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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
To that long story little answer needs;
}
Confront but Henry's words with Henry's deeds.
Were space allowed, with ease it might be proved,
What springs his blessed reformation moved.
The dire effects appeared in open sight,
Which from the cause he calls a distant flight,
}
And yet no larger leap than from the sun to light.
Now last your sons a double pæan sound,
A treatise of humility is found.
'Tis found, but better it had ne'er been sought,
Than thus in Protestant procession brought.
The famed original through Spain is known,
Rodriguez' work, my celebrated son,
}
Which yours, by ill-translating, made his own;[206]
Concealed its author, and usurped the name,
The basest and ignoblest theft of fame.
My altars kindled first that living coal;
Restore, or practise better what you stole;
That virtue could this humble verse inspire,
'Tis all the restitution I require.—
Glad was the Panther that the charge was closed,
And none of all her favourite sons exposed;
for laws of arms permit each injured man,
To make himself a saver where he can.
Perhaps the plundered merchant cannot tell
The names of pirates in whose hands he fell;
But at the den of thieves he justly flies,
And every Algerine is lawful prize;
No private person in the foe's estate
Can plead exemption from the public fate.
Yet Christian laws allow not such redress;
Then let the greater supersede the less.
But let the abettors of the Panther's crime
Learn to make fairer wars another time.
Some characters may sure be found to write
Among her sons; for 'tis no common sight,
}
A spotted dam, and all her offspring white.
The savage, though she saw her plea controuled,
Yet would not wholly seem to quit her hold,
But offered fairly to compound the strife,
And judge conversion by the convert's life.
 j g y
'Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange,
So few should follow profitable change;
For present joys are more to flesh and blood,
Than a dull prospect of a distant good.
'Twas well alluded by a son of mine,
(I hope to quote him is not to purloin,)
Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss;
The larger loadstone that, the nearer this:
The weak attraction of the greater fails;
We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails;
But when the greater proves the nearer too,
I wonder more your converts come so slow.
Methinks in those who firm with me remain,
It shows a nobler principle than gain.—
Your inference would be strong, the Hind replied,
If yours were in effect the suffering side;
Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess,
Nor are their prospects in reversion less.
My proselytes are struck with awful dread,
Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head;
The respite they enjoy but only lent,
The best they have to hope, protracted punishment.[207]
Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail,
Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale.
While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease,
That is, till man's predominant passions cease,
}
Admire no longer at my slow increase.
By education most have been misled;
So they believe, because they so were bred.
The priest continues what the nurse began,
And thus the child imposes on the man.
The rest I named before, nor need repeat;
But interest is the most prevailing cheat,
The sly seducer both of age and youth;
They study that, and think they study truth.
When interest fortifies an argument,
Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent;
}
For souls, already warped, receive an easy bent.
Add long prescription of established laws,
And pique of honour to maintain a cause,
And shame of change and fear of future ill
And shame of change, and fear of future ill,
And zeal, the blind conductor of the will;
And chief, among the still-mistaking crowd,
The fame of teachers obstinate and proud,
}
And, more than all, the private judge allowed;
Disdain of fathers which the dance began,
And last, uncertain whose the narrower span,
}
The clown unread, and half-read gentleman.—
To this the Panther, with a scornful smile;—
Yet still you travel with unwearied toil,
And range around the realm without controul,
Among my sons for proselytes to prowl;
}
And here and there you snap some silly soul.
You hinted fears of future change in state;
Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fate!
Perhaps, you think your time of triumph near,
But may mistake the season of the year;
}
The Swallow's fortune gives you cause to fear.—[208]
For charity, replied the matron, tell
What sad mischance those pretty birds befel.—
Nay, no mischance, the savage dame replied,
But want of wit in their unerring guide,
}
And eager haste, and gaudy hopes, and giddy pride.
Yet, wishing timely warning may prevail,
Make you the moral, and I'll tell the tale.
The Swallow, privileged above the rest
Of all the birds, as man's familiar guest,
Pursues the sun, in summer brisk and bold,
But wisely shuns the persecuting cold;
Is well to chancels and to chimnies known,
Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone.
From hence she has been held of heavenly line,
Endued with particles of soul divine.
This merry chorister had long possessed
Her summer-seat, and feathered well her nest;
Till frowning skies began to change their cheer,
And time turned up the wrong side of the year;
The shading trees began the ground to strow
With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow.
Sad auguries of winter thence she drew,
Which by instinct, or prophecy, she knew;
When prudence warned her to remove betimes,
And seek a better heaven, and warmer climes.
Her sons were summoned on a steeple's height,
And, called in common council, vote a flight.
The day was named, the next that should be fair;
All to the general rendezvous repair,
}
They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air.
But whether upward to the moon they go,
Or dream the winter out in caves below,
}
Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to know.
Southwards you may be sure they bent their flight,
And harboured in a hollow rock at night; }
Next morn they rose, and set up every sail;
The wind was fair, but blew a mackrel gale;
The sickly young sat shivering on the shore,
Abhorred salt-water never seen before.
And prayed their tender mothers to delay
The passage, and expect a fairer day.
With these the Martin readily concurred,
A church bigot, and church-believing bird;
Of little body, but of lofty mind,
Round bellied, for a dignity designed,
}
And much a dunce, as Martins are by kind;
Yet often quoted canon-laws, and code,
And fathers which he never understood;
}
But little learning needs in noble blood.
For, sooth to say, the Swallow brought him in,
Her household chaplain, and her next of kin;
In superstition silly to excess,
And casting schemes by planetary guess;
In fine, short-winged, unfit himself to fly,
His fear foretold foul weather in the sky.
Besides, a Raven from a withered oak,[209]
Left of their lodging, was observed to croak.
That omen liked him not; so his advice
Was present safety, bought at any price;
}
A seeming pious care, that covered cowardice.
To strengthen this, he told a boding dream,
Of rising waters, and a troubled stream,
Sure signs of anguish, dangers, and distress,
With something more, not lawful to express:
With something more, not lawful to express:
By which he slily seemed to intimate
Some secret revelation of their fate.
For he concluded, once upon a time,
He found a leaf inscribed with sacred rhyme,
Whose antique characters did well denote
The Sibyl's hand of the Cumæan grot;
The mad divineress had plainly writ,
A time should come, but many ages yet,
In which, sinister destinies ordain,
A dame should drown with all her feathered train,
}
And seas from thence be called the Chelidonian main.[210]
At this, some shook for fear; the more devout
Arose, and blessed themselves from head to foot.
'Tis true, some stagers of the wiser sort
Made all these idle wonderments their sport;
They said, their only danger was delay,
And he, who heard what every fool could say,
}
Would never fix his thought, but trim his time away.
The passage yet was good; the wind, 'tis true,
Was somewhat high, but that was nothing new,
}
No more than usual equinoxes blew.
The sun, already from the Scales declined,
Gave little hopes of better days behind,
}
But change from bad to worse, of weather and of wind.
Nor need they fear the dampness of the sky
Should flag their wings, and hinder them to fly,
}
'Twas only water thrown on sails too dry.
But, least of all, philosophy presumes
Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes;
Perhaps the Martin, housed in holy ground,
Might think of ghosts, that walk their midnight round,
Till grosser atoms, tumbling in the stream
Of fancy, madly met, and clubbed into a dream:
As little weight his vain presages bear,
Of ill effect to such alone who fear;
Most prophecies are of a piece with these,
Each Nostradamus can foretel with ease:
Not naming persons, and confounding times,
