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131 Of both my mothers, now distrest,
How shall I bear the pain!
How see them wantonly opprest,
Betray'd, perhaps and slain !

132 By all the sons, which they brought forth,
-Whom they have nurs'd and fed,

They're trodden down, as nothing worth,
Tho' yet supplying bread.

133 What none to pity their gray hairs,
Of all that stand around!

Behold, O Lord, not one prepares
To lift them from the ground!

134 Nay, all concur to taunt their woes,
(All sons, as well as I!)

Rejoice to aggravate their throes,
To see them gasp, and die!

135 The greater vulgar now affect
Religion to despise,

And fashion helps them to respect
For this, in vulgar eyes.

136 The purblind vulgar, lower plac'd.
Look hither for the mode,

And, 'midst the coaches, are in haste
To foot the broader road.

137 Both pour forth nonsense in such streams
On each religious point,

That nor in madness, nor in dreams,
Is thought so out of joint.

138 Yet here, if ever surely men

Should clearly think and speak;
If not, what is the tongue or pen?
A buzzard, or a snake.

139 How much alive, how keen are we
In law-suits, loss, and gain!
For God we neither hear, nor see,
Or hear and see in vain.

140 Be not conform'd to worldly ways,
The Holy Ghost hath said;

VOL. VI.

But, be conform'd, each fashion says-
And fashion is obey'd.

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141 Now heathen gods, or wicked saints,
Or black-ey'd maids arise,
As fashion, or as fancy paints,
And people all the skies.

142 No longer on Olympus high
These deities shall sit;

A new seat Etna shall supply,
More similar and fit.

143 Their pilgrims here may snow or fire, As either shall succeed,

Enjoy with them, and with their sire,
Their ague fits to feed.

144 Devotion, whether hot or cold,
Here fashionists may feel;

And should it chance to be too old,
Its age in smoke may veil.

145 Empedocles, to be among
Such gods as they adore,
Himself into mount Etna flung-
Our fashionists do more.

146 Like him, their bodies they consume
In worse than Etna's fires,

And boast in death the crackling plume
Of criminal desires;

147 Wherewith their souls, enkindl'd here, Like lighted torches, there

In flaming brimstone shall appear
T'outdo their present glare.

148 These even now their lava pour,
And spread a general woe;
Corrupt, oppress, and then devour
Whatever lies below.

149 How far his slaves may fashion drive;
If he shall tyrannize;

In his warm worship we shall strive
O'er God himself to rise.

150 Into the house of God we go

Our fashions to display,

Ourselves and boasted wealth to shew

On a pretence to pray.

151 Great God! how impious to thy face
This insult offer'd here!

The fiend of pride in this thy place
Presumes to domineer.

152 Even in the pulpit takes his stand
By millinery vote,

And holds in fashionable band
Thy preacher by the throat.

153 Well were it tho', had fashion been
Contented here to stop,

Ere jaded patience must have seen
The villain in the fop;

154 Ere by this monster Christ our Lord,
Who bought and feeds him well,
Had been accus'd from his own word
Of falsehood black as hell.

155 This pastor preaches as he lives,
And howsover odd,

A god in his own image gives,
A fashionable god.

156 A god polite, who will not scan
In too severe a scale

The actions of a gentleman,
Excusable, if frail.

157 Nay, howsoever it may sound,
Or monstrous it may be,

Such preachers diff'rent gods propound,
And this hath two or three.

158 A group of gods tho' he maintains,
He really worships none :
Of soul the being he arraigns,
And reprobates his own.

159 As this what can appear so foul,
When openly disclos'd?

But why should he retain a soul,
To black accounts expos'd?

160 Yet such good men for Christ declare, And seem for him to stand.

Are they not honest? sure they are,
If by their hearers scan'd;

161 Unless these hearers, always blind,
Now wish to be misled,

And, for old truths, to vice unkind,
With pleasing errors fed.

162 Distinctions now are never made,
But of the great and small :
Religion would the great degrade,
And death-like level all.

163 How despicable is that wretch
Whose highest excellence

He strives from mimic'd faults to fetch,
From mimic'd lack of sense!

164 In whose esteem can he look brave,
What honour can he claim,

Who borrows from the fool or knave
His sole pretence to fame?

165 Fashion cries out, 'Go down the stream,
And do as others do.

In crowds they travel; do the same,
And herd not with the few.

166 Of lords and ladies I am king,
Nay kings and queens obey

My sov'reign lore, and to me bring
The ensigns of my sway.

167 You have no other gods but me,
And such as I depute;

My powers of comb and needle fee;
'Tis theirs to push your suit.

168 Ye splendid votaries of mine,
Too well I know your zeal

To urge a cause, wherein you shine
So bright from head to tail.

169 Go on, as long as money lasts,
To flaunt it every day;

But keep to me your literal fasts,
If fortune frowns at play.

170 If any sneaking fool low-born,
But those I constitute,

Should preach up plainness, treat with scorn
The despicable brute.

171 Of figure he is not less fond
Than you, could he afford,
By robbery, or dice, or bond,
T'assume the prince or lord.
172 Take care you ne'er apostatize
From me to Christ or grace;
No, on my splendour fix your eyes,
My diamonds, gold, and lace.

173 Damp not your spirits with a thought Of sickness or the grave ;

At least, when they approach unsought,
Do you the phantoms brave.

174 Tho' all as criminals must die,
Yet ye in pomp shall fall;
My livery for death is high,
And pride supports the pall.

175 O death, how splendid is the dress,
When viewed on the parade,

Of those, who thy employ profess
Of murder for a trade.

176 Should you at any time submit
To those uncouth events,

Elude the filthy vulgar pit

By splendid monuments ;

177 Thus you your grandeur may protract
By efforts all your own;
May death's inflictor counteract
And haughty look in stone.

178 Your marble coat shall for you lie,
As did your silken dress;
And every passenger shall cry,

Death could not make them less.

179 To bully death you find the way,
By me in spite of fate,

To look in shrouds both great and gay,
Perfum'd and laid in state.

180 The sermonizing parson hires,

Insurance for your souls,

Against the fear of penal fires,
And you with saints enrols.

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