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If fov'reign right by fov'reign pow'r they scan,
The fame bold maxim holds in God and man:
God were not fafe, his thunder could they fhun;
He should be forc'd to crown another fon.
Thus, when the heir was from the vineyard thrown,
The rich poffeffion was the murd'rer's own.

In vain to fophiftry they have recourfe;

By proving theirs no plot, they prove 'tis worse;
Unmask'd rebellion, and audacious force.
Which, though not actual, yet all eyes may fee
'Tis working, in th' immediate pow'r to be;
For, from pretended grievances they rife,
First to dislike, and after to defpife;
Then, Cyclop-like, in human fleth to deal;
Chop up a minifter at every meal;'
Perhaps not wholly to melt down the king;
But clip his regal rights within the ring.

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From thence, t' aflume the pow'r of peace and war;
And cafe him by degrees of public care.
Yet, to confult his dignity and fame,

He should have leave to exercise the name;

And hold the cards, while commons play'd the game.
For what can pow'r give more than food and drink,
To live at eafe, and not be bound think?

Thefe are the cooler methods of their crime;
But their hot zealots think 'tis lofs of time;
On utmost bounds of loyalty they stand,
And grin and whet like a Croatian band,
That waits impatient for the laft command.
Thus outlaws open villany maintain;

They fteal not, but in fquadrons fcowr the plain :

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And, if their pow'r the passengers fubdue,
The most have right, the wrong is in the few.
Such impious axioms foolishly they show;
For, in fome foils, republics will not grow;
Our temp'rate ifle will no extremes fuitain,
Of pop'lar fway, or arbitrary reign;

But flides between them both into the beft;
Secure in freedom, in a monarch bleft.

And though the climate, vex'd with various winds,
Works, through our yielding bodies, on our minds,
The wholfome tempeft purges what it breeds,
To recommend the calmnefs that fucceeds.

But thou, the pandor of the people's hearts,
O crooked foul, and ferpentine in arts!
Whofe blandishments a loyal hand have whor'd,
And broke the bonds fhe plighted to her lord;
What curfes on thy blafted name will fall!
Which age to age their legacy fhall call;

For all muft curfe the woes that muft defcend on all.
Religion thou haft none; thy Mercury

Has paft through ev'ry fect, or theirs through thee.
But what thou giv'ft, that venom still remains;
And the pox'd nation feels thee in their brains.
What elfe infpires the tongue, and fwells the breasts
Of all thy bellowing renegado priests,

That preach up thee for God; difpenfe thy laws,
And with thy ftum ferment their fainting caufe;
Fresh fumes of madness raife; and toil and sweat
To make the formidable cripple great?
Yet, fhou'd thy crimes fucceed, thou'd lawless pow'r
Compass thofe ends thy greedy hopes devour,

Thy canting friends thy mortal foes wou'd be;
Thy god and theirs will never long agree.
For thine (if thou haft any) must be one
That lets the world and human-kind alone;
A jolly god, that pafles hours too well
To promife heav'n, or threaten us with hell:
That unconcern'd can at rebellion fit,

And wink at crimes he did himfelf commit.
Atyrant theirs; the heav'n their priesthood paints
A conventicle of gloomy fullen faints;

A heav'n, like bedlam, flavenly and fad;
Foredoom'd for fouls, with falfe religion mad.
Without a vision poets cau forethow

What all but fools, by common fenfe, may know:
If true fucceffion from our isle should fail,
And crowds profane with impious arms prevail;
Not thou, nor thofe thy factious arts engage,
Shall reap that harveft of rebellious rage,
With which thou flatter'it thy decrepit age.
The fwelling poifon of the fev'ral fects,
Which, wanting vent, the nation's health infects,
Shall burst its bag; and, fighting out their way,
The various venoms on cach other prey.
The Prefbyter, puft up with fpiritual pride,
Shall on the necks of the lewd nobles ride;
His brethren damn, the civil pow'r defy;
And parcel out republic prelacy.

But fhort fhall be his reign; his rigid yoke
And tyrant pow'r will puny fects provoke;

And frogs and toads, and all the tadpole train,

Will croak to Heav'n for help, from this devouring

crane.

The cut-throat fword and clamorous gown shall jar,
In fharing their ill-gotten spoils of war:

Chiefs fhall be grudg'd the part which they pretend;
Lords envy lords, and friends with every friend
About their impious merit fhall contend.
The furly commons fhall respect deny,
And justle peerage out with property.
Their gen'ral either shall his trust betray,
And force the crowd to arbitrary sway;
Or they, fufpecting his ambitious aim,
In hate of kings, fhall caft anew the frame;
And thruft out Collatine that bore their name.
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exil'd heirs, or foreign rage;
'Till halting vengeance overtook our age.
And our wild labours, wearied into rest,
Reclin'd us on a rightful monarch's breast.

-Pudet haec opprobria vobis

Et dici potuiffe, et non potuisse refelli.

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RELIGIO LAICI:

OR, A

LAYMAN's FAITH.

A

POEM.

ORNARI RES IPSA NEGAT, CONTENTA

DOCERI

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