129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,000[' ]| 129:01,001[' ]| Of the old heroes when the warlike shades 129:01,002[' ]| Saw Douglas marching on the Elysian glades, 129:01,003[' ]| They straight consulting gathered in a ring 129:01,004[' ]| Which of their poets should his welcome sing, 129:01,005[' ]| And (as a favourable penance) chose 129:01,006[' ]| Cleveland on whom they would the task impose. 129:01,007[' ]| He understood and willingly addressed 129:01,008[' ]| His ready muse to court the warlike guest. 129:01,009[' ]| Much had he cured the humour of his vein: 129:01,010[' ]| He judged more clearly now and saw more plain. 129:01,011[' ]| For those soft airs had tempered every thought, 129:01,012[' ]| And of wise Lethe he had took a draught. 129:01,013[' ]| Abruptly he began disguising art, 129:01,014[' ]| As of his Satyr this had been a part. 129:01,015[' ]| Not so brave Douglas, on whose lovely chin 129:01,016[' ]| The early down but newly did begin, 129:01,017[' ]| And modest beauty yet his sex did veil, 129:01,018[' ]| Whilst envious virgins hope he is a male. 129:01,019[' ]| His shady locks curl back themselves to seek 129:01,020[' ]| Nor other courtship knew but to his cheek. 129:01,021[' ]| Oft as he in chill Esk or Seine by night 129:01,022[' ]| Hardened and cooled those limbs so soft, so white, 129:01,023[' ]| Among the reeds to be espied by him 129:01,024[' ]| The nymphs would rustle, he would forward swim 129:01,025[' ]| They sighed and said, 129:01,025@x | 'Fond boy, why so untame, 129:01,026@x | That fliest Love's fires reserved for other flame?' 129:01,027[' ]| Fixed on his ship he faced the horrid day 129:01,028[' ]| And wondered much at those that run away, 129:01,029[' ]| Nor other fear himself cold comprehend 129:01,030[' ]| Than least Heaven fall ere thither he ascend. 129:01,031[' ]| With birding at the Dutch, as though in sport, 129:01,032[' ]| He entertains the while his life too short, 129:01,033[' ]| Or waves his sword and, Could he them conjure, 129:01,034[' ]| Within its circle knows himself secure. 129:01,035[' ]| The fatal bark him boards with grappling fire 129:01,036[' ]| And safely through its ports the Dutch retire. 129:01,037[' ]| That precious life he yet disdains to save 129:01,038[' ]| Or with known art to try the gentle wave. 129:01,039[' ]| Much him the glories of his ancient race 129:01,040[' ]| Inspire, nor could he his own deeds deface 129:01,041[' ]| And secret joy in his own soul doth rise 129:01,042[' ]| That Monk looks on to see how Douglas dies. 129:01,043[' ]| Like a glad lover the fierce flames he meets 129:01,044[' ]| And tries his first embraces in their sheets. 129:01,045[' ]| His shape exact which the bright flames enfold 129:01,046[' ]| Like the sun's statue stands of burnished gold. 129:01,047[' ]| Round the transparent fire about him glows 129:01,048[' ]| As the clear amber on the bee doth close 129:01,049[' ]| And as on angel's head their glories shine 129:01,050[' ]| His burning locks adorn his face divine. 129:01,051[' ]| But when in his immortal mind he felt 129:01,052[' ]| His altered form and soldered limbs to melt, 129:01,053[' ]| Down on the deck he laid him down and died 129:01,054[' ]| With his dear sword reposing by his side, 129:01,055[' ]| And on his flaming planks so rests his head 129:01,056[' ]| As one that hugs himself in a warm bed. 129:01,057[' ]| The ship burns down and with his relics sinks, 129:01,058[' ]| And the sad stream beneath his ashes drinks. 