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Pot here: for whether we compare But boundless wifdom, boundless mercy, may
Ts die fuperftitious ware
Find, ev'n for those bewilder'd souls, a way;
If from his nature foes may pity claim,
Much more may strangers who ne'er heard his

dations, off rings, which before, mages, various countries bore, 7 in faith and virtues; we fhall find ating the great ends of human kind, one rule of life, that fhews us best God may be appeas'd, and mortals bleft. ength of time its worth we draw, darce more antient than the law; care prefcrib'd for ev'ry age ;fail, and after in the page. more abftractedly we look, 2ters, or the written book, from Heaven could men unskill'd

wages born, in fev'ral parts,

name.

And though no name be for falvation known, But that of his eternal Son's alone; Who knows how far tranfcending goodness can Extend the merits of that Son to man? Who knows what reafons may his mercy lead; Or ignorance invincible may plead? Not only charity bids hope the best, But more the great apoftle has exprefs'd: "Fhat if the Gentiles, whom no law infpir'd, By nature did what was by law requir'd, They, who the written rule had never known, Were to themselves both rule and law alone: agreeing truths? or how, or why, To nature's plain indictment they shall plead; confpire to cheat us with a lye? And by their confcience be condemn'd or freed." their pains, ungrateful their advice, Moft righteous doom! becaufe a rule reveal'd rgain, and martyrdom their price. Is none to thofe from whom it was conceal'd. Ce book itself we caft our view, Then those who, follow'd reafon's dictates right vert heathens prove the story true; Liv'd up, and lifted high their natʼral light; crine, miracles; which must convince, With Socrates may fee their Maker's face, in them appeals to human fenfe ;While thoufand rubric-martyrs want a place.. they prove not, they confirm the cause, hat is taught agrees with nature's laws. the ftyle, majestic and divine,. olefs than God in ev'ry line; ng words; whole force is still the fame hat that produc'd our frame. beide or did. by arms afcend, dug'd has made mankind their friend, doctrine does our luâs oppose,. ature's foil, in which it grows; int'refts, curbing fenfe and fin: without, and undermin'd within, ro pain; its own tormentors tires; tubborn patience still afpires. zan reafon fuch effects affign

ng nature, but to laws divine; att facred volume are contain'd; clear, and for that use ordain'd? ty: the Deift here will urge anew. eatral worship can be true; gen'ral law is that alone

to all, and ev'ry where, be known: harge as not this book can claim, at that bears reveal'd religion's name. the fouud of a Meffiah's birth thro' all the the habitable earth; that text must be confin'd alone was then inhabited and known: Lan fouls, and worlds difcover'd new? at provifions could from thence accrue parts it helps, that ages pait, ptures there were known, and were

bac'd

fa fpread once

as that to thefe, who never faw the light?

again the fhades of night:

objections this indeed is chief

ttle reafon, ftagger frail belief:

Nor does it baulk, my charity, to find
Th' Egyptian bishop of another mind;
For though his creed eternal truth contains,
'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains
All who believ'd not all his zeal requir`d;
Unlefs he first could prove he was infpir'd.
Then let us either think he meant to say,
This faith, where publifh'd, was the only way;
Or elfe conclude that, Arius to confute,
The good old man, too eager in difpute,
Flew high; and as his chriftian fury rofe
Damn'd all for heretics who durft oppose.

Thus far my charity this path has tried;
A much unfkilful, but well-meaning guide:
Yet what they are, e'en these crude thoughts
were bred,

By reading that which better thou had read.
Thy matchlefs author's work; which thou my
friend,

By well tranflating better doft commend;
Thofe youthful hours which of thy equals moft
In toys have fquander'd, or in vice have loft;
Thofe hours haft thou to nobler ufe employ'd,
And the fevere delights of truth enjoy`d.

