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Chase from our minds th’ infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe:
Give us thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son, by thee.

Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorify'd,
Who for lost man's redemption dy'd:
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee.

The
SOLILO2UY OF A ROYAL EXILE.

Usharov I who, once ordain'd to bear
God's justice sword, and his vicegerent here,
Am now depos’d—'gainst me my children rise,
My life must be their only sacrifice:
Highly they me accuse, but nothing prove;
But this is out of tenderness and love
They seek to spill my blood ; 'tis that alone
Must for the nation's crying sins atone.
But careful Heaven forewarm'd me in a dream,
And show'd me that my dangers were extreme;
The heavenly vision spoke, and bade me flee
Th’ ungrateful brood, that were not worthy me:
Alarm'd I fled at the appointed time;
And mere necessity was made my crime !

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The nation is in too high a ferment, for me to expect either fair war, or even so much as fair quarter, from a reader of the opposite party. All men are engaged either on this side or that; and though conscience is the common word, which is given by both, yet if a writer fall among enemies, and cannot give the marks of their conscience, he is knocked down before the reasons of his own are heard. A preface, therefore, which is but a bespeaking of favour, is altogether useless. What I desire the reader should know concerning me, he will find in the body of the poem, if he have but the patience to peruse it. Only this advertisement let him take before hand, which relates to the merits of the cause. No general characters of parties (call them either sects or churches) can be so fully and exactly drawn, as to comprehend all the several members of theia; at least all such as are received un- |

der that denomination. For example; there are
some of the church, by law established, who envy
not liberty of conscience to dissenters; as being
well satisfied, that, according to their own prin-
ciples, they ought not to persecute them. Yet
these, by reason of their fewness, I could not dis-
tinguish from the numbers of the rest, with whom
they are embodied in one common name. On the
other side, there are many of our sects, and more
indeed than I could reasonably have hoped, who
have withdrawn themselves from the communion of
the Panther, and embraced this gracions indulgence
of his maiesty in point of to eration. But neither
to the one nor the other of these is this satire any
way intended: it is aimed only at the refractory
and disobedient on either side. For those, who are
come over to the royal party, are consequently
supposed to be out of gun-shot. Our physicians
have observed, that, in process of time, some dis-
eases have abated of their virulence, and have in a
manner worn out their malignity, so as to be no
longer mortal: and why may not I suppose the
same concerning some of those, who have formerly
been enemies to kingly government, as well as ca-
tholic religion ? I hope they have now another no-
tion of both, as having found, by comfortable ex-
perience, that the doctrine of persecution is far from
being an article of our faith.
It is not for any private man to censure the pro-
ceedings of a foreign prince: but, without suspicion
of flattery, I may praise our own, who has taken
contrary measures, and those more suitable to the
spirit of Christianity. Some of the dissenters, in
their addresses to his majesty, have said, “that he
has restored God to his empire over conscience.” I
confess, I dare not stretch the figure to so great a
boldness: but I may safely say, that conscience is
the royalty and prerogative of every private man.
He is absolute in his own breast, and accountable
to no earthly power for that which passes only be-
twixt God and him. Those who are driven into the
fold are, generally speaking, rather made hypo-
crites than converts.
This indulgence being granted to all the sects, it
ought in reason to be expected, that they should
both receive it, and receive it thankfully. For, at
this time of day, to refuse the benefit, and adhere
to those whom they have esteemed their persecu-
tors, what is it else, but publicly to own, that they
suffered not before for conscience sake, but only
out of pride and obstinacy, to separate from a
church for those impositions, which they now judge
may be lawfully obeyed? After they have so long
contended for their classical ordination, (tot to
speak of rites and ceremonies) will they at length
submit to an episcopal 2 If they can go so far out
of complaisance to their old enemies, methinks a
little reason should persuade them to take another
step, and see whither that would lead them.
Of the receiving this toleration thankfully I shall
say no more, than that they ought, and I doubt
not they will, consider from what hand they re-
ceived it. It is not from a Cyrus, a heathen prince,
and a foreigner, but from a Christian king, their
native sovereign; who expects a return in specie
from them, that the kindness, which he has gra-
ciously shown them, may be retaliated on those of
his own persuasion.
As for the poem in general, I will only thus far
satisfy the reader, that it was neither imposed on

