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O happy Monarch, sent by Heav'n to bless
A Salvage Nation with soft Arts of Peace,
To teach Religion, Rapine to restrain,
Give Laws to Luft, and Sacrifice ordain:
Himself a Saint, a Goddess was his Bride,
And all the Muses o'er his Acts preside.

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Imitated from CHAUCER, and Inlarg’d.

Parish-Priest was of the Pilgrim-Train;
An Awful, Reverend, and Religi-

ous Man.


His Eyes diffus'd a venerable Grace, And Charity it self was in his Face. Rich was bis Soul, though his Attire was poor (As God had cloath'd his own Embassador;) For such, on Earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore. Of Sixty Years he seem'd; and well might last To Sixty more, but that he liv'd too fast;

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Sii Refin'd himself to Soul, to curb the Sense; And made almost a Sin of Abstinence. Yet, had his Aspect nothing of severe, But such a Face as promis’d him sincere. Nothing reservd or fullen was to see: But sweet Regards; and pleasing Sanctity: Mild was his Accent, and his Adion free. With Elaquence innate his Tongue was arm’d; Tho'harsh the Precept, yet the Preacher charm’d.

For, letting down the golden Chain from high, N

He drew his Audience upward to the Sky:

And oft, with holy Hymns, he charm'd their Ears: 1.

(A Musick more melodious than the Spheres.)
For David left him, when he went to Rest,
His Lyre; and after him, he fung the best.
He bore his great Commission in his Look:
Butsweetly temper'dAwe;and softned all he spoke.
He preach'd theJoys of Heav'n,and Pains of Hell;
And warn’d the Sinner with becoming Zeal;
But on Eternal Mercy lov'd to dwell.
He taught the Gospel rather than the Law:
And forc'd himself to drive; but lov'd to draw..


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For Fear but freezes Minds; but Love,like Hear, Exbales the Soul sublime, to seek her Native Seat.

To Threats, the stubborn Sinner oft is hard: Wrap'd in his Crimes, against the Storm prepar'd; But, when the milder Beams of Mercy play, He melts, and throws his cumb'rous Cloak away

Lightnings and Thunder (Heav'ns Artillery) As Harbingers before th’ Almighty fly: Thofe but proclaim his Stile, and disappear; The stiller Sound succeeds; and God is there.

The Tythes, his Parish freely paid, he took;
But never Su'd; or Curs'd with Bell and Book.
With Patience bearing Wrong; but off'ringnone:
Since every Man is free to lose his own.
The Country-Churls, according to their Kind,
(Who grudge their Dues, and love to be behind,)
The lefs he sought his Off'rings, pinch’d the more;
And prais'd a Priest, contented to be Poor,

Yet, of his little, he had some to spare,
To feed the Famih'd, and to cloath the Bare:
For Mortify'd he was, to that degree,
A poorer than himself he wou'd not see.

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a Good Parfon. siz
H True Priests, he said, and Preachers of the Word;
ve Were only Stewards of their Sov'raign Lord;
sh Nothing was theirs ; but all the publick Storë:
iepa Intrusted Riches, to relieve the Poor.
lag, Who, Mou'd they steal, for want of his Relief;
kay He judg’d himself Accomplice with the Thief.

Wide was his Parish; not contracted close
In Streets, but here and there a straggling House

Yet till he was at Hand, without Request; her To serve the Sick; to succour the Distress'd: la Tempting, on Foot, áloñe, without affright; The Dangers of a dark tempestuous Night:

All this, the good old Man perform'd alone)
Nor spard his Pains; for Curate hé had none;
Ki Nor durst he trust another with his Care ;

Nor rode himself to Pauls, the publick Fair;
To chaffer for Preferment with his Gold,
Whete Bishopricks and fine Cures are fold;
Büt duly watch'd his Flock, by Night and Day;
And from the prowling Wolf redeem'd the Prey:
And hungry sent the wily Fox away.


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