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Witnefs this weighty book, in which appears
The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years,
Spent by thy author, in the fifting care
Of rabbins old fophifticated ware
From gold divine'; which he who well can fort
May afterwards make algebra a sport.
A treafure, which if country curates buy,
They Junius and Tremellius may defy;
Save pains in various readings and translations;
And without Hebrew make most learn'd quo-

tations.

A work fo full with various learning fraught,
So nicely ponder'd, yet fo ftrongly wrought,

gant,tistrae,that Heaven from human fenfe As nature's height and art's laft hand requir'd,

ad the fecret paths of Providence:

As much as man could compaís, uninspir'd:

Where

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Where we may fee what errors have been made Both in the copyer's and tranflator's tradé ; How Jewish, Popifh, int'refts have prevail'd, And where infallibility has fail'd.

For fome,who have his fecret meaning guefs'd, Have found our author not too much a prielt: For fashion's fake he feems to have recourfe To pope, and councils, and tradition's forcé : But he that old traditions could fubdue, Could not but find the weakness of the new: If fcripture, tho' deriv'd from heavenly birth, Has been but carelessly preferv'd on earth; If God's own people, who of God before Knew what we know, and had been promis'd

more

In fuller terms of heaven's affifting care,
And who did neither time nor study spare,
To keep this book untainted, unperplex'd,
Let in grofs errors to corrupt the text,
Omitted paragraphs, embroil'd the fenfe,
With vain traditions ftopt the gaping fence,
Which ev'ry common hand pull'd up with eafe,
What fafety from fuch brush-wood-helps asthefe?
If written words from time are not fecur'd,
How can we think have oral founds endur'd?
Which thus tranfinitted, if one mouth has fail'd,
Immortal lyes on ages are entail'd:
And that fome fuch have been,is prov'd too plain,
If we confider int'reft, church, and gain.

O but, fays one, tradition fet afide,
Where can we hope for an unerring guide?
For fince th' original scripture has been loft,
All copies difagreeing, maim'd the most,
Or chriftian faith can have no certain ground,
Or truth in church-tradition must be found.
Such an omniscient church we with indeed;
"Twere worth both Teftaments; caft in the creed:
But if this mother be a guide fo fure

As can all doubts refolve, and truth fecure,
Then her infallibility, as well
Where copies are corrupt or lame, can tell;
Reftore loft canons with as little pains,
As truly explicate what ftill remains:
Which yet no council dare pretend to do;
Unlefs, like Efdras, they could write it new:
Strange confidence ftill to interpret true,
Yet not be fure that all they have explain'd
Is in the bleft original contain'd.
More fafe, and much more modeft, 'tis to fay,
God would not leave mankind without a way:
And that the fcriptures, tho' not every where
Free from corruption, or entire, or clear,
Are uncorrupt, fuficient, clear, entire,
Inll things which our needful faith require.
If others in the fame glass better fee,
'Tis for themfelves they look, but not for me:
For my falvation mult its doom receive,
Not from what others, but what I believe.
-Muit all tradition then be fet aside ?
This to affirm, were ignorance and pride.
Are there not many points, fome needful fure
To faving faith, that fcripture leaves obfcure?
Which ev'ry fect will wreft a fev'ral way;
For what one fect interprets, all fects may:

