That Chrift, who at the great deciding day (For He declares what He refolves to fay). Will Damn the Goats, for their Ill-natur'd faults, And fave the Sheep, for Actions, nor for Thoughts, Hath too much mercy to fend men to Hell, For humble Charity, and hoping well. To what Stupidity are Zealots grown, Whose inhumanity profufely fhown in their own!} I'll err at leaft on the fecurer fide, A Convert free from Malice and from Pride, To Mr. DRYDEN, on his RELIGIO LAICI. Hofe Gods the pious Ancients did adore, Whilft your lov'd Mufe does in sweet Numbers fing, Atheist, and Rebel too, fhe does oppose, (God and the King have always the fame Foes.) Legions of Verfe you raise in their defence, And write the Factious to Obedience; You the bold Arian to Arms defie, A conquering Champion for the Deity Against the Whigs first Parents, who did dare Who ftill Affociates to keep God a Man. But 'tis the Prince of Poets Task alone T'affert the Rights of God's, and Charles his Throne. As Fops and Ladies fing the amorous Song. The Mighty weight would crufh their feeble Muse. The XXII. ODE of the FIRST BOOK of HORACE. By the Earl of Rofcomon. Ertue, Dear Friend, needs no defence, None knew, till Guilt created Fear, Through Libyan fands or Scythian fnows, Or where Hydafpe's wealthy fide For as (by amorous Thoughts betray'd} The VI. ODE of the 1 THIRD BOOK of HORACE. TH Of the Corruption of the Times. By the Earl of Rofcomon. "Hofe ills your Ancestors have done Unless you foon repair The falling Temples which the Gods provoke, And Statues fully'd yet with Sacrilegious Smoke, Propitious Heaven that rais'd your Fathers high, Hath fharply punish'd your neglect.. All Empires on the Gods depend, Begun by their command, at their command they End.. How twice by Jove's revenge our Legions fell, Shining in Roman spoils the Parthian Victors ride. While our Seditions took their part, Fill'd each Ægyptian fail, and wing'd each Scythian First, thefe Flagitious times, (Pregnant with unknown Crimes), Confpire to violate the Nuptial Bed, [dart.. Infectious Streams of crowding Sins began, And through the fpurious breed and guilty Nation Behold a ripe and melting Maid, -[ran. Bound Prentice to the wanton Trade; Ionian Artists at a mighty price Inftru&t her in the Mysteries of Vice, What Nets to fpread, where fubtile Baits to lay, By practice of Adult'rous Loves, A hafty Illegitimate Embrace. No! the brib'd Husband knows of all, Who feeds upon the flesh of Heirs. Convenient Brutes, whose tributary flame, Pays the full price of luft, and gilds the flighted 'Tis not the Spawn of fuch as these, [fhame. That dy'd with Punick Blood the Conquer'd Seas, And quafht the ftern acides; Made the proud Afian Monarch feel How weak his Gold was against Europe's Steel; And won the long difputed World at Zama's fatal field. Either they dug the ftubborn Ground, Or through hewn Woods their weighty ftrokes did Our Fathers have been worse than theirs ; A Race more profligate than we (With all the pains we take) have skill enough to be. The IV. ODE of the FIRST BOOK of HORACE. Conquer'd with foft and pleafing Charms, never-failing Vows of her return, Winter unlocks his frofty Arms To free the joyful Spring ; Which for fresh Loves with youthful heat do's burn; Warm South-winds Court her, and with fruitful Awake the drowfie flowers, [fhow'rs Who haste and all their sweetness bring |