me, nor so much as the subject given me by any man. It was written during the last winter, and the beginning of this spring; though with long interruptions of ill hea'th and other hindrances. About a fortnight before I had finished it, his majesty's declaration for liberty of conscience came abroad: which, if I had so soon expected, I might have spared myself the labour of writing many things which are contained in the third part of it. But I was always in some hope, that the church of England might have been persuaded to have taken off the penal laws and the test, which was one desizn of the poem, when I proposed to myself the writing of it. It is evident, that some part of it was only occasional, and not first intended: I mean that defence of myself, to which every homest man is bound, when he is injuriously attacked in print: and I refer myself to the judgment of those, who have read the answer to the defence of the late king's papers, and that of the dutchess, (in which last I was concerned) how charitably I have been represented there. I am now informed both of the author and supervisors of this pamphlet, and will reply, when I think he can affront ine: for I am of Socrates's opinion, that all creatures cannot. In the mean time, let him consider whether he deserved not a more severe reprehension, than I gave him formerly, for using so little respect to the memory of those, whom he pretended to answer; and at his leisure, look out for some original treatise of humility, written by any protestant in English ; I believe I may say in any other tongue; for the magnified piece of Duncomb on that subject, which either he must mean, or none, and with which another of his fellows has upbraided me, was translated from the Spanish of Rodriguez; though with the omission of the seventeenth, the twentyfourth, the twenty-fifth, and the last chapter, which will be found in comparing of the books. He would have insinuated to the world, that her late highness died not a Roman catholic. He declares himself to be now satisfied to the contrary, in which he has given up the cause: for matter of fact was the principal debate betwixt us. In the mean time, he would dispute the motives of her change; how preposterously, let all men judge, when he seemed to deny the subject of the controversy, the change itself. And because I would not take up this ridiculous challenge, he tells the world I cannot argue: but he may as well infer, that a catholic cannot fast, because he will not take up the cudgels against Mrs. James, to confute the protestant religion. I have but one word more to say concerning the poem as such, and abstracted from the matters, either religious or civil, which are handled in it. The first part, consisting most in general characters and narration, I have endeavoured to raise, and give it the majestic turn of heroic poesy. The second, being matter of dispute, and chiefly concerning church authority, I was obliged to make as plain and perspicuous as possibly I could; yet not wholly neglecting the numbers, though I had not frequent occasions for the magnificence of verse. The third, which has more of the nature of domestic conversation, is, or ought to be, more free and familiar than the two former. There are in it two episodes or fables, which are interwoven with the main design; so that they are

properly parts of it, though they are also distinct stories of themselves. In both of these I have inade use of the common-places of satire, whether true or false, which are urged by the members of the one church against the other: at which I hope no reader of either party will be scandalized, because they are not of my invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccace and Chaucer on the one side, aud as those of the Reformation on the other.

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER.

PART I.

A Milk-white Hind, immortal and unchang'd,
Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang'd;
Without unspotted, innocent within,
She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin.
Yet had she oft been chas'd with horns and hounds,
And Scythian shafts; and many winged wounds
Aim'd at her heart; was often forc'd to fly,
And doom'd to death, though fated not to die.
Not so her young; for their uuequal line
Was hero's make, half human, half divine.
Their carthly mould obnoxious was to Fate,
Th’ immortal part assum'd immortal state.
Of these a slaughter'd army lay in blood,
Extended o'er the Caledonian wood,
Their native walk; whose vocal blood arose,
And cry’d for pardon on their perjur'd foes.
Their fate was fruitful, and the sanguine seed,
Endued with souls, increas'd the sacred breed.
So captive Israel multiply'd in chains,
A numerous exile, and enjoy'd her pains.
With grief and gladness mix'd the mother view’d
Her martyr'd offspring, and their race renewid;
Their corps to perish, but their kind to last,
So much the deathless plant the dying fruit surpass'd.
Panting and pensive now she rang'd alone,
And wander'd in the kingdoms, once her own.
The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd
By sovereign power, her company disdain'd;
Brinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye
Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity.
'Tis true, she bounded by, and tripp'd so light,
They had not time to take a steady sight.
For Truth has such a face and such a mien,
As to be lov d needs only to be seen.
The bloody Bear, an independent beast,
Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd.
Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare
Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear.
Next her the buffoon Ape, as atheists use,
Mimick'd all sects, and had his own to choose:
Still when the Lion look'd, his knees he bent,
And paid at church a courtier's compliment.
The bristled baptist Boar, impure as he,
But whitem'd with the foam of sanctity,
With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place,
And mountains levell'd in his furious race:
So first rebellion founded was in grace.
But since the mighty ravage, which he made
In German forest, had his guilt betray'd,
With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name,
He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal’d the shame;
So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile
False Reynard fed on consecrated spoil:
The graceless beast by Athanasius first
Was chas'd from Nice, then by Socinus nurs'd :

