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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 gain’d the shelter of a hollow tree :
But soon discover'd by a sturdy clown,
He headed all the rabble of a town,
And finith'd them with bats, or poll'd them down.
Martin himself was caught alive, and try'd
For treas'nous crimes, because the laws provide
No Martin there in winter shall abide.
High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear,
He breath'd his laft, expos'd to open air;
And there his corps unbless'd, is hanging fill,
To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill.

The patience of the Hind did almost fail ; For well she mark'd the malice of the tale : Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes ; In malice it began, by malice grows; He sow'd the Serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest rose. But most in Martin's character and fate, She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate, The people's rage, the perfecuting state : Then said, I take th' advice in friendly part; You clear your conscience, or at least your heart : Perhaps you fail'd in your forefeeing skill, For swallows are unlucky birds to kill : As for my fons the family is bless'd, Whose ev'ry child is equal to the rest : No church reform’d can boast a blameless line; Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine : Or else an old fanatic author lies, Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries. But thro' your parable I plainly see The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity; The fun-fhine that offends the purblind fight: Had fome their wishes, it would soon be night.

Miftake

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Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you:
Your fons 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.

Reft well affur'd, the Pardelis reply'd,
My fons would all support the regal fide,
Tho'heaven forbid the cause by battle should be try’d.

The matron answer'd with a loud amen,
And thus pursu'd her argument 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,
Defires (and kings desires are ill with tood)
To join our nations in a lasting love ;
The bars betwixt are easy to remove;
For sanguinary laws were never made above.
If you condemn that prince of tyranny,
Whose mandate forc'd your Gallic friends to fly,
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 suf'sing brotherhood
Have feldom felt; he stops it short of blood :
But you have ground the persecuting knife,
And set it to a rasor edge on life.
Curst be the wit, which cruelty refines,
Or to his father's rod the scorpion's 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 reformer's coat.
Oh let their crime in long oblivion sleep:
Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep.

F 3

Unjuft,

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Unjuft, or just, is all the question now;
'Tis plain, that not repealing you allow,
To name the test would put you in

rage ;
You charge not that on any former age,
But smile to think how innocent you stand,
Arm’d by a weapon put

into

your hand, Yet still remember that

you

wield a sword
Forg'd by your foes against your sov'reign lord ;
Design'd to hew th’imperial cedar down,
Defiaud succession, and dif-heir the crown.
T'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 flight
Of law, diffeis'd your brother of his right,
Your common fire surrend'ring 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 fold;
The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold,
Nor hang in peace, before he render'd 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;
Their dire magicians threw their mifts around,
And wise men walk'd as on inchanted ground.
But now when time has made th' impofture plain,
(Late tho'he follow'd truth, and limping held her train)
What new delufion charms your cheated eyes again?
The painted' harlot might a while bewitch,
But why the nag uncas'd, and all obscene with itch?

The first reformers were a modest race;
Our peers poiress’d in peace their native place;
And when rebellious arms o’erturn'd the fate,
They suffer'd only in the common fate :

But

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But now the fov'reign mounts the regal chair,
And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare. »
Your answer is, they were not dispofleft ;
They need but rub their mettle on the test
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prove their ore: 'twere well if gold alone
Were touch'd and try'd on your discerning stone ;
But that unfaithful test unsound will pass
The dross of atheists, and sectarian brass :
As if th' experiment were made to hold
For base production, and reject the gold.
Thus men ungodded may to places rise,
And fects may be preferr'd 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 privileg'd to starve.

Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race
Wé 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.

To this the Panther sharply had reply'd ;
But having gain'd a verdict on her fide,
She wisely gave the loser leave to chide ;
Well satisfy'd to have the But and Peace,
And for the plaintiff's cause she car'd the less,
Because the fu’d in forma pauperis ;
Yet thought it decent something should be faid ;
For secret guilt by filence is betray'da
So neither granted all, nor much deny'd,
But answer’d with a yawning kind of pride.

Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring,
As once Æneas to th' Italian king :

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By long poffeffion all the land is mine;
You strangers come with your intruding line,
To share my scepter, 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,
T' unite the Trojan and the Latin bands,
And, that the league more firmly may be ty’d,
Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride.
Thus plausibly you veil th' intended wrong,
But still you bring your exil'd gods along;
And will endeavour, in succeeding space,
Those houshold puppets on our hearths to place.
Perhaps some barb'rous laws have been preferr'd;
I spake against the test, but was not heard;
These to rescind, and peerage to restore,
My gracious fov’reign would my vote implore :
I owe him much, but owę my conscience more.

Conscience is then your plea, reply'd the dame,
Which well inform'd will ever be the fame.
But yours

is much of the camelion hue,
To change the die with every diftant view.
When first the Lion sat with awful sway,
Your conscience taught your duty to obey :
He might have had your

statutes and

your ti
No conscience but of subjects was profess’d.
He found your temper, and no farther try'd,
But on that broken reed your church rely'd.
In vain the sects assay'd their utmoft art,
With offer'd treasure to espouse their part;
Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his

heart.
But when by long experience you had prov'd,
How far he could forgive, how well he lov’d;
A goodness that excell’d his godlike race,
And only short of heaven's unbounded grace ;

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