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Qld geus only could revive his fon,
Who various changes of the world had known:
And ftrange viciffitudes of human fate,
Still alt'ring, never in a steady state;
Good after ill, and after pain delight;
Alternate, like the fcenes of day and night:
Since ev'ry man who lives is born to die,
And none can boast fincere felicity,
With equal mind what happens let us bear,
Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond

our care.

Like pilgrims to th'appointed, place we tend;
The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.
Ev'n kings but play; and when their part is done,
Some other, worfe or better, mount the throne.
With words like thefe the crowd was fatisfy'd;
And fo they would have been had Thefeus dy'd.
But he, their king, was lab'ring in his mind,
A fitting place for fun'ral pomps to find,
Which were in honour of the dead defign'd.
And, after long debate, at last he found
(As love itfelf had mark'd the spot of ground)
That grove for ever green, that confcious land,
Where he with Palamon fought hand to hand:
That where he fed his amorous defires
With foft complaints, and felt his hottest fires,
There other flames might wafte his earthly part,
And burn. his limbs, where love had burn'd his
heart.

This once refolv'd, the peasants were enjoin'd
Sere-wood, and firs, and dodder'd oaks to find.
With founding axes to the grove they go,
Fell, fplit, and lay the fuel on a row,
Vulcanian food: a bier is next prepar'd,
On which the lifeless body should be rear'd,
Cover'd with cloth of gold, on which was laid
The corpfe of Arcite, in like robes array'd.
White gloves were on his hands, and on his head
A wreath of laurel, mix'd with myrtle spread.
A fword keen-edg'd within his right he held,
The warlike emblem of the conquer'd field:
Bare was his manly vifage on the bier:
Menac'd his count'nance; ev'n in death severe.
Then to the palace-hall they bore the knight,
To lie in folemn ftate, a public fight.
Groans, cries,and howlings, fill the crowded place,
And unaffected forrow fat on ev'ry face.
Sad Palamon above the rest appears,
In fable garments, dew'd with gushing tears;
His auburn locks on either shoulder flow'd,
Which to the fun'ral of his friend he vow'd:
But Emily, as chief, was next his fide,
A virgin widow, and a mourning bride.
And, that the princely obfequies might be
Perform'd according to his high degree,
The fteed that bore him living to the fight,
Was trapp'd with polish'd fteed, all fhining
[knight.

bright,

And cover'd with th'atchievements of the-
The riders rode abreast, and one his fhield;
His lance of cornel-wood another held;
The third his bow, and, glorious to behold,
The coftly quiver, all of burnish'd gold.
The nobleft of the Grecians next appear,

And, weeping, or their thoulders bore the bier;

With fober pace they march'd, and often staid, And through the mafter - ftreet the corpfe convey'd.

The houfes to their tops with black were fpread,
And ev❜n the pavements were with mourning hid.
The right fide of the pall old geus kept;
And on the left the royal Thefeus wept;
Each bore a golden bowl of work divine,
With honey fill'd, and milk, and mix'd with
ruddy wine.

Then Palamon, the kinfinan of the flain,
And after him appear'd th'illustrious train.
To grace the pomp, came Emily the bright,
With cover'd fire, the fun'ral pile to light.
With high devotion was the fervice made,
And all the rights of Pagan honour paid:
So lofty was the pile, a Parthian bow,
With vigour drawn, must send the shaft below.
The bottom was full twenty fathom broad,
With crackling ftraw beneath in due proportion
ftrow'd.

The fabric feem'd a wood of rifing green,
With fulphur and bitumen caft between,
To feed the flames: the trees were unctuous fir,
And mountain afh, the mother of the fpear;
The mourner-yew, and builder oak were there:
The beech, the fwimming alder, and the plane,
Hard box, and linden of a fofter grain,
And laurels, which the Gods for conqu'ring
chiefs ordain.

How they were rank'd fhall reft untold by me,
With nainelefs nymphs that liv'd in ev'ry tree;
Nor how the dryads, or the woodland train,
Difherited, ran howling o'er the plain :
Nor how the birds to foreign feats repair'd,
Or beafts, that bolted out,and faw the foreft bar'd:
Nor how the ground, now clear'd, with ghaftly
fright,

Beheld the fudden fun, a ftranger to the light.

