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The same first Mover certain bounds has plac'd,
How long those perishable forms shall last :
Nor can they last beyond the time assign'd
By that all-seeing and all-making mind:
Shorten their hours they may; for will is free;
But never pass th' appointed destiny.
So men oppress'd, when weary of their breath,
Throw off their burden, and suborn their death.
Then, since those forms begin, and have their
end,

On some unalter'd cause they sure depend:
Parts of the whole are we ; but God, the whole,
Who gives us life and animating soul..
For nature cannot from a part derive
That being, which the whole can only give:
He perfect, stable; but imperfect we,
Subject to change, and diffrent in degree;
Plants, beasts, and man; and, as our organs are,
We more or less of his perfection share.
But by a long descent th' ethereal fire
Corrupts; and forms, the mortal part, expire:
As he withdraws his virtue, so they pass;
And the same matter makes another mass.
This law th' Omniscient Pow'r was pleas'd to give,
That ev'ry kind should by succession live:
That individuals die his will ordains;
The propagated species still remains.
The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees,
Shoots rising up, and spreads by low degrees;
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays,
Supreme in state, and in three more decays;
So wears the paving pebble in the street,
And towns and tow'rs their fatal periods meet:
So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie,
Forsaken of their springs, and leave their chan-
nels dry.

So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat,
Then, form'd, the little heart begins to beat;
Secret he feeds unknowing in the cell;
At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell,
And struggles into breath, and cries for aid;
Then, helpless, in his mother's lap is laid.
He creeps, he walks, and, issuing into man,
Grudges their life from whence his own began:
Reckless of laws, effects to rule alone,
Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne:
First vegetive, then feels, and reasons last;
Rich of three souls, and lives all three to waste.
Some thus: but thousands more in flow'r of age:
For few arrive to run the latter stage.
Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain,
And others whelm'd beneath the stormy main.
What makes all this, but Jupiter the king,
At whose command we perish and we spring?
Then 'tis our best, since thus ordain'd to die,
To make a virtue of necessity.

Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain;
The bad grows better, which we well sustain;
And could we choose the time, and choose aright,
"Tis best to die, our honor at the height.
When we have done our ancestors no shame,
But serv'd our friends, and well secur'd our fame:
Then should we wish our happy life to close,
And leave no more for fortune to dispose:

So should we make our death a glad relief
From future shame, from sickness, and from grief:
Enjoying while we live the present hour,
And dying in our excellence and flow'r. [run,
Then round our death-bed ev'ry friend should
And joyous of our conquest early won:
While the malicious world with envious tears
Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs.
Since then our Arcite is with honor dead,
Why should we mourn that he so soon is freed,
Or call untimely what the Gods decreed ?
With grief as just a friend may be deplor'd,
From a foul prison to free air restor❜d.
Ought he to thank his kinsmen or his wife,
Could tears recal him into wretched life?
Their sorrow hurts themselves; on him is lost;
And, worse than both, offends his happy ghost.
What then remains, but, after past annoy,
To take the good vicissitude of joy?
To thank the gracious Gods for what they give,
Possess our souls, and, while we live, to live?
Ordain we then two sorrows to combine,
And in one point th' extremes of grief to join;
That thence resulting joy may be renew'd;
As jarring notes in harmony conclude.
Then I propose that Palamon shall be
In marriage join'd with beauteous Emily;
For which already I have gain'd th' assent
Of my free people in full parliament.
Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,
And well deserv'd, had fortune done him right
"Tis time to mend her fault; since Emily
By Arcite's death from former vows is free:
If you, fair sister, ratify th' accord,
And take him for your husband and your lord,
"Tis no dishonor to confer your grace
On one descended from a royal race :
And were he less, yet years of service past
From grateful souls exact reward at last.
Pity is Heaven's and yours: nor can she find
A throne so soft as in a woman's mind.
He said; she blush'd; and, as o'eraw'd by might,
Seem'd to give Theseus what she gave the knight.
Then, turning to the Theban, thus he said;
Small arguments are needful to persuade
Your temper to comply with my command;
And, speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand.
Smil'd Venus, to behold her own true knight
Obtain the conquest, tho' he lost the fight;
And bless'd with nuptial bliss the sweet labo-
rious night.
Eros and Anteros on either side,
One fir'd the bridegroom, and one warm'd the
bride;

And long-attending Hymen from above
Shower'd on the bed the whole Idalian grove.
All of a tenor was their after-life,
No day discolor'd with domestic strife;
No jealousy, but mutual truth believ'd,
Secure repose, and kindness undeceiv'd.
Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought,
Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought.

