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jIf then a blind, well-meaning, Indian stray,
ON DRYDEN'S RELIGIO LAICI. Shall the great gulph be thew'd him for the way?

For better ends our kind Redeemer dy'de

Or the faln angels room will be but ill supply'd.

That Christ, who at the great deciding day, E goneNaves, you

(he declares what resolves to say) Le free, impartial men, from Dryden learn

And save the sheep for actions, cot for thoughts,
Mysterious secrets, of a high concern,

Hath too much mercy to fend men to tieli,
And weighty truths, folid convincing sense,

For huinble charity, and loping well.
Explain'd by unaffected eloquence.

To what fupidity are zealots grown, What can you (Reverend Lei) here cake ill? dien still had faults, and men will have them ftill; In camning crowds of souls, may damn their own.

Whose inhumanity prolujely shown
He thai hath rone, and lives as angels do,

I'll err at least on the securer side,
Must be an angel, but what's that to you?
While mighty Lewis firds the pope too great,

A convert free tiom malice and from pride.
And dieads ihe yoke of his impofing seat,
Our secis a more tyrannic power assume,
And vould for fiorpio:s change the rods of Rome;

That church detain'd the legacy divire;
Taratics car? the pearls of heaven to swine:

ON HIS SEVERAL EXCELLENT TRANSLATIONI What then have thinking lionest men to do, But chufe a mean between th' usurping two? Nor can th' Aisyptian patriarch Hame thy muse, BY G. GRANVILLE, LORD LANSDOWNI. Which for his fi-inness does his heat excuse; Whare er councils have approv'd his creed,

S fiowers transplanted from a southern sky, The preface fure was his own act and deed. Our church will have that preface read, you'll say: Milling their native sun, at test retain 'Tis true: bur fo she will th' Apocrypha; But a faint odour, and shirvive with pain : And such as can believe them, freely may. Thus arc ent wit, in modern numbers taughty ? But did that Goi (folittle understood)

Wanting the warmth with which its author wrote, Whole darling attribute is being food,

Is a dead image, and a fenfclefs draught.
Fron the dark vorb of the rude chaos bring While we transfuse, the rimble spirit fies,
Such various creatures and make man their king, Escapes ur feer, evaporates, and dies.
Ye: leave his farourite man, his chiefert care, Who then to copy Roman wit detire,
More wretched than the vileft infects are? Muft imitate with Roman force and fire,
0! ho: much happier and more fase are they? In ele cance of style and phrase the same,
It helpless millions must be doom'd a prey And in the sparkling genius, and the Alame.
To yelling furies, and for ever hurn

Whence we conclude from thy translated song, In that sad place from whence is no retur,

So joit, so smooth, so soft, and yet so Itrong, For urtelief in ore they seer krew,

Celestial poet ! soul of harmony ! Or for rot doing what they could not do! That every genius was reviv'd in thee, The very fiends krow for what crime they felly Thy trumpet sounds, the dead are rais’d to light, And so do all their followers that rebel :

Never to die, and take to heaven their fichi;




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