And Medals grav'd, their Conqueft to record,
The Stamp and Coin of their adopted Lord.

The Man who laugh'd but once, to see an Afs
Mumbling to make the cross-grain'd Thiftles pass;
Might laugh again, to see a Jury chaw
The prickles of unpalatable Law.

The Witneffes, that, Leech-like, liv'd on blood,
Sucking for them were med'cinally good;
But, when they faften'd on their fefter'd Sore,
Then, Juftice and Religion they forfwore;
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'n Scripture to confefs their Cause;
And plead a Call to preach, in spight 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 conftrain'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 Senfe they please!
'Twas fram'd, at firft, our Oracle t'enquire;
But, fince our Sects in Prophecy grow higher,
The Text infpires not them; but they the Text
infpire.

London, thou great Emporium of our Ifle,
O, thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile,
How fhall I praise or curfe to thy desert!

Or feparate thy found, 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'ft behind.
Sedition has not wholly feiz'd on thee;
Thy nobler Parts are from infection free.
Of Ifrael's Tribes thou haft a numerous Band;
But ftill the Canaanite is in the Land.
Thy military Chiefs are brave and true;
Nor are thy difinchanted Burghers few.

The Head is Loyal which thy Heart commands;
But what's a Head with two fuch gouty Hands
The wife and wealthy love the fureft way;
And are content to thrive and to obey.
But Wisdom is to Sloth too great a Slave;
None are fo bufie as the Fool and Knave.
Those let me curfe; what vengeance will they urge,
Whofe Ordures neither Plague nor Fire can purge;
Nor fharp Experience can to Duty bring,
Nor angry Heav'n, 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 boaft, ev'n when each other they beguile.
Cuftomes 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 firft, and then infect.
They, for God's Cause their Monarchs dare dethrone;
And they'll be fure to make his Cause their own.
Whether the plotting Jefuit laid the Plan
Of murth'ring Kings, or the French Puritan,
Our Sacrilegious Sects their Guides outgo;
And Kings and Kingly Pow'r wou'd murther too.
What means their Trait'rous Combination lefs,
Too plain t' evade, too fhameful to confefs.
But Treafon is not own'd when 'tis defcry'd ;
Successful Crimes alone are justify'd.
The Men, who no Confpiracy wou'd find,
Who doubts, but had it taken, they had join'd.
Join'd, in a mutual Cov'nant of Defence;
At first without, at laft against their Prince.
If Soverign Right by Sovereign Pow'r they fcan,
The fame bold Maxim holds in God and Man:
God were not fafe, his Thunder cou'd they fhun
He fhou'd be forc'd to Crown another Son.
Thus, when the Heir was from the Vineyard throws,
The rich Poffeffion was the Murth'rers own,

}

In vain to Sophistry they have recourse :
By proving theirs no Plot, they prove 'tis worse;
Unmask'd Rebellion, and audacious Force.
Which, though not actual, yet all Eyes may fee
'Tis working, in th' immediate Pow'r to be;
For, from pretended Grievances they rife,
Firft to diflike, and after to defpife.
Then, Cyclop-like in humane Flesh to deal;
Chop up a Minifter, at every meal:
Perhaps not wholly to melt down the King;
But clip his regal Rights within the Ring.
From thence, t' affume the Pow'r of Peace and Wars
And cafe him by degrees of publick Care.
Yet, to confult his Dignity and Fame,
He fhou'd have leave to exercife the Name;
And hold the Cards, while Commons play'd the
Game.

