A PINDARIQUE ODE, DESCRIBING THE EXCELLENCY OF TRUE VIRTUE, WITH reflections ON THE satire against Virtue.  
— Semita certe  
Tranquillae per VIRTUTEM patet unica Vitae.  Juven. Sat. 10. 
London, Printed in the Year 1679.   

A PINDARIQUE ODE, Describing the Excellency of True VIRTUE; with Reflections on the satire Against VIRTUE.  

( 1.)  
SO Vast is VIRTUES Empire, that its Power  
Commands a Tribute from the Worst of things;  
even from the Shades of conquered 'vice there springs  
A greater Light to every Soul,  
That can control  
Those Raging PASSIONS which dark Souls devour.   

( 2)  
A VIRTUOUS man slays every Day  
In his own Breast,  
A Lion much more fierce than that which SAMSON slay;  
And from this Lion slain, there comes forth Sweetness too:  
When he shall pass his Days, and climb  
Beyond the Bounds of Time,  
Up to ETERNITY;  
Then Full his Joy shall be,  
And never shall decay:  
His Toilsome Fights shall end in Everlasting Rest.   

( 3)  
The 
The Stagirite be damned, &c. Sat, against Virtue, Stanza 1.  Stagirite had but a Glimpse o'th' Light,  
Which shines in VIRTUES Glorious Face.  
His Notions were like Twinkling Stars i'th' Night;  
But those are Sun-Beams which proceed from Grace,  
even from the sense of His Almighty LOVE,  
Who for us here was grieved and Slain, though still He had  
An Heart most Glad,  
And Endless Life above.  
Those Christians who for Him Meekly gave up their Breath  
Were not 

When Christian Fools were obstinately good,  
Nor yet their Gospel-Freedom understood,  
Tame easy Fops, &c. 4.   Tame Fops, but Bravely they did Triumph over Death,  
That King of Terrors, who  
Makes all the World to Bow;  
Whose sceptre all men dread, but they alone  
Whom he's forced to Transport to an Eternal CROWN.   

( 4)  
Great SOCRATES, who as that 
Justin Martyr.  Father says,  
In part our SAVIOUR knew,  
deserved Immortal Praise;  
The mad Athenians murdered him, but could not him subdue,  
The Day he took the Fatal draft, how did his mighty Soul  
Reign and control,  
As Slaves, and Vassals, all th' Athenian Potentates;  
His Bright Discourse quiter changed the hue o'th' Black  
And Dreadful Fates;  
His Friends looked sad and pale as  
Death, but He  
Who was to die still talked of immortality.  
'tis clear he never was a 

That snivelling Puritan, who in spite of all the Mode,  
Would be unfashionably good &c. 4.   Sniv'ling Puritan,  
Amongst that stubborn Sect ther's not a man  
Will ever pled his Cause,  
Who 
{αβγδ}; Quidnam vero Leges dixerint; O Socrates, nonne inter nos& te illud convenit, ut Judiciis stars, quae constitueret, stabiliretque Civitas? Plato in Critone.  rather choose to die than break his Countreys Laws.   

( 5.)  
Those Heathen Gods thou nam'st,  
Whose Vices thou proclaim'st,  
Made VIRTUE in those Dayes  
Deserve the greater Praise,  
That pressed with such Temptations, she her drooping Head could raise.  
How brave a Soul then had our SOCRATES!  
Who, 'mongst those Men, whose Gods were Patrons of all 'vice  
Intemperance and Avarice,  
Of Theft, and every foul  
Distemper of the Soul,  
declared that man's best Part no Earthly thing can please:  
That th' Heav'n-Born Mind  
Can never be at rest, till it shall find  
A BEAUTY, which can ne'er be seen by Mortal Eyes:  
That then the Soul lives best, when she  
From Commerce with the Flesh is Free:  
That th' Wicked can't a Good man Hurt by all that they  
Can ever Do, or Say;  
Whatever Storms About him rise, he sees a Pleasant Day.   

( 6)  
There are no Sweets in 'vice, unless it be  
More pleasant to turn Scabs to Wounds by scratching eagerly;  
Than from all Itch and Scabs to have our Bodies free.  
Ah, VIRTUE, that thy Sweet Embrace were better known!  
Who would not less esteem a Crown,  
Than the Enjoyment of thy Beauteous Face,  
In which shines every Grace  
True, and Substantial! Other Beauties are  
But the least Shadows of what's TRULY FAIR.  
O, whilst thy 
While my plump Veins are filled with Lust and Blood, &c. Stanza 5.  Veins are plump, and full of Blood,  
Strive to be Eminently good;  
As high as Heaven be thy Aims!  
Ah see! Oppressed VIRTUE claims  
Thy best Endeavours to support her Cause,  
And to restore some Reverence to her Despised Laws;  
Let thy youths Fire  
Make thee aspire  
To all thats truly Great, and see  
Thou never be  
deceived with those Proud, Stately Fops, who Earthly things admire.   

( 7.)  
All Quiet sure, and Peace of Mind,  
Within the Bounds of VIRTUE is confined:  
Without her all that Mortals can attain  
Is Misery and Pain,  
Or th' empty show of joys:  


Her Quiet calm and Peace of Mind  
In Wine, and better Company we find,  
Find it with Pleasure too combined  
In mighty Wine, where we our Senses steep,  Stanza 6.   
And lull our Care and Consciences asleep.  
Wine does but make men Mad, and Company makes Noise:  
But all this Noise can't drown the voice of Conscience,  
Which after some suspense,  
Like Thunder through the Clouds, breaks forth with greater force,  
Through the condensed Black vapours of the Mind:  
And strait bold Sinners find  
Great cause of sharp Remorse  
By those bright Sparks of mighty Truth, which like to Lightning fly;  
And do not cheer Souls fixed in Sin, but only terrify.   

( 8)  
That great Triumvirate in Sin  
Have in these evil Days great Rivals of their famed,  
Men Glory in their shane,  
And from the greatest Crimes they hope the greatest  
Praise to win.  
'tis counted Brave to Kill the Just,  
In Vindication of the Basest Lust.  
Some Swear, and Drink, and Whore,  
And some that blame them, lye, and Cheat, and never will Restore  
Ill-gotten Goods: hypocrisy  
Contends to be  
esteemed th' Exemplar of true purity.  
Some strive t'effect the Murder of their KING,  
Whom God Protects maugre their spite,  
And secret Might,  
And all the Hidden Aid, that HELLS Dark Powers can bring.  
But, Ah dear VIRTUE, whither art thou gone?  
Where is that Genius, which thought thee alone  
Sufficient to make up True Happiness  
Without the Aid of Wealth, or Honours gaudy Dress?  
Return, Return; and make this Land to see,  
Which is so given up to Sport and Luxury,  
And to the Hellish Art of studied villainy,  
That there is no True Joy but in the LOVE of Thee.   

( 9)  
O that we could be so sincerely Good,  
As to erase the Impress of all Ills  
Which our First Parent stamped on his Posterity.  
O that our Wills  
Which their own Satisfaction ever have withstood,  
Might now be wholly bent on the INFINITY  
Of that which our Immense Desires can satisfy.  
That all the World may see  
We are Heav'ns Progeny;  
Whilst our Enlarged Spirits rise  
So high, as to Despise  
All things but what we may attain  
In larger measures by sad Poverty and Pain.  
But hold, my Muse! what I was showing, none  
Can comprehend, but they that have it of their own.  
" Thy high-flown Thoughts by VIRTUOUS Actions show;  
" They Like what's Good, that can't Judge what is True.   
FINIS.