So may the Queen of Love long duty bless, And all irue lovers find the same success

§ 29. Religio Laici. Dryden.

AN EPISTLE.

Thus man by his own strength to Heaven would And would not be obliged to God for more. [soar; Vain wretched creature! how art thou misled,

DIM as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars To think thy wit these godlike notions bred!

To lonely weary wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul: and as on high
Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
Nor light us here; so reason's glimm'ring ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
So pale grows reason at religion's sight;
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatral light.
Somefew, whoselampshonebrighter, havebeenled
From cause to canse, to nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be :
But what, or who, that universal He;
Whether some soul encompassing this ball,
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atomis, interfering dance,
Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance;
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not e'en the Stagyrite himself could see,
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly jude'd of providence and fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind:
For happiness was never to be found,
But vanish'd from them like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil;
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
Inpleasure some their glutton soulswouldsteep:-
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.)
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roil,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach Infinity?

For what could fathom God were more than He.
The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground;
Cries, the mighty secret's found:
God is that spring of good; supreme, and best;
We made to serve, and in that service blest.
If so, some rules of worship must be given,
Distributed alike to all by Heaven:
Else God were partial, and to some denied
The means his justice should for all provide.
This gen'ral worship is to praise and pray;
One part to borrow blessings, one to pay :
And when frail nature slides into offence,
The sacrifice for crimes is penitence.
Yet, since th' effects of Providence, we find,
Are variously dispens'd to human kind;
That vice triumphs, and virtue suffers here,
A brand that sov'reign justice cannot bear;
Our reason prompts us to a future state,
The last appeal from fortune and from fate;
Where God's all-righteous ways will be declar'd;
The bad meet punishment, the good reward.

These truths are not the product of thy mind,
But dropt from heaven, and of a nobler kind.
Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy sight,
And reason saw not till faith sprung the light.
Hence all thy nat'ral worship takes the source;
"Tis revelation, what thou think'st discourse.
Else how comest thou to see these truths so clear,
Which so obscure to Heathens did appear?
Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found;
Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd.
Hast thou a wit so deep, or so sublime,
Or canst thou lower dive, or higher climb ?
Canst thou by reason more of godhead know
Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero ?
Those giant wits in happier ages born,
When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn,
Knew no such system; no such piles could raise
Of nat'ral worship built on prayer and praise
To one sole God."

Nor did remorse to expiate sin prescribe;
But slew their fellow-creatures for a bribe:
The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence;
And cruelty and blood were penitence.
If sheep and oxen could atone for men,
Ah! at how cheap á rate the rich might sin!
And great oppressors might heaven's wrath be
By off'ring his own creatures for a spoil! [guile,

Dar'st thou, poor worm, offend Infinity?
And must the terms of pence be given by thee?
Then thou art Justice in the last appeal;
Thy easy God instructs thee to rebel;
And like a king, remote and weak, must take
What satisfaction thou art pleas'd to make.

But if there be a pow'r too just and strong
To wink at crimes, and bear unpunish'd wrong,
Look humbly upward, see his will disclose
The forfeit first, and then the fine impose;
A mulct thy poverty could never pay,
Had not eternal wisdom found the way,
And with celestial wealth supplied thy store;
His justice makes the fine; hismercy quitsthescore.
See God descending in thy human frame;
Th' offending suffering in th' offender's name ;
All thy misdeeds to him imputed see,
And all his righteousness devolv'd on thee.