+

Wehold, and fay we prove from feripture pl
That Chrift is God; the bold Socinian
From the fame fcripture urges he's but mat
Now what appeal can end th' important fu
Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mut
Shall I fpeak plain, and in a nation free
Affume an honeft layman's liberty?
I think, according to my little skill,
To my own mother-church fubmitting sti
That many have been fav'd, and many m
Who never heard this question brought in
Th'unletter'd Chriftian, who believes in
Plods on to heaven, and ne'er is at a lofs:
For the ftrait gate would be made ftraiter y
Were none admitted there but men of wit.
The few by nature form'd,with learning frau
Born to inftruct, as others to be taught,
Muft ftudy well the facred page; and ice
Which doctrine, this or that, does beft ag
With the whole tenor of the work divine,
And plainlieft points to Heaven's reveal'dde.
Which expofition flows from genuine fente
And which is forc'd by wit and eloquence
Not that tradition's parts are ufelefs here;
When gen'ral, old, 'difint'rested, and clear
That ancient fathers thus expound the pag
Gives truth the reverend majesty of age;
Confirms its force by 'biding ev'ry test;
For beft authorities next rules are best.
And ftill the nearer to the fpring we go,
More limpid, more unfoil'd, the waters flov
Thus firft traditions were a proof alone,
Could we be certain, fuch they were, fo kn
But fince fome flaws in long defcent may be
They make not truth, but probability.
E'en Arius and Pelagius durft provoke
To what the centuries preceeding fpoke.
Such diff'rence is there in an oft-told tale:
But truth by its own finews will prevail.
Tradition written therefore more commend
Authority, than what from voice defcends:
And this, as perfect as its kind can be,
Rolls down to us the facred hiftory:
Which, from the univerfal church receiv'd,
Is tried, and after for itself believ'd.

The partial Papifts would infer from hen Their church, in laft refort, fhould judge fenfe.

But first they would affume with wondrous
Themfelves to be the whole, who are but n
Of that vaft frame the church;yet grant they"
The handers-down, can they from thence in
A right t' interpret? or would they alone,
Who brought the prefent, claim it for their ow
The book's a common largels to mankind,
Not more for them than ev'ry man defign'd:
The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commiflion'd to expound.
It speaks itself, and what it does contain
In all things needful to be known is plain.

In times o'ergrown with ruft and ignora A gainful trade their clergy did advance; When want of learning kept the laymen low. And none but priests were authorized to k

W..

When all knowledge was in them did In doubtful queftions 'tis the fafeft way

Andrind who could but read and spell;
The matechurch did mightily prevail;

To learn what unfufpected ancients say:
For 'tis not likely we should higher foar
In fearch of heaven than all the church before;
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we fee
The fcripture and the fathers difagree.
If after all they stand fufpected still,
went,For no 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 public peace disturb;
For points obfcure are of fmall use to learn;
But common quiet is mankind's concern.

d out the bible by retail: pounded what the fold or gave, in her power to damn or lave. karce, and, as the market took falvation on content; take money good or bad: [had. del they had not, but the priest's they 1e falfe conveyances they made, bill was certain to be paid. times they learn'd their knack fo gufe they grew infallible. [well, towing age began t' enquire book, or that did them infpire: [late, ag narrower fearch they found, tho' what they thought the priest's was their

by the will produc'd, the written word, ang they had been cheated on record. yman who faw the title fair,

a child's part, and put in for a fhare: doberly his private good, #4 Limfelf as cheap as e'er he could. re, my friend, and far be flatt'ry hence, had full as bad a confequence: thus put in ev'ry vulgar hand, prefum'd he beft could understand, mon rule was made the common prey, the mercy of the rabble lay.

page with horny fifts was gall'd:
gifted moft that loudest bawl'd;
gave the doctoral degree:
member of a company
trade and of the Bible free.
enough for needful ufe they found;
would itill be itching to expound:
ambitious of th' obfcureft place,
taen from knowledge, all from grace.
and pains were now no more their care;
ere explain'd by fafting and by pray'r:
the fruit the private fpirit brought;
d by great zeal and little thought;
crowds unlearn'd, with rude devotion

the facred viands buz and swarm.
-blown text creates a crawling brood;
sto maggots what was meant for food.
and daily fects rife up and die;
and more the perifh'd race supply;
vemake of Heaven's discover'd will,
to have it, or to use it ill.
anger's much the fame; on fev'ral fhelves

wreck us, or we wreck ourselves.
Fat then remains, but waving each extreme,
des of ignorance and pride to stem?

per fo rich a treasure to forego;
oudly feek beyond our pow'r to know:
is not built on difquifitions vain;
things we muft believe are few and plain.