His impious race their blasphemy renew’d,
And Nature's king through Nature's optics view'd.
Revers'd they view'd him lessen'd to their eye,
Nor in an infant could a god descry.
New swarming sects to this obliquely tend,
Hence they began, and here they all will end.
What weight of ancient witness can prevail,
If private reason hold the public scale
But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide
For erring judgments an unerring guide!
Thy throne is darkness in th’ abyss of light,
A blaze of glory that forbids the sight.
O teach me to believe thee thus conceal’d,
And search no further than thyself reveal’d;
But her alone for my director take,
Whom thou hast promis'd never to forsake!
My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires,
My manhood, long misled by wandering fires,
Follow'd false lights; and, when their glimpse was
gone,
My pride struck out new sparkles of her own.
Such was I, such by nature still I am ;
Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame.
Good life be now my task: my doubts are done:
What more could fright my faith, than three in
one *
Can I believe eternal God could lie
Disguis'd in mortal mould and infancy?
That the great Maker of the world could die?
And after that trust my imperfect sense,
Which calls in question his omnipotence 2
Can I my reason to my faith compel?
And shall my sight, and touch, and taste, rebel?
Superior faculties are set aside;
Shall their subservient organs be my guide?
Then let the Moon usurp the rule of day,
And winking tapers show the Sun his way;
For what my senses can themselves perceive,
I need no revelation to believe.
Can they who say the host should be descry'd
By sense, define a body glorify'd?
Impassable, and penetrating parts?
Let them declare by what mysterious arts
He shot that body through th' opposing might
Of bolts and bars impervious to the light,
And stood before his train confess'd in open sight.
For since thus wondrously he pass'd, 'tis plain,
One single place two bodies did contain.
And sure the same omnipotence as well
Can make one body in more places dwell.
Let reason then at her own quarry fly,
But how can finite grasp infinity?
'Tis urg'd again, that faith did first commence
By miracles, which are appeals to sense,
And thence concluded, that our sense must be
The motive still of credibility.
For latter ages must on former wait,
And what began belief must propagate.
But winnow well this thought, and you shall find
"Tis light as chaff that flies before the wind.
Were all those wonders wrought by power divine
As means or ends of some more deep design?
Most sure as means, whose end was this alone,
To prove the Godhead of th' eternal Son.
God, thus asserted, man is to believe
Beyond what sense and reason can conceive,
And for mysterious things of faith rely
On the proponent, Heaven's authority.
If then our faith we for our guide admit,
Vain is the further search of human wit,

