the few. Such impious axioms foolishly they show, For in some soils republics will not grow: Our temperate isle will no extremes sustain, Of popular sway or arbitrary reign: But slides between them both into the best, Secure in freedom, in a monarch blest, And though the climate, vex'd with various winds, Works through our yielding bodies on our minds, The wholesome tempest purges what it breeds, To recommend the calmness that succeeds. But thou, the pander of the people's hearts, O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts, Whose blandishments a loyal land have whor'd, And broke the bonds she plighted to her lord; What curses on thy blasted name will fall! Which age to age their legacy shall call; For all must curse the woes that must descend to all, Religion thou hast none : thy mercury Has pass'd through every sect, or theirs through thee. But what thou giv'st, that venom still remains, And the pox'd nation feels thee in their brains. What else inspires the tongues and swells the breasts Of all thy bellowing renegado priests, That preach up thee for God; dispense thy laws; And with the stum ferment their fainting cause 2 Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat To make the formidable cripple great. Yet should thy crimes succeed, should lawless power Compass those ends thy greedy hopes devour, Thy canting friends thy mortal foes would be, Thy God and theirs will never long agree; For thine, if thou hast any, must be one That lets the world and human-kind alone: A jolly god, that passes hours too well To promise Heaven, or threaten us with Hell: That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit, And wink at crimes he did himself commit. A tyrant theirs; the Heaven their priesthood paints A conventicle of gloomy sullen saints; A Heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad, Fore-doom'd for souls, with false religion, mad. Without a vision poets can foreshow What all but fools by common sense may know: If true succession from our isle should fail, And crowds profane with impious arms prevail, Not thou, nor those thy factious arts engage, Shall reap that harvest of rebellious rage, With which thou flatterest thy decrepit age.

The swelling poison of the several sects,
Which, wanting vent, the nation's health infects,
Shall burst its bag; and, fighting out their way,
The various venoms on each other prey.
The presbyter, puff’d up with spiritual pride,
Shall on the necks of the lewd nobles ride;
His brethren damn, the civil power defy,
And parcel out republic prelacy.
But short shall be his reign: his rigid yoke
And tyrant power will puny sects provoke;
And frogs and toads, and all the tadpole train,
Will croak to Heaven for help, from this devouring
crane.
The cut-throatsword and clamorous gown shall jar,
In sharing their ill-gotten spoils of war:
Chiefs shall be grudg'd the part which they pretend;
Lords envy lords, and friends with every friend
About their impious merit shall contend,
The surly commons shall respect deny,
And justle peerage out with property.
Their general either shall his trust betray,
And force the crowd to arbitrary sway;
Or they, suspecting his ambitious aim,
In hate of kings shall cast anew the frame;
And thrust out Collatine that bore their name.
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exil'd heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting vengeance overtook our age:
And our wild labours wearied into rest,
Reclin'd us on a rightful monarch's breast.

----------- Pudet haec opprobria, vobis Et dici potuissa, et mon potuisse refelli.

TAR2UIN AND TULLIA.

In times when princes cancell'd Nature's law,
And declarations which themselves did draw;
When children us’d their parents to dethrone,
And gnaw their way, like vipers, to the crown;
Tarquin, a savage, proud, ambitious prince,
Prompt to expel, yet thoughtless of defence,
The envied sceptre did from Tullius snatch,
The Roman king, and father by the match,
To form his party, histories report,
A sanctuary was open'd in his court,
Where glad offenders safely might resort.
Great was the crowd, and wondrous the success,
For those were fruitful times of wickedness;
And all, that liv'd obnoxious to the laws,
Flock'd to prince Tarquin, and embrac'd his cause,
'Mongst these a pagan priest for refuge fled;
A prophet deep in godly faction read;
A sycophant, that knew the modish way
To cant and plot, to flatter and betray,
To whine and sin, to scribble and recant,
A shameless author, and a lustful saint.
To serve all times he could distinctions coin,
And with great ease flat contradictions join :
A traitor now, once loyal in extreme,
And then obedience was his only theme:
He sung in temples the most passive lays,
And wearied monarchs with repeated praise;
But manag'd awkwardly that lawful part;
To vent foul lies and treason was his art,
And pointed libels at crown'd heads to dart.
This priest, and others learned to defame,

| First murder injur'd Tullius in his name;

With blackest calumnies their sovereign load,
A poison'd brother, and dark league abroad;
A son unjustly topp'd upon the throne,
Which yet was prov’d undoubtedly his own;
Though, as the law was there, ’twas his behoof,
Who dispossess'd the heir, to bring the proof.

