And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart.

Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib'd,
Were copied close in him, and well transcrib'd.
He follow'd Paul; his zeal a kindred flame, 582
His apostolic charity the same.

Like him, cross'd cheerfully tempestuous seas,
Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease;
Like him he labour'd, and like him content
To bear it, suffer'd shame where'er he went.
Blush Calumny! and write upon his tomb,
If honest Eulogy can spare thee room,

Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, 590
Which, aim'd at him, have pierc'd th' offended

skies;

And say,

Blot out my sin, confess'd, deplor'd,

Against thine image in thy saint, O Lord!

No blinder bigot, I maintain it still,

Than he who must have pleasure, come what will:

He laughs, whatever weapon Truth may draw, And deems her sharp artillery mere straw.

Scripture indeed is plain; but God and he
On Scripture ground are sure to disagree;
Some wiser rule must teach him how to live,
Than this his Maker has seen fit to give;
Supple and flexible as Indian cane,

To take the bend his appetites ordain;
Contriv'd to suit frail nature's crazy case,
And reconcile his lusts with saving grace,
By this, with nice precision of design,
He draws upon life's map a zigzag line,
That shows how far 'tis safe to follow sin,
And where his danger and God's wrath begin.
By this he forms, as pleas'd he sports along,
His well-pois'd estimate of right and wrong;
And finds the modish manners of the day,
Though loose, as harmless as an infant's play.
Build by whatever plan caprice decrees,

600

610

With what materials, on what ground you please; Your hope shall stand unblam'd, perhaps admir'd, If not that hope the Scripture has requir'd,

The strange conceits, vain projects, and wild

dreams,

With which hypocrisy for ever teems,

(Though other follies strike the public eye,

And raise a laugh) pass unmolested by;
But if, unblamable in word or thought,
A man arise, a man whom God has taught,
With all Elijah's dignity of tone,

And all the love of the beloved John,

To storm the citadels they build in air,

620

And smite th' untemper'd wall; 'tis death to spare. To sweep away all refuges of lies,

And place, instead of quirks themselves devise,
LAMA SABACTHANI before their eyes;

To prove that without Christ all gain is loss,
All hope despair, that stands not on his cross;
Except the few his God may have impress'd,
A tenfold frenzy seizes all the rest.

630

Throughout mankind, the Christian kind at

least,

There dwells a consciousness in ev'ry breast,

VOL. I.

N

That folly ends where genuine hope begins,

And he that finds his Heav'n must lose his sins.
Nature opposes with her utmost force
This riving stroke, this ultimate divorce;

And, while religion seems to be her view,
Hates with a deep sincerity the true:
For this, of all that ever influenc'd man,
Since Abel worshipp'd, or the world began,
This only spares no lust, admits no plea,
But makes him, if at all, completely free;

Sounds forth the signal, as she mounts her car,

Of an eternal, universal war;

640

Rejects all treaty, penetrates all wiles,

649

Scorns with the same indiff'rence frowns and

smiles;

Drives through the realms of Sin, where Riot reels,

And grinds his crown beneath her burning wheels! Hence all that is in man, pride, passion, art, Pow'rs of the mind, and feelings of the heart, Insensible of Truth's almighty charms,

Starts at her first approach, and sounds to arms!

While Bigotry, with well dissembl'd fears,
His eyes shut fast, his fingers in his ears,
Mighty to parry and push by God's word
With senseless noise, his argument the sword,
Pretends a zeal for godliness and grace,

And spits abhorrence in the Christian's face.

661

Parent of Hope, immortal Truth! make known Thy deathless wreaths, and triumphs all thine own: The silent progress of thy pow'r is such,

Thy means so feeble, and despis'd so much,

That few believe the wonders thou hast wrought,

And none can teach them, but whom thou hast

taught.

O see me sworn to serve thee, and command

A painter's skill into a poet's band,

That, while I trembling trace a work divine,
Fancy may stand aloof from the design,

670

And light, and shade, and ev'ry stroke be thine. If ever thou hast felt another's pain,

If ever when he sigh'd hast sigh'd again,