The ftraw, as firft I faid, was laid below: Of chips and fere-wood was the fecond row; The third of greens, and timber newly fell'd; The fourth high stage the fragrant odours held, And pearls, and precious ftones, and rich array; In midst of which, embalm'd, the body lay. The fervice fung, the maid with mourning eyes The ftubble fir'd; the fmould'ring flames arife: This office done, the funk upon the ground; But what the fpoke, recover'd from her fwoon, I want the wit in moving words to drefs; But by themselves the tender fex may guefs. While the devouring fire was burning fast, Rich jewels in the flame the wealthy caft; And fome their fhields, and fome their lances threw,

And gave their warrior's ghoft a warrior's due. Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk, and blood, Were pour'd upon the pile of burning wood, And hiffing flames receive, and, hungry, lick the food.

Then thrice the mounted fquadrons ride around The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice refound; Hail and Farewell! they fhouted thrice amain; Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turn'd again.

Still as they turn'd, they beat their clatt'ring
fhields;
[the fields.
The women mix their cries; and clamour fills
The warlike wakes continu'd all the night,
And fun'al games were play'd at new return-
ing light.

Who naked wrestled beft, befmear'd with oil,
Or who with gauntlets gave or took the foil,
I will not tell you, nor would you attend;
But briefly hafte to my long ftory's end.

I país the reft; the year was fully mourn'd,
And Palamon long fince to Thebes return'd:
When, by the Grecians general confent,
At Athens Thefeus held his parliament:
Among the laws that pafs'd, it was decreed,
That conquer'd Thebes from bondage fhould
be freed,

Referving homage to th'Athenian throne;
To which the fov'reign fummon'd Palamon.
Unknowing of the caufe, he took his way,
Mournful in mind, and ftill in black array.
The monarch mounts the throne, and, plac'd
on high,

Commands into the court the beauteous Emily.
So call'd, the came; the fenate rofe, and paid
Becoming rev'rence to the royal maid.

And firft foft whispers thro' th'assembly went; With filent wonder then they watch'd th'event. All hush'd, the king arose with awful grace; Deep thought was in his breaft, and counfel in

his face.

At length he figh'd; and, having firft prepar'd Th'attentive audience, thus his will declar'd:

The cause and spring of motion, from above, Hung down on earth the golden chain of love; Great was th'effect, and high was his intent, When peace among the jarring feeds he fent. Fire, flood, and earth, and air, by this were bound, And love, the common link, the new creation crown'd.

The chain still holds, for, tho' the forms decay,
Eternal matter never wears away:
The fame firft Mover certain bounds has plac'd,
How long thofe perishable forms fhall last:
Nor can they laft beyond the time allign'd
By that all-feeing and all-making Mind:
Shorten their hours they may; for will is free;
But never pass th'appointed destiny.

So men opprefs'd, when weary of their breath,
Throw off the burden, and fuborn their death.
Then, fince thofe forms begin, and have their end,
On fome unalter'd cause they fure depend:
Parts of the whole are we; but God the whole,
Who gives us life and animating foul;
For nature cannot from a part derive
That being which the whole can only give:
He perfect, ftable; but imperfect we,
Subject to change, and diff'rent in degree;
Plants, beafts, and man; and, as our organs are,
We more or lefs of his perfection fhare.
But by a long defcent, th'etherial fire
Corrupts; and forms, the mortal part, expire.
As he withdraws his virtue, fo they pafs;
And the fame matter makes another mafs.

This lawth'Omnifient Pow'r was pleas'd to give,
That ev'ry kind thould by fucceflion live:
That individuals die his will ordains;
The propagated species still remains.
The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees,
Shoots rifing up, and fpreads by flow degrees;
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays,
Supreme in ftate, and in three more decays;
So wears the paving pebble in the street,
And towns and tow'rs their fatal periods meet.
So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie,
Forfaken of their fprings, and leave their chan-
nels dry.