One casual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes.
The advice was true; but fear had seized the most,
A d ll d li d l t
And all good counsel is on cowards lost.
The question crudely put to shun delay,
'Twas carried by the major part to stay.
His point thus gained, Sir Martin dated thence
His power, and from a priest became a prince.
He ordered all things with a busy care,
And cells and refectories did prepare,
}
And large provisions laid of winter fare;
But, now and then, let fall a word or two,
Of hope, that heaven some miracle might show,
}
And for their sakes, the sun should backward go;
Against the laws of nature upward climb,
And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime;
For which two proofs in sacred story lay,
Of Ahaz' dial, and of Joshua's day.
In expectation of such times as these,
A chapel housed them, truly called of ease;
For Martin much devotion did not ask;
They prayed sometimes, and that was all their task.
It happened, as beyond the reach of wit
Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit,
That this accomplished, or at least in part,
Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art.
Some Swifts,[211] the giants of the Swallow kind,
Large limbed, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind,
}
(For Swisses, or for Gibeonites designed,
These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane,
To suck fresh air, surveyed the neighbouring plain,
And saw, but scarcely could believe their eyes,
New blossoms flourish, and new flowers arise;
As God had been abroad, and, walking there,
Had left his footsteps, and reformed the year.
The sunny hills from far were seen to glow
With glittering beams, and in the meads below
}
The burnished brooks appeared with liquid gold to flow.
At last they heard the foolish Cuckow sing,
Whose note proclaimed the holiday of spring.
No longer doubting, all prepare to fly,
And repossess their patrimonial sky.
The priest before them did his wings display;
And that good omens might attend their way,
}
 g g y
As luck would have it, 'twas St Martin's day.
Who but the Swallow now triumphs alone?
The canopy of heaven is all her own;
Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair,
And glide along in glades, and skim in air,
And dip for insects in the purling springs,
And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings.
Their mothers think a fair provision made,
That every son can live upon his trade,
And, now the careful charge is off their hands,
Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands.
The youthful widow longs to be supplied;
But first the lover is by lawyers tied,
}
To settle jointure-chimnies on the bride.
So thick they couple in so short a space,
That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace.
Their ancient houses, running to decay,
Are furbished up, and cemented with clay:
They teem already; store of eggs are laid,
And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid.
Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear,
In flocks, to greet the new returning year,
}
To bless the founder, and partake the cheer.
And now 'twas time, so fast their numbers rise,
To plant abroad and people colonies.
The youth drawn forth, as Martin had desired,
(For so their cruel destiny required,)
Were sent far off on an ill-fated day;
The rest would needs conduct them on their way,
And Martin went, because he feared alone to stay.
So long they flew with inconsiderate haste,
That now their afternoon began to waste;
And, what was ominous, that very morn
The sun was entered into Capricorn;
Which, by their bad astronomer's account,
That week the Virgin balance should remount.
An infant moon eclipsed him in his way,
And hid the small remainders of his day.
The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark,
But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark.[212]
Few mind the public in a panic fright
Few mind the public, in a panic fright,
And fear increased the horror of the night.
Night came, but unattended with repose;
Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close;
Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose.
What should they do, beset with dangers round,
No neighbouring dorp,[213] no lodging to be found,
But bleaky plains, and bare, unhospitable ground?
The latter brood, who just began to fly,
Sick-feathered, and unpractised in the sky,
For succour to their helpless mother call:
She spread her wings; some few beneath them crawl;
She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all.
To augment their woes, the winds began to move,
Debate in air for empty fields above,
Till Boreas got the skies, and poured amain
His rattling hailstones, mixed with snow and rain.
The joyless morning late arose, and found
A dreadful desolation reign around,
}
Some buried in the snow, some frozen to the ground.
The rest were struggling still with death, and lay
The Crows and Ravens rights an undefended prey:
Excepting Martin's race; for they and he
Had gained the shelter of a hollow tree;
But, soon discovered by a sturdy clown,
He headed all the rabble of a town,
}
And finished them with bats, or polled them down.
Martin himself was caught alive, and tried
For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide
}
No Martin there in winter shall abide.
High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear,
He breathed his last, exposed to open air;
And there his corpse unblessed is hanging still,
To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill.—[214]
The patience of the Hind did almost fail,
For well she marked the malice of the tale;
Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes;
In malice it began, by malice grows;
}
He sowed the serpent's teeth, an iron harvest rose.
But most in Martin's character and fate,
She saw her slandered sons, the Panther's hate,
The people's rage, the persecuting state:[215]
Then said, I take the advice in friendly part;
You clear your conscience, or at least your heart.
Perhaps you failed in your foreseeing skill,
For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill:
As for my sons, the family is blessed,
Whose every child is equal to the rest;
No church reformed can boast a blameless line,
Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine;
Or else an old fanatic author lies,
Who summed their scandals up by centuries.[216]
But through your parable I plainly see
The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity;
The sunshine, that offends the purblind sight,
Had some their wishes, it would soon be night.[217]
Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you;
Your sons are malecontents, but yet are true,
As far as non-resistance makes them so;
But that's a word of neutral sense, you know,
A passive term, which no relief will bring,
But trims betwixt a rebel and a king.—
Rest well assured, the Pardelis replied,
My sons would all support the regal side,
}
Though heaven forbid the cause by battle should be tried.—
The matron answered with a loud Amen,
And thus pursued her arguments again:—
If, as you say, and as I hope no less,
Your sons will practise what yourselves profess,
}
What angry power prevents our present peace?
The Lion, studious of our common good,
Desires (and kings' desires are ill withstood)
To join our nations in a lasting love;
The bars betwixt are easy to remove,
}
For sanguinary laws were never made above.[217a]
If you condemn that prince of tyranny,
Whose mandate forced your Gallic friends to fly,[218]
Make not a worse example of your own,
Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown,
}
And let the guiltless person throw the stone.
His blunted sword your suffering brotherhood
His blunted sword your suffering brotherhood
Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood:
But you have ground the persecuting knife,
And set it to a razor-edge on life.
Cursed be the wit, which cruelty refines,
Or to his father's rod the scorpion joins!
}
Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's loins.
But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note,
And stick it on the first reformers' coat.
Oh let their crime in long oblivion sleep;
'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep!
Unjust, or just, is all the question now;
'Tis plain, that, not repealing, you allow.
To name the Test would put you in a rage;
You charge not that on any former age,
But smile to think how innocent you stand,
Armed by a weapon put into your hand.
Yet still remember, that you wield a sword,
Forged by your foes against your sovereign lord;
Designed to hew the imperial cedar down,
Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown.[219]
To abhor the makers, and their laws approve,
Is to hate traitors, and the treason love.
What means it else, which now your children say,
We made it not, nor will we take away?
Suppose some great oppressor had, by slight
Of law, disseised your brother of his right,
}
Your common sire surrendering in a fright;
Would you to that unrighteous title stand,
Left by the villain's will to heir the land?
More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold;