For, granting we have sinn'd, and that th' of-
Of man is made against Omnipotence, [fence
Some price that bears proportion must be paid;
And infinite with infinite be weigh'd.
See then the Deist lost; remorse for vice,
Not paid; or, paid, inadequate in price:
What farther means can reason now direct,
Or what relief from human wit expect?
That shows us sick; and sadly are we sure
Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure:
If then Heaven's will must needs be understood,
Which must, if we want cure, and Heavenbegood,
Let all records of will reveal'd be shown;
With scripture all in equal balance thrown,
And our one sacred book will be that one.

Proof

Proof needs not here: for whether we compare
That impious idle superstitious ware
Of rites, lustrations, off'rings, which before,
In various ages, various countries bore,
With christian faith and virtues; we shall find
None answ'ring the great ends of human kind, |
But this one rule of life, that shows us best
How God may be appeas'd, and mortals blest.
Whether from length of time its worth we draw,
The word is scarce more antient than the
Heaven's early care prescrib'd for ev'ry age;
First in the soul, and after in the page.
Or whether more abstractedly we look,
Or, on the writers, or the written book,
Whence, but from Heaven, could men unskill'd
in arts,

But boundless wisdom, boundless mercy, may
Find, ev'n for those bewilder'd souls, a way;
If from his nature foes may pity claim,
Much more may strangers who ne'er heard his

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name.

And though no name be for salvation known,
But that of his eternal Son's alone;
Who knows how far transcending goodness can
Extend the merits of that Son to man?
law;Who knows what reasons may his mercy lead;
Or ignorance invincible may plead ?
Not only charity bids hope the best,
But more the great apostle has express'd:
That if the Gentiles, whom no law inspir'd,
By nature did what was by law requir'd,
They, who the written rule had never known,
Were to themselves both rule and law alone:
To nature's plain indictment they shall plead ;
And by their conscience be condemn'd or freed."
Most righteous doom! because a rule reveal'd
Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd.
Then those who follow'd reason's dictates right
Liv'd up, and lifted high their natʼral light;
With Socrates may see their Maker's face,
While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place.

In sev'ral ages born, in sev'ral parts,
Weave such agreeing truths? or how, or why,
Should all conspire to cheat us with a lye?
Unask'd their pains, ungrateful their advice,
Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price.
If on the book itself we cast our view,
Concurrent heathens prove the story true;
The doctrine, miracles; which must convince,
For heaven in them appeals to human sense;
And tho' they prove not, they confirm the cause,
When what is taught agrees with nature's laws.
Then for the style, majestic and divine,
It speaks no less than God in ev'ry line;
Commanding words; whose force is still the same!
As the first fiat that produc'd our frame.
All faiths beside or did by arms ascend,
Or since indulg'd has made mankind their friend,
This only doctrine does our lusts oppose,
Unfed by nature's soil, in which it grows;
Cross to our int'rests, curbing sense and sin
Oppress'd without, and undermin'd within,
It thrives thro' pain; its own tormentors tires;
And with a stubborn patience still aspires.
To what can reason such effects assign
Transcending nature, but to laws divine;
Which in that sacred volume are contain'd;
Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordain'd?

But stay: the Deist here will urge anew.
No supernat'ral worship can be true;
Because a gen'ral law is that alone
Which must to all, and ev'ry where, be known:
A style so large as not this book can claim,
Nor aught that bears reveal'd religion's name.
"Tis said, the sound of a Messiah's birth
Is gone thro' all the habitable earth;
But still that text must be confin'd afone
To what was then inhabited and known:
And what provisions could from thence accrue
To Indian souls, and worlds discover'd new?
In other parts it helps, that ages past,
The scriptures there were known, and were
embrac'd

Till sin spread once again the shades of night:
What's that to these, who never saw the light?
Of all objections this indeed is chief
To startle reason, stagger frail belief:
Wegrant 'tis true, that Heaven from human sense
Has hid the secret paths of Providence:

Nor does it baulk my charity, to find
Th' Egyptian bishop of another mind;
For though his creed eternal truth contains,
'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains
All who believ'd not all his zeal requir'd;
Unless he first could prove he was inspir'd.
Then let us either think he meant to say,
This faith, where publish'd, was the only way;
Or else conclude that, Arius to confute,
The good old man, too eager ir, dispute,
Flew high; and as his christian fury rose
Damn'd all for heretics who durst oppose.

