Tho Huguenots condemn our ordination,
Succeffion, ministerial vocation;
And Luther, more mistaking what he read,
Misjoins the sacred body with the bread:
Yet, lady, still remember I maintain,
The word in needful points is only plain.
Needless, or needful, I not now contend,
For still you have a loop-hole for a friend;
(Rejoin'd the matron): but the rule you lay
Has led whole flocks, and leads them still aftray,
In weighty points, and full damnation's way.
For did not Arius first, Socinus now,
The Son's eternal God-head disavow?
And did not these by gospel texts alone
Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own?
Have not all hereticks the same pretence
To plead the fcriptures in their own defence?
How did the Nicene council then decide
That strong debate? was it by scripture try'd?
No, sure; to that the rebel would not yield;
Squadrons of texts he marshal'd in the field :
That was but civil war, an equal set,
Where piles with piles, and eagles eagles met.
With texts point-blank and plain he fac'd the foe
And did not Satan tempt our Saviour fo?
The good old bishops took a simpler way;
Each ask'd but what he heard his father say,
Or how he was inftructed in his youth,
And by tradition's force upheld the truth.
The Panther smil'd at this; And when, said
Were those first councils disallow'd by me?
Or where did I at fure tradition strike,
Provided still it were apoftolic?
Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground,
Where all your faith you did on fcripture found :
Now 'tis tradition join'd with holy writ;
But thus your memory betrays your wit.
No, faid the Panther; for in that I view,
When your tradition's forg'd, and when 'tis true.
I fet them by the rule, and, as they square,
Or deviate from undoubted doctrine there,
This oral fiction, that old faith declare.
(Hind) The council steer'd, it seems, a different
course;
They try'd the scripture by tradition's force :
But you tradition by the scripture try;
Pursu'd by fects, from this to that you fly,
Nor dare on one foundation to rely.
The word is then depos'd, and in this view,
You rule the scripture, not the scripture you.
Thus, faid the dame, and, fmiling, thus pursu'd:
I fee, tradition then is disallow'd,
When not evinc'd by scripture to be true,
And scripture, as interpreted by you.
But here you tread upon unfaithful ground;
Unless you could infallibly expound:
Which you reject as odious popery,
And throw that doctrine back with scorn on me.
Suppose we on things traditive divide,
And both appeal to fcripture to decide;
By various texts we both uphold our claim,
Nay, often, ground our titles on the fame:
After long labor loft, and time's expence,
Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense.
Thus all disputes for ever must depend;
For no dumb rule can controverfies end.
Thus, when you faid, Tradition must be try'd
By sacred writ, whose sense yourselves decide,
You faid no more, but that yourselves must be
The judges of the scripture sense, not we.
Against our church-tradition you declare,
And yet your clerks would fit in Moses' chair:
At least 'tis prov'd against your argument,
The rule is far from plain, where all dissent.
If not by scriptures, how can we be fure Reply'd the Panther, what tradition's pure ? For you may palm upon us new for old: All, as they say, that glitters is not gold.
How but by following her, reply'd the dame, To whom deriv'd from fire to son they came; Where ev'ry age does on another move, And trusts no farther than the next above; Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rife, The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the
Sternly the savage did her answer mark, Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark, And faid but this: Since lucre was your trade, Succeeding times such dreadful gaps have made, 'Tis dangerous climbing: To your fons and you I leave the ladder, and its omen too.
(Hind.) The Panther's breath was ever fam'd for sweet;
But from the wolf such withes oft I meet:
You learn'd this language from the blatant beast,
Or rather did not speak, but were poffefs'd.
As for your answer 'tis but barely urg'd :
You must evince tradition to be forg'd;
Produce plain proofs; unblemish'd authors use
As ancient as those ages they accuse;
'Till when 'tis not sufficient to defame:
An old poffefsion stands, 'till elder quits the claim.
Then for our int'rest, which is nam'd alone
To load with envy, we retort your own.
For when traditions in your faces fly,
Resolving not to yield, you must decry.
As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man
Excepts, and thins his jury all he can ;
So when you stand of other aid bereft,
You to the twelve apostles would be left.
Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide
To fet those toys traditions quite aside;
And fathers too, unless when, reason spent,
He cites them but sometimes for ornament.
But, madam Panther, you, though more fincere,
Are not fo wife as your adulterer :
The private spirit is a better blind,
Than all the dodging tricks your authors find.
For they, who left the scripture to the crowd,
Each for his own peculiar judge allow'd;
The way to please them was to make them proud.
Thus with full fails they ran upon the shelf;
Who could suspect a cozenage from himself?
On his own reason safer 'tis to stand,
Than be deceiv'd and damn'd at second-hand.
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