THE NEW ATLANTIS. A POEM,  
IN THREE BOOKS.  
With some Reflections upon the HIND and the PANTHER.  
Semper Ego Auditor tantum?  
Printed for the Author. 1687.   

To the Reader.  
WHEN the Pamphlet of the Hind and the Panther came out under so celebrated a Name, and was blown about by some interessed little Fellows; I read it with as much eager desire as Curiosity could possibly create, reasonably supposing, the utmost could be said for the Cause of the Hind was there, and if Troy was to be defended, it would be by the Hand of such an Hero. But it cannot be imagined what a surprise I was in to find, that all the seemingly dreadful Host proved no more than that ridiculous Army drawn up upon the Mountains, which once made even Alexander stand, but was afterwards with laughter found to be but Troops of Apes. It was very surprising at first sight, as Ostriches in the Deserts are said to be to the Caravans of Merchants, appearing a far off like Horsemen, yet are discerned upon a nearer approach to be the most stupid and senseless of all Fowls. Indeed for its bulk it imitated one of the mock Elephants Semiramis made use of in her Indian Expedition, all Straw within, and covered with Beasts Hides without.  
The Author (whatever he may otherwise have attained) hath got sure little credit by it, except he intended it religiously as a piece of mortification, or politicly designed to annex the Fame of a Prophet to that of a Poet, by making out what he so long since foretold, his fumbling Age of Poetry.  
The Cause he pretends to vindicate, he hath much reviled by defending it so ill, and it hath made not a few think he played booty, or at least took his measures from that Grecian Orator and Politician, who intending in a great danger to persuade his Countrymen to Arms, made his Declamation for Peace, but he brought such weak Arguments, that according to his design they proved the greatest Incitements to a War. The Person that vindicates the Hind and the manner of it, makes men naturally reflect upon the Religion of Ancient Rome, whose chief Propagators and Defenders were their Poets. This is sure whether the Religion of Ancient and Modern Times differ or no, the Policy and Discipline doth, for the Ancient Romans never reserved their Velites to the last.  
To the following Poem I shall say little, such as it is you have it, it is my comfort the Justice of my Cause supplies my Defects. Yet I am bold to say, that there is not the least part said against the Cause of the Hind of what might have been; and was ready, and even those things which are said are softened over and over; many things left out in point of Prudence, but many more out of good Manners. I have been as cool and moderate as Truth would let me; and if there remains any bitterness, I had it from the Author of the Hind and Panther in his Preface and Poem of Religio Laici, which indeed is a Confutation of his Hind and Panther before hand. I have took no Poetical Licence in any of my Allegations, they may abundantly be proved out of the Writings of the Hinds own Party. So that there is this difference between the Task of my Adversary and me, That what I assert is truth, and ready proved to my hand, and what my Adversary accuses the Panther of is perfect Invention and Calumny, which he drudged hard for; and therein I give him the better: I have done as good Sportsmen do, who will not destroy all the Game, but reserve them for their future Recreation and Sport.   

THE NEW ATLANTIS.  
THE FIRST PART.  
WHEN Great Columbus a discovery made  
Of a New World in distant Climates spread  
Behind a Scene of Seas, beneath a shade:  
Unknown to Ages that did uselessly,  
(He half creates that doth a Coast descry.)  
The News with doubtful wonder was received,  
Men listened out for what they scarce believed;  
Would hear, tho' at the cost of being deceived.  
But when each day did with new Wonders swell,  
And fresh discoveries did the truth reveal,  
men's Minds did rove to each far distant shore,  
I' th' widened World their Souls extended more,  
Confined within too narrow bounds before.  
Yet for so great Attempts Columbus found  
But some dark Stories, an uncertain Ground,  
Some scattered Papers of a Seaman, tossed  
By chance or Tempest on an unknown Coast.  
Brave daring Soul! and sharp judicious Eye,  
That at such distance could new Worlds descry!  
And from such Hints the great Attempt durst try.  
To thee th' old World doth her chief Treasures owe,  
Whether the new one is obliged or no,  
'Twould be too daring hopes to pleasure two.  
Thy great Example may brave Spirits bind,  
The same desire of knowledge swells the Mind,  
And Curiosity is unconfined.  
News is as welcome, and doth fly as fast,  
As various too, as 't did in Ages past.  
Nature has left for each succeeding Age,  
Something that may their warm pursuit engage.  
Something yet undiscovered, that may be  
Reward to Art, and Spur to Industry.  
A new Discovery of a World is made,  
Grounds of Belief more than Columbus had.  
Ignoble Souls may sleep at home, the brave  
And those that dare th' expected prize may have;  
The yet concealed Treasures wide may open,  
And stretch their Conquests beyond bounds of hope.  
In farthest Climes (for so my Charts advise)  
But where not known, the New Atlantis lies,  
The Pride of Earth, and Favourite of the Skies.  
Secure as India lies the blessed Isle,  
ere cursed Spaniard pressed the Virgin Soil,  
And did th' unstained Earth with gore defile.  
ere he with arrogant Rage insulting stood,  
Trampling upon th' unpitied suppliant Crowd,  
And Rome's Foundation once more laid in Blood.  
Safe and untouched she prides in Native Joys,  
Blessed in herself doth foreign help despise,  
Herself a World, that World a Paradise.  
Fruitfulness crowns her bosom, Peace her head,  
Elysian fields below, and Heaven above is spread.  
Sweetly she sleeps, nor doth dread angry Fate,  
She knows no fear, and so she knows no hate:  
Her Virgin Breast no Strangers Love admits,  
At once deaf to their Courtship and their Threats.  
Oft do they storm, and oft do undermine,  
Unwearied Valour do with cunning join;  
Now show rank Malice, now pretended Love,  
But guarded by an unseen Power above,  
Like her own Cliffs she doth the Seas command;  
Fixed as the Rocks on which the World doth stand,  
Undaunted doth the dreadful Prospect take,  
And smiles upon the Waves that on her Basis break.  
Her Wondrous Situations yet unknown,  
Whether i' th' torrid or the temperate Zone,  
Whether i' th' unknown Southern Coasts she's laid,  
Or i' th' Pacifick Sea her bosom's spread;  
Whether she be the floating Isle of old,  
Or Solomon's Ophir whence he fetched his Gold:  
Or whether she i' th' middle Regions lies,  
An Intercourse between the Earth and Skies,  
Where some wild Heads do place the seat of Paradise▪  
Or whether she be situate in the Star  
That late appeared in Cassiopeia's chair.  
Few are the Charts of the Mysterious Land,  
Few the Discoveries of the Antic strand:  
Some few blessed Chance hath cast upon the shore,  
Few with design the hidden Coast explore.  
Rude stories of the Mystic Land are made,  
No Sea-marks seen, no guiding Isles are spread,  
No certain Blasts or Trade-winds thither lead.  
Wondrous the site, more wondrous yet the Soil,  
The Creatures, Customs, and the Fruits o'th' Isle;  
Strange as Chimeras, and surprising more  
Than did the Rarities o'th' Indian shore  
When first admiring Europe saw the store.  
Strange as th' Earth did to new made Adam look,  
Or Heaven to' a Soul just into Glory took.  
The fruitful Soil with living Palms is set,  
Which grow by storms, flourish beneath the weight:  
The more they are depressed the more they rise,  
And lift their labouring Branches to the Skies,  
O'er which a Pelican yet bleeding flies.  
She and her Brood in holy Incense flame,  
Love and are loved, and ever are the same,  
A Love and tenderness that wants a Name.  
A Warlike Offspring fills the Region round,  
For Loyal Courage and Devotion crowned.  
No need that Cadmus' Serpent's teeth should sow,  
For armed men in every Furrow grow.  
Her Offsprings bosoms her defence do boast,  
Not Citadels and Forts, or foreign Host,  
Even wooden Castles do secure her Coast▪  
Her sailing Ships the Ocean's Breast do plough,  
And fruitful Harvests from the Labour grow,  
Each swelling Tide the vast increase doth show.  
A fairer Prospect than the watery Field,  
Spread with Sargossa, to the Eye doth yield,  
When flowery Plants thick set bedeck the Main,  
And the deluded Eye believe't a Plain.  
Perpetual Light doth o'er her borders shine,  
Not borrowed, but Aethereal and Divine.  
While other Nations grope in shades of Night,  
This Blessed Goshen ever hath a Light.  
Wonders and Rarities the Land do bless,  
Her Truths outdo the fabulous Lies of Greece,  
Without are golden Mines, within the Golden Fleece.  
Here, if the Annals of the Place be true,  
Which faithful Eyes with Care did lately view;  
Down the dark Roads of long Antiquity,  
Even from Time's Cradle and first Infancy,  
While other Nations under Rubbish lay,  
No leading Clue to guide the untracked way,  
Successive Kings this glorious Realm did sway.  
A Godlike Race, whose Line extends so high  
They seem the Partners of Eternity.  
And as the Sons of God, an heavenly Line  
Once with men's Daughters did in marriage Join,  
And so a Warlike Valiant Issue made,  
That o'er the World with boundless Empire swayed:  
The true Heroic stamp i' th' Composition laid.  
So these to Neighbour Earthly Kings allied,  
(As Heathen Gods oft chose a Mortal Bride)  
Begot a Race in ancient Ages known  
Gigantic Heroes, Men of high Renown,  
The Pride of Earth and Heaven i' th' mixture thrown.  
Through Time's Abyss th' uninterrupted Line  
With sparkling Steps and Characters doth shine  
Brighter in every Age the lustre grows,  
Accession of new Rays new Light compose.  
So when the Sun breaks from th' Abyss of Night,  
Each moment gives a more resplendent Light:  
Brighter and brighter still the shades do clear,  
Till the Sun's beauteous Chariot doth appear.  
Each nearer Age new growth of Fame doth get,  
Until in one Time's dispersed Wonders met,  
Do crown that Glorious Prince now fills the Throne,  
As Stars united make a Constellation.  
So spacious Nile whose secret Head's unknown,  
Lost in vast Lakes, or Mountains of the Moon,  
Great in his Extract, yet doth greater grow  
By Tributary Screams that to him flow:  
As by vast Realms his fruitful Waters glide,  
The humbler Rivers all with comely pride  
Mix with his mighty waves, and in the same  
Do willingly lose their ignoble name;  
Till swelled too great for his vast Banks to hold,  
With new supplies grown vigorous and hold,  
O'er the wide Land his rolling Waves are tossed,  
Which with Prolific heat enrich the barren Coast.  
Nor came the Glories of his Line alone,  
Him do all the united Virtues crown,  
ere scattered did his Mighty Predecessors own.  
One famed for Arts of Peace, and this for War,  
Valour did this and Justice that prefer;  
A single Virtue could a Monarch's Glory rear.  
All things below an Infinite are poor,  
And despicable is confined store.  
Compared to him, alas, how low they fall,  
They're prized for single Virtues, He for all.  
