Godlike descent! 'tis well your blood can be
Prov'd noble in the third or fourth degree:
For all of ancient that you had before,
(I mean what is not borrow'd from our store)
Was errour fulminated o'er and o'er;
Old heresies condemn'd in ages past,
By care and time recover'd from the blast.
"Tis said with ease, but never can be prov'd,
The church her old foundations has remov'd,
And built new doctrines on unstable sands:
Judge that, ye winds and rains: you prov'd her, yet
she stands.

Those ancient doctrines, charg'd on her for new,
Show, when, and how, and from what hands they
We claim no power, when heresies grow bold, [grew.
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?
To prove tradition new, there's somewhat more
Requir'd, than saying, 'twas not us'd before.
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 errours which new sects maintain,
Or which of old disturb'd the church's peaceful reign;
And we can point each period of the time,
When they began, and who begot the crime;
Can calculate how long th' eclipse endur'd,
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,
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 th' 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: [done.
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,
Stands ready to prevent a long-lost son's embrace.
Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep,
Nor less himself could from discovery keep,
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."

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 wandering guilty
spright.

Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky,
For James's 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 horrour, 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-flam ng 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,
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 dew-drops 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 an 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 a Stygian race,
Here laid his sacred limbs, and sanctify'd 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 control'd,
A while suspended her desire of gold.

But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws,
Not violating hospitable laws,

And pacify'd her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws.
The Hind did first her country cates provide;
Then couch'd herself securely by her side.

PART III.

MUCH malice mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ:
Because the Muse has peopled Caledon [known,
With Panthers, Bears, and Wolves, and beasts un-
As if we were not stock'd with monsters of our own.
Let Esop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blam'd a British Lioness;

That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Expos'd obscenely naked and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wanted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.

Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untam'd,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaim'd:
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met.
Meanwhile she quench'd her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten sallad cool'd her blood. [scant,
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want,

For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
T express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal.
She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme,

To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which toss'd the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,

"I might," she added, "with like praise describe
Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe:
But incense from my hands is poorly priz'd;
For gifts are scorn'd, where givers are despis'd.
I serv'd a turn, and then was cast away;
You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display,
And sip the sweets, and bask in your great patron's
day."

This heard, the matron was not slow to find
What sort of malady had seiz'd her mind:
Disdain, with gnawing Envy, fell Despight,
And canker'd Malice, stood in open sight:
Ambition, Interest, Pride without control,
And Jealousy, the jaundice of the soul;
Revenge, the bloody minister of ill,
With all the lean tormentors of the will.
'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose
Her new-made union with her ancient foes,
Her forc'd civilities, her faint embrace,
Affected kindness with an alter'd face:
Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound,
As hoping still the nobler parts were sound:
But strove with anodynes t' assuage the smart,
And mildly thus her med'cine did impart.

"Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain;
It shows a rest of kindness to complain;
A friendship loth to quit its former hold;
And conscious merit may be justly bold.
But much more just your jealousy would shew,
If others' good were injury to you:
Witness, ye Heavens, how I rejoice to see
Rewarded worth and rising loyalty.
Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown,
The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown,
Are the most pleasing objects I can find,
Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind:
When virtue spooms before a prosperous gale,
My heaving wishes help to fill the sail;

And if my prayers for all the brave were heard,
Cæsar should still have such, and such should still
reward.

"The labour'd earth your pains have sow'd and 'Tis just you reap the product of the field; [till'd; Your's be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care, Your charity for alms may safely spare,

And dropt a tear betwixt for her own childrens' fate. For alms are but the vehicles of prayer.

Nor fail'd she then a full review to make

Of what the Panther suffer'd for her sake:
Her lost esteem, ber truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exil'd heir,

Her strength t' endure, her courage to defy ;
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarg'd;
Then with acknowledgment herself she charg'd;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.

Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,
Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd;
While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd;
But, that once o'er, the short-liv'd union ends:
The road divides, and there divide the friends.
The Panther nodded when her speech was done,
And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone:
But said, her gratitude had gone too far
For common offices of Christian care.
If to the lawful heir she had been true,
She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due.

[friends.

My daily bread is literally implor'd;
I have no barns nor granaries to hoard.
If Cæsar to his own his hand extends,
Say which of your's his charity offends:
You know he largely gives to more than are his
Are you defrauded when he feeds the poor?
Our mite decreases nothing of your store.

I am but few, and by your fare you see
My crying sins are not of luxury.
Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws,
And makes you break our friendship's holy laws;
For barefac'd envy is too base a cause.

"Show more occasion for your discontent;
Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent :
Some German quarrel, or, as times go now,
Some French, where force is uppermost, will do.
When at the fountain's head, as merit ought
To claim the place, you take a swilling draught,
How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw,
And tax the sheep for troubling streams below:
Or call her (when no further cause you find)
An enemy profess'd of all your kind.

But then, perhaps, the wicked world would'think,
The Wolf design'd to eat as well as drink."