As when the building gains a surer stay,
We take th' unuseful scaffolding away.
Reason by sense no more can understand;
The game is play'd into another hand.
Why choose we then like bilanders to creep
Along the coast, and land in view to keep,
When safely we may lanch into the deep 2
In the same vessel which our Saviour bore,
Himself the pilot, let us leave the shore,
And with a better guide a better world explore.
Could he his Godhead veil with flesh and blood,
And not veil these again to be our food?
His grace in both is equal in extent,
The first affords us life, the second nourishment.
And if he can, why all this frantic pain
To construe what his clearest words contain,
And make a riddle what he made so plain
To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry.
Both knave and fool the merchant we may call,
To pay great sums, and to compound the small:
For who would break with Heaven, and would not
break for all 2
Rest then, my soul, from endless anguish freed:
Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed.
Faith is the best ensurer of thy bliss ;
The bank above must fail before the venture miss.
But Heaven and heaven-born faith are far from
thee,
Thou first apostate to divinity.
Unkennel'd range in thy Polonian plains:
A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf remains.
Too boastful Britain, please thyself no more,
That beasts of prey are banish'd from thy shore:
The bear, the boar, and every savage name,
Wild in effect, though in appearance tame,
Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissful bower,
And, muzzled though they seem, the mutes devour.
More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race
Appear with belly gaunt, and famish'd face:
Never was so deform'd a beast of grace.
His ragged tail betwixt his legs he wears,
Close clapp'd for shame; but his rough crest he rears,
And pricks up his predestinating ears.
His wild disorder'd walk, his haggard eyes,
Did all the bestial citizens surprise.
Though fear'd and hated, yet he rul’d a while,
As captain or companion of the spoil.
Full many a year his hateful head had been
For tribute paid, nor since in Cambria seen :
The last of all the litter scap'd by chance,
And from Geneva first infested France.
Some authors thus his pedigree will trace,
But others write him of an upstart race;
Because of Wickliff's brood no mark he brings,
But his innate antipathy to kings.
These last deduce him from th’ Helvetian kind,
Who near the Leman-lake his consort lin'd :
That fiery Zuinglius first th' affection bred,
And meagre Calvin blest the nuptial bed.
In Israel some believe him whelp'd long since,
When the proud sanhedrim oppress'd the prince,
Or, since he will be Jew, derive him higher,
When Corah with his brethren did conspire
From Moses' hand the sovereign sway to wrest,
And Aaron of his ephod to divest:
Till opening Earth made way for all to pass,
And could not bear the burthen of a class.
The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark,
If ever they were stow'd in Noah's ark:

Perhaps not made; for all their barking train The dog (a common species) will contain. And some wild curs, who from their masters ran, Abhorring the supremacy of man, In woods and caves the rebel-race began. O happy pair, how well have you increas'd' What ills in church and state have you redress'd? With teeth untry'd, and rudiments of claws, Your first essay was on your native laws: Those having torm with ease, and trampled down, Your fangs you fasten’d on the mitred crown, And freed from God and monarchy your town. What though your native kennel still be small, Bounded betwixt a puddle and a wall; Yet your victorious colonies are sent Where the north ocean girds the continent. Quicken'd with fire below, your monsters breed In fenny Holland, and in fruitful Tweed: And like the first the last affects to be Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. As, where in fields the fairy rounds are seen, A rank sour herbage rises on the green: So, springing where those midnight elves advance, Rebellion prints the footsteps of the dance. Such are their doctrines, such contempt they show To Heaven above, and to their prince below, As none but traitors and blasphemers know. God, like the tyrant of the skies, is plac'd, And kings, like slaves, beneath the crowd debas'd. So fulsome is their food, that flocks refuse To bite, and only dogs for physic use. As where the lightning runs along the ground, No husbandry can heal the blasting wound; Nor bladed grass, nor bearded corn succeeds, But scales of scurf and putrefaction breeds: Such wars, such waste, such fiery tracks of dearth Their zeal has left, and such a teemless earth. But, as the poisons of the deadliest kind Are to their own unhappy coast confin'd; As only Indian shades of sight deprive, And magic plants will but in Colchos thrive; So presbytery and pestilential zeal Can only flourish in a commonweal. From Celtic woods is chas'd the wolfish crew; But ah! some pity ev'n to brutes is due : Their native walks methinks they might enjoy, Curb’d of their native malice to destroy. Of all the tyrannies on human-kind, The worst is that which persecutes the mind. Let us but weigh at what offence we strike, 'Tis but because we cannot think alike. In punishing of this, we overthrow The laws of nations and of Nature too. Beasts are the subjects of tyrannic sway, Where still the stronger on the weaker prey. Man only of a softer mould is made, Not for his fellow's ruin but their aid : Created kind, beneficent, and free, The noble image of the Deity. One portion of informing fire was given To brutes, th’ inferior family of Heaven: The smith divine, as with a careless beat, Struck out the mute creation at a heat: But when arriv'd at last to human race, The Godhead took a deep considering space; And to distinguish man from all the rest, Unlock'd the sacred treasures of his breast; And mercy mixt with reason did impart, One to his head, the other to his heart;

