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A fullen thing, whofe coarseness suits the crowd ;
Tho' young, unhandsome; tho' unhandsome, proud :
Thus, with the wanton, fome perversely judge
All girls unhealthy but the Country drudge.

No foreign schemes make eafy Capio roam,
The man contented tak s his Church at home;
Nay should fome Preachers, servile bawds of gain,
Should some new Laws, which like new fashions reign, 70
Command his faith to count Salvation ty'd
To visit his, and visit none befide,
He grants Salvation centers in his own,
And grants ir centers but in his alone :
From youth to age he grasps the proffer'd dame, 75
And they confer his Foith, who give his Name :
So from the Guardian's hands, the Wards who live
Enthrall'd to Guardians, take the wives they give.

From all professions careless Airy fies, For, all professions can't be good, he cries, 80 And here a fault, and there another views, And lives unfix'd for want of heart to chuse. So men, who know what some loose girls have done, For fear of marrying such, will marry none.

The Charms of all, obsequious Courtly strike; 85 On each he doats, on each attends alike; And thinks, as diff'rent countries deck the dame, The dresses altering, and the fex the fame; So fares Religion, chang'd in ourward show, But 'tis Religion still, where'er we go:

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This blindness springs from an excess of light,
And men embrace the wrong to chuse the right.

But thou of force must one Religion own,
And only one, and that the Right alone.
To find that Right one, ask thy Rev'rend Sire

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Let him of his, and him of his enquire ;
Tho' Truth and Falfhood seem as twins ally'd,
There's Eldership on Truth's delightful side,
Her seek with heed--who seeks the foundest First
Is not of No Religion, nor the worst.
T'adore, or scorn an Image, or protest,
May all be bad; doubt wisely for the best;
'Twere wrong to seep, or headlong run astray;
It is not wand'ring to inquire the way.

On a large mountain, at the Basis wide, 105
Steep to the top, and craggy at the side,
Sits sacred Trulb enthron'd; and he, who means
To reach the fummit, mounts with weary pains,
Winds round and round, and ev'ry turn essays
Where sudden breaks resist the shorter ways.

Yet labour so, that, ere faint age arrive,
Thy searching foul poffefs her Rest alive;
To work by twilight were to work too late,
And Age is twilight to the night of fate.
To will alone, is but to mean delay :
To work at present is the use of day,
For man's employ much thought and deed remain,
High Thoughts the Soul, hard deeds the body strain :

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And Nystries ask believing, which to View
Like the fair Sun, are plain, but dazzling too.

Be Truth, so found, with sacred heed po Test,
Not Kings have pow'r to tear it from thy breast;
By no blank Charters harm they where they hate,
Nor are they Vicars, but the Hands of Fate.
Ah! fool and wretch, who let'st thy soul be ty'd 125
To human Laws! Or must it so be try'd ?
Or will it boot thee, at the latest day,
When Judgment sits, and Justice asks thy plea,
That Philip that, or Greg'ry taught thee this,
Or John or Martin? All may teach amiss: 130
For ev'ry contrary in each extream
This holds alike, and each may plead the same.

Would'st thou to Pow'r a proper duty shew? 'Tis thy first task the bounds of pow'r to know ; The bounds once past, it holds the name no more, 135 Its nature alters, which it own'd before, Nor were submission humbleness expreft, But all a low Idolatry at best.

Pow'r from above subordinately spread, Streams like a fountain from th' eternal head;

140 There, calm and pure the living waters flow, But roar a Torrent or a Flood below; Each flow'r, ordain’d the Margins to adorn, Each native Beauty, from its roots is torn, And left on Deserts, Rocks, and Sands, or toft 145 All the long travel, and in Ocean loft ;

So fares the soul, which more that Pow'r reveres
Man claims from God, than what in God inheres.

NOTE s. This noble fimilitude, with which the Satire concludes, Dr. Parnell did not seem to understand; or was not able to express it in its original force. Dr. Donne says,

“ As streams are, Pow'r is; those blest fow'rs that dwell “ At the rough streams calm head, thrive, and do well; “ But having left their roots, and themselves given “ To the streams tyrannous rage, alas, are driven “ Through mills, rocks, and woods, and at last, almost “ Consum'd in going, in the Sea are lost.

“ So perish Souls,” &c. Dr. Donne exprelly compares power to streams: but the comparison of fouls to flowers being only implied, Dr. Parnell overlooked that part ; and so has hurt the whole thought, by making the flowers paffive; whereas the Original says, they leave their roots, and give themse'ves to the stream: that is, wilfully prefer human Authority to divine ; and this makes thein the object of his Satire ; which they would not have been, were they irresistibly carried away, as the Imitation supposes.

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IR, though (I thank God for it) I do hate

Perfectly all this town; yet there's one state In all ill things, so excellently best, That hate towards them, breeds pity towards the

rest. Though Poetry, indeed, be such a fin, As, I think, that brings Dearth and Spaniards in: Though like the pestilence, and old-fashion'd love, Ridlingly it catch men, and doth remove Never, till it be starv'd out; yet their state Is

poor, disarm'd, like Papists, not worth hate.

One (likeawretch, which at barrejudg’das dead, Yet prompts him which stands next, and cannot

read, And saves his life) gives Idiot Actors means, (Starving himself) to live by's labour'd scenes, As in some Organs, Puppits dance above, And bellows pant below, which them do move. One would move love by rythmes; but witch

craft's charms Bring not now their old fears, nor their old harms:

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