So man, at firft a drop, dilates with heat,
Then, form'd, the little heart begins to beat;
Secret he feeds, unknowing in the cell;
At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell,
And struggles into breath, and cries for aid;
Then, helpless, in his mother's lap is laid.
He creeps, he walks, and, iffuing into man,
Grudges their life from whence his own began;
Recklefs of laws, affects to rule alone,
Anxious to reign, and reftlefs on the throne;
Firft vegetive, then feels, and reafons last ;
Rich of three fouls, and lives all three to wafte.
Some thus; but thousands more in flow'r of
For few arrive to run the latter stage.
Sunk in the firft, in battle fome are flain,
And others whelm'd beneath the ftormy main
What makes all this, but Jupiter the king,
At whofe command we perish and we fpring?
Then 'tis our beft, fince thus ordain'd to die,
To make a virtue of neceffity.

age;

Take what he gives, fince to rebel is vain;
The bad grows better, which we well fuftain;
And could we chufe the time, and chufe aright,
'Tis beft to die, our honour at the height.
When we have done our ancestors no fhame,
But ferv'd our friends, and well fecur'd our fame,
Then fhould we wish our happy life to close,
And leave no more for fortune to difpofe.
So fhould we make our death a glad relief
From future flame, from fick nefs, and from grief;
Enjoying while we live the prefent hour,
And dying in our excellence and flow'r.
Then round our death-bed ev'ry friend should
And joyous of our conqueft early won; [run,
While the malicious world, with envious tears
Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs..
Since then our Arcite is with honour dead,
Why should we mourn, that he fo foon is freed,
Or call untimely what the Gods decreede
With grief as juft a friend may be deplor'd,
From a foul prifon to free air. reftor'd.
Ought he to thank his kinfinen or his wife,
Could tears recal him into wretched life?
Their forrow hurts themselves; on him 'tis loft;
And, worfe than both, offends his happy ghost.
What then remains, but, after past annoy,
To take the good viciffitude of joy >
To thank the gracious Gods for what they give,
Poffefs our fouls, and, while we live, to live?
Ordain we then, two forrows to combine,
And in one point th'extremes of grief to join;

}

That

That thence refulting joy may be renew'd,
As jarring notes in harmony conclude.
Then I propofe that Palamon fhall be
In marriage join'd with beauteous Emily;
For which already I have gain'd th’afsent
Of my free people in full parliament.
Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,
And well deferv'd, had fortune done him right.
'Tis time to mend her fault; fince Emily
By Arcite's death from former vows is free.
If you, fair fifter, ratify th'accord,
And take him for your husband and your lord,
'Tis no difhonour to confer your grace
On one defcended from a royal race;
And were he lefs, yet years of service paft
From grateful fouls exact reward at last.
Pity is Heav'n's and yours; nor can she find
A throne fo foft as in a woman's mind.
He faid;
fhe blush'd; and, as o'eraw'd by might,
Seem'd to give Thefeus what she gave the knight.
Then turning to the Theban, thus he faid;
Small arguments are needful to perfuade
Your temper to comply with my command;
And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand.
Smil'd Venus, to behold her own true knight
Obtain the conqueft, tho' he loft the fight;
And blefs'd with nuptial blifs the fweet labo-
rious night.

[bride;

Eros and Anteros on either fide,
One fir'd the bridegroom, and one warm'd the
And long attending Hymen, from above,
Show'r'd on the bed the whole Idalian grove.
All of a tenor was their after-life,
No day difcolour'd with domestic strife;
No jealoufy, but mutual truth believ'd,
Secure repofe, and kindness undeceiv'd.
Thus Heav'n, beyond the compafs of his thought,
Sent him the bleifing he fo dearly bought.

So may the Queen of Love long duty blefs,
And all true lovers find the fame fuccefs.

28. Religio Laici. DRYDEN.

AN EPISTLE.