So the weak scattered Rays of doubtful Light,  
While o'er the Chaos hung black shades of Night,  
Mixed with the Mass only th' Abyss could show,  
As Lightning makes the Night more dreadful grow;  
Till rallying their united Rays in one,  
The distant parts into one Centre run,  
Did make that glorious Light we call the Sun.  
Beneath this mighty Monarch's Princely shade  
(The greatest Trust that e'er on Man was laid)  
An highborn Native Princess safely lies,  
Caesar is her Defender, Heaven is His.  
Humbly on Earth she makes her low abode,  
Heaven is her Right, there married to a God:  
Pure is her Mind, and Beauteous is her Face,  
Her look bespeaks an high Aethereal Race:  
Ancient, yet Youth and Beauty still i'th' Prime,  
As Seraphims that know not the decays of Time.  
A charming Modesty dwells in her Eye,  
Eternal Truth from her blessed Lips doth fly,  
And her extended Arms show boundless Charity.  
Plain, and yet rich, her comely Garments flow,  
Rich in Intrinsic value, not in show,  
Grave and severe, as modest Matrons use,  
Not such as Strumpets to their Lust abuse:  
No tawdry Gallantry, th' effects of Pride,  
(Affected Garbs and Motions set aside)  
No Paint nor Patches which lost Beauty hide.  
Order and Symmetry each part doth show,  
No Spots upon her Milk-white Face do grow,  
Only what boldfaced Lies and Envy throw.  
Lies that even Greece outdo, whose fruitful Brain  
The Beauteous Heaven with monstrous Shapes did slain,  
And filled with Beasts and Snakes th' Aethereal Plain.  
Unshaken Loyalty her Breast doth fill,  
No Jealousies can move 't, nor Injury kill.  
Reviled and contemned, yet She's true,  
And Virtue doth for Virtue's sake pursue.  
Rewards mean Souls may unto Actions train,  
They're truly generous, that great Deeds maintain,  
No prospect laid of Interest and Gain.  
When Rebels force at Majesty did aim,  
And spurious Blood Inheritance did claim:  
With Loyal Rage and Fury up She rose,  
Exposed her beauteous Bosom to her Foes:  
Beauteous as Truth She rose, whose awful sight  
Dispels the Mists of Error, Shades and Night,  
And makes the Fiends betake themselves to flight.  
Powerful as Heaven she rose, when all around  
The Orbs with Martial Noises did rebound,  
And th' Music of the Spheres no more did sound.  
When hostile Troops through frighted Spheres did haste,  
And th' road to Heavens high Empyraeum past,  
When Michael o'er the conquered Rebels stood,  
And Lucifer and all his Train sunk in the fiery flood.  
Alone she rose, no friendly help was nigh,  
Alone she did the doubtful Battle try,  
And bore the Wounds were struck at Majesty.  
Her Martial Sons stopped Hells impetuous Course,  
And her devout ones took even Heaven by force,  
Brought humane help, and heavenly Aid called down,  
Dispelled the Foe, and doubly fixed the Crown.  
Loyalty is her Essence, Truth her Soul,  
Fixed as the Centre, Constant as the Pole:  
Party, Interest, or Humour, others move,  
She true as th' Needle to the Pole doth prove,  
As Heaven to Justice, or, as Saints to Love.  
On an Eternal Rock her Seat is placed,  
A Rock no Storms can move, no Time can waste,  
But will beyond the World's foundation last,  
Olympus like, whose feet on Earth do tread,  
But rears above the Clouds his lofty Head,  
Fenced round by humane Laws, and Laws Divine,  
(United Forces for her safety join)  
Caesar with God doth her Protection share;  
Guarded by Heaven above, and his Vicegerent here,  
Daemons and Fiends, Heaven's Arms do oppose,  
And Caesar Men malicious as those.  
Both wish her Ruin, at her Bliss repine,  
Both forced with shame to quit the cursed Design,  
Here under God's and his Vicegerent's wing  
Safely she doth her Maker's praises sing.  
Offers up holy Incense every day,  
While Seraphims assist as she doth pray,  
And sweetly steal the spoken Word away:  
And Raptur'd with the Prayers, thence notes do take  
To sweeten the next hallelujahs they must make.  
And sacred Silence and Delight put on,  
To see themselves or equalled or outdone.  
Legions of Angels on her Votes attend,  
Ten thousand Legions do her Seat defend,  
With flaming Swords keep off her Enemies,  
As once a Cherubin defended Paradise.  
Yet not her Beauty or her Innocence  
Against malicious Foes could be defence,  
The Butt of Envy still is Excellence.  
For not Heaven's height or everwaking Eyes  
Or glory can secured from Enemies.  
A Foreign Princess, whose malicious Spite  
With lawless Claim doth grasp at others Right;  
Unhinges Kingdoms under Safety's name,  
Throws wildly the contentious Ball of Fame,  
And fires the World to warm her at the flame;  
With bloodshot Eyes her greedy Jaws does open,  
And her already hath devoured in hope:  
So t' a remorseless Rock Andromeda  
With rigid Chains was tied a Monster's prey.  
With dreadful cries the hungry Beast drew nigh,  
Bore foaming Seas before him to the Sky,  
Stretched his wide Jaws the Beauteous prize to tear,  
But Perseus and Medusa's head was near.  
Low her Design's, and yet from Heaven her Birth:  
High Claim, and yet too near allied to Earth,  
Once she in Heavens first Rank of Favour stood,  
Pure as the Light, and as a Cherub good.  
Heaven o'er her head Indulgent blessings strowed,  
A Guard of Angels for her Aid allowed,  
But cursed Satan mixed with the Crowd.  
They winged her Mind with high Aethereal Fires,  
He sunk it with Terrestrial desires:  
Too fatal are the Charms the World inspires.  
Happy, thrice happy, had she never fell,  
Or had been, what she vaunts, Infallible.  
Ambition (if that name we may it call  
Which doth from high to low Employments fall)  
First sunk her down: desire of humane Power  
Blemished the right she had Divine before,  
And every weight of that still sunk her lower:  
Loaded with Vanity, the Scale that rose  
The other from its Empire did depose.  
Adam more nobly fell, his lofty Mind  
At great Acts and Divinity designed.  
She from sublime to sordid deeds declined.  
Such Being's Philosophic heads relate  
Of heavenly stamp; when weary of their state,  
Tired with reiterated Joys they grow,  
And long to prove untasted Bliss below.  
The nearer their low Course to Earth doth lead,  
Farther they from their Pristine glory do recede,  
Base and base grow th'Ignoble Minds,  
Till they degenerate into other kinds.  
The Basis of her heavenly power sunk down,  
And wanting ground for her new got one,  
From Truth, the Fountain of great Deeds, she flies,  
And basely sinks to Humane Policies.  
Instead of that which casts a radiant Light,  
She tricks Impostures up to please the sight.  
God, once her Guard, secured her heavenly right,  
Under his Banner safely she did fight,  
And put her furious Enemies to flight.  
Right hath Heaven's Warrant, but ill gotten Power  
Arts, Policies, and Stratagems secure.  
Truth needs no shapes nor helps, a Native awe  
And Reverence it from open Foes doth draw.  
A genuine look and Beauty right imparts,  
But Fraud and Falshood need a thousand Arts.  
Right wanting, she to Cruelty descends,  
Her usurped Power by Hostile means defends,  
And th' erring World with Fire and Sword amends.  
Gild leaves an haggish fear that haunts the mind,  
Fear trembling looks for what it would not find,  
Fear goes before, and bloody Cruelty behind.  
So Adam, while in Innocence he stood,  
He lowly was adored by th' gazing Crowd;  
A Sacred awe each humble bosom swayed,  
His Godlike Mien with reverend fear was paid,  
They loved and feared, and willingly obeyed.  
But when Rebellion in his Mind did live,  
And he for God's Prerogative did strive;  
The cursed Venom through the World did fly,  
Man did his Maker, Beasts did Man defy.  
And th' remnants of lost power that yet remain,  
Man not by Nature but by Art doth gain,  
By Wit, by Industry, and cruel pain.  
Wisdom to Truth and Honesty's allied,  
Cunning to falsehood and deceit is tied,  
Cunning, a left hand Wisdom, hath lost power supplied.  
Great States by open force make way, the small  
Do to Alliances and Treaties fall;  
Sly Policy, where Force doth fail, can gain,  
As wild Beasts are by Traps and Pitfalls ta'en.  
Shame lost, base ways are used, so violent's grown  
The scorching thirst of wide Dominion.  
To every Passion there's Incentives laid,  
Blandishments to each Humour are displayed,  
And various Tunes on various strings are played.  
Each Weakness, Imperfection, and Disease,  
That on the Body or the Mind do seize,  
Gratification find and pleasing ease.  
From highest flights of the aspiring Mind,  
To th' low effects of hypocondriac Wind,  
Unbridled Riot and tame abstinence,  
Implicit folly and exalted sense;  
Th' Extremes of every Passion, stretched as wide  
As Lust or Rage can do't, are gratified.  
As tho' the Faith of Heathen Rome remained,  
And for each Vice in Heaven a Patron reigned.  
High place and Dignities th' Ambitious move,  
The Melancholy may a Convent love;  
High tow'ring Spirits are for business fit,  
And Solitudes the creeping Souls delight;  
Obedience with the humble Mind doth suit,  
And Peremptory Sway the Resolute:  
Loud Miracles the credulous do call,  
And Airy Visions the Fantastical.  
The Practic Minds may in State Matters dive,  
In hidden knowledge the Contemplative;  
Ostentous Pomp the simple mind doth please,  
Heavy and restive Bodies constant ease;  
Nor endless shows and Ceremonies want  
The Superstitious and Ignorant.  
Lust gets Divorces at an easy rate,  
And can Incestuous Brood's legitimate:  
Liars Equivocation may allow,  
The Rash a Dispensation of their Vow:  
Indulgences and Jubilees do suit  
Th' Incorrigible and the Dissolute.  
All that their Fame or their Content have lost,  
Have in Ambition or in Love been crossed;  
All whom Gild dogs, or Nemesis pursues,  
May shelters here and Sanctuaries choose.  
Nor for Devotion to their Altars fly,  
But undeserved Protection: as tho' she  
That first at Romulus Asylum lived,  
Hath by th' same Arts and Instruments survived,  
And ever since by Malefactors thrived.  
These and a thousand Mystic Rites beside,  
Nor by Gymnosophist nor Brachman tried,  
Found the Chimerical Dominion  
That's grounded in Opinion alone:  
Remove Implicit Faith, the Structure all falls down.  
Beauteous far off her gaudy Pageants seem,  
For ostentation made, and vile esteem.  
Rich at a distance, they their Plumes display,  
But to near Eyes their Poverty betray,  
Only with Paint, with Gilt and Varnish gay.  
Distance her Friend, that Lies and Cheats doth vent,  
Can wild Impostures with Advantage paint,  
But seldom Truth doth fairly represent.  