Thus have I made my own opinions clear;
Yet neither praife expect, nor cenfure fear:
And this unpolish'd rugged verfe I chofe,
As fitteft for difcourfe, and nearest profe:
For while from facred truth I do not swerve,
Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes
wiil ferve.

§ 30. Mac Flecknoe. Dryden,
ALL human things are subject to decay,
And when Fate fummons, monarchs must obey.
This Flecknoe found, who like Augustus, young
Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long:
In profe and verfe was own'd without dispute,
Thro' all the realms of Nonfenfe abfolute.
This aged prince, now flourishing in peace,
And blefs'd with iffue of a large increase;
Worn out with business, did at length debate
To fettle the fucceffion of the state:

And pond'ring which, of all his fons, was fit
To reign, and wage immortal war with Wit;
Cried, 'Tis refolv'd; for Nature pleads that he
Should only rule who moft refembles me.
Sh, alone, my perfect image bears,
Mature in dullnefs from his tender years:
Sh, alone, of all my fons, is he,
Who ftands confirm'd in full ftupidity.
The reft to fome faint meaning make pretence;
But Sh never deviates into fenfe.
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike thro', and make a lucid interval;
But Sh's genuine night admits no ray;
His rifing fogs prevail upon the day.
Befides, his goodly fabric fills the eye,
And feems defign'd for thoughtless majesty:
Thoughtless as monarch oaks thatshadetheplain,
And fpread in folemn state, fupinely reign.
Heywood and Shirley were but types
of thee,
Thou laft great prophet of Tautology.
Ev'n I, a dunce of more renown than they,
Was fent before but to prepare thy way;
And, coarfely clad in Norwich drugget, came
To teach the nations in thy greater naine.
My warbling lute, the lute I whilom trung,
When to king John of Portugal I fung,

face men will believe more than they need, Was but the prelude of that glorious day,

* dev'ry man will make himself a creed,

When thou on filver Thames didit cut thy way.

With well-tim'd oars, before the royal barge,
Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge;
And, big with hymn, commander of an hoft,
The like was ne'er in Epfom blankets tofs'd.
Methinks I fee the new Arion fail,

The lute still trembling underneath thy nail.
At thy well shapen'd thumb, from fhore to fhore
The trebles fqueak for fear, the basses roar :
Echoes from Piffing-Alley Sh——————— call,
And Sh- they refound from Afton-Hall.
About thy boat the little fishes throng,
As at the morning toatt that floats along.
Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band,
Thou wield't thy papers in thy threshing hand.
St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time,
Not e'en the feet of thy own Pfyche's rhyme :
Though they in number as in fenfe excel;
So juft, fo like Tautology they fell,
That, pale with envy, Singleton forf vore
The Inte and fword which he in triumph bore,
And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more.
Here stopt the good old fire, and wept for joy,
In filent raptures of the hopeful boy.
All arguments, but most his plays, perfuade,
That for anointed dulnefs he was made.
Clofe to the walls which fair Augufta bind
(The fair Augufta, much to fears inclin'd)
An ancient fabric, rais'd t' inform the figlit,
There stood of yore and Barbican it hight:
A watch-tow'r once: but now, fo fate ordains,
Of all the pile an empty name remains :
From its old ruins brothel-houses rise,
Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys,
Where their vast courts the mother-ftrumpets
keep,

And undisturb'd by watch, in filence sleep,
Near these a nursery erects its head, [bred:
Where queens are form'd, and future heroes
Where unfledg'd actors learn to laugh and cry,
Where infant punks their tender voices try,
And little Maximins the gods defy.