Reason to rule, but mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. And like his mind his outward form appeard, When, issuing naked, to the wondering herd, He charm'd their eyes; and, for they lov'd, they fear'd : Not arm'd with horns of arbitrary might, Or claws to seize their furry spoils in fight, Or with increase of feet t' o'ertake them in their flight: Of easy shape, and pliant every way; Confessing still the softness of his clay, And kind as kings upon their coronation-day: With open hands, and with extended space Of arms, to satisfy a large embrace. Thus kneaded up with milk, the new-made man His kingdom o'er his kindred world began: Till knowledge misapply'd, misunderstood, And pride of empire sour'd his balmy blood. Then, first rebelling, his own stamp he coins; The murderer Cain was lateht in his loins: And blood began its first and loudest cry, For differing worship of the Deity. Thus Persecution rose, and further space Produc’d the mighty hunter of his race. Not so the blessed Pan his flock increas'd, Content to fold them from the famish'd beast: Mild were his laws; the sheep and harmless hind Were never of the persecuting kind. Such pity now the pious pastor shows, Such mercy from the British lion flows, That both provide protection from their foes. Oh happy regions, Italy and Spain, Which never did those monsters entertain The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance No native claim of just inheritance. And self-preserving laws, severe in show, May guard their fences from th’ invading foe. Where birth has plac'd them, let them safely share The common benefit of vital air. Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd; Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd: Here, only in nocturnal howlings bold, They dare not seize the Hind, nor leap the fold. More powerful, and as vigilant as they, The Lion awfully forbids the prey. [sore, Their rage repress'd, though pinch'd with famine They stand aloof, and tremble at his roar: Much is their hunger, but their fear is more. These are the chief: to number o'er the rest, And stand, like Adam, naming every beast, Were weary work; nor will the Muse describe A slimy-born and sun-begotten tribe; Who, far from steeples and their sacred sound, In fields their sullen conventicles found. These gross, half-animated, lumps I leave; Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive. But, if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher Than matter, put in motion, may aspire: Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay: So drossy, so divisible are they, As would but serve pure bodies for allay: Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things As only buz to Heaven with evening wings; Strike in the dark, offending but by chance, Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance. They know not beings, and but hate a name; To them the Hind and Panther are the same. The Panther sure the noblest, next the Hind, And fairest creature of the spotted kind;

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She were too good to be a beast of prey !
How can I praise, or blame, and not offend,
Or how divide the frailty from the friend ?
Her faults and virtues lie so mix’d, that she
Nor wholly stands condemn'd, nor wholly free.
Then, like her iniur'd Lion, let me speak:
He cannot bend her, and he would not break.
Unkind already, and estrang'd in part,
The Wolf begins to share her wandering heart.
Though unpolluted yet with actual ill,
She half commits who sins but in her will.
If, as our dreaming Platonists report,
There could be spirits of a middle sort,
Too black for Heaven, and yet too white for Hell,
Who just dropt half way down, nor lower fell;
So pois'd, so gent y she descends from high,
It seems a soft dismission from the sky.
Her house not ancient, whatsoe'er pretence
Her clergy-heralds make in her defence.
A second century not half-way run,
Since the new honours of her blood begun.
A Lion old, obscene, and furious made
By lust, compress'd her mother in a shade;
Then, by a left-hand marriage, weds the dame,
Coverng adultery with a specious name:
So Schism begot; and Sacrilege and she,

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. A well-match'd pair, got graceless Heresy.

