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For from pretended grievances they rise,
First to dislike, and after to despise.
'Then cyclop-like in human 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 to assume the power of


and war;
And ease him by degrees of public care.
Yet to consult his dignity and fame,
He should have leave to exercise the name;
And hold the cards while commons play'd the game.
For what can power give more than food and drink,
To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
These are the cooler methods of their crime,
But their hot zealots think 'tis loss of time;
On utmost bounds of loyalty they ftand,
And grin and whét like a Croatian band;
That waits impatient for the last command.
Thus outlaws open villainy maintain,
They steal not, but in squadrons scour the plain:
And if their power the passengers subdue,
The most have right, the wrong is in the few.
Such impious axioms foolishly they show,
For in some foils republics will not grow :
Our temperate isle will no extremes suftain,
Of popular sway or arbitrary reign:
But slides between them both into the best,
Secure in freedom, in a monarch bleft,
And tho' the climate vex'd with various winds,
Works thro' our yielding bodies on our minds,
The wholesome tempeft purges what it breeds,
To recommend the calmness that succeeds.

But thou, the pander of the people's hearts,
O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts,
Whose blandishments a loyal land have whor'd,
And broke the bonds the plighted to her lord;





What curses on thy blasted name will fall !
Which age to age their legacy fhall call;
For all must curse the woes that must descend on all.
Religion thou hast none : thy Mercury
Has pass’d thro' every seế, or theirs through thee.
But what thou givelt, that venom still remains;
And the pox'd nation feels thee in their brains.
What else inspires the tongues and swells the breasts
Of all thy bellowing renegado priests,
That preach up thee for God; dispense thy laws;
And with thy ftum ferment their fainting cause?
Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat
To make the formidable cripple great.
Yet should thy crimes succeed, should lawless power
Compass those ends thy greedy hopes devour,
Thy canting friends thy mortal foes would be,
Thy God and theirs will never long agree ;
For thine, if thou hast any, must be one
That lets the world and human-kind alone :
A jolly god, that passes hours too well
To promise heaven, or threaten us with hell.
That unconcern'd can at rebellion fit,
And wink at crimes he did himself commit.
A tyrant theirs ; the heaven their priesthood paints
A conventicle of gloomy sullen faints ;
A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad ;
Fore-doom'd for fouls, with false religion, mad.

Without a vision poets can foreshow
What all but fools by common sense may
If true succession from our isle should fail,
And crouds profane with impious arms prevail.
Not thou, nor those thy factious arts engage
Shall reap that harvest of rebellious rage,
With which thou flattereft thy decrepid age.
The swelling poison of the several fects,
Which wanting vent, the nation's health infects,


know :


Shall burst its bag; and fighting out their way
The various venoms on each other prey.
The presbyter puff’d up with spiritual pride,
Shall on the necks of the lewd nobles ride:
His brethren damn, the civil power defy;
And parcel out republic prelacy.
But short shall be his reign: his rigid yoke
And tyrant power will puny fects provoke ;
And frogs and toads, and all the tadpole train
Will croak to heaven for help, from this devouring crane.
The cut-throat sword and clamorous gown shall jar,
In sharing their ill-gotten spoils of war:
Chiefs shall be grudg’d the part which they pretend;
Lords envy Lords, and friends with every

About their impious merit shall contend.
The surly commons shall respect deny,
And justle peérage out with property.
Their general either shall his trust betray,
And force the croud to arbitrary sway ;
Or they suspecting his ambitious aim,
In hate of Kings shall cast anew the frame ;
And thrust out Collatine that bore their name.

Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exil'd heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting vengeance overtook our age :
And our wild labours wearied into rest,
Reclin'd us on a rightful monarch's breaft.

-Pudet hec opprobria, vobis
Ex dici potuise, & non potuisse refelli.


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