IV. And some, to be large ciphers in a state, Rapp'd through the wide expanse of thought, Errors like this did old astronomers misguide, Was but to light earth's inconsiderable spot. The herd beneath, who see the weathercock of state Hung loosely on the church's pinnacle, Believe it firm, because perhaps the day is mild and still; But when they find it turn with the firt blast of fate, By gazing upward giddy grow, And think the church itself does so; Thus fools, for being strong and num'rous known, Suppose the truth, like all the world, their own; And holy Sancroft's motion quite irregular appears, Because'tis opposite to theirs. V. In vain then would the Muse the multitude advise, Whose peevish knowledge thus perversely lies In gath`ring follies from the wise; Rather Rather put on thy anger and thy spight, sense, To make them understand, and feel me when I write ; The muse and I no more revenge desire, Each line shall stab, shall blast, like daggers and like fire; Ah, Britain, land of angels! which of all thy sins, (Say hapless isle, although It is a bloody list we know) Has given thee up a dwelling place to fiends? In governments too easy, and too fruitful ground; Too flourishing a spring, And too warm summers bring: Our British soil is over rank, and breeds Among the noblest flow'rs a thousand pois'nous weeds, And ev'ry stinking weed so lofty grows, VI. Forgive (original mildness) this ill-govern'd zeal, 'Tis all the angry slighted Muse can do In the pollution of these days; No province now is left her but to rail, Alas, the occasions are so few : And your Almighty Master, knew B 4 With With heavenly peace of mind to bear (Free from our tyrant passions, anger, scorn or fear) The giddy turns of pop'lar rage, And all the contradictions of a poison'd age; And measuring by the scanty thread of wit good, (Methods in talk whereof our pride and ignorance make use) And which our wild ambition foolishly compares With endless and with infinite; Yet pardon, native Albion, when I say, Among thy stubborn sons there haunts that spirit of Jews, That those forsaken wretches who to day Seem to discover what they would have done (Were his humanity on earth once more) To his undoubted Master, Heaven's Almighty Son. VII. But zeal is weak and ignorant, though wond'rous. proud, Though very turbulent and very loud; The crazy composition shows, Like that fantastick medley in the idol's toes, Made up of iron mixt with clay, That moulders into rúst, Or melts by the first show'r away. Nothing Nothing is fix'd that mortals see or know, Like all transcendent excellence below; And rolls the silent year On his own secret regular sphere, And sheds, though all unseen, his sacred influence here. VIII. Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here, Or from thy private peaceful orb appear; show The way which ev'ry wand'ring fool below And which, for aught Isee, and much I fear, The world has wholly miss'd; I mean the way which leads to Christ: Mistaken ideots! see how giddily they run, In Cæsar's court, or in Jerusalem : Others, ignorantly wise, Among proud doctors and disputing pharisees: What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn; Their faith was so uncourtly when they said That Heaven's high Son was in a village born; That That the world's Saviour had been In a vile manger laid, And foster'd in a wretched inn? IX. Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great, Say, why the church is still led blindfold by the state; Why should the first be ruin'd and laid waste, To mend dilapidations in the last? And yet the world, whose eyes are on our mighty Prince, Thinks heav'n has cancell'd all our sins, And that his subjects share his happy influence; Follow the model close, for so I'm sure they should, But wicked kings draw more examples than the good; And divine Sancroft, weary with the weight Of a declining church, by faction her worst foc oppress'd, Finding the mitre almost grown A load as heavy as the crown, Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest. X. Ah may no unkind earthquake of the state, Disturb the present mitre, as that fearful storm of late, Which, in its dusky march along the plain, Wrapp'd in a whirlwind and a mist; Such |