« PreviousContinue »
Increase apace, by periodic days
And Auent thine harangue. But can thy soul Of annual payment, or thy patron's boon,
Deny thy limbs the radiant grace of dress, The lean reward of gross unbounded praise ! Where dress is inerit! where thy graver friend It much avails, to seize the present hour, Shall wish thee burnishid ! where the sprightly fair And, undeliberating, call around
Demand embellishment ! e'en Delia's eye,
As in a garden, roves, of hues alone
These are the realıns of luxury and show;
No classic suil : away ! the bloomy Spring 'Tis thus the frugal husbandman directs
Attracts thee hence ; the waning Autumn warns; His narrow stream, if, o'er its wonted banks Fly to thy native shades, and dread e'en there, By sudden rains impell’d, it proudly swell; Lest busy fancy tempt thy narrow state His timely hand through better tracks conveys Beyond its bounds. Observe Florelio's mien. The quick decreasing tide ; ere borne along Wby treads my friend with melancholy step Or through the wild morass, or cultur'd field, That beauteous lawn; why pensive strays his eye Or bladed grass mature, or barren sands,
O'er statues, grottos, urns, by critic art It flow destructive, or it flow in vain!
Proportion'd fair? or from his lofty dome, But happiest he who sanctifies expense
Bright glittering through the grove, returns his eye By present pay! who subjects not his fame Unpleas'd, disconsolate? And is it Love, To tradesmen's varlets, nor bequeaths his name, Disastrous Love, that robs the finish'd scenes His honour'd name, to deck the vulgar page Of all their beauty? centring all in her Of base mechanic, sordid, unsincere !
His soul adores? or from a blacker cause There, haply, while thy Muse sublimely soars Springs this remorseful gloom? is conscious Gnilt Beyond this earthly sphere, in Heaven's abodes, The latent source of more than love's despair? And dreams of nectar and ambrosial sweets, It cannot be within that polish'd breast (there; Thy growing debt steals unregarded o'er
Where science dwells, that guilt should harbour The panctual record; till nor Phæbus' self, No! 'tis the sail survey of present want, Nor sage Minerva's art, can aught avail
And past profusion! Lost to him the sweets To sooth the ruthless dun's detested rage.
Of yon pavilion, fraught with every charm Frantic and fell, with many a curse profane For other eyes; or, if remaining, proofs He loads the gentle Muse; then hurls thee down Of criminal expense! Sweet interchange To want, remorse, captivity, and shame.
Of river, valley, mountain, woods, and plains! Each public place, the glittering haunts of men, How gladsome once he rang'd your native turf, With horrour fly. Why loiter near thy bane? Your simple scenes, how raptur'd! ere expense Why fondly linger on a hostile shore,
Had lavish'd thousand ornaments, and taught Disarm'd, defenceless? why require to tread Convenience to perplex him, art to pall, The precipice? or why, alas, to breathe
Pomp to deject, and beauty to displease. A moment's space, where every breeze is death? Oh! for a soul to all the glare of wealth, Death to thy future peace! Away ! collect To Fortune's wide exhaustless treasury, Thy dissipated mind; contract thy train
Nobly superior! but let Caution guide Of wild ideas o'er the flowery fields
The coy disposal of the wealth we scorn, Of show diffus'd, and speed to safer climes. And Prudence be our almoner! Alas! Economy presents her glass, accept
The pilgrim wandering o'er some distant clime, The faithful mirror: powerful to disclose
Sworn foe of Avarice! not disdains to learn A thousand forms, unseen by careless eyes, its coin's imputed forth; the destin'd means That plot thy fate. Temptation, in a robe To smooth his passage to the favour'd shrine. Of Tyrian dye, with every sweet perfum’d, Ah let not us, who tread this stranger-world, Besets thy sense ; Extortion follows close
Let none who sojourn on the realms of life, Her wanton step, and Ruin brings the rear. Forget the land is mercenary; nor waste These and the rest shall her mysterious glass His fare, ere landed on no venal shore. Embody to thy view: like Venus kind,
Let never bard consult Palladio's rules; When to her labouring son, the vengeful powers Let never bard, O Burlington ! survey That urg'd the fall of Ilium, she display'd, Thy learned art, in Chiswick's dome display'd; He, not imprudent, at the sight declin'd
Dangerous incentive! nor with lingering eye The unequal conflict, and decreed to raise Survey the window Venice calls her own. The Trojan welfare on some happier shore.