The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold,
}
Nor hang in peace, before he rendered back the gold.
What more could you have done, than now you do,
Had Oates and Bedlow and their plot been true?
Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found;
The dire magicians threw their mists around,
}
And wise men walked as on enchanted ground.
But now when time has made the imposture plain,
(Late though he followed truth, and limping held her train,
}
What new delusion charms your cheated eyes again?
The painted harlot might a while bewitch
The painted harlot might a while bewitch,
But why the hag uncased, and all obscene with itch?[220]
The first reformers were a modest race;
Our peers possessed in peace their native place,
And when rebellious arms o'erturned the state,
They suffered only in the common fate;
But now the sovereign mounts the regal chair,
And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare.[221]
Your answer is, they were not dispossest;
They need but rub their mettle on the Test
To prove their ore;—'twere well if gold alone
Were touched and tried on your discerning stone;
But that unfaithful test unfound will pass
The dross of Atheists, and sectarian brass;
As if the experiment were made to hold
For base production, and reject the gold.
Thus men ungodded may to places rise,
And sects may be preferred without disguise;
No danger to the church or state from these,
The Papist only has his writ of ease.
No gainful office gives him the pretence
To grind the subject, or defraud the prince.
Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve
To thrive, but ours alone is privileged to starve.
Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race
We banish not, but they forsake the place;
Our doors are open:—true, but ere they come,
You toss your 'censing test, and fume the room;
As if 'twere Toby's rival to expel,
And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell.[222]
To this the Panther sharply had replied,
But having gained a verdict on her side,
}
She wisely gave the loser leave to chide;
Well satisfied to have the but and peace,[223]
And for the plaintiff's cause she cared the less,
}
Because she sued in forma pauperis;
Yet thought it decent something should be said,
For secret guilt by silence is betrayed;
So neither granted all, nor much denied,
But answered with a yawning kind of pride:
Methinks such terms of proffered peace you bring
 Methinks such terms of proffered peace you bring,
As once Æneas to the Italian king:[224]
By long possession all the land is mine;
You strangers come with your intruding line,
}
To share my sceptre, which you call to join.
You plead like him an ancient pedigree,
And claim a peaceful seat by fate's decree.
In ready pomp your sacrificer stands,
To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands;
And, that the league more firmly may be tied,
Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride.
Thus plausibly you veil the intended wrong,
But still you bring your exiled gods along;
And will endeavour, in succeeding space,
Those household puppets on our hearths to place.
Perhaps some barbarous laws have been preferred;
I spake against the Test, but was not heard.
These to rescind, and peerage to restore,
My gracious sovereign would my vote implore;
}
I owe him much, but owe my conscience more.—
Conscience is then your plea, replied the dame,
Which, well-informed, will ever be the same.
But yours is much of the camelion hue,
To change the dye with every distant view.
When first the Lion sat with awful sway,
Your conscience taught your duty to obey:[225]
He might have had your statutes and your Test;
No conscience but of subjects was professed.
He found your temper, and no farther tried,
But on that broken reed, your church, relied.
In vain the sects essayed their utmost art,
With offered treasure to espouse their part;
}
Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his heart.
But when, by long experience, you had proved,
How far he could forgive, how well he loved;
(A goodness that excelled his godlike race,
And only short of heaven's unbounded grace;
A flood of mercy that o'erflowed our isle,
Calm in the rise, and fruitful as the Nile,)
Forgetting whence your Egypt was supplied,
You thought your sovereign bound to send the tide;
 ou t oug t you so e e g bou d to se d t e t de;
Nor upward looked on that immortal spring,
But vainly deemed, he durst not be a king.
Then Conscience, unrestrained by fear, began
To stretch her limits, and extend the span;
Did his indulgence as her gift dispose,
And made a wise alliance with her foes.[226]
Can Conscience own the associating name,
And raise no blushes to conceal her shame?
}
For sure she has been thought a bashful dame.
But if the cause by battle should be tried,
You grant she must espouse the regal side;
}
O Proteus conscience, never to be tied!
What Phœbus from the Tripod shall disclose,
Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes?
Homer, who learned the language of the sky,
The seeming Gordian knot would soon untie;
Immortal powers the term of Conscience know,[227]
But Interest is her name with men below.—
Conscience or Interest be't, or both in one,
(The Panther answered in a surly tone;)
The first commands me to maintain the crown,
The last forbids to throw my barriers down.
Our penal laws no sons of yours admit,
Our Test excludes your tribe from benefit.
These are my banks your ocean to withstand,
Which, proudly rising, overlooks the land,
And, once let in, with unresisted sway,
Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away.
Think not my judgment leads me to comply
With laws unjust, but hard necessity:
Imperious need, which cannot be withstood,
Makes ill authentic, for a greater good.
Possess your soul with patience, and attend;
A more auspicious planet may ascend;[228]
Good fortune may present some happier time,
With means to cancel my unwilling crime;
(Unwilling, witness all ye powers above!)
To mend my errors, and redeem your love:
That little space you safely may allow;
Your all-dispensing power protects you now.[229]
 p gp p y
Hold, said the Hind, 'tis needless to explain;
You would postpone me to another reign;
Till when, you are content to be unjust:
Your part is to possess, and mine to trust;
A fair exchange proposed, of future chance
For present profit and inheritance.
Few words will serve to finish our dispute;
Who will not now repeal, would persecute.
To ripen green revenge your hopes attend,
Wishing that happier planet would ascend.[230]
For shame, let Conscience be your plea no more;
To will hereafter, proves she might before;
}
But she's a bawd to gain, and holds the door.
Your care about your banks infers a fear[231]
Of threatening floods and inundations near;
If so, a just reprise would only be
Of what the land usurped upon the sea;
And all your jealousies but serve to show,
Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low.
To intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws,
Is to distrust the justice of your cause;
And argues, that the true religion lies
In those weak adversaries you despise.
Tyrannic force is that which least you fear;
The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear:
Avert it, heaven! nor let that plague be sent
To us from the dispeopled continent.
But piety commands me to refrain;
Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign.
Behold how he protects your friends oppressed,
Receives the banished, succours the distressed![232]
}
Behold, for you may read an honest open breast.
He stands in day-light, and disdains to hide
An act, to which by honour he is tied,
}
A generous, laudable, and kingly pride.
Your Test he would repeal, his peers restore;
This when he says he means, he means no more.
Well, said the Panther, I believe him just,
And yet——
}
—And yet, 'tis but because you must;
You would be trusted, but you would not trust.—
The Hind thus briefly; and disdained to enlarge
On power of kings, and their superior charge,
As heaven's trustees before the people's choice;
Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice
}
To hear those echoes given of her once loyal voice.
The matron wooed her kindness to the last,
But could not win; her hour of grace was past.
Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring
To leave the Wolf, and to believe her king,
She gave her up, and fairly wished her joy
Of her late treaty with her new ally:
Which well she hoped would more successful prove,
Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love.
The Panther asked, what concord there could be
Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree?
The dame replied: 'Tis sung in every street,
The common chat of gossips when they meet;
But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while
To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely style.
A plain good man, whose name is understood,[233]
(So few deserve the name of plain and good,)
Of three fair lineal lordships stood possessed,
And lived, as reason was, upon the best.
Inured to hardships from his early youth,
Much had he done and suffered for his truth:
