With unremitting vengeance bar the skies. Nor light the grief, by fuperftition weigh'd, That their dishonour'd corse, fhut from the verge Of hallow'd earth, or tutelary fane,
Must sleep with brutes their vassals; on the field; Unneath fome path, in marle unexorcised! No folemn bell extort a neighbour's tear! No tongue of priest pronounce their foul fecure! Nor fondeft friend affure their peace obtain'd! The priest! alas so boundless was the ill! He, like the flock he pillag'd, pin'd forlorn; The vivid vermeil fled his fady cheek,
And his big paunch, diftended with the spoils Of half his flock: emaciate, groan'd beneath Superior pride, and mightier luft of pow'r ! 'Twas now ROME's fondeft friend, whofe meagre hand
Told to the midnight lamp his holy beads
With nice precision, felt the deeper wound As his gull'd foul rever'd the conclave more. Whom did the ruin fpare? for wealt», for pow'r, Birth, honour, virtue, enemy and friend, Sunk helpless in the dreary gulph involv'd; And one capricious curfe envelop'd all! Were kings fecure? in tow'ring stations born, In flatt'ry nurs'd, inur'd to fcorn mankind, Or view diminish'd from their fite fublime; As when a fhepherd, from the lofty brow Of fome proud cliff, furveys his lefs'ning flock In fnowy groups diffufive, ftud the vale.
Awhile the furious menace JOHN return'd, And breath'd defiance loud. Alas! too foon Allegiance fick'ning faw its fov'reign yield, An angry prey to fcruples not his own.
The loyal foldier, girt around with strength, Who stole from mirth and wine his blooming years, And feiz'd the fauchion, refolute to guard His fovereign's right, impalfy'd at the news, Finds the firm biafs of his foul revers'd For foul desertion; drops the lifted steel, And quits fame's noble harvest, to expire The death of monks, of furfeit and of floth!
At length fatigu'd with wrongs, the fervile king Drain'd from his land its small remaining stores To buy remiffion. But could these obtain ? No! refolute in wrongs the priest obdur'd; Till crawling base to Rome's deputed slave His fame, his people, and his crown he gave. Mean monarch! flighted, brav'd, abhor'd before! And now, appeas'd by delegated fway, The wily pontiff fcorns not to recall His interdictions. Now the facred doors Admit repentant multitudes, prepar'd To buy deceit, admit obfequious tribes Of fatraps! princes! crawling to the thrine Of fainted villainy! the pompous tomb Dazling with gems and gold, or in a cloud Of incense wreath'd, amidst a drooping land That figh'd for bread! 'Tis thus the Indian clove Displays
Displays its verdant leaf, its crimson flow'r, And sheds its odours; while the flocks around Hungry and faint the barren fands explore
In vain! nor plant nor herb endears the foil; Drain'd and exhauft to fwell its thirsty pores, And furnish luxury-Yet, yet in vain. BRITANNIA ftrove; and whether artful ROME Carefs'd or curs'd her, fuperftition rag'd,
And blinded, fetter'd, and defpoil'd the land. At length fome murd'rous monk, with pois'nous art Expell'd the life his brethren robb'd of peace. Nor yet furceas'd with JOHN's difaftrous fate Pontific fury! English wealth exhaust, The fequent reign* beheld the beggar'd fhore Grim with Italian ufurers; prepar'd
To lend, for griping unexampled hire,
To lend-what ROME might pillage uncontroul'd. For now with more extenfive havoc rag'd Relentless GREG'RY, with a thoufand arts, And each rapacious, born to drain the world! Nor shall the muse repeat, how oft he blew The croife's trumpet; then for fums of gold Annull'd the vow, and bade the false alarm Swell the grofs hoards of HENRY, or his own. Nor fhall fhe tell, how pontiffs dar'd repeal The best of charters! dar'd abfolve the tye Of British kings by legal oath restrain'd. Nor can fhe dwell on argofies of gold
*Henry III, who cancell'd the Magna Charta.
From ALBION's realm to fervile fhores convey'd, Wrung from her fons, and speeded by her kings! Oh irksome days! when wicked thrones combine With papal craft, to gull their native land!
Such was our fate, while ROME's director taught Of fubjects, born to be their monarch's prey, To toil for monks, for gluttony to toil, For vacant gluttony; extortion, fraud,
For av'rice, envy, pride, revenge, and fhame! O doctrine breath'd from Stygian caves! exhal'd From inmoft EREBUS!-Such HENRY's reign! Urging his loyal realms reluctant hand
To wield the peaceful fword, by JOHN erewhile Forc'd from its scabbard; and with burnish'd lance Effay the favage cure, domeftic war!
And now fome nobler spirits chas'd the mist Of general darknefs. GROSTED now adorn'd The mitred wreath he wore, with reafon's fword Stagg'ring delufion's frauds; at length beneath. ROME's interdict expiring calm, refign'd No vulgar foul that dar'd to heav'n appeal! But ah this fertile glebe, this fair domain Had well nigh ceded to the slothful hands Of monks libidinous; ere EDWARD's care The lavish hand of death-bed fear restrain'd. Yet was he clear of superstition's taint ? He too, mifdeemful of his wholesome law, Ev'n he, expiring, gave his treafur'd gold
Bishop of LINCOLN, called Malleus Romanorum.
To fatten monks on SALEM's diftant foil!
Yes, the third EDWARD's breaft, to papal fway So little prone, and fierce in honour's cause, Cou'd fuperftition quell! before the tow'rs Of haggard PARIS, at the thunder's voice He drops the fword, and figns ignoble peace! But ftill the night by Romish art diffus'd Collects her clouds, and with flow pace recedes. When by foft BOURDEAU's braver queen approv❜d, Bold WICKLIFF rofe; and while the bigot pow'r Amidft her native darkness fkulk'd fecure, The demon vanifh'd as he fpread the day. So from his bofom CACUS breath'd of old The pitchy cloud, and in a night of smoke Secure awhile his recreant life fuftain'd; 'Till fam'd ALCIDES, o'er his fubtleft wiles Victorious, chear'd the ravag'd nations round. Hail honour'd WICKLIFF! enterprizing fage! An Epicurus in the cause of truth!
For 'tis not radiant funs, the jovial hours Of youthful fpring, an ether all ferene, Nor all the verdure of CAMPANIA'S vales,
Can chafe religious gloom! 'Tis reason, thought, The light, the radiance that pervades the foul, And sheds its beams on heav'n's mysterious way! As yet this light but glimmer'd, and again Error prevail'd; while kings by force uprais'd Let loose the rage of bigots on their foes, And seek affection by the dreadful boon
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