Page images
PDF
EPUB

But first they would assume, with wondrous art,
Themselves to be the whole, who are but part
Of that vast frame, the church: yet grant they were
The handers down, can they from thence infer
A right to interpret? or would they alone
Who brought the present, claim it for their own?
The Book's a common largess to mankind,
Not more for them than every man design'd :
The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commission'd to expound.
It speaks itself; and what it does contain,
In all things needful to be known, is plain.

In times o'ergrown with rust and ignorance,
A gainful trade their clergy did advance;
When want of learning kept the layman low,
And none but priests were authorised to know;
When what small knowledge was in them did dwell,
And he a god who could but read or spell;
Then Mother-church did mightily prevail,
She parcell'd out the Bible by retail;
But still expounded what she sold or gave,
To keep it in her power to damn and save:
Scripture was scarce, and, as the market went,
Poor laymen took salvation on content,
As needy men take money, good or bad;
God's word they had not, but the priest's they had.
Yet, whate'er false conveyances they made,
The lawyer still was certain to be paid.

In those dark times they learn'd their knack so well, That by long use they grew infallible:

At last, a knowing age began to inquire

If they the Book, or that did them inspire ; And, making narrower search, they found, though late,

That what they thought the priest's, was their estate ;

Taught by the will produced, the written word,
How long they had been cheated on record.
Then every man, who saw the title fair,
Claim'd a child's part, and put in for a share;
Consulted soberly his private good,

And saved himself as cheap as e'er he could.
'Tis true, my friend! (and far be flattery hence)
This good had full as bad a consequence:
The Book thus put in every vulgar hand,

Which each presumed he best could understand,
The common rule was made the common prey,
And at the mercy of the rabble lay:

The tender page with horny fists was gall'd,
And he was gifted most that loudest bawl'd:
The Spirit gave the doctoral decree,
And every member of a company

Was of his trade, and of the Bible, free.
Plain truths enough for needful use they found,
But men would still be itching to expound;
Each was ambitious of the obscurest place,
No measure ta'en from knowledge, all from grace:
Study and pains were now no more their care;
Texts were explain'd by fasting and by prayer:
This was the fruit the private Spirit brought,
Occasion'd by great zeal, and little thought.
While crowds unlearn'd, with rude devotion warm,
About the sacred viands buzz and swarm,
The fly-blown text creates a crawling brood,
And turns to maggots what was meant for food.
A thousand daily sects rise up and die;
A thousand more the perish'd race supply:
So all we make of Heaven's discover'd will,

Is not to have it, or to use it ill.

The danger's much the same, on several shelves If others wreck us, or we wreck ourselves.

What then remains, but, waving each extreme, The tides of ignorance and pride to stem? Neither so rich a treasure to forego,

Nor proudly seek beyond our power to know?
Faith is not built on disquisitions vain;

The things we must believe are few and plain :
But since men will believe more than they need,
And every man will make himself a creed,
In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way
To learn what unsuspected ancients say;
For 'tis not likely we should higher soar

In search of heaven than all the church before:"
Nor can we be deceived, unless we see
The Scripture and the Fathers disagree.
If, after all, they stand suspected still,
(For no man's faith depends upon his will)
'Tis some relief, that points not clearly known,
Without much hazard, may be let alone;
And, after hearing what our church can say,
If still our reason runs another way,
That private reason 'tis more just to curb,
Than by disputes the public peace disturb:
For points obscure are of small use to learn,
But common quiet is mankind's concern!

Thus have I made my own opinions clear,
Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear;
And this unpolish'd, rugged verse I chose,
As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose:
For while from sacred truth I do not swerve,
Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will

serve.

TO MY HONOURED KINSMAN,

JOHN DRYDEN,

OF CHESTERTON, IN THE COUNTY OF HUNTINGDON, ESQ.

How bless'd is he who leads a country life,
Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of strife!
Who, studying peace, and shunning civil rage,
Enjoy'd his youth, and now enjoys his age!
All who deserve his love he makes his own,
And, to be loved himself, needs only to be known.
Just, good, and wise, contending neighbours

come,

From your award, to wait their final doom,
And, foes before, return in friendship home.
Without their cost you terminate the cause,
And save the expense of long litigious laws;
Where suits are traversed, and so little won,
That he who conquers is but last undone.
Such are not your decrees; but, so design'd,
The sanction leaves a lasting peace behind,
Like your own soul, serene, a pattern of your mind.
Promoting concord, and composing strife,
Lord of yourself, uncumber'd with a wife;
Where, for a year, a month, perhaps a night,
Long penitence succeeds a short delight:
Minds are so hardly match'd, that ev'n the first,
Though pair'd by Heaven, in Paradise were cursed:
For man and woman, though in one they grow,
Yet, first or last, return again to two:

He to God's image, she to his was made;

So farther from the fount the stream at random

stray'd.

How could he stand, when, put to double pain, He must a weaker than himself sustain ?

Each might have stood, perhaps; but, each alone: Two wrestlers help to pull each other down.

Not that my verse would blemish all the fair; But yet, if some be bad, 'tis wisdom to beware; And better shun the bait than struggle in the snare. Thus have you shunn'd, and shun the married state, Trusting as little as you can to Fate.

No porter guards the passage of your door, To admit the wealthy, and exclude the poor; For God, who gave the riches, gave the heart To sanctify the whole, by giving part;

Heaven, who foresaw the will, the means has wrought,

And to the second son a blessing brought:
The first-begotten had his father's share;
But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's heir.

So may your stores and fruitful fields increase;
And ever be you bless'd, who live to bless.
As Ceres sow'd, where'er her chariot flew ;
As Heaven in deserts rain'd the bread of dew;
So, free to many, to relations most,

You feed with manna your own Israel host.

With crowds attended, of your ancient race, You seek the champaign sports or sylvan chase; With well-breathed beagles you surround the wood, Ev'n' then industrious of the common good; And often have you brought the wily fox To suffer for the firstlings of the flocks;

D

« PreviousContinue »