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Which, from the Universal Church receiv'd,
Is try'd, and after, for its felf believ'd.

The partial Papifts wou'd infer from hence
Their Church, in laft refort, fhou'd judge the Senfe
But first they wou'd affume, with wondrous Art,
Themselves to be the whole, who are but part
Of that vaft Frame, the Church; † yet grant they were
The handers down, can they from thence infer
A right t'interpret? Or would they alone
Who brought the Present, claim it for their own
The Book's a Common Largefs to Mankind;
Not more for them, than every Man defign'd
The welcome News is in the Letter found;
The Carrier's not Commiffion'd to expound
It speaks its Self, and what it does contain,
In all things needful to be known, is plain.

In times o'ergrown with Ruft 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 what small Knowledge was, in them did dwell And he a God who cou'd but Read or Spell; Then Mother Church did mightily prevail: She parcel'd out the Bible by retail: But ftill expounded what She fold or gavez. To keep it in her Power to Damn and Save: Scripture was fcarce, and as the Market went, Poor Laymen took Salvation on Content; As needy Men take Mony, good or bad: God's Word they had not, but the Priests they had Yet, whate'er falfe Conveyances they made, The Lawyer ftill was certain to be paid.

In those dark times they learn'd their knack fo well, That by long ufe they grew Infallible:

At laft, a knowing Age began t'enquire

If they the Book, or That did them inspire:

The Second Objection. Answer to the Objection

And, making narrower fearch, they found, tho' late
That what they thought the Priests, was Their Eftate:
Taught by the Will produc'd, (the written Word)
How long they had been cheated on Record.
Then, every Man who faw the Title fair,
Claim'd a Child's part, and put in for a Shares
Confulted foberly his private Good;

And fav'd himself as cheap as e'er he cou❜d.
'Tis true, my Friend, (and far be flattery hence,)
This Good had full as bad a Confequence:
The Book thus put in every vulgar Hand,
Which each prefum'd he beft cou'd understand,
The Common Rule was made the common Prey ;
And at the Mercy of the Rabble lay.

The tender Page with horney Fifts was gaul'd;
And he was gifted most that loudeft baul'd:
The Spirit gave the Doctoral Degree:

And every Member of a Company

Was of his Trade, and of the Bible, free.

Plain Truths enough for needful use they found;
But Men wou'd ftill be itching to expound:
Each was ambitious of th' obfcureft place,

M

No measure ta'en from Knowledge, all fromGRACE
Study and Pains were now no more their Care;
Texts were explain'd by Fasting, and by Prayer:
This was the Fruit the private Spirit brought;
Occafion'd by great Zeal, and little Thought.
While Crowds unlearn'd, with rude Devotion warm,
About the Sacred Viands buz and fwarm,
The Fly-blown Text creates a crawling Brood;
And turns to Maggots what was meant for Food.

A Thousand daily Sets rife up, and dye;

A Thousand more the perif'd Race Supply:

So all we make of Heavens difcover'd Will

Is, not to have it, or to use it ill.

The Danger's much the fame; on feveral Shelves If others wreck us, or we wreck our felves,.

What then remains, but, waving each Extreme, The Tides of Ignorance, and Pride to stem?

Neither fo rich a Treasure to forego;

Nor proudly feek beyond our Pow'r to know:
Faith is not built on difquifitions vain ;

The things we must believe, are few, and plain:
But fince Men will believe more than they need ;
And every Man will make himself a Creed:
In doubtful queftions 'tis the fafest way
To learn what unsuspected Ancients say:
For 'tis not likely we shou'd higher Soar
In fearch of Heav'n, than all the Church before:
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we see
The Scripture, and the Fathers difagree.
If after all, they stand suspected still,
(Forno Man's Faith depends upon his Will;)
'Tis fome 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 Juft to curb,
Than by Disputes the publick Peace disturb.
For Points obfcure are of small use to learn:
But Common quiet is Mankind's concern.

Thus have I made my own Opinions clear: Yet neither Praise expect, nor Cenfure fear: And this unpolish'd, rugged Verfe, I chose; As fitteft for Difcourfe, and nearest Profe: For, while from Sacred Truth I do not swerve, Tom Sternhold's, or Tom Sha----ll's Rhimes will serve.

SONG, to a Fair Young Lady, going out of the Town in the Spring.

A

By Mr. DRYDEN.

SK not the Caufe, why fullen Spring
So long delays her Flow'rs to bear;
Why warbling Birds forget to fing,
And Winter Storms invert the Year?

Moris is gone; and Fate provides
To make it Spring, where the refides,

II.

Chloris is gone, the Cruel Fair;
She caft not back a pitying Eye:
But left her Lover in Despair,

To figh, to languish, and to die:
Ah, how can those fair Eyes endure
To give the Wounds they will not cure!

III.

Great God of Love, why haft thou made
A Face that can all Hearts command,
That all Religions can invade,

And change the Laws of every Land?
Where thou hadst plac'd fuch Power before,
Thou fhoud't have made her Mercy more.
IV.

When Chloris to the Temple comes,
Adoring Crowds before her fall;
She can reftore the Dead from Tombs,
And every Life but mine recall.

1only am by Love design'd

To be the Victim for Mankind.

To the Dutchess, on her Return from Scotland, in the Year 1682.

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WH

Hen Factious Rage to cruel Exile drove The Queen of Beauty, and the Court of Love; The Mufes droop'd, with their forsaken Arts, And the fad Cupids broke their useless Darts. Our fruitful Plains to Wilds and Defarts turn'd, Like Eden's Face when banish'd Man it mourn'd: Love was no more when Loyalty was gone, The great Supporter of his awful Throne.

Love could no longer after Bramy ftay,
But wander'd Northward to the verge of Day,
As if the Sun and He had left their way.
But now th’Illuftrious Nymph return'd again,
Brings every Grace Triumphant in her Train:
The wondring Nereids, tho' they rais`d no Storm,
Foreflow'd her Paffage to behold her Form:
Some cry'd a Venus, fome a Toctis paft:
But this was not fo fair, nor that fo chaft.
Far from her Sight flew Faction, Strife and Pride;
And Envy did but look on her, and dy’d.
What e'er we fuffer'd from our fullen Fate,
Her fight is purchas'd at an easie rate:
Three gloomy Years against this Day were fet:
But this one mighty Sum has clear'd the Debt.
Like Joseph's Dream, but with a better Doom;
The Famine past, the Plenty still to come.
For her the weeping Heav'ns become serene,
For her the Ground is clad in cheerful green:
For her the Nightingales are taught to sing,
And Nature has for her delay'd the Spring.
The Muse resumes her long-forgotten Lays,
And Love, reftor'd, his Ancient Realm surveys;
Recalls our Beauties, and revives our Plays.
His wafte Dominions peoples once again,
And from her Prefence dates his fecond Reign.
But awful Charms on her fair Forehead fit,
Difpenfing what the never will admit.
Pleafing, yet cold, like Cynthia's filver Beam,
The People's Wonder, and the Poet's Theam.
Diftemper'd Zeal, Sedition, canker'd Hate,
No more fhall vex the Church, and tear the State;
No more fhall Faction civil Difcords move,
Or only Difcords of too tender Love:
Discord like that of Musick's various parts,
Difcord that makes the Harmony of Hearts,
Discord that only this difpute shall bring,
Who beft fhall love the Duke, and ferve the King,

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