At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight,
Was never known a more adventurous knight,
}
Who oftener drew his sword, and always for the right.
As fortune would, (his fortune came, though late,)
He took possession of his just estate;
Nor racked his tenants with increase of rent,
Nor lived too sparing, nor too largely spent,
But overlooked his hinds; their pay was just,
And ready, for he scorned to go on trust:
Slow to resolve, but in performance quick;
So true, that he was awkward at a trick.
For little souls on little shifts rely,
And cowards arts of mean expedients try;
}
The noble mind will dare do any thing but lie.
False friends his deadliest foes could find no way
False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way,
But shows of honest bluntness, to betray;
That unsuspected plainness he believed;
He looked into himself, and was deceived.
Some lucky planet sure attends his birth,
Or heaven would make a miracle on earth;
For prosperous honesty is seldom seen
To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win.
It looks as fate with nature's law would strive,
To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive;
And, when so tough a frame she could not bend,
Exceeded her commission, to befriend.
This grateful man, as heaven increased his store,
Gave God again, and daily fed his poor.
His house with all convenience was purveyed;
The rest he found, but raised the fabric where he prayed;[234]
And in that sacred place his beauteous wife
Employed her happiest hours of holy life.
Nor did their alms extend to those alone,
Whom common faith more strictly made their own;
A sort of Doves[235] were housed too near their hall,
Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall.
Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclined,
The greater part degenerate from their kind;
Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed,
And largely drink, because on salt they feed.
Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws;
Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause,
}
As corporations privileged by laws.
That house, which harbour to their kind affords,
Was built long since, God knows, for better birds;
But fluttering there, they nestle near the throne,
And lodge in habitations not their own,
}
By their high crops and corny gizzards known.
Like Harpies, they could scent a plenteous board,
Then to be sure they never failed their lord:
The rest was form, and bare attendance paid;
They drunk, and eat, and grudgingly obeyed.
The more they fed, they ravened still the more;
They drained from Dan, and left Beersheba poor.
All this they had by law, and none repined;
The preference was but due to Levi's kind:
But when some lay-preferment fell by chance,
The Gourmands made it their inheritance.
When once possessed, they never quit their claim,
For then 'tis sanctified to heaven's high name;
And hallowed thus, they cannot give consent,
The gift should be profaned by worldly management.
Their flesh was never to the table served,
Though 'tis not thence inferred the birds were starved;
But that their master did not like the food,
As rank, and breeding melancholy blood.
Nor did it with his gracious nature suit,
E'en though they were not doves, to persecute:
Yet he refused, (nor could they take offence,)
Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence.
Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought,
Which, new from treading, in their bills they brought;
But left his hinds each in his private power,
That those who like the bran might leave the flower.
He for himself, and not for others, chose,
Nor would he be imposed on, nor impose;
But in their faces his devotion paid,
And sacrifice with solemn rites was made,
}
And sacred incense on his altars laid.
Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure
Repaid their commons with their salt manure,
Another farm he had behind his house,
Not overstocked, but barely for his use;
Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed,
And from his pious hands received their bread.[236]
Our pampered Pigeons, with malignant eyes,
Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries;
Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn,
(A cruise of water and an ear of corn,)
Yet still they grudged that modicum, and thought
A sheaf in every single grain was brought.
Fain would they filch that little food away,
While unrestrained those happy gluttons prey;
And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall,
The bird that warned St Peter of his fall;[237]
That he should raise his mitred crest on high
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings, and call his family
To sacred rites; and vex the Ethereal powers
With midnight mattins at uncivil hours;
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest,
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest.
Beast of a bird, supinely when he might
Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light!
What if his dull forefathers used that cry,
Could he not let a bad example die?
The world was fallen into an easier way;
This age knew better than to fast and pray.
Good sense in sacred worship would appear,
So to begin, as they might end the year.
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls
Of crowing chanticleers in cloistered walls.
Expelled for this, and for their lands, they fled;
And sister Partlet, with her hooded head,[238]
}
Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed.
The way to win the restiff world to God,
Was to lay by the disciplining rod,
Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer;
Religion frights us with a mein severe.
'Tis prudence to reform her into ease,
And put her in undress, to make her please;
A lively faith will bear aloft the mind,
And leave the luggage of good works behind.
Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught;
You need not ask how wondrously they wrought;
But sure the common cry was all for these,
Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease.
Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail,
And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail,
(For vice, though frontless, and of hardened face,
Is daunted at the sight of awful grace,)
An hideous figure of their foes they drew,
Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true;
}
And this grotesque design exposed to public view.[239]
One would have thought it some Egyptian piece,
With garden-gods, and barking deities,
}
More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies.
 y
All so perverse a draught, so far unlike,
It was no libel where it meant to strike.
Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small,
To view the monster, crowded Pigeon-hall.
There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees,
Adorning shrines, and stocks of sainted trees;[240]
And by him, a mishapen, ugly race,
The curse of God was seen on every face:
No Holland emblem could that malice mend,[241]
But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend.
The master of the farm, displeased to find
So much of rancour in so mild a kind,
Enquired into the cause, and came to know,
The passive church had struck the foremost blow;
With groundless fears, and jealousies possest,
As if this troublesome intruding guest
}
Would drive the birds of Venus[242] from their nest.
A deed his inborn equity abhorred;
But interest will not trust, though God should plight his word.
A law, the source of many future harms,
Had banished all the poultry from the farms;
With loss of life, if any should be found
To crow or peck on this forbidden ground.
That bloody statute chiefly was designed
For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind;[243]
But after-malice did not long forget
The lay that wore the robe and coronet.[244]
For them, for their inferiors and allies,
Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise;
By which unrighteously it was decreed,
That none to trust, or profit, should succeed,
}
Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked weed;
Or that, to which old Socrates was cursed,[245]
Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst.
The patron, as in reason, thought it hard
To see this inquisition in his yard,
}
By which the sovereign was of subjects' use debarred.
All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw
The effects of so unnatural a law;
But still the dove house obstinately stood
But still the dove-house obstinately stood
Deaf to their own, and to their neighbours' good;
And which was worse, if any worse could be,
Repented of their boasted loyalty;
Now made the champions of a cruel cause,
And drunk with fumes of popular applause:
For those whom God to ruin has designed,
He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.[246]
New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise,
Suggested dangers, interposed delays,
And emissary Pigeons had in store,
Such as the Meccan prophet used of yore,[247]
To whisper counsels in their patron's ear,
And veiled their false advice with zealous fear.
The master smiled to see them work in vain,