Better for him, with no ingrateful Muse, For here to drain thy swelling purse await
To sing a requiem to that gentle soul A thousand arts, a thousand frauds attend, [boxes, who plann'd the sky-light; which to lavish bards “ The cloud-wrought canes, the gorgeous snuff. Conveys alone the pure ethereal ray, The twinkling jewels, and the gold etwee,
For garrets him, and squalid walls await, With all its bright inhabitants, shall waste Unless, presageful, from this friendly strain Its melting stores, and in the dreary void He glean advice, and shun the scribbler's doom, Leave not a doit behind.” Ere yet exhaust Its flimsy folds offend thy pensive eye, Away! embosom'd deep in distant shades, Nor seen nor seeing, thou mayst vent thy scorn Of lace, embroidery, purple, gems, and gold! Yet once again, and to thy doubtful fate There of the farded fop, and essenc'd beau, The trembling Muse consigns thee. Ere contempt, Ferocious with a stoic's frown disclose
Or Want's empoison'd arrow, ridicule, Thy manly scorn, averse to tinsel pomp ;
Transfix thy weak unguarded breast, behold!
PART THE THIRD,
The poet's roofs, the careless poet's, his
Their well-known crest met hís delighted eye, Who scorns advice, shall close my serious lay. Though wrapt in thought, commercing with the sky,
When Gulliver, now great, now little deem'd, He, gently stooping, scorn'd not to upraise,
And on each sleeve, as conscious of their use,
Indenting fix them; nor, when arm'd with these, Projected, studions of the public weal;
The cure of rents and separations dire, 'Mid these, one subtler artist he descried,
And chasms enormous, did he view dismay'd Who cherish'd in his dusty tenement
Hedge, bramble, thicket, bush, portending fate The spider's web, injurious, to supplant
To breeches, coat and hose ! had any wight Fair Albion's fleeces! Never, never may
Of vulgar skill the tender texture own'd;
Of Sylvia's shoe-string, or of Cloe's fan,
See near his bed (his bed too falsely callid
Narcotie volumes o'er) his candlestick, Curtains subsusk, and save th' expense of art. 1 Radiant machine, when from the plastic hand
Survey those walls, in fady texture clad, Of Mulciber, the mayor of Birmingham, Where wandering snails in many a slimy path, The engine issued; now alas disguis'd Free, unrestrain'd, their various journeys crawl; By many ari unctuous tide, that wandering down Peregrinations strange, and labyrinths
Its sides congeal; what he, perhaps, essays Confus'd, inextricable! such the clue
With humour forc'd, and ill-dissembled smile, Of Cretan Ariadne ne'er explain'd!
Idly to liken to the poplar's trunk Hooks! angles! crooks! and involutions wild! When o'er it'ş bark the lucid amber, wound Mean time, thus silver'd with meanders gay, In many a pleasing fold, incrusts the tree. In mimic pride the snail-wrought tissue shines, Or suits him more the winter's candied thorn, Perchance of tabby, or of harateen,
When from each branch, anneal'd, the works of frost Not ill expressive ! such the power of snails. Pervasive, radiant icicles depend?
Behold the chair, whose fractur'd seat infirm How shall I sing the various ill that waits An aged cushion hides ! replete with dust
The careful sonneteer? or who can paint The foliag'd velvet; pleasing to the eye
The shists enormous, that in vain he forms Of great Eliza's reign, but now the snare
To patch his paneless window; to cement Of weary guest that on the specious bed
His batter'd tea-pot, ill-retentive vase? Sits down confiding. Al! disastrous wight ! To war with ruin! anxious to conceal In evil hour and rashly dost thou trust
Want's fell appearance, of the real ill The fraudful couch! for, though in velvet cas'd, Nor foe, nor fearful. Ruin unforeseen Thy sated thigh shall kiss the dusty floor.
Invades his chattels; ruin will invade; The traveller thus, that o'er Hibernian plains Will claim his whole invention to repair, Hath shap'd his way; on beds prufuse of flowers, Nor, of the gift, for tuneful ends design'd, Cowslip, or primrose, or the circular eye
Allow one part to decorate his song. Of daisy fair, decrees to bask supine,
While Ridicule, with ever-pointing hand And see! delighted, down he drops, secure Conscious of every shift, of every shift Of sweet refreshment, ease without annoy, Indicative, his inmost plot betrays, Or luscious noon-day nap. Ah much deceiv'd, Points to the nook, which he his study calls Much suffering pilgrim! thou nor noon-day nap, Pompous aud vain ! for thus he might esteem Nor sweet repose shalt find ; the false morass His chest, a wardrobe; a purse, a treasury; In quivering undulations yields beneath
And shows, to crown her full display, himself. Thy burthen, in the miry gulf enclos'd!
