The herd beneath, who see the weathercock of state Believe it firm, because perhaps the day is mild and still; And think the church itself does so; Thus fools, for being strong and num'rous known, Suppose the truth, like all the world, their own; And holy Sancroft's motion quite irregular appears, Because 'tis opposite to theirs. V. In vain then would the Muse the multitude advise, And some kind pow'r for once dispense Through the dark mass, the dawn of so much sense, To make them understand and feel me when I write; The Muse and I no more revenge desire, Each line shall stab, shall blast, like daggers and like fire; Ah, Britain, land of angels! which of all thy sins (Say, hapless isle, although It is a bloody list we know) Has given thee up a dwelling-place to fiends? Sin and the plague ever abound In governments too easy, and too fruitful ground; Too flourishing a spring, And too warm summers bring: Our British soil is over rank, and breeds Among the noblest flowers a thousand pois'nous weeds, And every stinking weed so lofty grows, As if 'twould overshade the royal rose; VI. Forgive (original mildness) this ill-govern'd zeal, "Tis all the angry slighted Muse can do In the pollution of these days; No province now is left her but to rail, None e'er but you And your Almighty Master knew With heavenly peace of mind to bear (Free from our tyrant passions, anger, scorn, or fear) The giddy turns of pop'lar rage, And all the contradictions of a poison'd age; The Son of God pronounced by the same breath And though I should but I be andersmed. And measuring by the scary trend of wit Wins ve mig, and great and just, and rei Methods in alk wherest our pride and ignorance make use And waleh sur wild ambition follany compares With endless and with indnie; Yet parton, native Allion, when I my. Among tay sta (corn wns there haants that spirit of the JewI, This those firmaken wetenes who to-day Berile bis Treat am asmdor, Seem to discover what they would have done VEL But real is weak and immorant, though wondrous proud, Tasogh very terbelens and very Lui; The crazy composition shową, Like that fantastic medley in the idol's toes, This crumbles into dust, That moolders into rust, Or meita by the first shower away. Like all transcendent excellence below: And rolls the silent year On his own secret regular sphere, And sheds, though all unseen, his sacred influence here. VIIL Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here, Or from thy private peaceful orb appear; For sure we want some guide from heaven to show The way which every wand'ring fool below Pretends so perfectly to know: And which, for aught I see, and much I fear, I mean the way which leads to Christ: Mistaken idiots! see how giddily they run, Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high Son Others, ignorantly wise, What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn; In a vile manger laid, And foster'd in a wretched inn? IX. Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great, To mend dilapidations in the last? And yet the world, whose eyes are on our mighty prince, And that his subjects share his happy influence; Of a declining church, by faction, her worst foe, oppress'd, A load as heavy as the crown, Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest. X. Ah! may no unkind earthquake of the state, Disturb the present mitre, as that fearful storm of late, Like that prophetic tempest in the virgin reign, Fortune in both extremes Though blasts from contrariety of winds, Yet to firm heavenly minds, Is but one thing under two different names; And even the sharpest eye that has the prospect seen And must to human reasoning opposite conclude, XI. Thus Sancroft, in the exaltation of retreat, Which the disguise of greatness only served to hide And though I should but ill be understood, And measuring by the scanty thread of wit With endless and with infinite; Yet pardon, native Albion, when I say, Among thy stubborn sons there haunts that spirit of the Jews, That those forsaken wretches who to-day Revile his great ambassador, Seem to discover what they would have done (Were his humanity on earth once more) To his undoubted Master, Heaven's Almighty Son. VII. But zeal is weak and ignorant, though wond'rous proud, Though very turbulent and very loud; The crazy composition shows, Like that fantastic medley in the idol's toes, This crumbles into dust, That moulders into rust, Or melts by the first shower away. Like all transcendent excellence below; And rolls the silent year On his own secret regular sphere, And sheds, though all unseen, his sacred influence here. VIII. Kind star, still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here, Or from thy private peaceful orb appear; For sure we want some guide from heaven to show The way which every wand'ring fool below Pretends so perfectly to know: And which, for aught I see, and much I fear, I mean the way which leads to Christ: Some whom ambition drives, seek Heaven's high Son Others, ignorantly wise, What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn; In a vile manger laid, And foster'd in a wretched inn? IX. Necessity, thou tyrant conscience of the great, To mend dilapidations in the last? And yet the world, whose eyes are on our mighty prince, And that his subjects share his happy influence; Of a declining church, by faction, her worst foe, oppress'd, A load as heavy as the crown, Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest. X. Ah! may no unkind earthquake of the state, Disturb the present mitre, as that fearful storm of late, Like that prophetic tempest in the virgin reign, Fortune in both extremes Though blasts from contrariety of winds, Yet to firm heavenly minds, Is but one thing under two different names; And even the sharpest eye that has the prospect seen And must to human reasoning opposite conclude, XI. Thus Sancroft, in the exaltation of retreat, |