To wear him out, and make an idle reign:
He saw, but suffered their protractive arts,
And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts;
But they abused that grace to make allies,
And fondly closed with former enemies;
}
For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise.
After a grave consult what course were best,
One, more mature in folly than the rest,
Stood up, and told them, with his head aside,
That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied:
And therefore, since their main impending fear
Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer,
Some potent bird of prey they ought to find,
A foe professed to him, and all his kind:
Some hagard Hawk, who had her eyry nigh,
Well pounced to fasten, and well winged to fly;
One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak.
The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak,
Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest,
The noble Buzzard[248] ever pleased me best:
Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie,
We call him but a Hawk by courtesy.
I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm,
And more, in time of war, has done us harm:
But all his hate on trivial points depends;
Give up our forms and we shall soon be friends
Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends.
For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care;
Cram'd Chickens are a more delicious fare.
On this high potentate, without delay,
I wish you would confer the sovereign sway;
Petition him to accept the government,
And let a splendid embassy be sent.
This pithy speech prevailed, and all agreed,
Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed.
Their welcome suit was granted, soon as heard,
His lodgings furnished, and a train prepared,
}
With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard.
He came, and, crowned with great solemnity,
God save king Buzzard! was the general cry.
A portly prince, and goodly to the sight,
He seemed a son of Anach for his height:
Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer,
Black-browed, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter;
Broad-backed, and brawny-built for love's delight,
A prophet formed to make a female proselyte;[249]
A theologue more by need than genial bent,
By breeding sharp, by nature confident.
Interest in all his actions was discerned;
More learned than honest, more a wit than learned;
Or forced by fear, or by his profit led,
Or both conjoined, his native clime he fled;
But brought the virtues of his heaven along,
A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue.
And yet with all his arts he could not thrive,
The most unlucky parasite alive;
Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent,
And then himself pursued his compliment;
But by reverse of fortune chased away,
His gifts no longer than their author stay;
He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race,
And leaves the stench of ordures in the place.
Oft has he flattered and blasphemed the same;
For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name:
The hero and the tyrant change their style,
By the same measure that they frown or smile.[250]
When well received by hospitable foes,
The kindness he returns, is to expose;
For courtesies, though undeserved and great,
No gratitude in felon-minds beget;
}
As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat.
His praise of foes is venomously nice;
So touched, it turns a virtue to a vice;[251]
}
"A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice."[252]
Seven sacraments he wisely does disown,
Because he knows confession stands for one;
Where sins to sacred silence are conveyed,
And not for fear, or love, to be betrayed:
But he, uncalled, his patron to controul,
Divulged the secret whispers of his soul;
Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes,
And offered to the Moloch of the times.[253]
Prompt to assail, and careless of defence,
Invulnerable in his impudence,
He dares the world; and, eager of a name,
He thrusts about, and jostles into fame.
Frontless, and satire-proof, he scowers the streets,
And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets.[254]
So fond of loud report, that, not to miss
Of being known, (his last and utmost bliss,)
}
He rather would be known for what he is.
Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test,[255]
Though half his virtues are not here expressed;
}
The modesty of fame conceals the rest.
The spleenful Pigeons never could create
A prince more proper to revenge their hate;
Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save;
A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave:
For all the grace the landlord had allowed,
But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud;
}
Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd.
They long their fellow-subjects to inthral,
Their patron's promise into question call,[256]
}
And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all.
False fears their leaders failed not to suggest,
As if the Doves were to be dispossessed;
Nor sighs nor groans nor goggling eyes did want
Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want,
For now the Pigeons too had learned to cant.
The house of prayer is stocked with large increase;
Nor doors, nor windows, can contain the press,
For birds of every feather fill the abode;
E'en atheists out of envy own a God,
And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come,
Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome.
That conscience, which to all their crimes was mute,
Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute:
No rigour of the laws to be released,
And much the less, because it was their Lord's request;
They thought it great their sovereign to controul,
And named their pride, nobility of soul.
'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect,
Were short of power, their purpose to effect;
But with their quills did all the hurt they could,
And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food:
And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir,
Though naming not the patron, to infer,
}
With all respect, he was a gross idolater.[257]
But when the imperial owner did espy,
That thus they turned his grace to villainy,
Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind,
He strove a temper for the extremes to find,
}
So to be just, as he might still be kind;
Then, all maturely weighed, pronounced a doom
Of sacred strength for every age to come.[258]
By this the Doves their wealth and state possess,
No rights infringed, but license to oppress:
Such power have they as factious lawyers long
To crowns ascribed, that kings can do no wrong.
But since his own domestic birds have tried
The dire effects of their destructive pride,
He deems that proof a measure to the rest,
Concluding well within his kingly breast,
}
His fowls of nature too unjustly were opprest.[259]
He therefore makes all birds of every sect
Free of his farm, with promise to respect
}
Their several kinds alike, and equally protect.
His gracious edict the same franchise yields
}
 g y
To all the wild increase of woods and fields,
}
And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds:
To Crows the like impartial grace affords,
And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds;
Secured with ample privilege to feed,
Each has his district, and his bounds decreed;
Combined in common interest with his own,
But not to pass the Pigeons' Rubicon.
Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove;
All prophecies accomplished from above,
}
For Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove.
Reduced from her imperial high abode,
Like Dionysius to a private rod,[260]
The passive church, that with pretended grace
Did her distinctive mark in duty place,
}
Now touched, reviles her Maker to his face.
What after happened is not hard to guess;
The small beginnings had a large increase,
}
And arts and wealth succeed the secret spoils of peace.
'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late,
Become the smiths of their own foolish fate:[261]
Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour,
But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power;
Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away,
Dissolving in the silence of decay.[262]
The Buzzard, not content with equal place,
Invites the feathered Nimrods of his race,
To hide the thinness of their flock from sight,
And all together make a seeming goodly flight:
But each have separate interests of their own;
Two Czars are one too many for a throne.
Nor can the usurper long abstain from food;
Already he has tasted Pigeon's blood,
And may be tempted to his former fare,[263]
When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair.
Bare benting times, and moulting months may come,
When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home;
Or rent in schism, (for so their fate decrees,)
Like the tumultuous college of the bees,
They fight their quarrel, by themselves opprest,
 y g q , y pp ,
The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast.—

Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end,

Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend;
But, with affected yawnings at the close,
Seemed to require her natural repose;
For now the streaky light began to peep,
And setting stars admonished both to sleep.
The Dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest
The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest:
Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait,
With glorious visions of her future state.
 NOTES
ON

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER.

PART III.

Note I.

And mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,

Has sharply blamed a British Lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.—P. 197.

The poet, in the beginning of this canto, anticipates the censure of those who
might blame him for introducing into his fables animals not natives of Britain,
where the scene was laid. He vindicates himself by the example of Æsop and
Spenser. The latter, in "Mother Hubbard's Tale," exhibits at length the various
arts by which, in his time, obscure and infamous characters rose to eminence
in church and state. This is illustrated by the parable of an Ape and a Fox,
who insinuate themselves into various situations, and play the knaves in all. At
length,

Lo, where they spied, how, in a gloomy glade,

The Lion, sleeping, lay in secret shade;
His crown and sceptre lying him beside,
And having doft for heat his dreadful hide.

The adventurers possess themselves of the royal spoils, with which the Ape is
arrayed; who forthwith takes upon himself the dignity of the monarch of the
beasts, and, by the counsels of the Fox, commits every species of oppression,
until Jove, incensed at the disorders which his tyranny had introduced, sends
Mercury to awaken the Lion from his slumber:

Arise! said Mercury, thou sluggish beast,

That here liest senseless, like the corpse deceast;
The whilst thy kingdom from thy head is rent,
And thy throne royal with dishonour blent.

The Lion rouses himself, hastens to court, and avenges himself of the
usurpers.—There is no doubt, that, under this allegory, Spenser meant to
represent the exorbitant power of Lord Burleigh; and he afterwards
complains, that his verse occasioned his falling into a "mighty peer's
displeasure." The Lion, therefore, whose negligence is upbraided by Mercury,
was Queen Elizabeth. Dryden calls her,

The queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep;

because the tumultuous pope-burnings of 1680 and 1681 were solemnized on

Queen Elizabeth's night. The poet had probably, since his change of religion,
laid aside much of the hereditary respect with which most Englishmen regard
Queen Bess; for, in the pamphlets of the Romanists, she is branded as "a
known bastard, who raised this prelatic protestancy, called the church of
England, as a prop to supply the weakness of her title."[264]
Spenser's authority is only appealed to by Dryden as justifying the
introduction of lions and other foreign animals into a British fable. But I
observed in the introduction, that it also furnishes authority, at least example,
for those aberrations from the character and attributes of his brute actors,
with which the critics taxed Dryden; for nothing in "The Hind and the Panther"
can be more inconsistent with the natural quality of such animals, than the
circumstance of a lion, or any other creature, going to sleep without his skin,
on account of the sultry weather.

