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Of all the tyrannies on human-kind,
The worst is that which persecutes the mind.
Let us but weigh at what offence we strike;
'Tis but because we cannot think alike.
In punishing of this, we overthrow
The laws of nations and of nature too.
Beasts are the subjects of tyrannic sway,
Where still the stronger on the weaker prey;
Man only of a softer mould is made,
Not for his fellows' ruin, but their aid
Created kind, beneficent and free,
The noble image of the Deity.

One portion of informing fire was given
To brutes, the inferior family of heaven.
The smith divine, as with a careless beat,
Struck out the mute creation at a heat ;
But, when arrived at last to human race,
The Godhead took a deep considering space;
And, to distinguish man from all the rest,
Unlocked the sacred treasures of his breast;
And mercy mixt with reason did impart,
One to his head, the other to his heart;
Reason to rule, but mercy to forgive;
The first is law, the last prerogative.
And like his mind his outward form appeared,
When, issuing naked to the wondering herd,
He charmed their eyes; and, for they loved, they

Not armed with horns of arbitrary might,
Or claws to seize their furry spoils in fight,
Or with increase of feet to o’ertake them in their

Of easy shape, and pliant every way,
Confessing still the softness of his clay,
And kind as kings upon their coronation day ;

* Which is usually distinguished by an act of grace, or genera! pardon.

With open hands, and with extended space
Of arms, to satisfy a large embrace.
Thus kneaded


with milk, the new-made man His kingdom o'er his kindred world began; Till knowledge misapplied, misunderstood, And pride of empire, soured his balmy blood. Then, first rebelling, his own stamp he coins; The murderer Cain was latent in his loins ; And blood began its first and loudest cry, For differing worship of the Deity. Thus persecution rose, and farther space Produced the mighty hunter * of his race. Not so the blessed Pan t his flock increased, Content to fold them from the famished beast : Mild were his laws; the sheep and harmless hind Were never of the persecuting kind. Such pity now the pious pastor shows, Such mercy from the British Lion flows, 5 That both provide protection from their foes.

Oh happy regions, Italy and Spain, Which never did those monsters entertain ! The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance No native claim of just inheritance; And self-preserving laws, severe in show, May guard their fences from the invading foe. Where birth has placed them, let them safely share The common benefit of vital air; Themselves unharmful, let them live unharmed, Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarmed; Here, only in nocturnal howlings bold, They dare not seize the Hind, nor leap the fold.


* Nimrod. t Jesus Christ. | King James II.

More powerful, and as vigilant as they,
The Lion awfully forbids the prey.
Their rage repressed, though pinched with famine

They stand aloof, and tremble at his roar;
Much is their hunger, but their fear is more.
These are the chief; to number o'er the rest,
And stand, like Adam, naming every beast,
Were weary work; nor will the muse describe
A slimy-born and sun-begotten tribe ;
Who, far from steeples and their sacred sound,
In fields their sullen conventicles found. *
These gross, half-animated, lumps I leave;
Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive.
But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher
Than matter, put in motion, may aspire;
Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay;
So drossy, so divisible are they,
As would but serve pure bodies for allay ;
Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things
As only buz to heaven with evening wings;
Strike in the dark, offending but by chance,
Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance.
They know not beings, and but hate a name ;
To them the Hind and Panther are the same.

The Panther, sure the noblest, next the Hind, And fairest creature of the spotted kind; Oh, could her in-born stains be washed away, She were too good to be a beast of prey ! How can I praise, or blame, and not offend, Or how divide the frailty from the friend? Her faults and virtues lie so mixed, that she Nor wholly stands condemned, nor wholly free.

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Then, like her injured Lion, let me speak;
He cannot bend her, and he would not break.
Unkind already, and estranged in part,
The Wolf begins to share her wandering heart.
Though unpolluted yet with actual ill,
She half commits who sins but in her will.
If, as our dreaming platonists report,
There could be spirits of a middle sort,
Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell,
Who just dropt half-way down, nor lower fell;
So poised, so gently she descends from high,
It seems a soft dismission from the sky.
Her house not ancient, whatsoe'er pretence
Her clergy-heralds make in her defence;
A second century not half-way run,
Since the new honours of her blood begun.
A lion, old, obscene, and furious made
By lust, compressed her mother in a shade ;
Then, by a left-hand marriage, weds the dame,
Covering adultery with a specious name; †
So schism begot; and sacrilege and she,
A well matched pair, got graceless heresy.
God's and kings' rebels have the same good cause,
To trample down divine and human laws;

* Our author recollected his own Philidel in“ King Arthur :"

An airy shape, the tenderest of my kind,
The last seduced and least deformed of hell;
Half-white, and shuffled in the crowd I fell,
Desirous to repent and loath to sin,
Awkward in mischief, piteous of mankind;
My name is Philidel, my lot in air,
Where, next beneath the moon, and nearest heaven,
soar, I have a glimpse to be received.

Vol. VIII. p.

135. + Henry the Eighth's passion for Anna Bullen led the way to the Reformation.

Both would be called reformers, and their hate
Alike destructive both to church and state.
The fruit proclaims the plant; a lawless prince
By luxury reformed incontinence;
By ruins, charity; by riots, abstinence.
Confessions, fasts, and penance set aside,
Oh with what ease we follow such a guide,
Where souls are starved, and senses gratified !
Where marriage-pleasures midnight prayer supply,
And mattin bells, a melancholy cry,
Are tuned to merrier notes, Increase and mul-

tiply. +
Religion shews a rosy-coloured face ;
Not hattered fout with drudging works of grace;
A down-hill reformation rolls apace.
What flesh and blood would crowd the narrow gate,
Or, till they waste their pampered paunches, wait?
All would be happy at the cheapest rate.

Though our lean faith these rigid laws has given, The full-fed Musselman goes fat to heaven ; For his Arabian prophet with delights Of sense allured his eastern proselytes. The jolly Luther, reading him, began To interpret scriptures by his alcoran; To grub the thorns beneath our tender feet, And make the paths of paradise more sweet, Bethought him of a wife, ere half way gone, For 'twas uneasy travelling alone; And, in this masquerade of mirth and love, Mistook the bliss of heaven for Bacchanals above. Sure he presumed of praise, who came to stock The etherial pastures with so fair a flock, Burnished, and battening on their food, to show

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+ The marriage of the clergy, licensed by the Reformation.

Worn out, or become hagard.

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