One whom the powers above, in place of health And who would trust appearance ! Cast thine eye And wonted vigour ; of paternal cot, Where 'ınid machines of heterogeneous form Or little farm; of bag, or scrip, or staff, His coat depends; alas ! his only cuat,
Cup, dish, spoon, plate, or worldly utensil, Eldest of things! and napless, as an heath
A poet fra n'd; yet fram'd not to repine, Of small extent by fleecy myriads graz'd.
And wish the cobler's loftiest site his own; Not different have I seen in dreary vault
Nor, partial as they seem, upbraid the Fates, Display'd, a coffin ; on each sable side
Who to the humbler mechanism join'd The texture unmolested seems entire.
Goods so superior, such exalted bliss! Fraudful, when touch'd it glides to dust away! See with what seeming ease, what labour'd peace, And leaves the wondering swain to gape, or stare, He, hapless hypocrite! refines his nail, And with expressive shrug, and piteous sigh, His chief amusement! then how feign’d, how forc', Declare the fatal force of rolling years,
That care-defying sonnet, which implies Or dire extent of frail mortality.
His debts discharg'd, and he of half a crown This aged vesture, scorn of gazing beaux,
In full possession, uncontested right
Admiring view, if such there be, distrust
But I am arm'd by caution, studious youth,
And early foresight; now the winds may rise, Enwrapt, secure : nor yet the laureat's crown The tempest wbistle, and the billows roar; In thought exclude him! He perchance shall rise My pinnace rides in port, despoil'd and worn, To nobler heights than foresight can decree. Shatter'd by time and storms, but while it shuns
When fir'd with wrath, for his intrigues display'a | Th’inequal conflict, and declines the deep, In many an idle song, Saturnian Jove
Sees the strong vesset fluctuate less secure.” Vow'd sure destruction to the tuneful race;
Thus wbile he strays, a thousand rural scenes
Produce thine axe, (for, aimi to destroy
Remove th'obstructive bough; nor yet refuse,
Though sighing, to destroy that favourite pine,
Rais'd by thine hand, in its luxuriant prime OR,
Of beauty fair, that screens the vast remains. THE EFFECTS OF SUPERSTITION.
Aggriev'd but constant as the Roman sire, Ar length fair Peace, with olive crown'd, regains The rigid Manlius, when bis conquering son Mer lawful throne, and to the sacred haunts Bled by a parent's voice; the cruel meed Of wood or fount the frighted Muse returns.
Of virtuous ardour, timelessly display'd ; Happy the Bard, who, from his native hills, Nor cease till, through the gloomy road, the pile Soft musing on a summer's eve, surveys
Gleam unobstructed ; thither oft thine eye His azure stream, with pensile woods enclos'd! Shall sweetly wander; thence returning, sooth Or o'er the glassy sarface, with his friend, With pensive scenes thy philosophic mind. Or faithful fair, through bordering willows green These were thy haunts, thy opulent abodes, Wafts his small frigate. Fearless he of shouts, O Superstition ! bence the dire disease Or taunts, the rhetoric of the watery crew
(Balanc'd with which the fam'd Athenian pest That ape confusion from the realms they rule! Were a short head-ach, were the trivial pain Fearless of these ; who shares the gentler voice Of transient indigestion) seiz'd mankind. Of peace and music; birds of sweetest song
Long time she rag'd, and scarce a southern gale Attune from native boughs their various lay, Warı'd our chill air, unloaded with the threats And cheer the forest ; birds of brighter plume Of tyrant Rome; but futile all, till she, With busy pinion skim the glittering wave Rome's abler legate, magnified their power, And tempt the Sun; ambitious to display And in a thousand horrid forms attir'd. Their several merit, while the vocal flute,
Where then was Truth to sanctify the page Or number'd verse, by female voice endear'd, Of British annals? If a foe expir'd, Crowns his delight, and mollifies the scene. The perjur'd monk suborn'd infernal shrieks, If Solitude his wandering steps invite
And fiends to snatch at the departing soul To some more deep recess (for hours there are, With hellish emulation. If a friend, When gay, when social minds to Friendship's voice, High o'er bis roof exultant angels tune Or Beauty's charm, her wild abodes prefer); Their golden lyres, and waft him to the skies. How pleas'd be treads her venerable shades, What then were vows, were oaths, were plighted Her solemn courts ! the centre of the grove !