}

Or various atoms, interfering dance,
Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance;
Or this Great All was from eternity;
Not ev'n the Stagirite himself could fee;
And Epicurus guefs'd as well as he;
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rafhly judg'd of providence and fate.
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind;
For happiness was never to be found,
But vanish'd from them like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This very little accident destroy'd:
The wifer madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren foil:
In pleasure fome their glutton fouls would steep;
But found their line too fhort, the well to deep;
And leaky veffels which no blifs could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the foul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the lefs the greater comprehend ?
Or finite reafon reach Infinity?

For what could fathom God were more than He.
The Deift thinks he ftands on firmer ground;
Cries sugeza, the mighty fecret's found:
God is that fpring of good; fupreme, and beft
We made to ferve, and in that fervice bleft.
If fo, fome rules of worship must be giv'n,
Distributed alike to all by Heav'n :
Elfe God were partial, and to fome deny'd
The means his juftice fhould for all provide.
This gen'ral worship is to praise and pray.
One part to borrow bleffings, one to pay :
And when frail nature flides into offence,
The facrifice for crimes is penitence.
Yet, fince th'effects of providence, we find,
Are var'oufly difpens'd to human kind :
That vice triumphs, and virtue fuffers here,
A brand that fov'reign juftice cannot bear,
Our reafon prompts us to a future ftate:
The laft appeal from fortune and from fate;
Where God's all-righteous ways will be declar'd;
The bad meet punishment, the good reward.

Thus man by his own ftrength to heav'n would
And would not be oblig'd to God for more. [foar;

DIM as the borrow'd beams of moon and ftars Vain wretched creature, how art thou milled.

D

To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,

Is reafon to the foul; and as on high,

Thofe rolling fires difcover but the sky,

}

Not light us here, fo reafon's glimm'ring ray
Was lem, not to affure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as thofe nightly tapers difappear
When day's bright lord afcends our hemifphere,
So pale grows reason at religion's fight;
So dies, and fo diffolves in fupernat❜ral light.
Some few, whofe lamp fhone brighter, have
been led,

From caufe to cause, to nature's fecret head,
And found that one firft principle must be ;
But what, or who, that univerfal He;
Whether fome foul encompaffing this ball,
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;

To think thy wit thefe god-like notions bred!
Thele truths are not the product of thy mind,
But dropt from heav'n, and of a nobler kind.
Reveal'd religion firft inform'd thy fight,

And reafon faw not till faith fprung the light.
Hence all thy nat'ral worship takes the fource;
'Tis revelation, what thou think'ft difcourfe.
Elfe how com'ft thou to fee thefe truths fo clear,
Which fo obfcure to heathens did appear?
Not Plato thefe, nor Ariftotle found;
Nor he whofe wifdom oracles renown'd.
Haft thou a wit fo deep, or fo fublime,
Or canft thou lower dive, or higher climb!
Canft thou by reafon more of godhead know
Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero ?
Those giant wits in happier ages born,
When arms and arts did Greece and Rone adorn,
Kaew

Knew no fuch fyftem; no fuch piles could raise
Of nat'ral worship built on prayer and praise
To one fole God;

Nor did remorse to exp'ate fin prefcribe;
But flew their fellow-creatures for a bribe;
The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence;
And cruelty and blood was penitence.
If theep and oxen could atone for men,
Ah! at how cheap a rate the rich might fin!
Andgreat oppreffors might Heav'n'swrathbeguile,
By off'ring his own creatures for a spoil!

Dar'ft thou, poor worm, offend Infinity?
And muft the terms of peace be giv'n by thee?
Then thou art Juftice in the laft appeal;
Thy eafy God inftructs thee to rebel ;
And, like a king remote and weak, must take
What fatisfaction thou art pleas'd to make.

But if there be a pow'r too juft and strong, To wink at crimes, and bear unpunish'd wrong, Look humbly upward, fee his will difclofe The forfeit firit, and then the fine impofe; A mulet thy poverty could never pay, Had not eternal wifdom found the way, And with celeftial wealth fupply'd thy store; His juftice makes the fine, his mercy quits the fcore.