Note II.
You know my doctrine, and I need not say
I will not, but I cannot, disobey.
On this firm principle I ever stood;
He of my sons, who fails to make it good,
By one rebellious act renounces to my blood.—P. 202.

The memorable judgment and decree of the university of Oxford, passed in

the Convocation 21st July, 1683, condemns, as heretical, all works which
teach or infer the lawfulness of resistance to lawful governors, even when
they become tyrants, or in case of persecution for religion, or infringement on
the laws of the country, or, in short, in any case whatever; and after the
various authorities for these and other tenets have been given and denounced
as false, seditious, heretical, and impious, the decree concludes with the
following injunctions:
"Lastly, we command and strictly enjoin all and singular readers, tutors,
catechists, and others, to whom the care and trust of institution of youth is
committed, that they diligently instruct and ground their scholars in that most
necessary doctrine, which in a manner is the badge and character of the
church of England, of submitting to every ordinance of man for the Lord's
sake, whether it be to the king as supreme, or unto governors, as unto them
that are sent by him, for the punishment of evil doers, and for the praise of
them that do well: Teaching, that this submission and obedience is to be clear,
absolute, and without exception of any state or order of men."

Note III.

Your sons of latitude, that court your grace,

Though most resembling you in form and face,
}
Are far the worst of your pretended race.
And, but I blush your honesty to blot,
Pray God you prove them lawfully begot!
For in some Popish libels I have read,
The Wolf has been too busy in your bed.—P. 202.

During the latter years of the reign of Charles the Second, the dissensions of
the state began to creep into the church. By far the greater part of the clergy,
influenced by the ancient union of church and king, were steady in their
adherence to the court interest. But a party began to appear, who were
distinguished from their brethren by the name of Moderate Divines, which
they assumed to themselves, and by that of Latitudinarians, which the high
churchmen conferred upon them. The chief amongst these were Tillotson,
Stillingfleet, and Burnet. They distinguished themselves by a less violent
ardour for the ceremonies, and even the government, of the church; for all
those particulars, in short, by which she is distinguished from other Protestant
congregations. Stillingfleet carried these condescensions so far, as to admit in
his tract, called Irenicum, that, although the original church was settled in a
constitution of bishops, priests, and deacons, yet as the apostles made no
positive law upon this subject, it remained free to every Christian
congregation to alter or to retain that form of church government. In
conformity with this opinion, he, in conjunction with Tillotson and others, laid
a plan for an accommodation with the Presbyterians, in 1668; and, in order to
this comprehension, he was willing to have made such sacrifices in the point
of ordination, &c. that the House of Commons took the alarm, and passed a
vote, prohibiting even the introduction of a bill for such a purpose. As, on the
one hand, the tenets of the moderate clergy approximated those of the
Calvinists; so, on the other, their antipathy and opposition to the church of
Rome was more deeply rooted, in proportion to the slighter value which they
attached to the particulars in which that of England resembled her. It flowed
naturally from this indulgence to the Dissenters, and detestation of the
Romanists, that several of the moderate clergy participated deeply in the
terrors excited by the Roman Catholic plot, and looked with a favourable eye
on the bill which proposed to exclude the Duke of York from the throne as a
professor of that obnoxious religion. Being thus, as it were, an opposition
party, it cannot be supposed that the low church divines united cordially with
their high-flying brethren in renouncing the right of resisting oppression, or in
professing passive obedience to the royal will. They were of opinion, that
there was a mutual compact between the king and subject, and that acts of
tyranny, on the part of the former, absolved the latter from his allegiance. This
was particularly inculcated by the reverend Samuel Johnson (See Vol. IX. p.
369.) in "Julian the Apostate," and other writings which were condemned by
the Oxford decree. As the dangers attending the church, from the measures
of King James, became more obvious, and the alternative of resistance or
destruction became an approaching crisis, the low church party acquired
numbers and strength from those who thought it better at once to hold and
assert the lawfulness of opposition to tyranny, than to make professions of
obedience beyond the power of human endurance to make good.
This party was of course deeply hated by the Catholics, and hence the
severity with which they are treated by Dryden, who objects to them as the
illegitimate offspring of the Panther by the Wolf, and traces to their
Presbyterian origin their indifference to the fasts and ascetic observances of
the more rigid high-churchmen, and their covert disposition to resist regal
domination. Their adherence to the English communion he ascribes only to
the lucre of gain, and endeavours, if possible, to draw an odious distinction
between them and the rest of the church. Stillingfleet, whom this motive
could not escape, had already complained of Dryden's designing any
particular class of the clergy by a party name. "From the common people, we
come to churchmen, to see how he uses them. And he hath soon found out a
faction among them, whom he charges with juggling designs: but romantic
heroes must be allowed to make armies of a field of thistles, and to encounter
windmills for giants. He would fain be the instrument to divide our clergy, and
to fill them with suspicions of one another. And to this end he talks of men of
latitudinarian stamp: for it goes a great way towards the making divisions, to
be able to fasten a name of distinction among brethren; this being to create
jealousies of each other. But there is nothing should make them more careful
to avoid such names of distinction, than to observe how ready their common
enemies are to make use of them, to create animosities by them; which hath
made this worthy gentleman to start this different character of churchmen
among us; as though there were any who were not true to the principles of
the church of England, as by law established: If he knows them, he is better
acquainted with them than the answerer is; for he professes to know none
such. But who then are these men of the latitudinarian stamp? To speak in his
own language, they are a sort of ergoteerers, who are for a concedo rather
than a nego. And now, I hope, they are all well explained; or, in other words
of his, they are, saith he, for drawing the nonconformists to their party, i.e.
they are for having no nonconformists. And is this their crime? But they would
take the headship of the church out of the king's hands: How is that possible?
They would (by his own description) be glad to see differences lessened, and
all that agree in the same doctrine to be one entire body. But this is that
which their enemies fear, and this politician hath too much discovered; for
then such a party would be wanting, which might be played upon the church
of England, or be brought to join with others against it. But how this should
touch the king's supremacy, I cannot imagine. As for his desiring loyal
subjects to consider this matter, I hope they will, and the more for his desiring
it; and assure themselves, that they have no cause to apprehend any juggling
designs of their brethren; who, I hope, will always show themselves to be
loyal subjects, and dutiful sons of the church of England."—Vindication of the
Answer to some late Papers, p. 104.
 Note IV.

