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Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won,
Here see th' encouragement Grace gives to vice,
And though his beams, that quicken where they
shine, May claim some right to be esteem'd divine, Not ev'n the Sun, desirable as rare, Could bend one knee, engage one votary there; ■ They were, what base Credulity believes True Christians are, dissemblers, drunkards, thieves. The full-gorg'd savage, at his nauseous feast Spent half the darkness, and snor'd out the rest, Was one, whom Justice, on an equal plan Denouncing death upon the sins of man, Might almost have indulg'd with an escape, Chargeable only with a human shape.
What are they now ?—Morality may spare Her grave concern, her kind suspicions there: The wretch, who once sang wildly, danc'd and
laugh'd, And suck'd in dizzy madness with his draught, Has wept a silent flood, revers'd his ways, Is sober, meek, benevolent, and prays, Feeds sparingly, communicates his store, Abhors the craft he boasted of before, And he that stole has learn'd to steal no more. Well spake the prophet, Let the desert sing, Where sprang the thorn, the spiry fir shall spring,
And where unsightly and rank thistles grew,
Go now, and with important tone demand
These, amidst scenes as waste as if denied The common care that waits on all beside, Wild as if Nature tliere, void of all good, Play'd only gambols in a frantic mood, (Yet charge not heav'nly skill with having plann'd A plaything world, unworthy of his hand;) Can see his love, though secret evil lurks In all we touch, stamp'd plainly on his works; Deem life a blessing with it's num'rous woes, Nor spurn away a gift a God bestows. Hard task indeed o'er arctic seas to roam! Is hope exotic? grows it not at home?
Yes, but an object, bright as orient morn,
Leuconomus (beneath well-sounding Greek
Now Truth perform thine office; waft aside The curtain drawn by Prejudice and Pride, Reveal (the man is dead) to wond'ring eyes This more than monster in his proper guise.
VOL. I. I.
He lov'd the World that hated him: the tear That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere: Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was a blameless life; And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart. Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib'd, Were copied close in him, and well transcrib'd. He follow'd Paul; his zeal a kindred flame, His apostolic charity the same. Like him, cross'd cheerfully tempestuous seas, Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease; Like him he labour"d, and like him content To bear it, suffer'd shame where'er he went. Blush Calumny! and write upon his tomb, If honest Eulogy can spare thee room, Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, Which, aim'd at him, have piere'd th' offended
skies! And say, Blot out my sin, confess'd, deplor'd, Against thine image, in thy saint, O Lord!
No blinder bigot, I maintain it still, Than he who must have pleasure, come what will: He laughs, whatever weapon truth may draw. And deems her sharp artillery mere straw.