}

See God defcending in thy human frame;
Th'offended fuffering in th'offender's name;
All thy mifdeeds to him imputed fee,
And all his righteousness devolv'd on thee.
For, granting we have finn'd, and that th'offence
Of man is made against Omnipotence,
Some price that bears proportion must be paid;
And infinite with infinite be weigh'd.
See then the Deift loft; remorfe for vice,
Not paid; or, paid, inadequate in price :
What farther means can reafon now direct,
Or what relief from human wit expect?
That fhews us fick; and fadly are we fure
Still to be fick, till Heav'n reveal the cure:
If then Heav'n's will must needs be understood,
Which muft, if we want cure,and Heav'n be good,
Let all records of will reveal'd be shown;
With fcripture all in equal balance thrown,
And our one facred book will be that one.
Proof needs not here; for whether we compare
That impious, idle, fuperftitious ware
Of rites, luftrations, off'rings, which before,
In various ages, various countries bore,
With chriftian faith and virtues we thall find
None anfw'ring the great ends of human kind
But this one rule of life, that fhews us beft
How God may be appeas'd, and mortals bleft.
Whether from length of time its worth we draw,
The word is fcarce more ancient than the law;
Heav'n's early care prefcrib'd for ev'ry age;
Firft in the foul, and after, in the page.
Or, whether more abftractedly we look,
Or on the writers, or the written book,
Whence, but from Heav'n, could men unskill'd
In fev'ral ages born, in fev'ral parts, [in arts,
Weave fuch agreeing truths? or how, or why,
Should all confpire to cheat us with a lye?
Unafk'd their pains, ungrateful their advice,
Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price.

If on the book itself we caft our view,
Concurrent heathens prove the story true;
The doctrine, miracles: which must convince,
For Heav'n in them appeals to human fenfe;
And tho' they prove not, they confirm the cause,
When what is taught agrees with nature's laws.
Then for the ftyle majeftic and divine,

It fpeaks no less than God in ev'ry line;
Commanding words; whofe force is ftill the fame
As the first fiat that produc'd our frame.
All faiths befide, or did by arms afcend;
Or fenfe indulg'd has made mankind their friend;
This only doctrine does our bufts oppose,
Unfed by nature's foil in which it grows;
Crofs to our int'refts, curbing fenfe and fin;
Opprefs'd without, and undermin'd within,
It thrives thro' pain; its own tormentors tires;
And with a stubborn patience ftill afpires.
To what can reafon fuch effects affign
Tranfcending nature, but to laws divine;
Which in that facred volume are contain'd;
Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordain'd?

But ftay; the Deift here will urge anew,
No fupernat❜ral worship can be true;
Because a gen'ral law is that alone
Which must to all, and ev'ry where, be known:
A ftyle fo large as not this book can claim,
Nor aught that bears reveal'd religion's name.
'Tis faid, the found of a Meffiah's birth
Is gone thro' all the habitable earth;
But ftill that text must be confin'd alone
To what was then inhabited and known:
And what provifion could from thence accrue
To Indian fouls, and worlds difcover'd new?
In other parts it helps, that ages past,
The fcriptures there were known, and were em-
brac'd,

[fenfe

Till fin fpread once again the fhades of night;
What's that to thefe, who never faw the light?
Of all objections this indeed is chief
To startle reason, stagger frail belief;
We grant 'tis true, that Heav'n from human
Has hid the fecret paths of providence ;
But boundless wifdom, boundlefs mercy, may
Find, ev'n for thofe bewilder'd fouls, a way;
If from his nature foes may pity claim, [name.
Much more may ftrangers who ne'er heard his
And though no name be for salvation known,
But that of his eternal Son's alone,
Who knows how far tranfcending goodnefs 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 beft,
But more the great apostle has expreft:
"That if the Gentiles, whom no law inspir'd,
By nature did what was by law requir'd,
They, who the written rule had never known,
Were to themfelves both rule and law alone:
To nature's plain indictment they shall plead;
And by their confcience be condemn'd or freed.".
Moft righteous doom! because a rule reveal'd
Is none to thofe from whom it was conceal'd.
Then those who follow'd reafon's dictates right,
Liv'd up, and lifted high their natʼral light ;