faith? The root-built cave, by far-extended rocks The sovereign's just, the subject's loyal pact, Around embosom'd, how it sooths the soul ! To cherish mutual good, annull’d and vain, If scoop'd at first by superstitious hands
By Roman magic, grew an idle scroll The rugged cell receiv'd alone the shoals
Ere the frail sanction of the wax was cold. Of bigot minds, Religion dwells not here,
With thee, Plantagenet ·, from civil broils Yet Virtue pleas'd, at intervals, retires :
The land a while respir'd, and all was peace. Yet here may Wisdom, as she walks the maze, Then Becket rose, and, impotent of mind, Some serious truths collect, the rules of life, From regal courts with lawless fury march'd And serious truths of mightier weight than gold ! The churches' blood-stain'd convicts, and forgave;
I ask not wealth; but let me hoard with care, Bid murderous priests the sovereign frown contemn, With frugal cunning, with a niggard's art, And with unballow'd crosier bruis'd the crown. A few fixt principles ! in early life,
Yet yielded not supinely tame a prince Ere indolence impede the search, explor'd. Of Henry's virtues ; learn’d, courageous, wise, Then, like old Latimer, when age impairs Of fair ambition. Long his regal soul My judgment's eye, when quibbling schools attack Firm and erect the peevish priest exil'd, My grounded hope, or subtler wits deride, Will I not blush to shun the vain debate,
· Henry II. VOL. XIII.
And brav'd the fury of revengeful Rome.
The priest ! alas, so boundless was the ill! In vain ! let one faint malady diffuse
He, like the flock he pillag'd, pin'd forlorn! The pensive gloom which Superstition loves, The vivid vermeil fled his fady cheek, And see him, dwindled to a recreant groom, And his big paunch, distended with the spoils Rein the proud palfrey whilst the priest ascends ! Of half his flock, emaciate, groan'd beneath
Was Cour-de-lion a blest with whiter days? Superior pride, and mightier lust of power! Here the cowl'd zealots with united cries
'Twas now Rome's fondest friend, whose meagre Urg'd the crusade; and see, of half his stores
hand Despoild the wretch, whose wiser bosom chose Told to the midnight lamp his holy beads To bless his friend, his race, his native land. With nice precision, felt the deeper wound
Of ten fair Suns that rolld their annual race, As his gulld soul rever'd the conclave more. Not one beheld him on his vacant throne;
Whom did the ruin spare for wealth, for power, While haughty Longchamp 3, 'mid his liveried files Birth, honour, virtue, enemy, and friend, Of wanton vassals, spoil'd his faithful realm, Sunk helpless in the dreary gulf involvd; Battling in foreign fields; collecting wide And one capricious curse envelop'd all! A laurel harvest for a pillag'd land.
Were kings secure? in towering stations born, Oh dear-bought trophies! when a prince deserts In flattery nurs’d, inur'd to scorn mankind, His drooping realm, to pluck the barren sprays ! Or view diminish'd from their site sublime;
When faithless John usurp'd the sullied crown, As when a shepherd, from the lofty brow What ample tyranny! the groaning land
Of some proud cliff, surveys his lessening flock Deem'd Earth, deem'd Heaven its foe! six tedious In snowy groups diffusive scud the vale. years
A while the furious menace John return'd, Our helpless fathers in despair obey'd
And breath'd defiance loud. Alas! too soon The papal interdict; and who obey'd,
Allegiance sickening saw its sovereign yield, The sovereign plunder'd. O inglorious days ! An angry prey to scruples not his own. When the French tyrant, by the futile grant The loyal soldier, girt around with strength, Of papal rescript, claim'd Britannia's throne, Who stole from mirth and wine his blooming years, And durst invade; be such inglorious days And seiz'd the falchion, resolute to guard Or hence forgot, or not recall'd in vain !
His sovereign's right, impalsied at the news, Scarce had the tortur'd ear dejected heard Finds the firm bias of his soul revers'd Rome's loud anathema, but heartless, dead For foul desertion; drops the lifted steel, To every purpose, men nor wish'd to live, And quits Fame's noble harvest, to expire Nor dar'd to die. The poor laborious hind The death of monks, of surfeit, and of sloth! Heard the dire curse, and from his trembling hand At length, fatigued with wrongs, the servile king Fell the neglected crook that rul'd the plain. Drain'd from his land its small remaining stores Thence journeying home, in every cloud he sees To buy remission. But could these obtain ? A vengeful angel, in whose waving scroll
No ! resolute in wrongs the priests obdur'd; He reads DAMNATION ; sees its sable train
Till crawling base to Rome's deputed slave, Of grim attendants, pencil'd by despair !