Doth various Objects in one Mass confound,  
(As all things at a distance do seem round)  
Deformity and wrinkles doth make fair,  
And shows things as they seem, not as they are.  
Ancient she's granted; but like Ovid's Dame,  
That endless Life o'th' lustful God did claim:  
But lasting Youth forgot t' insert; too late,  
Tired with old Age, bewailed her luckless Fate.  
She doth no blessing of old Age retain,  
The Inconveniencies alone remain.  
Dotage, the Vice of ancient years, delights  
In trifling Follies and in childish sights;  
In outside Pomp and empty Pageantry,  
In Paint and Varnish that attract the Eye.  
Credulity each open Cheat doth own,  
And greedily Impostures doth drink down,  
Listens to' each Fabulous Legend, every story  
Of Relics, Exorcisms, and Purgatory;  
Of Fairy Elves and Goblins, wakeful Sprights  
That rouse the drowsy Monks to Beads at Nights;  
Of Beasts converted at an Abbot's Prayer,  
And holy Nuns appearing in the Air;  
Of Virgin's Milk, and still renewing blood;  
Wonder's o'th' Mass, and of the sacred Rood.  
Of Images that speak, lament and weep:  
Of Wounds by Angels given to Saints asleep.  
Of Prophecies and Works of th' holy Maid,  
And all the Tricks were e'er on Jetzer played.  
The wildest Rave are by her received,  
And she'd have all she doth invent believed.  
Laughed at and scorned she doth her thread pursue.  
(For Old Age to Tautology is true)  
Baffled, contemned, a bold Face doth put on,  
And tires with Nauseous Repetition.  
Forsook of Native Beauty, she by Art,  
By Paint and Dress a forced one doth impart.  
Doth loudly brag of what she long hath lost,  
And doth of Fame in former Ages boast.  
Herself to others Beauty but a foil,  
She what she cannot equal doth defile,  
As old-cast Beauties young ones do revile.  
Reason and Sense with Laughter she forsakes,  
And, what she doth not own, from others taketh.  
(The fate of Age) she rob of her sight,  
Persuades the rest o' th' World to love the Night;  
Blindfolds the stumbling Crowds, and then replies  
The way to see is to put out their Eyes.  
The holy Precepts of her early Youth,  
And shining Tracts and Paths of Sacred Truth  
Untrod, in long successive Times are grown  
The Seats of Monsters and of Desolation.  
Forgot (for such Misfortune's Age doth own,)  
Or mixed with Childish Rites debased they're grown,  
Th' Extremes of Age and Childhood met in one.  
Yet much of Truth beneath the Rubbish lies,  
And real Worth beneath the Fopperies.  
Could she her Silver from her Dross refine,  
The rust of Age and worldly Taint decline,  
How glorious would the polished Diamond shine.  
Too good for Hell, and yet too base for Glory,  
Not purely Truth, and yet not all a Story,  
A mixed Religion fitting Purgatory.  
Beside these two, to neither yet allied,  
Not real Friends or Foes to either side;  
But who do by success of each their Actions guide,  
A mongrel Race doth dwell, such Africa sees,  
When the mixed Herd from burning Deserts flies  
To cool their Thirst at shady Fountains; grown  
From a Promiscuous Copulation.  
From different mixtures different Natures rise,  
A double heart, a changeable disguise.  
Now they the Wolf, and now the Boar put on,  
And now the cunning of the Fox is shown.  
The true Samaritans, who when the Fame  
Of Zion did exalt Judaea's Name,  
Did kindred claim, did i' th' Alliance pride,  
But when her Glory found an ebbing tide,  
Did with th' invading conquering Heathen side.  
Discord their various Nature doth put on,  
As mixtures make a Fermentation.  
Restless they move, their own and others curse,  
Cadmaean race, that endless quarrels nurse:  
Ignorant of their Extraction, all they hate,  
With the same Fury Friends and Foes do bait:  
With bloody Rage their Brethren they pursue,  
And in their Parent's blood their hands imbrue.  
So Janissaries do unnatural grow,  
To their own Parents the most mischief do;  
So the Lycisca is the Wolf's worst Foe.  
These, and a numerous Spawn of lesser fame,  
To which Heavens Nomenclator ne'er gave name,  
Beneath great Caesar's Princely shadow stood,  
Caesar renowned, beneficent and good.  
All do the common good his Favour share,  
Fenced by his Word, and bulwarked by his Care;  
As Infects in the Sunbeams sing and play,  
And obscene Beasts are bred from Phoebus' golden Ray.  
Beasts have Heavens general Protection,  
Enjoy the common use of Light and Sun,  
But Men and Angels are admitted near his Throne.  
The Native Princess in her genuine right,  
Envying none, but ravished in delight  
In Joys not to be blasted by malicious sight,  
From Rapine free, ignorant of Martial Art,  
Was ever upon the Defensive part.  
The Foreign Princess with an envious Eye  
Blessed Canaan viewed, and fain would Battle try,  
But Caesar had forbade Hostility.  
From open violence barred by great command  
She kept the Peace, but yet with Arms in Hand.  
So doth the hungry Wolf behold his Prey,  
Bounds, and with eager haste devours the way,  
But th' Lion seen makes an astonished stay,  
Summons her Troops, hoping e'er long she might  
Have some pretence to ease her rankered spite:  
That Time, which she had by Experience known  
To have removed her own Foundation,  
Her Enemy's Forts might undermine or batter down.  
At least she hoped, when open force did fail,  
To win by fraud what she durst not assail.  
They all approach and yet unseen draw nigh,  
Invisible to every common Eye,  
Till mystic Charms and many a secret rite  
Hath cleared the scales, and purified the sight.  
Now deep in shades below the Moles do lurk,  
In secret Caves forge out the destined work:  
So low, they by the Counsel may be led,  
If of no other Being's, yet o' th' dead.  
Sometimes they're hid beneath a specious Flower,  
And while they do attract the Snakes devour;  
With gaudy looks and pleasing baits betray,  
And dart from far upon the cheated prey.  
From secret Holts and Cells the Javelins fly  
Ignobly still in Ambushments they lie,  
And dare not bravely face the Enemy.  
Behind they stab, or else surprise i'th' Night,  
For as Truth loves, so falsehood hates the Light.  
Strange and amazing is their Form and Mien,  
Their Orders, Rites, Habits and Discipline.  
'Twas thought an host of wild Barbarians rose  
Purposely horrid, to affright their Foes:  
Or that Cambyses brought his shattered Host,  
Picked straggling up from every distant Coast,  
And from a thousand Realms and Lands engrossed.  
Or Hannibal's confused Troops were come,  
Of various hues and shapes to change the doom,  
Not to demolish, but to set up Rome.  
Some from their various Mimic actions thought  
They were a Race of Apes and Monkeys got:  
As once the Spaniards did the Indians blot.  
Some thought that conquered India sent her store,  
And by oppressive Spain of Treasure poor,  
Ransacked the Andes and Vales, had robbed each Coast,  
And from the different Monsters made the Host;  
Sent each dire Savage that e'er wildly ran  
'twixt farthest Northern Frith and Null of Megallan.  
Some thin and meager upon Air do dine:  
Others full fed, like the plump God of Wine.  
Some in deep Cells horrid and meager grow,  
Like luckless Daemons of the Mines below,  
Whose dire appearance doth the damp foreshow.  
Some like the God of Youth are fresh and gay,  
Dance in the Sun beams, frolic all the Day,  
And their swelled necks and pampered sides display.  
So wide their Lives, distant their Looks do show,  
They seem besides themselves to need no Foe.  
Hard Fate! no shelter from their Fury's sound  
That walk in mists, and burrow under ground.  
No Shibboleth their Treachery can defeat  
That have their Salvo to Equivocate:  
Nor Spies from those the Avenues can keep,  
That in such various Names and Shapes do creep.  
The World before ne'er such an Empire saw,  
Or to the Field did such an Army draw;  
That claims a Right to every Prince's State,  
And Monarch's can depose, or can create:  
With secret Chains their Subjects Conscience binds,  
And lays enchanted Fetters on their Minds.  
A Monarch's Throne can without fight shake,  
By private screws the firm foundation break;  
As hidden Vapours do the Earthquakes make.  
Grows rich; yet without watching, care, or pain:  
Fights, yet with Hosts that others do maintain;  
Makes Paper shields and Pens the Sword control,  
And makes Geese once more save the Capitol.  
Amply rewards; yet doth not poorer grow;  
For others Wealth who freely won't bestow?  
Unwearied Bees, who from each flower do drain,  
From others Follies from their Sins do gain,  
And Honey from each poisonous Simple strain.  
Numerous from far the growing Troops appear,  
And where the Sight is terminated, there  
Still swelling numbers rise; so could we see  
The Cave whence th' race of Infant Time doth fly;  
The Scheme of Hatching Days; how all along  
The endless Offspring to the Birth-place throng:  
Unlike in Colour, Habit, Face, and Mien;  
Monstrous and strange that little seem a kin.  
Some days would foul appear with Clouds overcast,  
Some smiling fair the storms all overpast:  
Some with Misfortune's chequered o'er, and some  
A monstrous Mass of all deformed would come.  
Such Troops, but more alike doth afric breed,  
When Caterpillars do the Ground o'erspread,  
And upon every thing that's green do feed.  
With unrestrained Fury all devour,  
And Desert leave what was a Paradise before.  
Dreadful their Numbers, nor less resolute,  
Prompt to Obedience, swift to execute.  
Desperate in all Attempts, devoid of fear,  
They leap o'er Rocks, and through dread Tempests steer.  
Outdo- Rome's Ancient Heroes, who their Line  
Did sacrifice unto their Discipline.  
Witness it the two Henry's, whose dear Life  
Fell Victims to their consecrated Knife.  
Witness it the blessed Souls late trampled down  
Doomed by their Rage or their Ambition.  
The foreign Princess overlooked the show,  
But something sullen sat upon her Brow.  
Whether hopes long deferred had made her sick,  
Or disappointments touched her to the quick;  
Or that her presence awed, and she did fear  
They'd not so freely speak if she was there;  
Or that she with the long Fatigue was tired,  
She called a Council, and in state retired.  
The summons soon were noised, the Members met,  
And th' heads of every Order in the Junto set.  
The Precedent (such 'twas his right to be  
When desperate Ills must desperate Counsels try  
His Order formed t' uphold the tottering See)  
Was writ in bloody Characters of Fame,  
Yet had his Title from the holiest Name.  
Fierce in his Look, and savage in his Mind,  
To Wars, to Cruelty and Rage inclined:  
With fiery Eyeballs on the Prey did look,  
Vented his Spleen, and thus the silence broke.   

THE NEW ATLANTIS.  
THE SECOND PART.  
OUR Golden Age and happy Times are gone;  
When undisputed All our Power did own.  
And suppliant Monarches at our feet fell down.  
When flowing Tides of Wealth came rolling in,  
The sale of Vice, and easy price of Sin.  