This hellish charge they back'd with dismal frights,

The loss of property and sacred rights,
And freedom, words which all false patriots use,
As surest names the Romans to abuse.
Jealous of kings, and always malecontent,
Forward in change, yet certain to repent.
Whilst thus the plotters needful fears create,
Tarquin with open force invades the state.
Lewd nobles join him with their feeble might,
And atheist fools for dear religion fight.
The priests their boasted principles disown,
And level their harangues against the throne.
Vain promises the people's minds allure,
Slight were their ills, but desperate the cure.
'Tis hard for kings to steer an equal course,
And they who banish one, oft gain a worse.
Those heavenly bodies we admire above,
Do every day irregularly move; -
Yet Tullius, 'tis decreed, must lose the crown
For faults, that were his council's, not his own.
He now in vain commands ev'n those he pay’d,
By darling troops deserted and betray'd,
By creatures which his generous warmth had made.
Of these a captain of the guards was worst,
Whose memory to this day stands accurst.
This rogue, advanc'd to military trust
By his own whoredom, and his sister's lust,
Forsook his master, after dreadful vows,
And plotted to betray him to his foes;
The kindest master to the vilest slave,
As free to give, as he was sure to crave.
His haughty female, who, as books declare,
Did always toss wide nostrils in the air,
Was to the younger Tullia governess,
And did attend her, when, in borrow'd dress,
She fled by night from Tullius in distress.
This wretch, by letters, did invite his foes,
And us’d all arts her father to depose;
A father, always generously bent,
So kind, that ev'n her wishes he'd prevent.
*Twas now high time for Tullius to retreat,
When ev'n his daughter hasten’d his defeat;
When faith and duty vanish'd, and no more
The name of father and of king he bore:
A king, whose right his foes could ne'er dispute;
So mild, that mercy was his attribute;
Affable, kind, and easy of access;
Swift to relieve, unwilling to oppress; -
Rich without taxes, yet in payment just;
So honest, that he hardly could distrust;
His active soul from labours ne'er did cease,
Valiant in war, and vigilant in peace:
Studious with traffic to enrich the land;
Strong to protect, and skilful to command;
Liberal and splendid, yet without excess;
Prone to relieve, unwilling to distress;
In sum, how godlike must his nature be,
Whose only fault was too much piety " .
This king remov’d, th' assembled states thought fit
That Tarquin in the vacant throne should sit;
Voted him regent in their senate-house,
And with an empty name endow’d his spouse,
The elder Tullia, who, some authors feign,
Drove o'er her father's corpse a rumbling wain:

But she more guilty numerous wains did drive
To crush her father and her king alive;
And in remembrance of his hasten’d fall,
Resolv'd to institute a weekly ball.
The jolly glutton grew in bulk and chin,
Feasted on rapine, and enjoy'd her sin;
With luxury she did weak reason force,
Debauch'd good-nature, and cram'd down remorse;
Yet when she drank cold tea in liberal sups,
The sobbing dame was maudling in her cups.
But brutal Tarquin never did relent,
Too hard to melt, too wicked to repent;
Cruel in deeds, more merciless in will,
And blest with natural delight in ill.
From a wise guardian he receiv'd his doom
To walk the 'change, and not to govern Rome.
He swore his native honours to disown,
And did by perjury ascend the throne.
Oh! had that oath his swelling pride represt,
Rome had been then with peace and plenty blest.
But Tarquin, guided by destructive Fate,
The country wasted, and embroil'd the state,
Transported to their foes the Roman pelf,
And by their ruin hop'd to save himself.
Innumerable woes oppress'd the land,
When it submitted to his curs'd command.
So just was Heaven, that 'twas hard to tell,
Whether its guilt or losses did excel.
Men that renounc'd their God for dearer trade,
Were then the guardians of religion made.
Rebels were sainted, foreigners did reign,
Outlaws return'd, preferment to obtain,
With frogs, and toads, and all their croaking train.
No native knew their features nor their birth,
They seem'd the greasy offspring of the earth.
The trade was sunk, the fleet and army spent;
Devouring taxes swallow'd lesser rent;
Taxes impos'd by no authority;
Each lewd collection was a robbery.
Bold self-creating men did statutes draw,
Skill'd to establish villany by law;
Fanatic drivers, whose unjust careers
Produc’d new ills exceeding former fears.
Yet authors here except, a faithful band,
Which the prevailing faction did withstand;
And some, who bravely stood in the defence
Of baffled justice and their exil'd prince.
These shine to after-times, each sacred name
Stands still recorded in the rolls of Fame.

SUUM CUICUE.

When lawless men their neighbours dispossess,
The tenants they extirpate or oppress,
And make rude havoc in the fruitful soil,
Which the right owners plough'd with careful tol,
The same proportion does in kingdoms hold,
A new prince breaks the fences of the old !
And will o'er carcases and deserts reign,
Unless the land its rightful lord regain.
He gripes the faithless owners of the place,
And buys a foreign army to deface
The fear'd and hated remnant of their race.
He starves their forces, and obstructs their trade;
Vast sums are given, and yet no native paid.
The church itself he labours to assail,
And keeps fit tools to break the sacred pale.

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