His fame, his people, and his crown, he gave. The weary pilgrim from remoter climes
Mean nonarch! slighted, brav'd, abhorr'd before! By painful steps arriv'd; his home, his friends, And now, appeas'd by delegated sway, His offspring left, to lavish on the shrine The wily pontiff-scorns not to recall Of some far-honour'd saint his costly stores, His interdictions. Now the sacred doors Inverts his footstep ; sickens at the sight
Admit repentant multitudes, prepar'd Of the barr'd fane, and silent sheds his tear. To buy deceit; admit obsequious tribes
The wretch whose hope by stern Oppression chas'a of satraps ! princes! crawling to the shrine From every earthly bliss, still as it saw
Of sainted villany! the pompous tomb Triumphant Wrong, took wing, and flew to Heaven, Dazzling with gems and gold, or in a cloud And rested there, now mourn'd his refuge lost Of incense wreath'd, amidst a drooping land And wonted peace. The sacred fane was barrd, That sigh'd for bread ! 'Tis thus the Indian clove And the lone altar, where the mourners throng'd Displays its verdant leaf, its crimson flower, To supplicate remission, smok'd no more ; And sheds its odours; while the flocks around, While the green weed luxuriant round uprose. Hungry and faint, the barren sands explore Some from the death-bed, whose delirious faith In vain! nor plant nor herb endears the soil ; Through every stage of life to Rome's decrees Drain’d and exhaust to swell its thirsty pores, Obsequious, humbly hop'd to die in peace, And furnish luxury.-Yet in vain Now saw the ghastly king approach, begirt Britannia strove ; and whether artful Rome In tenfold terrours; now expiring heard
Caress'd or curs'd her, Superstition rag'd The last loud clarion sound, and Heaven's decree And blinded, fetter'd, and despoil'd the land. With unremitting vengeance bar the skies. At length some murderous munk, with poisonous Nor light the grief, by Superstition weigh’d,
art, That their dishonour'd corse, shut from the verge Expell’d the life his brethren robb'd of peace. Of hallow'd earth, or tutelary fane,
Nor yet surceas'd with John's disastrous fate Must sleep with brutes their vassals, on the field; Pontific fury! English wealth exhaust, Unneath some path, in marl unexorcis'd ! The sequent reign 4 beheld the beggar'd shore No solemn bell extort a neighbour's tear !
Grim with Italian usurers; prepar'd No tongue of priest pronounce their soul secure! To lend, for griping unexampled hire, Nor fondest friend assure their peace obtain'd! To lend—what Rome might pillage uncontrol'd. ? Richard I. 3 Bishop of Ely, lord chancellor. 4 Henry II!. who cancelled the Magna Charta,
For now with more extensive havoc rag'd And seek affection by the dreadful boon Relentless Gregory, with a thousand arts,
Of licens'd.murder. E'en the kindest prince, And each rapacious, born to drain the world! The most extended breast, the royal Hal ! Nor shall the Muse repeat, how oft he blew All unrelenting heard the Lollards' cry The croise's trumpet ; then for sums of gold Burst from the centre of remorseless flames; Annull’d the vow, and bade the false alarm Their shrieks endur'd! Oh stain to martial praise ! Swell the gross hoards of Henry, or his own. When Cobham, generous as the noble peer Nor shall she tell, how pontiffs dar'd repeal That wears his honours, paid the fatal price The best of charters! dar'd absolve the tie Of virtue blooming ere the storms were laid ! Of British kings by legal oath restrain'd.
'T was thus, alternate, truth's precarious flame Nor can she dwell on argosies of gold
Decay'd or flourish'd. With malignant eye From Albion's realm to servile shores convey'd, The pontiff saw Britannia's golden fleece, Wrung from her sons, and speeded by her kings ! Once all his own, invest her worthier sons ! Oh irksome day! when wicked thrones combine Her verdant valleys, and her fertile plains, With papal craft to gull their native land ! Yellow with grain, abjure his hateful sway !