Think you, your new French proselytes are come

To starve abroad, because they starved at home?
—— —— —— —— ——
Mark with what management their tribes divide,
Some stick to you, and some to t'other side,
That many churches may for many mouths provide. P. 203.

The Huguenot clergy, who took refuge in England after the recal of the edict
of Nantes, did not all adhere to the same Protestant communion. There had
been long in London what was called the Walloon church, exclusively
dedicated to this sort of worship. Many conformed to the church of England;
and, having submitted to new ordination, some of them obtained benefices:
others joined in communion with the Presbyterians, and dissenters of various
kinds. Dryden insinuates, that had the church of England presented vacancies
sufficient for the provision of these foreign divines, she would probably have
had the honour of attracting them all within her pale. The reformed clergy of
France were far from being at any time an united body. "It might have been
expected," says Burnet, "that those unhappy contests between Lutherans,
Calvinists, Arminians, and Anti-Arminians, with some minuter disputes that
have enflamed Geneva and Switzerland, should have been at least suspended
while they had a common enemy to deal with, against whom their whole force
united was scarce able to stand. But these things were carried on rather with
more eagerness and sharpness than ever." History of his Own Times, Book IV.

Note V.

Some sons of mine, who bear upon their shield

Three steeples argent, in a sable field,
Have sharply taxed your converts, who, unfed,
Have followed you for miracles of bread. P. 203.

The three steeples argent obviously alludes to the pluralities enjoyed, perhaps
by Stillingfleet, and certainly by some of the divines of the established church,
who were not on that account less eager in opposing the intrusion of the
Roman clergy, and stigmatising those who, at this crisis, thought proper to
conform to the royal faith. These converts were neither numerous nor
respectable; and, whatever the Hind is pleased to allege in the text, posterity
cannot but suspect the disinterestedness of their motives. Obadiah Walker,
and a very few of the university of Oxford, embraced the Catholic faith,
conforming at the same time to the forms of the church of England, as if they
wished to fulfil the old saying, of having two strings to one bow.—The Earls of
Perth and Melfort, with one or two other Scottish nobles, took the same step.
Of the first, who must otherwise have failed in a contest which he had with
the Duke of Queensberry, it was wittily said by Halifax, that "his faith had
made him whole." And, in general, as my countrymen are not usually credited
by their brethren of England for an extreme disregard to their own interest,
the Scottish converts were supposed to be peculiarly attracted to Rome by the
miracle of the loaves and fishes.[265] But it may be said for these unfortunate
peers, that if they were dazzled by the momentary sunshine which gleamed
on the Catholic church, they scorned to desert her in the tempest which
speedily succeeded. Whereas, we shall do a kindness to Lord Sunderland, if
we suppose that he became a convert to Popery, merely from views of
immediate interest, and not with the premeditated intention of blinding and
betraying the monarch, who trusted him. Dryden must be supposed, however,
chiefly interested in the vindication of his own motives for a change of
religion.

Note VI.

Such who themselves of no religion are,

Allured with gain, for any will declare;
Bare lies with bold assertions they can face,
But dint of argument is out of place;
The grim logician puts them in a fright,
'Tis easier far to flourish than to fight. P. 203.

Dryden here puts into the mouth of the Panther some of the severe language
which Stillingfleet had held towards him in the ardour of controversy. He had,
in direct allusion to our author, (for he quotes his poetry,) expressed himself
thus harshly:
"If I thought there were no such thing in the world as true religion, and that
the priests of all religions are alike,[266] I might have been as nimble a
convert, and as early a defender of the royal papers, as any one of these
champions. For why should not one who believes no religion, declare for any?
But since I do verily believe, that not only there is such a thing as true
religion, but that it is only to be found in the books of the Holy Scripture, I
have reason to inquire after the best means of understanding such books, and
thereby, if it may be, to put an end to the controversies of Christendom."[267]
"But our grim logician proceeds from immediate and original to concomitant
causes, which he saith were revenge, ambition, and covetousness. But the
skill of logicians used to lie in proving; but this is not our author's talent, for
not a word is produced to that purpose. If bold sayings, and confident
declarations, will do the business, he is never unprovided; but if you expect
any reason from him, he begs your pardon. He finds how ill the character of a
grim logician suits with his inclination."[268] Again, "But if I will not allow his
affirmations for proofs for his part, he will act the grim logician; no, and in
truth it becomes him so ill, that he doth well to give it over."[269] And in the
beginning of his "Vindication," alluding to a term used by the defender of the
king's papers, Stillingfleet says: "But lest I be again thought to have a mind to
flourish before I offer to pass, as the champion speaks in his proper language,
I shall apply myself to the matter before us."[270]

Note VII.

Thus our eighth Henry's marriage they defame;

Divorcing from the church to wed the dame:
Though largely proved, and by himself professed,
That conscience, conscience would not let him rest.
—— —— —— —— ——
For sundry years before he did complain,
And told his ghostly confessor his pain. P. 204.

This is a continuation of the allusion to Stillingfleet's "Vindication," who had

attempted to place Henry VIII.'s divorce from Catherine of Arragon to the
account of his majesty's tender conscience. A herculean task! but the readers
may take it in the words of the Dean of St Paul's:
"And now this gentleman sets himself to ergoteering;[271] and looks and talks
like any grim logician, of the causes which produced it, and the effects which
it produced. 'The schism led the way to the Reformation, for breaking the
unity of Christ's church, which was the foundation of it: but the immediate
cause of this, which produced the separation of Henry VIII. from the church
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