Show, when and how, and from what hands they
We claim no power, when heresies grow bold,
To coin new faith, but still declare the old.
How else could that obscene disease be purg'd,
When controverted texts are vainly urg'd?
Το prove tradition new, there's somewhat more
Requir'd, than saying, 'Twas not us'd before. 1170
Those monumental arms are never stirr'd,
Till schism or heresy call down Goliah's sword.
Thus, what you call corruptions are, in truth,
The first plantations of the gospel's youth;
Old standard faith; but cast your eyes again,
And view those errors which new sects maintain,
Or which of old disturb'd the Church's peaceful
And we can point each period of the time, [reign;
When they began, and who begot the crime;
Can calculate how long the eclipse endur'd, 1180
Who interpos'd, what digits were obscur'd:
Of all which are already pass'd away,
We know the rise, the progress, and decay.
Despair at our foundations then to strike, Till you can prove your faith apostolic ;
A limpid stream drawn from the native source;
Succession lawful in a lineal course.
Prove any Church, oppos'd to this our head,
So one, so pure, so unconfin'dly spread,
Under one chief of the spiritual state,
The members all combin'd, and all subordinate. Show such a seamless coat, from schism so free, In no communion join'd with heresy.
If such a one you find, let truth prevail :
Till when your weights will in the balance fail:
A Church unprincipled kicks up the scale.
But if you cannot think (nor sure you can
Suppose in God what were unjust in man)
That He, the fountain of eternal grace,
Should suffer falsehood, for so long a space, 1200
To banish truth, and to usurp her place:
That seven successive ages should be lost,
And preach damnation at their proper cost;
That all your erring ancestors should die,
Drown'd in the abyss of deep idolatry:
If piety forbid such thoughts to rise,
Awake, and open your unwilling eyes:
God hath left nothing for each age undone,
From this to that wherein he sent his Son:
Then think but well of him, and half your work is
See how his Church, adorn'd with every grace,
With open arms, a kind forgiving face, [brace.
Stands ready to prevent her long-lost son's em-
Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep,
Nor less himself could from discovery keep, 1215
When in the crowd of suppliants they were seen,
And in their crew his best-beloved Benjamin.
That pious Joseph in the Church behold,*
To feed your famine, and refuse your gold;
The Joseph you exil'd, the Joseph whom you sold.
* The renunciation of the Benedictines to the Abbey Lands. Orig. ed.
Thus, while with heavenly charity she spoke, A streaming blaze the silent shadows broke; Shot from the skies a cheerful azure light: The birds obscene to forests wing'd their flight,
And gaping graves receiv'd the wand'ring guilty spright.
Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky, For James his late nocturnal victory;
The pledge of his almighty Patron's love,
The fireworks which his angels made above.
I saw myself the lambent easy light
Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
The messenger with speed the tidings bore;
News, which three labouring nations did restore,
But heaven's own Nuntius was arriv'd before.
By this, the Hind had reach'd her lonely cell, And vapours rose, and dews unwholesome fell. When she, by frequent observation wise,
As one who long on heaven had fix'd her eyes,
Discern'd a change of weather in the skies.
The western borders were with crimson spread,
The moon descending look'd all flaming red;
She thought good manners bound her to invite
The stranger dame to be her guest that night.
"Tis true, coarse diet, and a short repast,
(She said) were weak inducements to the taste
Of one so nicely bred, and so unus'd to fast:
But what plain fare her cottage could afford,
Poëta loquitur. Orig. ed.
A hearty welcome at a homely board,
Was freely hers; and, to supply the rest,
An honest meaning, and an open breast:
Last, with content of mind, the poor man's wealth,
A grace-cup to their common patron's health.
This she desir'd her to accept, and stay,
For fear she might be wilder'd in her way,
Because she wanted an unerring guide,
And then the dewdrops on her silken hide
Her tender constitution did declare,
Too lady-like a long fatigue to bear,
And rough inclemencies of raw nocturnal air.
But most she fear'd that, travelling so late,
Some evil-minded beasts might lie in wait,
And without witness wreak their hidden hate.
The Panther, though she lent a listening ear,
Had more of lion in her than to fear:
Yet wisely weighing, since she had to deal
With many foes, their numbers might prevail,
Return'd her all the thanks she could afford;
And took her friendly hostess at her word:
Who, entering first her lowly roof, a shed
With hoary moss and winding ivy spread,
Honest enough to hide a humble hermit's head,
Thus graciously bespoke her welcome guest:
So might these walls, with your fair presence blest,
Become your dwelling-place of everlasting rest;
Not for a night, or quick revolving year,
Welcome an owner, not a sojourner.
This peaceful seat my poverty secures ;
War seldom enters but where wealth allures:
Nor yet despise it; for this poor abode
Has oft receiv'd, and yet receives a God;
A God, victorious of the Stygian race,
Here laid his sacred limbs, and sanctified the place.
This mean retreat did mighty Pan contain:
Be emulous of him, and pomp disdain,
And dare not to debase your soul to gain.
The silent stranger stood amaz'd to see
Contempt of wealth, and wilful poverty;
And, though ill habits are not soon controll❜d,
Awhile suspended her desire of gold.
But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws,
Not violating hospitable laws,
And pacified her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws. The Hind did first her country cates provide ; Then couch'd herself securely by her side.
MUCH malice mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps, may censure this mysterious writ:
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With Panthers, Bears, and Wolves, and beasts
unknown,
1285 And dare not to debase your soul to gain]
'Aude, hospes, contemnere opes, et te quoque dignum Finge deo
In the whole passage he has an eye to the reception of Eneas by Evander. J. W.
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