Thus far my charity this path has tried;
A much unskilful, but well-meaning guide ;
Yet what they are, e'en these crude thoughts
were bred,

By reading that which better thou had read.
Thy matchless author's work; which thou my

friend,

By well translating better dost commend:
Those youthful hours which of thy equals most
In toys have squander'd, or in vice have lost;
Those hours hast thou to nobler use employ'd,
And the severe delights of truth enjoy'd.
Witness this weighty book, in which appears
The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years,
Spent by thy author, in the sifting care
Of rabbins old sophisticated ware
From gold divine'; which he who well can sort
May afterwards make algebra a sport.
A treasure, which if country curates buy,
They Junius and Tremellius may defy;"
Save pains in various readings and translations;
And without Hebrew make most learn'd quo
tations.

A work so full with various learning fraught,
So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought,
As nature's height and art's last hand requir'd,
As much as man could compass, uninspir'd:

Where

Where we may see what errors have been made
Both in the copyer's and translator's trade;
How Jewish, Popish, int'rests have prevail'd,
And where infallibility has fail'd.

For some, who have his secret meaning guess'd,
Have found our authornot too much a priest:
For fashion's sake he seems to have recourse
To pope, and councils, and tradition's force:
But he that old traditions could subdue,
Could not but find the weakness of the new ;
If scripture, tho' deriv'd from heavenly birth,
Has been but carelessly preserv'd on earth;
If God's own people, who of God before

Knew what we know, and had been promis'd

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In fuller terms of heaven's assisting care,
And who did neither time nor study spare,
To keep this book untainted, unperplex'd,
Let in gross errors to corrupt the text,
Omitted paragraphs, embroil'd the sense,
With vain traditions stopt the gaping fence,
Which ev'ry common hand pull'd up with ease,
Whatsafety from suchbrush-wood-helps as these?
If written words from time are not secur'd,
How can we think have oral sounds endur'd?
Which thus transmitted, if one mouth has fail'd,
Immortal lyes on ages are entail'd :
And that some such have been, is prov'd too plain,
If we consider int'rest, church, and gain.

O but, says one, tradition set aside,
Where can we hope for an unerring guide?
For since th' original scripture has been lost,
All copies disagreeing, mai'd the most,
Or christian faith can have no certain ground,
Or truth in church-tradition must be found.
Such an omniscient church we wish indeed;
Twere worth both Testaments; cast in the creed:
But if this mother be a guide só sure
'As can all doubts resolve, and truth secure,
Then her infallibility, as well
Where copies are corrupt or lame, can tell;
Restore lost canons with as little pains,
As truly explicate what still remains:
Which yet no council dare pretend to do;
Unless, like Esdras, they could write it new:
Strange confidence still to interpret true,
Yet not be sure that all they have explain'd
Is in the blest original contain'd.

More safe, and much more modest, 'tis to say,
God would not leave mankind without a way:
And that the scriptures, tho' not every where
Free from corruption, or entire, or clear,
Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire,
In all things which our needful faith require.
If others in the same glass better see,
Tis for themselves they look, but not for me:
For iny salvation must its doom receive,
Not from what others, but what I believe.
Must all tradition then be set aside?
This to affirm, were ignorance and pride.
Are there not many points, some needful sure
To saving faith, that scripture leaves obscure?
Which ev'ry sect will wrest a sev'ral way;
For what one sect interprets, all sects may :

