Yet to consult 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 power give more than food and drink,
To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
These are the cooler methods of their crime,
But their hot zealots think 'tis loss of time;
On utmost bounds of loyalty they stand,
And grin and whet like a Croatian band,
That waits impatient for the last command.
Thus outlaws open villany maintain,

240

They steal not, but in squadrons scour the plain;
And if their power the passengers subdue,

The most have right, the wrong is in the few. 245
Such impious axioms foolishly they show,
For in some soils republics will not grow:
Our temperate isle will no extremes sustain
Of popular sway or arbitrary reign;

250

But slides between them both into the best,
Secure in freedom, in a monarch blest :
And though the climate, vex'd with various winds,
Works through our yielding bodies on our minds,
The wholesome tempest purges what it breeds,
To recommend the calmness that succeeds.

But thou, the pander of the people's hearts,
O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts,
Whose blandishments a loyal land have whor'd,
And broke the bonds she plighted to her lord;
What curses on thy blasted name will fall!
Which age to age their legacy shall call;

255

260

For all must curse the woes that must descend on

all.

Religion thou hast none; thy Mercury

Has pass'd thro' every sect, or theirs thro' thee. But what thou givest, that venom still remains; And the pox'd nation feels thee in their brains. What else inspires the tongues and swells the

breasts

Of all thy bellowing renegado priests,

That preach up thee for God; dispense thy laws; And with thy stum ferment their fainting cause? Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat To make the formidable cripple great.

Yet should thy crimes succeed, should lawless power

Compass those ends thy greedy hopes devour,
Thy canting friends thy mortal foes would be, 275
Thy God and theirs will never long agree;
For thine (if thou hast any) must be one
That lets the world and human-kind alone :
A jolly god, that passes hours too well.

To promise heaven, or threaten us with hell. 290
That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit,

And wink at crimes he did himself commit.

A tyrant theirs; the heaven their priesthood paints

A conventicle of gloomy sullen saints;

A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad;

Foredoom'd for souls, with false religion mad.

Without a vision poets can foreshow

285

What all but fools by common sense may know:

If true succession from our isle should fail,
And crowds profane with impious arms prevail,
Not thou, nor those thy factious arts engage,
Shall reap that harvest of rebellious rage,
With which thou flatterest thy decrepid age.
The swelling poison of the several sects,
Which, wanting vent, the nation's health infects,
Shall burst its bag; and, fighting out their way,
The various venoms on each other prey.
The presbyter, puff'd up with spiritual pride,
Shall on the necks of the lewd nobles ride:
His brethren damn, the civil power defy:
And parcel out republic prelacy.

300

But short shall be his reign: his rigid yoke
And tyrant power will puny sects provoke;
And frogs and toads, in all the tadpole train,
Will croak to heaven for help from this devouring

crane.

305

The cut-throat sword and clamorous gown shall jar,
In sharing their ill-gotten spoils of war:
Chiefs shall be grudg'd the part which they pre-

tend;

Lords envy lords, and friends with every friend
About their impious merit shall contend.
The surly commons shall respect deny,
And justle peerage out with property.
Their general either shall his trust betray,
And force the crowd to arbitrary sway;
Or they, suspecting his ambitious aim,

310

315

In hate of kings shall cast anew the frame;
And thrust 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 hæc opprobria, vobis

Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli.

320

69

RELIGIO LAICI;

OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH.

THE PREFACE.

A POEM with so bold a title, and a name prefixed from which the handling of so serious a subject would not be expected, may reasonably oblige the author to say somewhat in defence, both of himself and of his undertaking In the first place, if it be objected to me that, being a layman, I ought not to have concerned myself with speculations, which belong to the profession of divinity, I could answer, that perhaps laymen, with equal advantages of parts and knowledge, are not the most incompetent judges of sacred things; but in the due sense of my own weakness and want of learning I plead not this; I pretend not to make myself a judge of faith in others, but only to make a confession of my own. I lay no unhallowed hand upon the ark, but wait on it, with the reverence that becomes me, at a distance. In the next place I will ingenuously confess, that the helps I have used in this small treatise were many of them taken from the works of our own reverend divines of the Church of England; so that the weapons with which I combat irreligion are already consecrated; though I suppose they may be taken down as lawfully as the sword of Goliah was by David, when they are to be employed for the common cause against the enemies of piety. I intend not by this to entitle them to any of my errors, which yet, L hope, are only those of charity to mankind; and such as my own charity has caused me to commit, that of others may more easily excuse. Being naturally inclined to scepticism