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 Share:
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 moft that loudest 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,
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 Sects rife up, and dye;
A Thousand more the perish'd Race Supply:
So all we make of Heavens difcover'd Will
Is, not to have it, or to ufe 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 safest way
To learn what unfuspected Ancients fay:
For 'tis not likely we fhou'd higher Soar
In fearch of Heav'n, than all the Church before:
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we fee
The Scripture, and the Fathers difagree.
If after all, they ftand fufpected 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 ftill our Reafon runs another way,
That private Reason 'tis more Just to curb,
Than by Difputes the publick Peace difturb.
For Points obfcure are of fmall ufe 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 fwerve,
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.
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 Stor.ns invert the Year?
Chloris is gone; and Fate provides
To make it Spring, where the refides,
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!
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' ft 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.
I only am by Love defign'd
To be the Victim for Mankind.
To the Dutchefs, on her Return from Scotland, in the Year 1682.
Hen Factious Rage to cruel Exile drove The Queen of Beauty, and the Court of Love The Mufes droop'd, with their forfaken 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 Beauty stay, But wander'd Northward to the verge of Day, As if the Sun and He had loft 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 Passage to behold her Form: Some cry'd a Venus, fome a Thetis past: But this was not fo fair, nor that so 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 Jofeph's Dream, but with a better Doom; The Famine paft, the Plenty fill to come. For her the weeping Heav'ns become ferene, For her the Ground is clad in cheerful green: For her the Nightingales are taught to fing, And Nature has for her delay'd the Spring. The Mufe refumes her long-forgotten Lays, And Love, reftor'd, his Ancient Realm furveys; 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: Difcord like that of Mufick's various parts, Difcord that makes the Harmony of Hearts, Difcord that only this difpute shall bring,
Who beft hall love the Duke, and ferve the King.
To my dear Friend Mr. Congreve, on his Comedy, call'd The DoubleDealer.
ELL then; the promis'd Hour is come at laft
The present Age of Wit obfcures the paft:
Strong, were our Sires; and as they Fought they Writ,
Conqu❜ring with force of Arms, and dint of Wit;
Theirs was the Giant Race, before the Flood;
And thus, when Charles Return'd, our Empire ftood.
Like Janus he the ftubborn Soil manur'd,
With Rules of Husbandry the Ranknefs cur'd:
Tam'd us to Manners, when the Stage was rude;
And boiftrous English Wit, with Art indu'd.
Our Age was cultivated thus at length;
But what we gain'd in Skill we loft in Strength.
Our Builders were, with want of Genius, curft;
The fecond Temple was not like the first :
Till you, the best Vitruvius, come at length;
Our Beauties equal; but excell our Strength.
Firm Dorique Pillars found your folid Base:
The Fair Corinthian Crowns the higher Space:
Thus all below is Strength, and all above is Grace.
In cafie Dialogue is Fletcher's Praise :
He mov'd the Mind, but had not Power to raise.
Great Johnfon did by Strength of Judgment please:
Yet doubling Fletcher's Force, he wants his Eafe.
In differing Talents both adorn'd their Age;
One for the Study, t'other for the Stage.
But both to Congreve justly shall fubmit,
One match'd in Judgment, both o'ermatch'd in Wit.
In him all Beauties of this Age we fee;
Etherege his Courtship, Southern's Purity;
The Satyr, Wit, and Strength of Manly Witcherly.
|