When blindfold Ignorance did Devotion give,  
The less men knew the more they did believe,  
The Blind and Credulous will all receive.  
When Croisades for an holy War did come,  
And Princes in far distant Coasts did roam,  
While our Great Queen usurped upon their Rights at home.  
When every one on what She said relied,  
Closed up her Eyes and took her for their guide,  
Nor sneering Heretic the Consequence denied.  
When with full Power the World did her invest  
Implicitly subscribing to her Test,  
That She alone is Christ's Immaculate Bride,  
Harlots and Sorceresses all beside.  
That her Communion all th' Elect doth hold;  
Heaven, though 'tis Infinite confined to her fold.  
That the Sun rises only in the West,  
Forgets his Bridal Chamber in the East,  
And black Damnation shades o'er all the rest.  
That she doth hold Eternal Truth alone,  
And what she doth is Truth, because by her 'tis done,  
That she the powerful Keys of Heaven doth hold,  
The Wards unchanged, and what she hath enrolled  
In Books below, in those above are writ,  
And Heaven to' her grant of Saintship doth submit.  
And whom by fatal Sentence she doth doom  
Heaven must exclude, and Hell for them make room,  
That th' charge of Souls is Hers, and therefore she  
Hath over all a boundless Sovereignty:  
As great Precedence over earthly Kings,  
As have Immortal over Mortal things.  
And since the End the Mediums must command,  
And Heaven the Butt of all our Aims must stand;  
She the great Guide of the Eternal state,  
Must act, must alter, counsel and debate  
All things Supreme, and all Subordinate.  
May plant, root out, establish and depose,  
May alter and dispense, may bind and lose  
All that may fix the Churches sure defence,  
At least all that may merit that pretence.  
That all that her unbridled Power withstand  
Are stigmatised with an Heretic Brand:  
Not Cain's for safety, but a mark for Death.  
(Happy the Saint that can the blow bequeath)  
That all the World by Conscience bound must bring  
Their help to' extirpate th' accursed thing:  
To stab the hated Race, and to root out  
With Fire and Sword the Pestilential Rout.  
These the Precarious grounds are we have laid,  
And th' Superstructure's equal to them made.  
Our claim of heavenly right, the ground of all,  
With which the gaudy Edifice will fall,  
Is proved or wholly forged, or much debased,  
And in the Room a Prior Title's placed.  
Our shattered Evidence our Foes deride,  
Expose the blots and falsehoods we would hide,  
And bring Authentic Witness on their side.  
Our narrow Thoughts of Heaven experience finds  
The fault of purblind Eyes and narrow Minds;  
To whom as the men in Vales it doth befall,  
They see some part of Heaven, and think 'tis all.  
Heaven's Mercy and his Goodness these restore  
The Privilege we had robbed him of before.  
Our claim to' Infallibility they laughing own,  
As they do Constantine's Donation.  
Show the Eccentrick Dances it hath moved,  
The various Epicycles through which 't hath roved:  
How it hath followed every foolish Fire  
That Lust, or Pride, or Interest did inspire:  
And when a Golden Ball was dropped i' th' way,  
It stooped like Atalanta to the Prey.  
Our Apotheosis and Gift of Heaven,  
To Traitors and to perjured Villains given,  
All scorn, nor will with such a Consort dwell,  
But, like the Indian, rather venture Hell.  
Ensigns of Honour when become the Meed  
Of Persons of low worth and servile breed,  
Th' offended Nobles all, with needful pride,  
The tainted badge of Honour lay aside.  
Our Thunder that did once the World appall,  
Breaks unregarded and contemned doth fall,  
And like Salmoneu's Thunder's scorned by all.  
The Magic Charms that fettered Kings are broke,  
And fearless they throw off the galling Yoke:  
Grow jealous of their State, secure their Throne,  
And from usurping Power do fence their Crown.  
These are the least o' th' numerous Ills they do,  
The prying Heretics our Secrets know;  
Have searched the Stream up to th' Eternal Spring,  
And tracts of Truth down through all Ages bring;  
Have with much Diligence and Justice shown  
The various change of our Foundation:  
Th' admittance of Impostures, and the Times  
When we made Love to meretricious Crimes;  
The Errors of our Doctrine have exposed,  
But, what doth deepest strike, our Lives disclosed.  
The head of these our Emulous Neighbour stands,  
The frustrate hopes of all our Heads and Hands,  
And with Angelic Face o'erlooks her Native Lands.  
(Our shame) her Virtues every where we spy,  
Her decent Rites, her warming Charity,  
Her Truth and her Angelic Piety.  
Her steady Loyalty, nor are less known  
Her Learning, Wisdom, Moderation.  
Propitious Stars, if I guess right, appear,  
And dawns of our long wished for Day draw near:  
Much in this Critical Juncture's to be done,  
Give speedy Counsel, when this Moment's gone,  
Bid long farewell, for 'tis for ever flown.  
A sullen murmur followed, when there rose  
A meager shape, a shape that Envy chose,  
And spoke; With studied Malice we have tried  
Our Enemy's Rites, Lives, Learning to deride,  
But the cast Darts down on our heads did glide.  
'Tis now too late worn Methods to recall,  
They're flat and dull, the most refined of all  
Will by their Virtue be to make them fall.  
Loyalty is their glory, pride and crown,  
Make but that totter and all tumbles down.  
Load them with vile reproaches; Truth and Lies  
When once on Wing do curious search despise,  
The swiftness of the Motion doth delude our Eyes.  
With low designs their lofty Honour blot,  
Say Interest hath their Loyalty begot,  
And hopes of tasted power th' Increase hath brought:  
And what beyond Hell's Malice hath a strain,  
Lay to their Charge a Martyred Sovereign.  
Blot their Allegiance, touch that tender place,  
They will their God and King revile unto their Face.  
Vex them with wrongs, and work them up with Fears,  
Threaten the Issue of succeeding years;  
Disgrace the great, and trample on the small,  
With undeserved Reproaches taint them all.  
Make them but Malcontents the work is done,  
A soft descent leads to Sedition;  
None do the ferment of high Passions know,  
What generous Souls loaded with wrongs may do;  
Patience long tired doth unto Fury grow.  
Incense them, push them on, the step we'd choose  
Is that they would Caesar's Protection lose;  
Stir up the mutinous Rabble, if they flame,  
The fatal Fire to all shall lay a claim.  
The Counsel was embraced with joyful cries,  
When one did from among the crowd arise  
And thus replied; Th' advice is deep and wise:  
But we ne'er yet upon one string relied,  
But various Draughts have wove, new Arts have tried;  
Mines under Mines; if one discovered fail,  
That th' other yet may hit and blow up all:  
We've other Tasks to do. Wise Kings when they  
With their Ambitious Neighbour's war for Sway,  
With wary Eyes survey the Enemy's state,  
And th' Motions of the Malcontents do wait,  
Foment Divisions, widen still the breach,  
And their Foes Arms do to their Ruin stretch.  
A Viperous brood lies in our Enemy's Breast  
That tear her Bowels, and her Peace molest:  
At best half Friends and Jealous, 'tis our parts  
To make them open Foes by private Arts;  
Revile their Mother, draw a monstrous shape,  
Fill it with Cruelty, Oppression, Rape,  
And with remorseless Fury fill the Map;  
And hang't out as her Picture, 'bove the rest,  
Write th' Author and Abettor of the Test.  
Spot her with Dirt from our own Malice wrought,  
Insinuate into the Crowd the thought  
That 'tis her genuine look and Natural Draught.  
Till they with Phantoms scared, and Horrors driven  
Mistake the Road, and fly to Hell from Heaven.  
Smile on the cheated Slaves, their hopes increase,  
(For whom you cannot love yet you may please)  
And draw them to the wrack with hopes of ease.  
Invite, and like a treacherous Sea beguile;  
Embrace, and kill, and while you ruin smile.  
Divide, set them their Tasks, and when that's done,  
The just Reward of Traitors is well known.  
With deep Attention the Discourse was heard,  
And every one for the Attempt prepared,  
To which by Natural Bent his Temper steered;  
Till from below a Spectre did ascend,  
And seemed half a Man and half a Fiend.  
His baleful Eyes like direful Comets showed,  
Diffusing Mischief and ill Fate abroad:  
His Mouth like Aetna belched out Smoke and Fire,  
And thus he spoke, or bellowed out his Ire.  
Mean Souls low Arts and Policies do try,  
The great at lofty noble Actions fly,  
Worms crawl upon the Ground, but Eagles brush the Sky.  
Such dilatory Arts do blast our Fame,  
Such proling is unworthy our great Name.  
Could we secure our Empire by such ways,  
The very means the Victory would debase.  
Act like yourselves, your former Fame restore;  
Strike through at once and need to strike no more.  
I with a Firebrand o'er the Piedmont Vale  
The many headed Hydra did assail.  
Lovely in dust and gore my Legions stood,  
Wading in Streams of cursed Heretic Blood.  
Down fell the glorious Harvest, and not one  
Was left to future Times to give Relation.  
With state I the Parisian Feasts maintained,  
When Hecatombs the crowded Altars stained:  
When pious Massacres did fill each Street,  
When Death did Death, and Ruin Ruin meet.  
I filled the Irish Shambles, and did call  
From Boggs, from Loughs and Woods each bloody Cannibal.  
When dying groans through every Soul did fly,  
Echoed through Earth, and pierced th' astonished Sky;  
To every barbarous Ear sweet Melody.  
Why should I mention things of lesser Note,  
Or Bonner's Smithfield-Fires, or Powder Plot:  
Oh! 'twas a brave Attempt, though 't did not hit,  
Althô Hell wanted Fire the Match to light,  
Brave, as was Satan's, that with Heaven did fight.  
The Path is easy where one went before;  
I've told you what I did, and need no more.—  
This said, his Speech and he at once did end,  
With Sulphurous stench he downward did descend,  
And by's departure truly showed the Fiend.  
A sudden horror on each mind did light,  
Or from the Counsel bred, or from the sight;  
But the Advice out-lasted the affright.  
Some liked the Counsel, but the Times displeased:  
And some the want of Agents did molest:  
Some, or in Truth, or in Appearance good,  
Misliked Foundations laid on slippery blood;  
Nor had they quite forgot the due of Gratitude:  
Some Piety, some Policy did sway;  
But that on which the greatest stress yet lay  
Was Caesar's Word, and that they must obey.  
But 'twas with gnashing Teeth and flaming Eyes.  
When one with jolly Mien and look did rise  
And speak: the Counsel with the Times should hit,  
The late Advice don't with the Juncture fit:  
We in Atlantis ne'er by force could gain,  
We've bravely dared indeed, but dared in vain,  
Our Bulwarks are beat down, and what is left  
Is little more than Policy and shift.  
In vain we to Antiquity do fly,  
No footsteps of Infallibility,  
Or of our Universal Claim there lie.  
