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“ Ah! pity your soul ; for without our church pale,
If you happen to die, to be damn'd you can't fail ;
The Bible, you boast, is a wild revelation :
Hear a church that can't err, if you hope for sal-
vation.” Said a formal non-con, (whose rich stock of
grace Lies forward expos'd in shop-window of face,) « Ah! pity your soul : come, be of our sect : For then you are safe, and may plead you're elect. As it stands in the Acts, we can prove ourselves
saints, Being Christ's little flock every where spoke
against.” Said a jolly church parson, (devoted to ease, While penal-law dragons guard his golden fleece) “ If you pity your soul, I pray listen to neither; The first is in errour, the last a deceiver : That our's is the true church, the sense of our tribe
is, And surely in medio tutissimus ibis." Said a yea and nay friend, with a stiff hat and
band, (Who while he talk'd gravely would hold forth his
hand) « Dominion and wealth are the aim of all three, Though about ways and means they may all dis
agree; Then prithee be wise, go the quakers by-way, 'Tis plain, without turnpikes, so nothing to pay."
WRITTEN BY MR. GREEN, UNDER THE NAME OY PETER DRAKE, A FISHERMAN OF BRENTFORD.
Printed in the Year 1732, but not published.
Scilicet hic possis curvo dignoscere rectum,
Atque inter silvas Academi quærere verum.
Our wits Apollo's influence beg,
The Grotto makes them all with egg :
Finding this chalkstone in my nest,
I strain, and lay among the rest.
ADIEU awhile, forsaken flood,
To ramble in the Delian wood,
And pray the god my well-meant song
May not my subject's merit wrong.
Say, father Thames, whose gentle pace
Gives leave to view what beauties grace
Your flow'ry banks, if you have seen
The much-sung Grotto of the queen.
Contemplative, forget awhile
Oxonian towers, and Windsor's pile,
* A building in Richmond Gardens, erected by Queen Caroline, and committed to the custody of Stephen Duck. At the time this poem was written many other verses appeared on the same subject.
And Wolsey's pride * (his greatest guilt)
And what great William since has built ;
And flowing fast by Richmond scenes,
(Honour'd retreat of two great queenst)
From Sion-house $, whose proud survey
Brow-beats your flood, look cross the way,
And view, from highest swell of tide,
The milder scenes of Surrey side.
Though yet no palace grace the shore,
To lodge that pair you should adore;
Nor abbeys, great in ruin, rise,
Royal equivalents for vice;
Behold a grot, in Delphic grove,
The Graces' and the Muses' love.
(O, might our laureat study here,
How would he hail his new-born year !)
A temple from vain glories free,
Whose goddess is Philosophy,
Whose sides such licens'd idols crown
As Superstition would pull down;
The only pilgrimage I know,
That men of sense would choose to go:
Which sweet abode, her wisest choice,
Urania cheers with heavenly voice,
While all the Virtues gather round,
To see her consecrate the ground.
* Hampton Court, begun by Cardinal Wolsey, and improved by King William III.
Queen Anne, consort to King Richard II. and Queen Elizabeth, both died at Richmond.
Sion House is now a seat belonging to the Duke of Northumberland,
If thou, the god with winged feet,
In council talk of this retreat,
And jealous gods resentment show
At altars rais'd to men below;
Tell those proud lords of Heaven, 'tis fit
Their house our heroes should admit;
While each exists, as poets sing,
A lazy lewd immortal thing,
They must (or grow in disrepute)
With Earth's first commoners recruit.
Needless it is in terms unskill'd
To praise whatever Boyle * shall build ;
Needless it is the busts to name
Of men, monopolists of fame;
Four chiefs adorn the modest stone to
For Virtue as for learning known;
The thinking sculpture helps to raise
Deep thoughts, the genii of the place :
To the mind's ear, and inward sight,
Their silence speaks, and shade gives light :
While insects from the threshold preach,
And minds dispos'd to musing teach:
* Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, a nobleman remarkable for his fine taste in architecture. “ Never were protection and great wealth more 'generously and judiciously diffused than by this great person, who had every quality of a genius and artist, except envy.” He died December 4. 1753.
+ The author should have said five; there being the busts of Newton, Locke, Wollaston, Clarke, and Boyle.
Proud of strong limbs and painted hues,
They perish by the slightest bruise ;
Or maladies, begun within,
Destroy more slow life's frail machine;
From maggot-youth through change of state,
They feel like us the turns of fate;
Some born to creep have liv'd to fly,
And change earth-cells for dwellings high ;
And some that did their six wings keep,
Before they dy'd been forc'd to creep ;
They politics like ours profess,
The greater prey upon the less :
Some strain on foot huge loads to bring ;
Some toil incessant on the wing,
And in their different ways explore
Wise sense of want by future store;
Nor from their vigorous schemes desist
Till death, and then are never miss'd.
Some frolic, toil, marry, increase,
Are sick and well, have war and peace,
And, broke with age, in half a day
Yield to successors, and away.
Let not prophane this sacred place,
Hypocrisy with Janus' face;
Or Pomp, mixt state of pride and care ;
Court Kindness, Falsehood's polish'd ware;
Scandal disguis’d in Friendship’s veil,
That tells, unask'd, th' injurious tale ;
Or art politic, which allows
The jesuit-remedy for vows;
Or priest, perfuming crowned head,
Till in a swoon Truth lies for dead;