But still expounded what she sold or gave, 70 As needy men take money, good or bad; God's word they had not, but the priest's they had. 75 The lawyer still was certain to be paid. In those dark times they learned their knack so well At last a knowing age began t' inquire If they the Book or that did them inspire; 80 And, making narrower search, they found, though late, That what they thought the priest's was their estate, 85 Claimed a child's part and put in for a share, 'Tis true, my friend (and far be flattery hence), This good had full as bad a consequence: The Book thus put in every vulgar hand, Plain truths enough for needful use they found, 100 No measure ta’en from knowledge, all from grace. 105 About the sacred viands buzz and swarm, And turns to maggots what was meant for food. 115 The danger's much the same, on several shelves 120 Nor proudly seek beyond our pow'r to know? The things we must believe are few and plain. And every man will make himself a creed, 125 In search of heav'n, than all the Church before, Nor can we be deceived unless we see 130 The Scripture and the Fathers disagree. If after all they stand suspected still (For no man's faith depends upon his will), 'Tis some relief that points not clearly known Without much hazard may be let alone; 135 And, after hearing what our Church can say, 140 Thus have I made my own opinions clear, Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear. And this unpolished, rugged verse I chose, As fittest for discourse and nearest prose; For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. 1682. 1682. 145 TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW EXCELLENT IN THE TWO SISTER ARTS OF POESY AND PAINTING AN ODE I Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Rich with immortal green above the rest; Moved with the heaven's majestic pace, Or, called to more superior bliss, 5 ΙΟ Thou tread'st, with seraphims, the vast abyss; Cease thy celestial song a little space: Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine, 15 Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse, But such as thy own voice did practise here, 20 II If by traduction came thy mind, A soul so charming from a stock so good: But if thy pre-existing soul Was formed at first, with myriads more, And was that Sappho last which once it was before. Than was the beauteous frame she left behind: III May we presume to say that at thy birth 35 New joy was sprung in heav'n as well as here on earth? 40 For sure the milder planets did combine On thy auspicious horoscope to shine, And ev❜n the most malicious were in trine. Thy brother-angels at thy birth On thy sweet mouth distilled their golden dew, 'T was that such vulgar miracles Heav'n had not leisure to renew; For all the blest fraternity of love 50 Solemnized there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above. 55 IV O gracious God! how far have we For tongues of angels and for hymns of love! (Nay, added fat pollutions of our own), T' increase the steaming ordures of the stage? Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. 60 65 70 V Art she had none, yet wanted none, She might our boasted stores defy: Such noble vigour did her verse adorn 75 That it seemed borrowed where 't was only born. Her morals too were in her bosom bred, By great examples daily fed, What in the best of books, her father's life, she read. 80 Ev'n love (for love sometimes her Muse exprest) Was but a lambent flame which played about her breast, 85 So cold herself, whilst she such warmth exprest. 'T was Cupid bathing in Diana's stream. VI Born to the spacious empire of the Nine, One would have thought she should have been And the whole fief in right of Poetry she claimed. For poets frequent inroads there had made, TOO And perfectly could represent The shape, the face, with ev'ry lineament, And all the large demains which the dumb Sister swaved Received in triumph wheresoe'er she went. 105 |