We've bribed her oft to speak upon our side:  
But when our Gifts and Presents were denied,  
With Wracks and Tortures her consent we've claimed,  
And by our purging Indices have maimed,  
Lopped and cut off what our Impostures named.  
Our Cobweb Frame of new Divinity,  
Made to uphold our Pageant Hierarchy,  
By dint of Argument is tumbled down,  
That had built upon Smoke its weak Foundation.  
Our Miracles for pleasing Chat make way,  
Our Exorcisms in Laughter spend the Day.  
The Scene is open, if we would be wise,  
We with new paint must cloth our Fopperies.  
The World with nauseous Syllogisms is tired,  
Major and Minor now no more admired;  
Nor have we ought by that dull War acquired.  
Wise Heads do know too much, and search too deep,  
The loser minds we must in Ignorance keep.  
Since than our Cause we most on Fiction build,  
It must by what it is composed be' upheld;  
By Poetry; whose ravishing Art doth tell  
Not what is true, but what is plausible.  
This will young heads with pleasing Notions fill,  
Not thorny Questions, but fair Schemes instill:  
And unseen Fetters cast upon the Will.  
'Twill every temper, every Genius suit,  
But most the Ignorant and Dissolute.  
Weak reasons Gorgeous Metaphors array,  
And chiming Verse the Sense will bear away.  
This Counsel roused the Precedent, who replied  
Th' Advice upon firm Principles relied,  
And what might give most hopes 'twas yet untried.  
But tho' the noblest flights for Poetry,  
Things that even the very Art outvie,  
Do in our heaps of fabulous Legends lie:  
Such is our rigid Fate, in vain l've sought  
Among our Train to find a Man of Note.  
The Lists are ready, nor Rewards we want,  
At hand are all things but the Combatant.  
Th' Adviser reassumed his Post, and cried,  
We've late come over to the Royal side  
A Proselyte, whose servile Pen can write  
For fear, reward, for mischief, or for spite:  
With as much ease can praise, and then revile  
As with the Romans 'twas to change the Style.  
His Nature to his Calling laid a Claim  
As due, for Verse from turning hath its Name.  
'Tis true of late fearing th' effects of chance,  
He Horoscoped about for Maintenance:  
Proffered his Venal Pen to serve our Foes,  
To plead the Panther's Cause, and ours expose.  
And had they been in their Subscriptions kind,  
He' had vowed to write the Panther and the Hind.  
But they with scorn his proffered Pains did slight,  
(An Act of generous Courage, not of Wit)  
Nor's Mercenary Pen would bribe to write,  
Which once did Cromwell's odious Fame recite;  
A Poet fit for such an Hypocrite.  
He may be useful, and we have him sure,  
No matter why he did his Faith abjure;  
Such Proselytes the greatest Bigots be,  
And while their warmth doth last no danger see;  
Strive an assurance of their Zeal to give,  
And former faults by' obsequiousness retrieve.  
He for our turn is fit, by Nature bred  
He rails at all before him, and is fed  
Hyaena like, by tearing up the dead.  
Th' unluckiest Satirist alive, that still  
Writes his own Character in all that's ill.  
Of all the World most fit a Vice t' expose,  
That all its Cause, Effects and Motions knows,  
Stranger to none, can no advantage lose.  
Big with Conceit, the empty shape looks great,  
His own dear self obligingly doth treat;  
In melting accents his own praises glide,  
In keen iambics all mankind's beside.  
Rewards his Soul in any garb will lap,  
His ductile Soul will put on any shape;  
Vice hath his Patronage, and there's no fear  
But Hell in time may his Protection share,  
The rather cause the God of Gold is there.  
He courts loud Rumour, but lets Truth alone,  
Conscious of Gild he shuns being justly known,  
And by's oft changing flies a Definition.  
Learned, but in Ill: Ingenious, but in spite:  
Virtuous, from Impotence: from Need a Wit:  
Modest, when beat: in suffering Valiant:  
Honest, when forced: And moderate, when in want.  
True, but for Interest; Civil, but for dread;  
Devout, for Alms; and Loyal, but for Bread.  
The Person pleased, and so did the Design,  
And soon the Proselyte was called in.  
Trembling he stood; while thus the Precedent cried,  
We various ways for our defence have tried,  
Our careful Sons their secret Methods take,  
That were not falsehood naturally weak,  
So hidden are the Plots and Mines we've laid,  
We the whole World long since had Captive made.  
All that is left, is that with show and paint,  
We hide what doth in real value want.  
The Basis fails, the Building tho' 'tis fair,  
And high in Clouds its lofty Head doth rear,  
Yet sinks, and greater still its Ruins are.  
This be thy Province, trick the Mormo fine;  
Rich in appearance tho' there's nought within.  
That Art thy empty Metaphors dispense,  
The rather cause there is no need of sense.  
But eat a near Inspection, prying Eyes  
(And Heretics are mischievously wise)  
May break the spell, and see through the disguise.  
Think out a Fable of some Bird or Beast,  
Matter not Reason if it be well dressed.  
What tho' the borrowed Feathers others own,  
Few will detect the cheat, few tell when known.  
Aesop, did first on the Invention hit,  
Aesop thy like in every thing but Wit.  
By this time Bavius had composed his fear,  
And something thought in his own Praise to' infer,  
When an unlucky Accident did reign  
That stopped his Praise, and raised his Fear again.  
The utmost Scouts had a strange Monster took,  
Cruel in action, and a Fiend in look,  
Drew him by force through the amazed throng,  
Which with wild outcries ushered him along:  
Such shapes before Atlantis ne'er arrayed,  
Such Pliny ne'er, or Gezner found or made,  
Nor e'er such Schemes in Travellers Brains were laid.  
From every Creature he a portion stole,  
And seemed an Epitome o' th' whole.  
The Paws o' th' Bear, and Fangs o'th' Wolf he wore,  
The Tail o' th' Fox, and Bristles of the Boar:  
The Tricks o' th' Ape, and Eyes o'th' quaking Hare,  
Still backward cast, to see if th' Foe was near:  
A Limb of every Species did he wear.  
And some (for Fancy, or cold fear will do't)  
Affirmed they saw the Devils cloven foot.—  
Some thought he was a piece o' th' Chaos, made  
ere Order, Form, or Symmetry was laid,  
ere similar parts their Troops into one Mass conveyed.  
Some thought a Wretch from Native shape estranged  
By Circe's Cups into a Monster changed,  
Some thought a living wild Chimaera ranged.  
Th' Opinions various as his shapes were dressed,  
But most concluded that he was possessed.  
This Rumour took, straight all their Heads attend  
With mystic Charms to dispossess the Fiend,  
Vain rites were used, and to as vain an end.  
He knew them all, but was to them unknown,  
Strangers even to their own disguises grown,  
Till thus with trembling Tongue the Monster said  
I'm an Atlantian born, a Roman bred,  
With high Commissions to Atlantis sped.  
Among the various Sects to' insinuate  
The secret seeds of Enmity and Hate;  
Of endless Quarrels, and as endless Woe,  
And have with Joy beheld the Harvest grow.  
Much have I done, no certain shape or place  
Could limits set to my unbounded race.  
Where e'er was mischief hatching there was I  
Through unseen Paths, and through dark Roads I fly,  
I light the Fire, no matter how or why.  
Wher'ever discontented Humours rise,  
Bred of self-pride, nourished with Jealousies,  
My useful Presence never missed the prize.  
Tumult in State, and Schism in Church was mine,  
I stretched the breach, marked out the parting Line,  
And set the Bars that they could never join.  
Thick flew my poisoned Arrows in the dark,  
When matter was Combustible I brought the Spark.  
Disguised I herded with the Wolfish Crew,  
With Cant and Tone my gaping Hearers drew;  
Chose pleasing Topics, such as might invite  
(What makes their Crowd) the Female Proselyte:  
Did Heaven by God's Decrees to them divide,  
I sainted them, and damned all beside.  
New Lights and wild Enthusiastic Fire  
Into the bristled Herd I did inspire,  
Their Rage too fierce and hot I worked up higher.  
Cried Monarchy and all Church-Order down,  
Kings I called Tyrants, Laws Oppression:  
Till down steep Rocks the headlong Rabble pressed,  
As tho' the Devil once more had th' Swine possessed.  
I in each Faction stubborness did breed,  
Did bitter hatred toward all others feed,  
But chiefly Poison o'er th' established Church did shed.  
Nor did I only to great Actions tend,  
To mean Employments I could condescend,  
Foaming on Bulks I could loud Nonsense rear,  
And plead the Cause of our sure Friend the Hare.  
In Woods and Groves to Conventicles creep,  
Such as i' th' Germane Forest's Witches keep,  
And naked to the Feasts of Adamites could slip.  
These, and the Sects, like Sins without a Name,  
That never a distinctive mark could claim,  
My willing Aid and speedy Help implored,  
Deluding all, and yet by all adored.  
Long time I reigned, but whether too secure,  
Depending much on my ill gotten Power,  
I had too loosely put on my disguise,  
Or whether Heretics are grown more wise,  
Or 'twas my Fate: some of the long-nosed rout  
Saw through the Cloud, and found th' Imposture out.  
I saw their Visage change, but gave no Ground,  
When in a Moment 'twas all whispered round.  
Th' enraged Crowds do up in Tumult rise,  
Arms filled their Hands, and sparkling Fire their Eyes,  
All that is wanting furious rage supplies.  
Not more the Neighbouring Dorps to Vengeance crowd,  
When the sly Fox, the common Foes pursued,  
Men call to Men, and Towns to Towns aloud.  
In vain 'twas to resist or to entreat,  
Rocks hear as much when angry Surges beat▪  
Debarred of Force to Policy I fly,  
Thought I might hid in my Disguises lie;  
But every shape and garb that I put on  
Some one or other of the Crowd had known,  
Bootless it was to stay, hard to be gone:  
The Avenues all ways the Crowd did keep,  
Till I beneath a Zealot's Cloak did creep,  
And in the form of Sanctity away did slip:  
Yet not so clearly but I was pursued  
With Bats and Stones, and Curses still renewed.  
No place to hide my loathed head I spied,  
In vain I for a Sanctuary cried.  
Accursed Land, where there's no sacred place  
That may a Malefactor's Crimes embrace!  
I invocated every Saint in vain,  
They all were deafened with the shouting train.  
At last, loaded with Injuries and Blows,  
Twice down I sunk and fell, and twice arose:  
A third time beaten down, I there had stayed,  
Had not the listening Saint to whom I prayed,  
Or th' horror that my trembling Soul put on,  
(Strange things by fantasy and fear are done)  
My Body in this monstrous Habit shaped,  
As Man I suffered, as a Monster scaped.  
I found the change, felt the wild Members bred,  
Was glad by any means to hide my Head,  
And saw my furious Persecutors fled.  
Under this shelter I securely passed,  
The Guards still looking horrid and aghast.  
But fear, insulting fear doth hag my Mind,  
They still pursue me whom I left behind.  