Great Fletcher never treads the buskins here,
Nor greater Johnfon dares in focks appear;
But gentle Simpkin just reception finds
Amidft this monument of vanish'd minds:
Pure clinches the suburbian mufe affords,
And Panton waging harmless war with words.
Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known,
Ambitiously defign'd his Sh's throne:
For ancient Decker prophefied, long fince,
That in this pile fhould reign a mighty prince,
Born for a fcourge of wit; and flail of fense:
To whom true dulnels (hould fome Plyche's owe,
But worlds of Milers from his pen fhould flow;
Humorists and Hypocrites it fhould produce,
Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.
Now emprefs Fame had publish'd the renown
Of Sh's coronation thro' the town.
Rous'd by report of Fame, the nations meet,
From near Bun-hill, and diftant Watling-street;
No Perfian carpets fpread th' imperial way,
But fcatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay:
From dufty fhops neglected authors come,
Martyrs of pyes, and relics of the bum.

Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby, there la
But loads of Sh-- almost choak'd the w
Bilk'd ftationers for yeomen food prepar
And H-n was captain of the guard.
The hoary prince in majefty appear'd,
High on a throne of his own labours rear
At his right hand our young Afcanius fat
Rome's other hope, and pillar of the ftat
His brows, thick fogs, instead of glories,
And lambent Dulnefs play'd around his f
As Hannibal did to the altars come,
Sworn by his fire a mortal foe to Rome;
So Sh― swore, nor should his vow be va
That he, till death, true dulnefs would man
And, in his father's right, and realm's det
Ne'er to have peace with wit,nor truce with
The king himself the sacred unction made,
As king by office, and as priest by trade.
In his finifter hand, instead of ball,
He plac'd a mighty mug of potent ale;
Love's kingdom to his right he did conve
At once his fceptre, and his rule of tway;
Whofe righteous lore the prince had pra
young,

And from whofe loins recorded Pfyche fpr
His temples laft with poppies were o'eripr
That, nodding, feem'd to confecrate his be
Juft at the point of time, if fame not lye,
On his right hand twelve rev'rend owls die
So Romulus, 'tis fung, by Tiber's brook,
Prefage of fway from twice fix vultures too
Th' admiring throng loud acclamations ma
And omens of his future empire tike.
The fire then hook the honours of his head
And from his brows damps of oblivion the
Full on the filial dulnefs: long he stood,
Repelling from his breaft the raging god;
At length burst out in this prophetic mood

'Heavens blefs my fon, from Ireland let
To far Barbadoes on the western main; [
Of his dominion may no end be known,
And greater than his father's be his throne
Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his p
He paus'd, and all the people cried, Amen
Then thus continued he: My fon, advanc
Still in new impudence, new ignorance.
Succefs let others teach; learn thou, from m
Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry.
Let Virtuofos in five years be writ;
Yet not one thought accufe thy toil of wit.
Let gentle George in triumph tread the stag
Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage;
Let Cully Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pi
And, in their folly, fhew the writer's wit.
Yet ftill thy fools fhall ftand in thy defence,
And juftify their author's want of fente.
Let 'em be all by thy own model made
Of dulnefs, and defire no foreign aid;
That they to future ages may be known,
Not copies drawn, but iffue of thy own.
Nay, let thy men of wit too be the fame,
All full of thee, and diff'ring but in name.
But let no alien S-dl-y interpofe,
To lard with wit thy hungry Epfom profe.

A

Alle flow'rs of Rhetoric thou wouldst Poets alone found the delightful way, Tat leure, do not labour to be dull: [cull, Myfterious morals gently to convey Bere thy beft, and top; and, in each line, In charming numbers; fo that, as men grew al's oratory will be thine: Pleas'd with their poems, they grew wiler too. mal, tho' unfought, attends thy quill, Satire has always fhone among the reft, thy Northern Dedications fill. And is the boldest way, if not the best, the friends feduce thy mind to fame, To tell men freely of their fouleft faults; ing Jonfon's hoftile name. To laugh at their vain deeds,and vainer thoughts. Le Frecknoe fire thy mind with praife, In fatire too the wife took diff'rent ways, Ogleby thy envy raise. To each deferving its peculiar praife. Ty blood, where Jonfon has no part; Some did all folly with juft sharpness blame, We have we in nature or in art? Whilft others laugh'd, and fcorn'd them into We his wit on Learning fix a brand, fhame.

