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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

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

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

Of

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