With Socrates may fee their Maker's face,
While thousand rubric nartyrs want a place.
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,
Unless he first could prove he was infpir'd!
Then let us either think he meant to fay
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 try'd;
A much unskilful, but well-meaning guide:
Yet what they are, ev'n these crude thoughts
were bred

By reading that which better thou haft read.
Thy matchlefs author's work; which thou, my
By well tranflating better doft commend; [friend,
Thofe youthful hours which of thy equals moft
In toys have fquander'd, or in vice have loft,
Thole hours haft thou to nobler use employ'd;
And the fevere delights of truth enjoy'd.
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 fport.
A treafure, which, if county-curates buy,
They Junius and Tremilius may defy;
Save pains in various readings, and tranflations,
And, without Hebrew, make moft learn'd quo-
tations.

A work so full with various learning fraught,
So nicely ponder'd, yet fo ftrongly wrought,
As nature's height and art's laft hand requir'd;
As much as man could compafs, uninfpir'd.
Where we may fee what errors have been made
Both in the copyers and tranflators trade;
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 priest:
For fashion's fake he feems to have recourfe
To pope, and councils, and tradition's force:
But he that old traditions could fubdue,
Could not but find the weakness of the new:
If fcripture, tho' deriv'd from heav'nly birth,
Has been but carelessly preferv'd on earth;
If God's own people, who of God before
Knew what we know, and bad been promis'd
In fuller terms of Heav'n's affifting care, [more,
And who did neither time nor study spare
To keep this book untainted, unperplext,
Let in grofs errors to corrupt the text,
Omitted paragraphs, embroil'd the sense,
With vain traditions ftopt the gaping fence,
Which ev'ry common hand pull'd up with eafe,
What fafety from fuch brufhwood-helps as thefe
If written words from time are not fecur'd,
How can we think have oral sounds endur'd?

Which thus tranfmitted, if one mouth has fail'd,
Immortal lyes on ages are intail'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 fcripture has been loft,
All copies difagreeing, maim'd the most,
Or christian faith can have no certain ground,
Or truth in church-tradition must be found.

Such an omnifcient 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, all truth fecure,
Then her infallibility, as well
Where copies are corrupt or lame, can tell;
Reftore loft canon with as little pains,
As truly explicate what still remains:
Whichyet no council dare pretend to do;
Unlefs, like Efdras, they could write
Strange confidence ftill to interpret true,
Yet not be fure that all they have explain'd
Is in the bleft original contain'd.

new:

More fafe, and inuch more modeft 'tis, to fay
God would not leave mankind without a way,
And that the fcriptures tho' not ev'rywhere
Free from corruption, or intire, or clear,
Are uncorrupt, fufficient, clear, intire,
In all things which our needful faith require.
If others in the fame glafs better fee,
'Tis for themselves they look, but not for me &
For my falvation muft its doom receive,
Not from what others, but what I believe.
Muft all tradition then he fet afide?
This to affirm were ignorance or pride.
Are there not many points, fome needful fure
To faving faith, that feripture leaves obfcure?
Which ev'ry feet will wreft a fev'ral way;
For what one fect interprets, all fects may.
Wehold, and fay we prove from fcripture plain,
That Chrift is God; the bold Socinian
From the fame fcripture urges he's but man.
Now what appeal can end th'important fuit ?
Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mute.
Shall I fpeak plain, and in a nation free
Affume an honeft layman's liberty?

}

=}

I think, according to my little fkill,
To my own mother church fubmitting ftill,
That many have been fav'd, and many may,
Who never heard this question brought in play.
Th'unletter'd Chriftian, who believes in grofs,
Plods on to heav'n; and ne'er is at a lofs:
For the ftraight gate would be made straighter
yet,

Were none admitted there but men of wit.
The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught,
Born to inftruct, as others to be taught,
Muft ftudy well the facred page, and fee
Which doctrine, this or that, does beft agree
With the whole tenor of the work divine,
And plainlieft points to Heav'n's reveal'd defign;
Which expofition flows from genuine fenfe;
And which is forc'd by wit and eloquence.

Not

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