tarts he did not understand ? Teade he love in Prince Nicander's vein,

the duft in Pfcyhe's humble strain? dd he bargains, whip-ftitch, kifs my arfe; - play, and dwindled to a farce? edhismufe from Fletcher fcenes purloin, hole Ethridge doft transfufe to thine? 7 transfus'd, as oil and water flow;

ays floats above, thine finks below. thy province, this thy wond'rous way, amours to invent for each new play; is that boafted bias of thy mind, rach, one way, to dulnefs 'tis inclin'd: bmakes thy writings lean on one fide still, all changes, that way bends thy will. et thy mountain-belly make pretence els; thine's a tympany of fenfe. of man in thy large bulk is writ; Are thou 'rt but a kilderkin of wit.

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thy gentle numbers feebly creep; i mufe gives fmiles; thy comic, fleep. ate'er gall thou fett'it thyfelf to write, fenfive fatires never bite.

But of these two, the laft fucceeded beft,
As men aim righteft when they fhoot in jeft.
Yet if we may prefume to blame our guides,
And cenfure those who cenfure all befides,
In other things they juftly are preferr'd;
In this alone methinks the ancients err'd:
Against the groffest follies they declaim;
Hard they purfue, but hunt ignoble game,
Nothing is easier than fuch blots to hit,
And 'tis the talent of each vulgar wit:
Befides, 'tis labour loft; for who would preach
Morals to Armstrong, or dull Afton teach?
'Tis being devout at play, wife at a ball,
Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall.
But with tharp eyes thofe nicer faults to find,
Which lie obfcurely in the wifeft mind;
That little fpeck which all the reft does spoil,
To wash off that, would be a noble toil;
Beyond the loofe-writ libels of this age,
Or the fore'd fcenes of our declining stage;
Above all cenfure too, each little wit
Will be fo glad to fee the greater hit;
Who judging better, though concern'd the moft,
Of fuch correction will have caufe to boait.
In fuch a fatire all would feek a fhare,.
And ev'ry fool will fancy he is there.
Old ftory-tellers too muit pine and die,
To fee their antiquated wit laid by;
Like her, who mifs'd her name in a lampoon
And griev'd to find herself decay'd fo foon.
No common çoxcomb must be mention'd here;
Not the dull train of dancing fparks appear;
Nor flutt'ring officers who never fight:
Of fuch a wretched rabble who would write?
Much lefs half wits: that's more against our rules,
For they are fops, the other are but fools.
Who would not be as filly as Dunbar?

ionious heart though venom lies but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. aius calls thee not to purchase fame kea lambics, but mild Anagram. writing plays, and choofe for thy command peaceful province in Acroftic land. thou mayft wings display, and altars raife, torture one poor word ten thousand ways. it thou wouldst thy diff 'rent talents fuit, fongs, and fing them to thy lute. Raid; but his laft words were fcarcely

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heard;

Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd, down they fent the yet declaiming bard, ng, he left his drugget robe behind, upwards by a fubterranean wind.

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The mantle fell to the young prophet's part,
With double portion of his father's art.

531. An Efay upon Satire.
Dryden and Buckingham.

How dull and how infenfible a beast

is man, who yet would lord it o'er the reft!

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sophers and poets vainly strove

ev'ry age the lumpish mass to move: [thefe,

As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr ?
The cunning courtier should be flighted too,
Who with dull knav'ry makes fo much ado;
Till the fhrewd fool, by thriving too, too fait,
Like fop's fox, becomes a prey at lift.
Nor fhall the royal miftreffes be nam'd,
Too ugly, or too easy, to be blam'd;
With whom each rhyming fool keeps fuch a
pother,

They are as common that way as the other:
Yet faunt'ring Charles, between his beastly
brace,

But those were pedants, when compar'd with Meets with diffembling still in either place,

Who know not only to instruct but please.

Affected humour, or a painted face.

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