My Fellows that the same Commission bear,  
Live a cursed Life, racked with eternal fear.  
Some do them Sphynxes, some Chameleons call,  
But Trimmer is the currant'st Name of all.  
This said; mixed Passions did i' th' Council rise,  
Some joyed in's escape, some grieved in's miseries;  
All variously the Tumult did revile,  
Traduced the State, and cursed th' unlucky Soil.  
The murmur ceased, and Bavius that was fled,  
Driven by his usual fear, recovered.  
After Advice that Courage might renew,  
The Precedent thus did his Discourse pursue.   

THE NEW ATLANTIS.  
THE THIRD PART.  
MUch hopes (our Son) doth from thy Province flow,  
Great may be th' Harvest, if we wisely sow.  
Kind Aspects on the great Attempt do smile,  
Fit for the Task to blacken and revile,  
Malice thy blood doth into poison boil.  
So venomous in what's false, it leaves a stain,  
And won't with easy pains be cleansed again.  
Thou damn'st all Writings to set up thy own,  
We all Truth's ancient Monuments cry down,  
Sure way to usher in Tradition.  
But yet be cautious, we our Arts must try,  
And with false shows debauch th' Adulterous Eye.  
Some things best at half Lights affect the sight,  
Some must like hollow shadows take their flight,  
Show and begun; few will endure the Light.  
Darkness and distance our Advantage gives,  
The Mind by th' Eye the pleasing Cheat receives,  
And th' Error is admired while it deceives.  
Beware of sincere dealing, 't may betray,  
Sergeant Jewels are descried i' th' Day.  
eat steady Looks, they may too deeply pry,  
Hint and away, the motion cheats the Eye.  
Conceal the worse, still show the better side,  
'Tis as much Art Deformities to hide,  
As to deck Beauty up in all its Pride.  
Draw Zeuxis Grapes so' attractive and so fair,  
That all the Feathered Race may there repair;  
Securely on the tempting Fruit may feed,  
Nor e'er the dreadful shape that bears them heed.  
Jealous of too deep Sense amuse the Mind,  
Fill th' Eye with shows, and swell the Soul with Wind.  
Traverse the Ground, flourish, but never close,  
We nothing yet could get by downright blows,  
We gain by Treachery, by fair Battles lose.  
Make't all a Bantar, it the most will please,  
Few will search deep, for most men love their Ease:  
Some Topics are for daubing Flattery fit,  
Some Eloquence require, and some do Wit,  
None with deep Arguing, or true Sense admit.  
Some may be faintly urged, some loudly famed,  
Some may be hinted at, and some not named.  
Name not Indulgences, what though we know  
That none but th' Poor and Fools to Hell do go;  
That Heaven at easy Rates may purchased be,  
And God and Mammon can in one agree:  
Tho' we Times past, and present Times can clear,  
For Crimes not acted a remission bear,  
Beyond the Revolution of great Plato's year;  
More than the World can stretch our Pardons wide,  
And in small Time for endless years provide;  
That bottomless the Treasures are we hold,  
Low as th' Abyss, and deep as Mines of Gold:  
That th' inexhausted Spring can ne'er be dry  
While Supererrogation doth new Streams supply.  
Safe let the Philosophic Secret sleep,  
Like wakeful Dragons let's the Treasure keep.  
The subtle Spirit if't gets vent is flown,  
Like Fairy Treasure, if disclosed, 'tis gone.  
Little we once believed, the World grown wise,  
Should at a Friars cry lift up their Eyes,  
And Prostituted Pardons should despise.  
Heaven to its genuine Liberty restore  
And set that free was basely sold before,  
From Usury th' Aetherial Plains should keep,  
And Money-Changers from the Temple sweep;  
That all the World awakened at the cry,  
As Slaves at th' Joyful Noise of Liberty,  
Should break the Yoke that did their Bodies bind,  
Nor laid less servile Fetters on the Mind.  
Like Waves on Waves the Noise should loudly roar,  
And echo to the World's remotest Shore.  
Curse on the Day, loud Curses on the Name,  
ne'er may it be enrolled i' th' Book of Fame,  
Lapped in Oblivion, or if it be,  
Like Herostratus, but for Infamy.  
Our King-deposing-Doctrine we with heed  
Must hide, it may unkind Suspicions breed,  
And in wise Prince's Bosoms Jealousies may feed.  
Th' Effects are too apparent, Neighbour Kings  
Have warmed the Snakes, and felt the deadly Stings.  
Name't not; the Confutation in the Mind,  
Tho' strongly urged, doth leave some doubts behind;  
Doth shake Allegiance, doth the Bands untie,  
The Monarch's Peace, and our Security:  
Disturbed he lives, uneasy, unsecure,  
Among half Subjects that do own a foreign Power.  
It is enough we it in private own,  
Tho' we in public cry the Tenet down,  
'Tis but to lull the World asleep, and then  
When Interest sways the Scale, resumed again.  
Pressed with apparent Proofs, to fraud we fly,  
A private Doctor's Tenet we decry,  
On Mariana the whole load we set,  
Tho' Troops the barbarous Tenet do abet.  
But what's hence gathered, let in silence die,  
That Princes when deposed may murdered be.  
In secret Whispers done't the Crime display,  
Even Ovid's Reeds the Treason may betray.  
A blasting Air doth every Accent fill,  
Each Loyal Breast, and Christian Soul doth i'll,  
Strangers to Treachery, and unused to kill.  
Conceal't, or if need be, the Fact deny,  
'Tis lawful for our Interest to lie,  
In this the very Wolf and Hind agree.  
Bring some Distinction that may heal the sore,  
Deny to kill a King we give a Power,  
For when they are deposed they're King's no more.  
'Tis much the same; precarious Kings must by  
A Logical Distinction live or die.  
Not that the Tenet we're ashamed to own,  
Not Conscience, but our Interest cries it down.  
The sound is hateful, and we've lately found  
To our Repute 't hath given a deadly wound:  
Th' Experiment our boldest Champions made,  
And were from Neighbouring Nations banished.  
We're feeble yet, but when we stronger grow,  
Nature returns, and with't the Poison too.  
Name not our wavering Faith and broken Vows,  
The barbarous Indians will the Fact expose:  
The Faith of Ancient Rome may ours upbraid,  
That kept their Sacred Oaths with Pirates made.  
Unknown in Ancient Times the Tenet slept,  
That Vows with Heretics need not be kept.  
Unpunished, Heavens great Name invoked may be,  
And Holy Saints to Patronise a lie:  
Heaven Perjury allows to root out Heresy.  
Antiquity could ne'er a Weapon find  
To cut the Tie that doth the Juror bind,  
Nor durst th' Affront lay on th' eternal Mind.  
Yet 'tis of use to flatter and cajole,  
And to the Pitfal draw the easy Fool.  
The Credulous do upon our Oaths rely,  
We fetter others, and ourselves are free.  
Saint Barthol'mew the secret understood,  
Saint Barthol'mew once more baptised in Blood.  
Conceal (as that doth Truth) Aequivocation,  
Our useful Trick, and mental Reservation;  
Th'ave an ill Aspect, and too far may reach,  
And contradict the very Ends of Speech;  
Do to the Death of Faith and Justice tend,  
Do all Society and Converse end,  
And make a Man to Man become a Fiend.  
The die may be turned on's, and justly we,  
That others have deceived, deceived may be.  
Name not the Power that Marriage Bonds can break,  
The Sacred Tie that Gods own hand did make;  
The Laws of Nature, Heaven and Men can force,  
And lose where nought but Death should make Divorce.  
Legitimate Incestuous Marriages,  
And can th' accursed brood to Title raise;  
Much Policy doth in the Practice lie,  
They're bound to us in an Eternal Tie,  
Whose Right and Title from our Mouths doth fly.  
Name not the Crowned Heads that Homage pay,  
Whose Right to Thrones depends upon our See,  
Name not th' Incestuous House of Austria.  
These and more which our Doctrine doth impart,  
At which even trembling Nature seems to start;  
We colour and make plausible by Art:  
For each Objection we a Salvo find,  
And with smooth Words struck the affrighted Mind;  
Till what at first a dreadful shape did show,  
By Art and Custom doth familiar grow.  
But this requires the highest strain of Wit,  
A Turn of Soul for which thou art not fit;  
A Scheme ne'er bred in a dull Northern Mind,  
Italian all, exalted and refined.  
Pass these with cautious Prudence; others yet  
Remain, that Fraud and Sophistry admit:  
Infallibility, 
Hind and Panth. p. 5. p. 37.  our darling Friend,  
The mighty Judge that all Disputes doth end,  
And doth her reign o'er Heaven and Earth extend;  
Uphold the tottering Basis, if that's gone  
The gaudy Edifice will tumble down,  
The Castle yields if once this Fort be won.  
Not that we an Authentic proof can bring  
From whence first this unerring Source did spring;  
Or can point out the spot of holy ground  
Where the retired Lady's to be found;  
Retired, lest she by common view profaned,  
With earthly Taint should have her Beauty stained;  
Wisely retired, as Indian Monarches do,  
That rarely their Majestic presence show,  
And by their Absence their Esteem renew.  
Not that we yet the Secret can descry,  
Whether in one, or She in more doth lie;  
Or whether she hath got Ubiquity.  
Whether in some far distant Coast she's found,  
With headlong Cliffs and Rocks encompassed round.  
Whether i' th' Region that from Smoke is named,  
Or in the Coast that is for Parrots famed;  
Or hid in Bacon's Northern Magic Coast,  
Whose first Discovery Sorcery doth boast:  
Her Mansion placed beneath the Polar Star,  
The rather 'cause 'tis fixed, and cannot err.  
These petty Quarrels are not worth our pains,  
Th' existence of the thing in doubt remains;  
But tho' no Argument the Being prove,  
If we believe 'tis so it is enough.  
If but the deed is done, no matter how,  
Faith makes all up when we no Sense allow.  
What tho' the prying Heretics do find  
The specious Fabric is but built on Wind;  
Th' Aereal Phantom no Foundation gains  
But in unsettled Heads and giddy Brains,  
A Frenzy that in Feverish Tempers reigns.  
That so Chimaeras live and all the Race  
That raving Minds and wand'ring Tempers trace,  
That so the Monsters live, old Times in Heaven did place.  
With this that Ptolomy's Epicycles join,  
Their Life and Interest do in one entwine;  
Both live, and for their usefulness do sway,  
Forged to solve the wild Phaenomena.  
These Sarcasms value not, uphold its Fame,  
Much Aid we from its needful Interest claim▪  
Some Tempers are so sharp, so deep, so strong,  
They follow but where Reason goes along;  
Are refractory, nor the Cause will yield,  
Till ground is given on which belief to build.  
But these are few, and for our Turn not fit,  
Others of easy Minds and shallow wit,  
Can easily to what others say submit.  
Unable to search deep, the Wise believe,  
Say as they say, receive as they receive:  
This suits their Temper, eases them of pains,  
And is a safe retreat for shallow Brains.  