This last allusion gall'd the Panther more,
Because indeed it rubb'd upon the sore. [pain'd:
Yet seem'd she not to winch, though shrewdly
But thus her passive character maintain'd.
"I never grudg'd, whate'er my foes report,
Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court.
You have your day, or you are much bely'd,
But I am always on the suffering side:
You know my doctrine, and I need not say
I will not, but I cannot disobey.
On this firm principle I ever stood;
He of my sons who fails to make it good,
By one rebellions act renounces to my blood.
"Ah," said the Hind, "how many sons have you,
Who call you mother, whom you never knew!
But most of them who that relation plead,
Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead.
They gape at rich revenues which you hold,
And fain would nibble at your grandame, Gold;
Inquire into your years, and laugh to find
Your crazy temper shows you much declin'd.
Were you not dim, and doted, you might see
A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree,
No more of kin to you than you to me.
Do you not know, that for a little coin,
Heralds can foist a name into the line?
They ask you blessing but for what you have,
But once possess'd of what with care you save,
The wanton boys would piss upon your grave.

"Your sons of latitude that court your grace,
Though most resembling you in form and face,
Are far the worst of your pretended race.
And, but I blush your honesty to blot,
Pray God you prove them lawfully begot:
For in some popish libels I have read,
The Wolf has been too busy in your bed:
At least her hinder parts, the belly-piece,
The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims, are his.
Their malice too a sore suspicion brings;

For though they dare not bark, they snarl at kings:
Nor blame them for intruding in your line;
Fat bishoprics are still of right divine.

"Think you your new French proselytes are come To starve abroad, because they starv'd at home? Your benefices twinkled from afar;

They found the new Messiah by the star:
Those Swisses fight on any side for pay,
And 'tis the living that conforms, not they.
Mark with what management their tribes divide,
Some stick to you, and some to t'other side,

That many churches may for many mouths provide.
More vacant pulpits would more converts make;
All would have latitude enough to take:
The rest unbenefic'd your sects maintain;
For ordinations without cures are vain,
And chamber practice is a silent gain.

Your sons of breadth at home are much like these;
Their soft and yielding metals run with ease:
They melt, and take the figure of the mould;
But harden, and preserve it best in gold."
"Your Delphic sword," the Panther then reply'd,
"Is double-edg'd, and cuts on either side.
So:ne sons of mine, who bear upon their shield
Three steeples argent in a sable field,

Have sharply tax'd your converts, who, unfed,
Have follow'd you for miracles of bread;
Such who themselves of no religion are,
Allur'd with gain, for any will declare.

Bare lies with bold assertions they can face;
But dint of argument is out of place.
The grim logician puts them in a fright;
"Tis easier far to flourish than to fight.
Thus our eighth Henry's marriage they defame;
They say the schism of beds began the game,
Divorcing from the church to wed the dame:
Though largely prov'd, and by himself profess'd,
That conscience, conscience would not let him rest:
I mean, not till possess'd of her he lov'd,
And old, uncharming Catharine was remov'd.
For sundry years before he did complain,
And told his ghostly confessor his pain.
With the same impudence, without a ground,
They say that, look the Reformation round,
No treatise of humility is found.

But if none were, the gospel does not want;
Our Saviour preach'd it, and I hope you grant,
The sermon on the mount was protestant."

"No doubt," reply'd the Hind, "as sure as all
The writings of Saint Peter and Saint Paul:
On that decision let it stand or fall.
Now for my converts, who, you say, unfed,
Have follow'd me for miracles of bread;
Judge not by hearsay, but observe at least,
If since their change their loaves have been increas'd.
The Lion buys no converts; if he did,
Beasts would be sold as fast as he could bid.
Tax those of interest who conform for gain,
Or stay the market of another reign:
Your broad-way sons would never be too nice
To close with Calvin, if he paid their price;
But, rais'd three steeples higher, would change their
And quit the cassock for the canting-coat. [note,
Now, if you damn this censure, as too bold,
Judge by yourselves, and think not others sold.

"Mean time my sons accus'd, by Fame's report,
Pay small attendance at the Lion's court,
Nor rise with early crowds, nor flatter late;
For silently they beg, who daily wait.
Preferment is bestow'd, that comes unsought;
Attendance is a bribe, and then 'tis bought.
How they should speed, their fortune is untry'd;
For not to ask, is not to be deny'd.

For what they have, their God and king they bless,
And hope they should not murmur, had they less.
But if reduc'd subsistence to implore,

In common prudence they would pass your door.
Unpity'd Hudibras, your champion friend,
Has shown how far your charities extend.

This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read,

He sham'd you living, and upbraids you dead.'
"With odious atheist names you load your foes;
Your liberal clergy why did I expose?
It never fails in charities like those.
In climes where true religion is profess'd,
That imputation were no laughing jest.
But Imprimatur, with a chaplain's name,
Is here sufficient licence to defame.
What wonder is 't that black detraction thrives?
The homicide of names is less than lives;
And yet the perjur'd murderer survives."

This said, she paus'd a little, and suppress'd
The boiling indignation of her breast.
She knew the virtue of her blade, nor would
Pollute her satire with ignoble blood:
Her panting foe she saw before her eye,
And back she drew the shining weapon dry.
So when the generous Lion has in sight
His equal match, he rouses for the fight;