Such was our fate, while Rome's director taught Essay'd his utmost art, and inly own'd Of subjects, born to be their monarch's prey, No labours bore proportion to the prize. To toil for monks, for gluttony to toil,
So when the tempter view'd, with envious eye, For vacant gluttony, extortion, fraud,
The first fair pattern of the female frame, For avarice, envy, pride, revenge, and shame! All Nature's beauties in one form display'd, O doctrine breath'd from Stygian caves ! exhal'd And centring there, in wild amaze he stood; From inmost Erebus !-Such Henry's reign ! Then only envying Heaven's creative hand, Urging his loyal realm's reluctant hand
Wish'd to his gloomy reign his envious arts To wield the peaceful sword ; by John ere while Might win this prize, and doubled every snare. Forc'd from his scabbard ; and with burnish'd And vain were reason, courage, learning, all, lance
Till power accede; till Tudor's wild caprice Essay the savage cure, domestic war!
Smile on their cause; Tudor, whose tyrant reign, And now some nobler spirits chas'd the mist With mental freedom crown'd, the best of kings Of general darkness. Grosted 5 now adorn'd Migbt envious view, and ill prefer their own! The mitred wreath he wore, with reason's sword Then Wolsey rose, by Nature form’d to seek Staggering delusion's frauds; at length beneath Ambition's trophies, by address to win, Rome's interdict expiring calm, resign'd
By temper to enjoy--whose humbler birth No vulgar soul that dar'd to Heaven appeal ! Taught the gay scenes of pomp to dazzle more. But ah this fertile glebe, this fair domain,
Then from its lowering height with horrid sound Had well nigh ceded to the slothful hands
Rush'd the proud Abbey. Then the vaulted roofs, Of monks libidinous ; ere Edward's care
Torn from their walls, disclos'd the wanton scene The lavish hand of death-bed fear restrain'd. Of monkish chastity! Each angry friar Yet was he clear of Superstition's taint?
Crawl'd from his bedded strumpet, muttering low He too, misdeemful of his wholesome law,
An ineffectual curse. The pervious nooks E'en he, expiring, gave his treasur'd gold That, ages past, convey'd the guileful priest To fatten monks on Salem's distant soil !
To play some image on the gaping crowd, Yes, the Third Edward's breast, to papal sway Imbibe the novel day-light; and expose So little prone, and fierce in honour's cause, Obvious the fraudful engin'ry of Rome. Could Superstition quell! before the towers As though this opening Earth to nether realms Of haggard Paris, at the thunder's voice
Should Hash meridian day, the hooded race He drops the sword, and signs ignoble peace! Shudder abash'd to find their cheats display'd ;
But still the Night by Romish art diffus'd And, conscious of their guilt, and pleas'd to wave Collects her clouds, and with slow pace recedes, Its fearful meed, resign'd their fair domain. When, by soft Bourdeau's braver queen approv'd, Nor yet supine, nor void of rage, retir'd Bold Wickliff rose: and while the bigot Power The pest gigantic; whose revengeful stroke Amidst her native darkness skulk'd secure, Ting'd the red annals of Maria's reign, The demon vanish'd as he spread the day. When from the tenderest breast cach wayward So froin his bosom Cacus breath'd of old
priest The pitchy cloud, and in a night of smoke Could banish mercy and implant a fiend ! Secure a while his recreant life sustain'd ;
When Cruelty the funeral pyre upreard, Till fam'd Alcides, o'er his subtlest wiles
And bound Religion there, and fir'd the base ! Victorious, cheer'd the ravag'd nations round. When the same blaze, wbich on each tortur'd limb
Hail, honour'd Wickliff! enterprising sage! Fed with luxuriant rage, in every face An Epicurus in the cause of truth!
Triumphant Faith appear'd, and smiling Hope. For 't is not radiant suns, the jovial hours
O blest Eliza! from thy piercing beam Of youthful Spring, an ether all serene,
Forth flew this hated fiend, the child of Rome; Nor all the verdure of Campania's vales,
Driven to the verge of Albion, linger'd there, Can chase religious gloom! "Tis reason, thought, Then with her James receding, cast behind The light, the radiance that pervades the soul, One angry frown, and sought more servile cl'mes. And sheds its beams on Heav'n's mysterious sway! Henceforth they plied the long-continued task As yet this light but glimmer'd, and again Of righteous havoc, covering distant fields Errour prevail'd; while kings by force uprais'd With the wrought remnants of the shat'er'd pile. Let loose the rage of bigots on their foes,
While through the land the musing pilgrim sees
A tract of brighter green, and in the mid-t • Bishop of Lincoln, called Malleus Romanorum. Appears a mouldering wall, with ivy crown'd;