Pleased with the Fraud, they on the Guide rely,  
(For here the Ignorant and Idle fly)  
Nor can mistrust Infallibility.  
These are the greatest Part o' th' World, and these  
Th' Insinuating Tenet's sure to please.  
What though th' Atlantians ask where 't did remain  
When three Infallibilities did reign;  
When empty Thunders in the Air did fly,  
And each his emulous Rival did defy.  
Each did his Foe with Usurpation load,  
Anathemas and Curses flew abroad;  
Did Heresy unto each other lay,  
And all th' Abettors of their Lawless sway.  
Did damn each others Edicts, and what one  
Condemned or absolved by th' other was undone.  
Sure while the restless Ball was wildly tossed,  
Infallibility i' th' Crowd was lost.  
And what misfortunes did the Souls betid,  
That did mean while want an unerring Guide?  
When such Convulsions did the Church molest,  
Where could the doubtful Soul take up her rest?  
The Answer's easy, the Event we see,  
The Victor owned Infallibility;  
The End the Act with holiness empowers,  
A Turkish Tenet 'tis, and may be ours.  
Leave that to me, saith Bavius, I will find  
Some simile that will i' th' case be kind,  
And cheat with superficial Wit the Mind.  
If they th' Existence of the thing require,  
Sense left, I'll to my Metaphors retire.  
And though we proof o' th' Being first should make,  
Lest we Chimaeras for our Subjects take,  
With airy Notions of the Schoolmen war,  
Dispute of things that never were nor are;  
Vainly like wildered men should wander round,  
Be lost in senseless shapes on Fairy-Ground,  
Knight Errand like, our devious Journey steer  
To seek a Prize, we know not what or where,  
And fill our empty Heads and Arms with Air.  
It is enough I tell them that I see,  
Althô the manner still disputed be; 
p. 37.   
And thence conclude Infallibility.  
We're guided tho' the way we cannot prove,  
We're led altho' we don't perceive we move;  
Our Faith to this sure Anchor must be tied,  
Although it can't be proved there's such a Guide.  
Th' Evasion pleased, and most believed 'twould do,  
For senseless Heretics no Fraud do know;  
When thus the Precedent did Discourse renew.  
Great Bulwark, whence our chiefest strength doth flow,  
With Thee Invulnerable to our Foe,  
Infallibility our God below!  
Thou Life and Vigour dost to all impart,  
Sittest brooding upon every Child of Art  
Each Tenet doth upon thy Aid rely,  
Twin Brothers that at once do live and die.  
On what thou settest thy Universal Seal  
Must be believed, from thence lies no Appeal.  
What e'er thy Stamp for Sterling doth admit  
Is currant Coin, and for belief is fit.  
Thy Passport given there is no need of more,  
The World thy Sacred Truth must all adore.  
The bane of Wit and arguing thou dost come,  
Nor dost thou leave for Scepticism a room,  
Reason and Sense at thy approach are dumb.  
If thou a Virtue for a Vice dost show,  
Or sayest a Vice a Virtue is, 'tis so;  
Obeyed by all above and all below.  
On Thee our mighty Champion we rely,  
Nor can we fear while thou standest safe, our Troy.  
Cry up Traditions, 'tis a gaudy sale, 
p. 41.   
And where there's Reason wanting sways the Scale.  
Urged with the Witness of Antiquity,  
And the unerring Scriptures Verity,  
To these our neverfailing Friends we fly.  
Unable to behold Truth's glaring Light,  
We seek these Mists, and hide ourselves in Night;  
We make the Story the Relation show,  
Tell the Tradition, and the Truth avow,  
Ourselves the Party, Judge, and Witness too.  
Brought to the Trial, we all Power cry down,  
No Touchstone is admitted but our own,  
Even Scripture by Tradition must be shown.  
Scripture no longer must a Rule prefer,  
But Heaven stoop down unto the Humane Bar.  
Victorious State where Rumour Conquest gains,  
And Stories from our own not others Brains!  
Who of his Cause would a decision fear,  
Were he allowed in his own right to swear,  
Not what for Truth he did believe, but hear.  
Gain but this Point our greatest Work is done,  
One strain at this and every thing goes down;  
All that wild Heads, or raving Fancies find  
Flow from hard Spleens, or Hypocondriack Wind.  
What ever Error, Folly, Policy,  
Or Malice dictate, entertained shall be.  
Mountains to Molehills shrink, and th' Pygmy show  
To a Gigantic Monstrous shape shall grow.  
Led to Tradition's gloomy Land, and there  
Expose to endless mists the Wanderer.  
'Tis a dark Coast, and full of monstrous shows,  
And deadly Pitfalls do the Borders close.  
Once in, in vain for guiding Clues men pray,  
The winding Labyrinth doth force a stay,  
No Light doth cheer the shades, or gild the way.  
Here all Religions meet, a public Scene  
That th' Errors doth of every Faith contain;  
All that besotted wand'ring Jews receive;  
All the American Zelots do believe,  
With which their Pagods do the Crowd deceive;  
All was by Ancient Heathenism approved,  
Or is by present Paganism beloved;  
All Ovid's fruitful Brain could e'er put on,  
All Follies of the stupid Koran  
Met in this Rendezvous, the place where all  
Embrace, agree, and into Concord fall,  
Tradition them into one Mass doth call.  
Debase the Honour of the Sacred Book, 
p. 43.   
A glass in which we do not care to look. 
p. 44.   
Too true and faithful, and unused to lie,  
It plainly shows us our Deformity.  
That Sacred Light the horrid Shades doth clear,  
Makes Error fly, and Holy Truth appear,  
And shows things as they be, the only Ill we fear.  
That Touchstone all false Metals will descry,  
And where else outside gilt would cheat the Eye,  
Doth the Intrinsic Worth and Value try.  
What tho' the skulking Heretic doth find  
Therein a Scheme of his great Master's Mind;  
Brags 'tis his dying Saviour's Legacy,  
The Treasury of Truth, of Peace, and Joy.  
That Orient Jewels in each Line beam forth,  
And shine with genuine, not with borrowed Worth.  
That starry Characters their Light display,  
Through Mists and Errors point the Sacred way,  
And midst of Night and Darkness force a Day.  
Truth's that Philosophy did seek in vain  
With devious Travail, and with anxious Pain,  
But ne'er the Heavenly Secrets could attain.  
Knowledge so lofty, so sublime and high,  
Th' Angelic Forms do in the Mysteries pry,  
The Pattern and Idea of the Deity.  
That Faith unto this standard must repair,  
And all our Deeds we by this Rule must square,  
And what exceeds or doth come short doth err.  
It is enough it is not for our use,  
And therefore wisely we must keep it close.  
The Bible, Bavius cried, it is confessed  
I've read so much of I can break a Jest,  
Have learned to profane it, but that said  
For more I never did disturb my Head.  
I ne'er had kindness for't, and have less now,  
I'll take the Counsel and improve it too.  
'Tis well resolved, th' Adviser cried, and then  
Thus did pursue his Argument again.  
Laped in Obscurity from prying Eyes,  
The common Crowd by this may grow too wise;  
And too much Knowledge learns them to despise.  
Call't a dumb rule that no disputes can end,  
Tho' 'tis the Message Heaven himself did send. 
p. 44.   
Say Heretics from hence do claim their right, 
p. 41.   
And 'cause they see amiss, condemn the Light.  
Because the Text by them's misunderstood,  
Arraign the whole, deny the Rule is good.  
Grant 'tis a dying Testament, 
p. 53.  yet we  
Must not on what is there laid down rely,  
That may bring Error: nor must be received  
What's writ, but what by others is believed.  
The express words must all in Vapours end,  
And upon doubtful Heresy all depend.  
Object the doubts have risen of Moses Law; 
p. 50.   
But hide the Follies that Traditions draw.  
How when the Jews the written Law did leave,  
And Planet-struck to Oral fiction cleave,  
Ridiculous Follies did for Truths appear;  
Absurd and raving Stories filled each Ear;  
Upon Truth's Basis monstrous shapes were bred,  
And senseless Talmuds in the Bible's stead.  
That did not Truth from Holy Writ prevail,  
(So fatal 'tis without this Star to sail)  
Religion soon would dwindle to a Tale.  
Fly from that Test that will no Errors hide,  
eat that as guilty men the Law avoid.  
Assert the Real Presence, tho' there lies  
A numerous Army of Absurdities  
Marshaled i' th' Tenet; tho' it doth oppose  
All clearest sense, or guiding Reason knows,  
Or all that Philosophic depths disclose.  
Tho' endless War with Truth it doth commence,  
Not above only, but against all sense.  
Tho' 't make a Body take a Spirits right,  
To every part o'th' World extends its might;  
A fair way to make matter infinite.  
Tho' beyond Ovid's strain the Notion's raised,  
Who made his Gods, and made them what he pleased:  
Their hungry Maws with high Ambrosia fed,  
Turned them to Birds and Beasts, but ne'er to Bread.  
Tho' th' wise Arabian would not eat his God,  
But with Philosophers would makes abode,  
Rather than tread in that inhuman road;  
Yet 'tis of use for Show, for Pomp and State  
Will awful Reverence and Respect create.  
But yet too gross to be Aethereal,  
No doubt when India first to Rome did fall,  
Embraced with greedy Joy by th' hungry Cannibal.  
Tell them 'tis safe and easy to rely  
Upon what others think, what others see.  
That would we truly see, or feel, or taste, 
p. 6.   
Our erring Senses first must be displaced.  
And if the ready way to Truth be sought,  
We must not by our Sense be ruled, but Thought.  
But if the stubborn Heretic denys  
To lose his Taste, or to put out his Eyes,  
And urges still Impossibilities;  
If he from Sense or Reason vows a proof, 
p. 8.   
Say but that God can do't and 'tis enough. 
p. 6.   
Rail at the hated Test, load it with all  
Th' Invectives can from Rage or Envy fall.  
'Tis a cursed Bar that we must first remove  
Before our Projects can successful prove.  
Lay to its charge unnatural Cruelty,  
Draw horrid Landscapes that may fright the Eye,  
And turned from Christian Society.  
All answers for the Test with Clamour drown,  
But do not name our Inquisition.  
'Twill put the Test in Countenance, and be  
For what we hate the great'st Apology.  
The Racks, the Tortures, and th' languishing pain  
That in her secret Vaults and Caverns reign,  
The loud Convulsive Groans and Sighs that ne'er  
From their dark Prisons reach a pitying Ear,  
The shrilling Cries that none but Heaven doth hear.  
The dreadful Scene and worse Tormentors, who  
Strangers to pity, no Compassion know,  
Seems to out do the horrid Shades below.  
The baleful look that every thing doth wear  
Will make the Test seem innocent and fair;  
'Twas first designed against the Moors and Jews,  
But now against Christians hath its fatal use.  
Revile th' established Church, pull down its pride,  
'Tis Meritorious, Bolzac be thy guide.  
