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That Chrift, who at the great deciding day (For He declares what He refolves to fay). Will Damn the Goats, for their Ill-natur'd faults, And fave the Sheep, for Actions, nor for Thoughts, Hath too much mercy to fend men to Hell, For humble Charity, and hoping well.

To what Stupidity are Zealots grown,

Whose inhumanity profufely fhown in their own!}

I'll err at leaft on the fecurer fide,

A Convert free from Malice and from Pride,

To Mr. DRYDEN, on his

RELIGIO LAICI.

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Hofe Gods the pious Ancients did adore,
They learn in Verfe devoutly to implore,
Thinking it rude to use the common way
Of Talk, when they did to fuch Beings pray.
Nay they that taught Religion firft, thought fit
In Verse its facred Precepts to transmit :
So Solon too did his firft Statutes draw,
And every little Stanza was a Law.
By these few Precedents we plainly fee
The Primitive Design of Poetry;
Which by reftoring to its Native use,
You generously have refcu'd from abuse.

Whilft your lov'd Mufe does in sweet Numbers fing,
She vindicates her God, and God-like King.

Atheist, and Rebel too, fhe does oppose,

(God and the King have always the fame Foes.) Legions of Verfe you raise in their defence, And write the Factious to Obedience;

You the bold Arian to Arms defie,

A conquering Champion for the Deity

Against the Whigs first Parents, who did dare
To difinherit God-Almighty's Heir.
And what the hot-brain'd Arian first began,
Is carried on by the Socinian,

Who ftill Affociates to keep God a Man.

But 'tis the Prince of Poets Task alone

T'affert the Rights of God's, and Charles his Throne.
Whilft vulgar Poets purchase vulgar Fame
By chaunting Chloris, or fair Phillis Name;
Whose Reputation fhall last as long,

As Fops and Ladies fing the amorous Song.
A Nobler Subject wifely they refuse,

The Mighty weight would crufh their feeble Muse.
So Story tells, a Painter once would try
With his bold hand to Limn a Deity;
And He, by frequent practising that part,
Could draw a Minor-God with wondrous Art:
But when great Jove did to the Workman fit,
The Thunderer fuch horrour did beget,
That put the frighted Artist to a stand,
And made his Pencil drop from's baffi'd Hand

The XXII. ODE of the

FIRST BOOK of HORACE.

By the Earl of Rofcomon.
Integer Vita, &c.

Ertue, Dear Friend, needs no defence,
Eturent Guard is Innocence:

None knew, till Guilt created Fear,
What Darts or poifon'd Arrows were.
Integrity undaunted goes

Through Libyan fands or Scythian fnows,

Or where Hydafpe's wealthy fide
Pays Tribute to the Perfian pride.

For as (by amorous Thoughts betray'd}
Careless in Sabin Woods I' ftray'd,
A grifly foaming Wolf unfed,
Met me unarm'd, yet trembling fled.
No Beast of more portentous fize,
In the Hercinian Foreft lies;
None fiercer, in Numidia bred,
With Carthage were in Triumph led.
Set me in the remoteft place,
That Neptune's frozen Arms embrace:
Where angry Jove did never spare
One Breath of kind and temperate Air:
Set me where on fome pathlefs Plain
The fwarthy Africans complain,
To fee the Chariot of the Sun
So near their scorching Country run :
The burning Zone, the frozen Isles,
Shall hear me fing of Calla's Smiles;
All cold but in her Breaft I will defpife,
And dare all heat but that in Calia's Eyes.

The VI. ODE of the

1

THIRD BOOK of HORACE.

TH

Of the Corruption of the Times.

By the Earl of Rofcomon.

"Hofe ills your Ancestors have done
Romans, are now become your own ¿1⁄2
And they will coft you dear,

Unless you foon repair

The falling Temples which the Gods provoke, And Statues fully'd yet with Sacrilegious Smoke,

Propitious Heaven that rais'd your Fathers high,
For humble, grateful Piety,
(As it rewarded their, Respect)

Hath fharply punish'd your neglect..

All Empires on the Gods depend,

Begun by their command, at their command they End..
Let Craffus Ghost and Labienus tell

How twice by Jove's revenge our Legions fell,
And with infulting Pride

Shining in Roman spoils the Parthian Victors ride.
The Scythian and Ægyptian Scum
Had almoft ruin'd Rome,

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While our Seditions took their part,

Fill'd each Ægyptian fail, and wing'd each Scythian First, thefe Flagitious times,

(Pregnant with unknown Crimes),

Confpire to violate the Nuptial Bed,
From which polluted head

[dart..

Infectious Streams of crowding Sins began, And through the fpurious breed and guilty Nation Behold a ripe and melting Maid, -[ran. Bound Prentice to the wanton Trade;

Ionian Artists at a mighty price

Inftru&t her in the Mysteries of Vice,

What Nets to fpread, where fubtile Baits to lay,
And with an early hand they form the temper'd Clay.
Marry'd, their Leffons fhe improves

By practice of Adult'rous Loves,
And fcorns the common mean defign
To take advantage of her Husband's Wine,
Or fnatch in fome dark place

A hafty Illegitimate Embrace.

No! the brib'd Husband knows of all,
And bids her rife when Lovers call;
Hither a Merchant from the Straits,
Grown wealthy by forbidden Freights,
Or City Cannibal, repairs,

Who feeds upon the flesh of Heirs.

Convenient Brutes, whose tributary flame, Pays the full price of luft, and gilds the flighted 'Tis not the Spawn of fuch as these, [fhame. That dy'd with Punick Blood the Conquer'd Seas, And quafht the ftern acides;

Made the proud Afian Monarch feel

How weak his Gold was against Europe's Steel;
Forc'd e'en dire Hannibal to yield;

And won the long difputed World at Zama's fatal field.
But Soldiers of a Ruftick Mould,
Rough, hardy, feafon'd, manly, bold;

Either they dug the ftubborn Ground,

Or through hewn Woods their weighty ftrokes did
And after the declining Sun
[found:
Had chang'd the fhadows, and their Task was done,
Home with their weary Team they took their way,
And drown'd in friendly Bowls the labour of the day.
Time fenfibly all things impairs;

Our Fathers have been worse than theirs ;
And we than Ours, next Age will fee

A Race more profligate than we

(With all the pains we take) have skill enough to be.

The IV. ODE of the

FIRST BOOK of HORACE.

Conquer'd with foft and pleafing Charms,

never-failing Vows of her return, Winter unlocks his frofty Arms

To free the joyful Spring ;

Which for fresh Loves with youthful heat do's burn; Warm South-winds Court her, and with fruitful Awake the drowfie flowers,

[fhow'rs

Who haste and all their sweetness bring
To pay their yearly Offering.

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