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FROM Codex hear, ye ecclefiaftic men,
Pin well your faith, and then pronounce it law;
In modes of worship right of choice deny ;
Say, to convert, all means are fair;-add, why? 30 'Tis charitable-let your power decree,
That Perfecution then is Charity;
Call reafon error; forms, not things, difplay;
Let moral doctrine to abftrufe give way;
Sink demonftration; mystery preach alone;
Be thus Religion's friend, and thus your own.
Where Mystery begins, Religion ends.
In him, great modern miracle! we fee
Without craft, reverend; holy, without cant;
Zealous for truth, without enthusiast rant.
His hope, no mitre militant on earth,
'Tis that bright crown, which heaven referves for worth. A priest, in charity with all mankind,
His love to virtue, not to fect confin'd:
Truth his delight; from him it flames abroad,
From him, who fears no being, but his God:
Charms, which th' unthinking muft to thought excite;
May fee thee now, though late, redeem thy name, 45
But fhould fome churchman, apeing wit severe, The poet 's fure turn'd Baptist-say, and fneer; Shame on that narrow mind fo often known, Which in one mode of faith, owns worth alone.
Sneer on, rail, wrangle! nought this truth repels-
OME feem to hint, and others proof will bring, That, from neglect, my numerous hardships fpring.
In this Character of the Rev. James Fofter, truth guided the pen of the Mufe. Mr. Pope paid a tribute to the modeft worth of this excellent man: little did he imagine his Rev. Annotator would endeavour to convert his praise into abufe. The character and writings of Fofter will be admired and read, when the works of the bitter Controverfialist are forgotten.
Seek the great man! they cry-'tis then decreed,
What friends to fecond? who for me fhould fue, s Have interests, partial to themselves, in view. They own my matchlefs fate compaffion draws; They all wish well, lament, but drop my caufe. There are who afk no penfion, want no place, No title with, and would accept no grace. Can I entreat, they fhould for me obtain The leaft, who greatest for themselves difdain? A statesman, knowing this, unkind, will cry, Thofe love him: let thofe ferve him!-why fhould I ? Say, fhall I turn where lucre points my views; 15 At first defert my friends, at length abuse? But, on lefs terms, in promise he complies : Years bury years, and hopes on hopes arife; I truft, am trusted on my fairy gain;
And woes on woes attend, an endless train.
Be pofts difpos'd at will!-I have, for these,
I have no power, election-votes to gain;
Where lives the ftatefman, fo in honour clear, To give where he has nought to hope, nor fear? No! there to feek, is but to find fresh pain: The promise broke, renew'd, and broke again; To be, as humour deigns, receiv'd, refus'd; By turns affronted, and by turns amus'd; To lofe that time, which worthier thoughts require; To lose the health, which should those thoughts in
To ftarve on hope; or, like camelions, fare
What though I hourly fee the fervile herd, For meannefs honour'd, and for guilt prefer'd; See felfith paffion, public virtue feem; And public virtue an enthusiast dream; See favour'd falfehood, innocence belied, Meekness deprefs'd, and power-elated pride; A fcene will fhew, all-righteous vision haste; The meek exalted, and the proud debas'd!— Oh, to be there! -to tread that friendly fhore, Where falfehood, pride, and ftatefmen are no more! 60