For what can pow'r give more than Food and Drink
To live at eafe, and not be bound to think?
These are the cooler Methods of their Crime;
But their hot Zealots think 'tis lofs of time;
On utmost Bounds of Loyalty they ftand;
And grin and whet like a Croatian Band,
That waits impatient for the last Command.
Thus Out-laws open Villany maintain:

They fteal not, but in Squadrons fcoure the Plain &
And, if their Pow'r the Paffengers fubdue ;
The Moft have Right, the Wrong is in the Few,
Such impious Axiomes foolishly they show;
For, in fome Soils Republicks will not grow:
Our Temp❜rate ifle will no extreams fuftain,
Of Pop'lar Sway, or Arbitrary Reign
Eut flides between them both into the beft;
Secure in Freedom, in a Monarch bleft.
And though the Climate, vex'd with various Winds,
Works through our yielding Bodies, on our Minds,
The wholfome Tempeft purges what it breeds;
To recommend the Calmness that succeeds,

But thou, the Pander of the Peoples Hearts,
(O crooked Soul, and Serpentine in Arts,)
Whofe blandifhments a Loyal Land have whor'd,
And broke the Bonds fhe plighted to her Lord;
What Curfes on thy blafted Name will fall!
Which Age to Age their Legacy fhall call; [all.
For all muft curfe the Woes that muft defcend on
Religion thou haft none: thy Mercury

Has pafs'd through every Sect, or theirs through thee.
But what thou giv'ft, that Venom ftill remains;
And the pox'd Nation feels thee in their Brains.
What else inspires the Tongues, and fwells the Breafts
Of all thy bellowing Renegado Priests,

That preach up thee for God; difpence thy Laws;
And with thy Stum ferment their fainting Cause?
Fresh Fumes of Madness raife; and toil and fweat
To make the formidable Cripple great.

Yet, fhou'd thy Crimes fucceed, fhou'd lawlefs Pow't
Compass thofe Ends thy greedy Hopes devour,
Thy canting Friends thy mortal Foes wou'd be ;
Thy God and theirs will never long agree.
For thine, (if thou haft any) must be one
That lets the World and Human-kind alone:
A jolly God, that paffes Hours too well
To promise Heav'n, or threaten us with Hell.
That unconcern'd can at Rebellion fit;
And wink at Crimes he did himself commit.
A Tyrant theirs; the Heav'n their Priesthood paints
A Conventicle of gloomy fullen Saints;
A Heav'n, like Bedlam, flovenly and fad ;
Fore-doom'd for Souls, with false Religion mad.
Without a Vifion Poets can fore-fhow

What all but Fools, by common Senfe may know:
If true Succeffion from our Ifle fhou'd fail,
And Crowds profane, with impious Arms prevail,
Not thou, nor thofe thy Factious Arts ingage
Shall reap that Harvest of rebellious Rage,
With which thou flatter'ft thy decrepit Age.

}

The

The fwelling Poison of the sev'ral 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, puft up with spiritual Pride,
Shall on the Necks of the lewd Nobles ride:
His Brethren damn, the civil Pow'r defie ;
And parcel out Republick Prelacy.

But fhort fhall be his Reign: his rigid Yoke
And Tyrant Pow'r will puny Secs provoke ;

And Frogs and Toads, and all the Tadpole Train
Will croak to Heav'n for help, from this devouring
Crane.

The Cut-throat Sword and clamorous Gown shall jar,
In fharing their ill-gotten Spoils of War:

Chiefs fhall be grudg'd the part which they pretend;
Lords envy Lords, and Friends with every Friend
About their impious Merit fhall contend.
The furly Commons fhall refpe&t deny;
And juftle Peerage out with Property.
Their Gen'ral either fhall his Truft betray,
And force the Crowd to Arbitrary Sway;
Or they fufpecting his ambitious Aim,

In hate of Kings shall cast anew the Frame;
And thruft out Collatine that bore their Name.
Thus inborn Broils the Factions wou'd ingage;
Or Wars of exil'd Heirs, or foreign Rage,
Till halting Vengeance overtook our Age:
And our wild Labours, wearied into Reft,
Reclin'd us on a rightful Monarch's Breaft.

-Pudet hac opprobria vobis

Et dici potuiffe, & non potuiffe refelli.

}

}

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