God's and kings' rebels have the same good cause,
To trample down divine and human laws :
Roth would be call'd reformers, and their hate
Alike destructive both to church and state:
The fruit proclaims the plant; a lawless prince
By luxury reform'd incontinence;
By ruins, charity; by riots, abstinence.
Confessions, fasts, and penance set aside;
Oh, with what ease we follow such a guide,
Where souls are starv'd, and senses gratify'd!
Where marriage pleasures midnight prayer supply,
And mattin bells, a melancholy cry,
Are tum'd to merrier notes, “increase and mul-
tiply.”
Religion shows a rosy-colour'd face;
Not batter'd out with drudging works of grace:
A down-hill reformation rolls apace.
What flesh and blood would crowd the narrow gate,
Or, till they waste their pamper'd paunches, wait?
All would be bappy at the cheapest rate.
Though our lean faith these rigid laws has given,
The full-fed Mussulman goes at to Heaven;
For his Arabian prophet with delights
Of sense allur'd his eastern proselytes.
The jolly Luther, reading him, began
T interpret Scriptures by his Alcoran;
To grub the thorns beneath our tender feet,
And make the paths of Paradise more sweet:
Bethought him of a wife ere half way gone,
For 'twas uneasy travelling alone;
And, in this masquerade of mirth and love,
Mistook the bliss of Heaven for Bacchanals above.
Sure he presum'd of praise, who came to stock
Th' ethereal pastures with so fair a flock,
Burnish'd, and battening on their food, to show
Their diligence of careful herds below. [head,
Our Panther, though like these she chang'd her
Yet as the mistress of a monarch's bed,
Her front erect with majesty she bore,
The crosier wielded, and the mitre wore.
Her npper part of decent discipline
Show'd affectation of an ancient line;

DRYDEN's PoEMs. .

And fathers, councils, church, and church's head,
Were on her reverend phylacteries read.
But what disgrac'd and disavow'd the rest,
Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatiz'd the beast.
Thus, like a creature of a double kind,
In her own labyrinth she lives confin'd.
To foreign lands no sound of her is come,
Humbly content to be despis'd at home. .
Such is her faith, where good cannot be had,
At least she leaves the refuse of the bad :
Nice in her choice of ill, though not of best,
And least deform'd, because deform'd the least.
In doubtful points betwixt her differing friends,
Where one for substance, one for sign contends,
Their contradicting terms she strives to join ;
Sign shall be substance, substance shall be sign.
A real presence all her sons allow,
And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow,
Because the Godhead 's there they know not bow.
Her movices are taught, that bread and wine
Are but the visible and outward sign,
Receiv'd by those who in communion join.
But th' inward grace, or the thing signify'd,
His blood and body, who to save us dy'd ;
The faithful this thing signify'd receive :
What is't those faithful then partake or ieave *
For what is signify'd and understood,
Is, by her own confession, flesh and blood.
Then, by the same acknowledgment, we know
They take the sign, and take the substance too.
The literal sense is hard to flesh and blood,
But nonsense never can be understood.
Her wild belief on every wave is tost;
But sure no church can better morals boast.
True to her king her principles are sound;
Oh that her practice were but half so sound !
Stedtast in various turns of state she stood,
And seal’d her vow’d affection with her blood:
Nor will I meanly tax her constancy,
That interest or obligement made the tie.
Bound to the fate of murder'd monarchy,
Before the sounding axe so falls the vine,
Whose tender branches round the poplar twine,
She chose her ruin, and resign'd her life,
In death undaunted as an Indian wife :
A rare example ! but some souls we see
Brow hard, and stiflem with adversity :
Yet these by Fortune's favours are undone;
Resolv’d into a baser form they run,
And bore the wind, but cannot bear the Sun.
Let this be Nature's frailty, or her fate,
Or Isgrim's counsel, her new-chosen mate;
Still she 's the fairest of the fallen crew,
No mother more indulgent but the true.
Fierce to her foes, yet tears her force to try,
Because she wants innate authority;
For how can she constrain them to obey,
Who has herself cast of the lawful sway ?
Rebellion equals all; and those, who toil
In common theft, will share the common spoil.
Let her produce the title and the right
Against her old superiors first to fight;
If she reform by text, ev'n that 's as plain
For her own rebels to reform again.
As long as words a different sense will bear,
And each may be his own interpreter,
Our airy faith will no foundation find :
The word 's a weathercock for every wind :
The Bear, the Fox, the Wolf, by turns prevail;
The most in power supplies the present gaie,

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