Wehold, and say we prove from scripture plain, That Christ is God; the bold Socinian From the same scripture urges he's but man. Now what appeal can end th important suit? Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mute. Shall I speak platin, and in a nation free Assume an honest layman's liberty? I think, according to my little skill, To my own mother-church submitting still, That many have been sav'd, and many may, Who never heard this question brought in play. Th' unletter'd Christian, who believes in gross, Plods on to heaven, and ne'er is at a loss: For the strait gate would be made straiter yet, Were none admitted there but men of wit. The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught, Born to instruct, as others to be taught, Must study well the sacred page; and see Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree With the whole tenor of the work divine, And plainliest points to Heaven's reveal'd design? Which exposition flows from genuine sense, And which is forc'd by wit and eloquence. Not that tradition's parts are useless here; When gen'ral, old, disint'rested, and clear; That antient fathers thus expound the page, Gives truth the reverend majesty of age; Confirms its force by 'biding ev'ry test; For best anthorities next rules are best. And still the nearer to the spring we go, More limpid, more unsoil'd, the waters flow. Thus first traditions were a proof alone; Could we be certain, such they were, so known; But since some flaws in long descent may be, They make not truth, but probability. E'en Arius and Pelagius durst provoke To what the centuries preceeding spoke. Such difference is there in an oft told tale: But truth by its own sinews will prevail. Tradition written therefore more cominends Authority, than what from voice descends : And this, as perfect as its kind can be, Rolls down to us the sacred history: Which, from the universal church receiv'd, Is tried, and after for itself believ'd.

The partial Papists would infer from hence Their church, in last resort, should julge the

sense.

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 t' interprèt? 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 that ev'ry 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 laymen low,
And none but priests were authoriz'd to know:
When

Y

When what small knowledge was in them did | In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way

dwell;

And he a god who could but read and spell;
The mother-church did mightily prevail;
She parcel'd out the Bible by retail:
But still expounded what she sold or gave,
To keep it in her power to damn or save.
Scripture was scarce, and, as the market went,
Poor laymen took salvation on content;
As needy men take money good or bad: [had.
God's word they had not but the priest's they
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
That by long use they grew infallible. [well,
At last a knowing age began t' inquire
If they the book or that did them inspire: [late,
And making narrower search they found, tho'
That what they thought the priest's was their

estate:

Taught by the will produc'd, the written word,
How long they had been cheated on record.
Then ev'ry man who saw the title fair,
Claim'd a child's part, and put in for a share:
Consulted soberly his private good,
And sav'd himself as cheap as e'er he could.
"Tis true, my friend, and far be flatt'ry hence,
This good had full as bad a consequence :
The book thus put in ev'ry vulgar hand,
Which each presum'd 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;
The spirit gave the doctoral degree:
And ev'ry 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 pray'r:
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 winds buz 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 sev'ral 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 pow'r 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 ev'ry man will make himself a creed,

To learn what unsuspected antients say:
For 'tis not likely we should higher soar
In search of heaven than all the church before;
Nor can we be deceiv'd 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 opinious 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 Toni Shadwell's rhymes
will serve.

§30. Mac Flecknoe. Dryden.

ALL human things are subject to decay, And when fate suminons, monarchs must obey. This Flecknoe found, who like Augustus, young Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long: In prose and verse was own'd without dispute, Thro' all the realms of Nonsense absolute. This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, And bless'd with issue of a large increase; Worn out with business, did at length debate To settle the succession of the state: And pond'ring which, of all his sons, was fit To reign, and wage immortal war with Wit; Cried, Tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads that he Should only rule who most resembles me. Sh, alone, my perfect image bears, Mature in dullness from his tender years: Sh, alone, of all my sons, is he, Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. The rest to some faint meaning make pretence; But Sh never deviates into sense. Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, Strike thro', and make a lucid interval; But Sh's genuine night adinits no ray; His rising fogs prevail upon the day. Besides his goodly fabric fills the eye, And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: Thoughtless as monarch oaks that shade the plain, And spread in solemn state, supinely reign. Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee, Thou last great prophet of Tautology. Ev'n I, a dunce of more renown than they, Was sent before but to prepare thy way; And coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came To teach the nations in thy greater name. My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, When to king John of Portugal I sung, Was but the prelude of that glorious day, When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way.

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