Bolzac, that all thy Faculties did own,  
For Impudence and scurrilous falsehood known,  
For Pride, for Want, and Irreligion.  
Bolzac will Thee with virulent spleen inspire,  
That banished twice, and thrice Apostate Friar.  
The way to Calumny's a beaten road,  
With villainous Aretine make thy abode,  
Who blasted the Repute of all but God,  
And he was missed because he known him not.  
Her beauteous Face with envious Sarcasms blot,  
Seen through thy Glasses she will change her hieu,  
The Object, as the Medium is, we view.  
A secret Envy Beauties do attend,  
All Love maliciously their Faults to' extend,  
A celebrated Beauty seldom hath a Friend.  
Allow she's Beauteous, but her Honour taint,  
And draw a Fiendlike Visage o'er the Saint.  
Say she's not modest, as old Sinners use,  
Who those fair ones they can't corrupt, abuse.  
And since she to our Party can't be brought,  
Object the Wolf into her Heart is got. 
p. 19   
There's danger lest that Sect should grow too wise,  
Unite their Strength when they have opened their Eyes.  
Close with their Mother whom they've long defied,  
Own their Obedience, and abate their Pride,  
Our Wisdom 'tis to keep the breaches wide.  
Debase the Glory of her Race, tho' she  
Doth draw her sparkling Genealogy 
p. 20.   
In a long Series from the Deity.  
Yet if we can but Clouds and Darkness raise,  
And hide from common view her Line of Praise;  
(Night renders all things like) we soon may find  
A way to stab the Glory of her kind:  
And since her firm Faith to an injured Prince,  
The World doth of her Loyalty convince:  
Her Loyalty in Honour's Book enroled,  
That 'twould be an Attempt too high and bold,  
ere Time had th' Memory of things erased,  
To have the Glory of her deeds debased.  
Confess she's Loyal, but some Quaeres put,  
And stab her Praises with an Envious But— 
p. 122.   
And tho' there lies no reason for't, 
p. 134.  yet cry  
She now reputes of her late Loyalty.  
Nor let her Sons escape from Censure free,  
Invention can the room of Truth supply.  
And if nought else a Calumny will bear, 
p. 127.   
At least lay Luxury unto their share:  
Rail and outface them; but what e'er befalls,  
Name not the Riots of our Cardinals;  
Nor e'er the Lazy Gluttony reveal,  
With which our stupid Monasteries swell.  
Thoughtful and dull, according to his use,  
Stood Bavius, proling for his barren Muse;  
Hoarding what others prodigally spend,  
When mention of the Clergy did his silence end.  
And thus he raved; that Task my Mind doth fit,  
My Foes shall feel the lashes of my Wit.  
A Phlegmatic dull Gown-man is a Theme  
Doth Rage and Malice o'er my Fancy stream;  
Uneasy at the sight o'th' loathed brood,  
Their Coat I hare as Elephants do Blood.  
'Tis true l once, ('tis an unwelcome thought,  
But what their odious Race hath dearly bought,)  
Such is the fate of Poets, pressed with want,  
Did seek among their Train my Se●t to plant,  
And would you think the Gourmands the request would grant?  
I that among the Stars my Head did place,  
Familiar grew with Gods, and all the Godlike Race,  
And scorned downward on the Crowd to gaze.  
Did op'e the Graves of all before me tear,  
Insulted over each Inferior,  
Could no Superior, nor an Equal bear.  
Curse on my rigid Fate! at last that I  
By the dull Clergy should affronted be,  
That breathed and grasped at Immortality.  
No Reverence paid to my exalted Name;  
No deep Attention to my Trump of Fame.  
That they my Life should into question call,  
Rip up my Morals, my Employment gall,  
Till I below th' Contempt of those I scorned did fall:  
Deeply the Wound doth bleed, nor can be cured  
Till I've returned the Wrongs I have endured.  
Let Conscience, Honesty, Religion go,  
Rather than not be' avenged of my Foe;  
I'll call them Smell feasts that attend for fare;  
I, that like Flies, to' every Board repair, 
p. 127.   
And vex the weary Thresholds, find them there▪  
The Sense of Vultures is but dull to mine,  
At farthest distance I know where they dine.  
I've robbed them of their Fame, and if I could,  
Such is my hate, I would subtract their Food:  
Nor shall their Marriage scape, it is a state  
That I for Reasons too well known do hate. 
p. 21.   
I have been bit, that which experience knows  
Is the best satire, and can best expose,  
I'll tax their Constancy, and say 'tis gain,  
Not Conscience, their buoyed Spirits doth sustain, 
p. 86.   
And he that bids the highest sways the Train.  
Tho' we to our Confusion have found  
Not all our Arts or force could make them quit their Ground,  
Truth is a narrow bound, the daring Mind  
Doth hidden Coasts and unknown Regions find.  
New Rarities do in Impostures lie,  
Affect the Mind, and cheer the drooping Eye,  
'Tis tiresome still to walk i' th' road of Verity.  
What is most fit, not what's most true, I'll use,  
(The only way of bashfulness I choose,)  
And naked Truth will modestly refuse.  
Much more Advice was ready to be spoke,  
And Bavius more of his Design had broke;  
When one with great surprise brought the report  
Of an unusual Joy in the Atlantian Court,  
Imperfect Rumours all about did fly,  
Some did affirm what others did decry:  
Some with design to' amuse did falsehood tell,  
And some even Truth did into falsehood swell:  
But that which listening Bavius most did i'll,  
Was th' News that every Tongue and Ear did fill,  
Of an old Law was reinforced of late,  
By Plato made for the Atlantian State:  
By which that Coast must never Poets hide,  
But severe Mulcts and Sanctions do provide,  
None of the chiming Tribe do there abide.  
Various the Rumours as the Men, nor could  
By th' wisest Heads the Truth be understood;  
Till a swift Courier, brought into the Court,  
With low Obeisance thus made his Report.  
Last Night while the devout Atlantians prayed,  
And high Devotions at their Altars paid,  
With earnest and redoubled Cries implored  
The mighty Aid of their Indulgent Lord,  
An unknown Music ravished every Ear,  
Inspired blessed Joy, and did dispel all Fear,  
No Mists could stay when th' Sun of Righteousness was near.  
Each Note tuned up the Soul, calcined the Mind,  
Commenced them something more than humane kind;  
Their very Bodies into Souls refined.  
Not quite in Heaven, yet then the Earth more high,  
Above the Earth, and but below the Sky;  
Half Men, half Saints, 'twixt Heaven and Earth, they try  
The very Line 'twixt Men and Immortality.  
Scarce more exalted Joy doth Saints possess  
When they by Angels borne to Heaven do press:  
Ravished with hallelujahs so they lie  
Embalmed in Bliss and swallowed up in Joy.  
Long was the Rapture, till their wondering Eyes  
Saw a new glorious Light adorn the Skies,  
As though among the shades another Sun would rise.  
But greater was the Light, more bright the Rays,  
Than ever yet adorned the best of Days  
Since the World did her head above the Chaos raise;  
Did other common Days as far exceed  
As the first Infant-Light the Chaos did:  
Till opening Heaven her strict embraces loosed,  
And the vast Treasure to the World disclosed.  
A numerous Host their Banners did display,  
Myriad of Angels decked the sparkling way,  
Each brighter than the Sun, who blushing fled,  
And in the briny Depths did hide his head.  
Such lustre their united Rays displayed,  
You'd think the Earth a part of Heaven was made.  
Glorious the Rays, but so benign and kind,  
While other common ones do only blind,  
They fill the Eyes with wonder, and with Joy the Mind.  
Before them all, but brighter far than they,  
From which each did reflect his borrowed Ray,  
And with veiled Faces did low Adoration pay;  
An heavenly Form appeared, in whom there strove  
A mixed War of Majesty and Love;  
In whose pure Essence wonders do intwine,  
Finite and Infinite in one do join,  
Short Time and long Eternity combine.  
His Body (for he is to Earth allied)  
The lower World and honoured Mankind's Pride,  
Pure as unmixed Light was glorified.  
Through which the brightness of the God: head shone,  
And all with Glory' Ineffable did Crown:  
Matter did not the Deity annoy,  
Nor yet the Man the Godhead did destroy.  
Mercy and Pity graced his Look and Mind,  
Tender and to Compassion inclined,  
And his Embraces ever soft and kind.  
Wide Arms to cherish, and a listening Ear,  
That bows to hear and grant a Wretch's prayer;  
With double Glory were his Wounds beset,  
(If Heaven degrees of Glory doth admit)  
Wounds he did for his Enemy's safety get.  
Crowned Attendants did Obeisance pay,  
Martyrs and Confessors led on the way,  
And Robes of Glory did for future Conquerors stay.  
When on a sudden ere the fixed Eye,  
That viewed with Sacred earnestness the Sky,  
Could move; the glorious heavenly Guest drew nigh.  
Moved not as Men that by gradation go,  
But swift as Sunbeams through their progress flow,  
He came, and all the Court with Glory filled,  
And balmy Ivy on every Soul instilled,  
No shades of Grief remain where Heaven doth gild.  
But who can tell the Glories of the Day,  
What his Immaculate Spouses rich array;  
How she did with redoubled glory shine,  
Spotless without and Beauteous all within;  
What zealous haste inspired her joyful feet;  
When her beloved She went out to meet,  
What eager Love did sparkle in her Eye,  
What passionate Zeal, what decent Majesty;  
What chaste Embraces given and what returned,  
In equal flames how both the Lovers burned;  
Tho' more of Majesty in him did dwell,  
And she the more of tenderness did feel;  
What charming Talk the glorious meeting graced,  
What tender words and sighs for dangers past:  
What mutual Vows of everlasting Love;  
What promise of Protection from Above;  
How the great Brides-groom's glory through her shone,  
Met like two joined Stars that seemed but one;  
What a Seraphic Love all bosoms moved  
That see the sight, even Angels see and loved.  
How show'ring Joys did on Atlantis fall,  
The Canopy of Heaven did shade it all,  
In Blessing's Heaven dissolved did it a Goshen call:  
How a new Edict was proclaimed there,  
That under Heaven's displeasure none should dare  
Against her settled endless Peace to war.  
No Mortal the great Task can undertake,  
It only fits a Cherubin to speak.  
Fly, fly the fatal Land, my Eyes beheld  
The mountains all with heavenly Arms filled:  
Not greater the Judean Regions swelled  
When the great Prophet opened faithless eyes,  
And showed th' Aethereal Guard against their Enemies.  
Th' Advice was weighty; but it was not took,  
For malice cannot upon Concord look,  
Nor can Ambition Peace and Quiet brook,  
Restless (for Rage and Envy's such) they stood,  
While blessed Atlantis guarded by a God  
Safe underneath his Wing made her abode.  
FINIS.   

The Author living remote from the Press, some few Erratas have passed in the Printing these Sheets; but being most Literals, the Reader is desired to mend them with his Pen.