129:01,059[' ]| Fortunate boy, if ere my verse may claim 129:01,060[' ]| That matchless grace to propagate thy fame, 129:01,061[' ]| When Oeta and Alcides are forgot, 129:01,062[' ]| Our English youth shall sing the valiant Scot. 129:01,063[' ]| Skip saddles : Pegasus thou needst not Brag, 129:01,064[' ]| Sometimes the galloway proves the better nag. 129:01,065[' ]| Shall not a death so generous now when told 129:01,066[' ]| Unite our distance, fill the breaches old? 129:01,067[' ]| Such in the Roman forum Curtius brave 129:01,068[' ]| Galloping down closed up the gaping cave. 129:01,069[' ]| No more discourse of Scotch or English race 129:01,070[' ]| Nor chaunt the fabulous hunt of Chivy Chase: 129:01,071[' ]| Mixed in Corinthian metal at thy flame, 129:01,072[' ]| Our nations, melting, thy Colossus frame, 129:01,073[' ]| Shall fix a foot on either neighbouring shore 129:01,074[' ]| And join those lands that seemed to part before. 129:01,075[' ]| Prick down the point whoever has the art 129:01,076[' ]| Where Nature Scotland doth from England part. 129:01,077[' ]| Anatomists may sooner fix the cells 129:01,078[' ]| Where life resides or understanding dwells; 129:01,079[' ]| But this we know, though that exceed their skill, 129:01,080[' ]| That whosoever separates them doth kill. 129:01,081[' ]| What ethic river is this wondrous Tweed 129:01,082[' ]| Whose one bank virtue, the other vice doth breed? 129:01,083[' ]| Or what new perpendicular doth rise 129:01,084[' ]| Up from her stream continued to the skies, 129:01,085[' ]| That between us the common airs should bar 129:01,086[' ]| And split the influence of every star? 129:01,087[' ]| But who considers well will find indeed 129:01,088[' ]| 'Tis Holy Island parts us not the Tweed. 129:01,089[' ]| Nothing but clergy could us two seclude: 129:01,090[' ]| No Scotch was ever like a bishops' feud. 129:01,091[' ]| All litanies in this have wanted faith: 129:01,092[' ]| There's no 'deliver us from a bishop's wrath'. 129:01,093[' ]| Never shall Calvin pardoned be for Sales, 129:01,094[' ]| Never for Burnet's sake the Lauderdales, 129:01,095[' ]| For Beckett's sake Kent always shall have tails. 129:01,096[' ]| Who sermons ere can pacify and prayers? 129:01,097[' ]| Or to the joint stools reconcile the chairs? 129:01,098[' ]| Nothing, not bogs, not sands, not seas, not alps, 129:01,099[' ]| Separate the world so as the bishops' scalps. 129:01,100[' ]| Stretch for your line their circingle alone, 129:01,101[' ]| 'Twill make a more inhabitable zone. 129:01,102[' ]| The friendly lodestone hath not more combined 129:01,103[' ]| Than bishops cramped the commerce of mankind. 129:01,104[' ]| A bishop will like Mahomet tear the moon 129:01,105[' ]| And slip one half into his sleeve as soon. 129:01,106[' ]| The juggling prelate on his hocus calls, 129:01,107[' ]| Shows you first one, then makes that one two balls. 129:01,108[' ]| Instead of all the plagues had bishops come, 129:01,109[' ]| Pharaoh at first would have sent Israel home. 129:01,110[' ]| From church they need not censure men away, 129:01,111[' ]| A bishop's self is an anathema. 129:01,112[' ]| Where foxes' dung their earths, the badgers yield: 129:01,113[' ]| At bishops' dung the foxes quit the field. 129:01,114[' ]| Their rank ambition all this heat hath stirred: 129:01,115[' ]| A bishop' rennet makes the strongest curd. 129:01,116[' ]| How reverend things are 'lord', lawn sleeves and ease! 129:01,117[' ]| How a clean laundress and no sermons please. 129:01,118[' ]| They wanted zeal and learning, so mistook 129:01,119[' ]| The Bible and grammar for the service book. 129:01,120[' ]| Religion has the world too long depraved: 129:01,121[' ]| A shorter way's to be by clergy saved. 129:01,122[' ]| Believe but only as the Church believes 129:01,123[' ]| And learn to pin your faith upon their sleeves. 129:01,124[' ]| Ah! like Lot's wife they still look back and halt 129:01,125[' ]| And surpliced show like pillars too of salt. 129:01,126[' ]| Who that is wise would pulpit toil endure? 129:01,127[' ]| A bishopric is a great sinecure. 129:01,128[' ]| Enough for them, God knows, to count their wealth, 129:01,129[' ]| To excommunicate and study health. 129:01,130[' ]| A higher work is to their court annexed: 129:01,131[' ]| The nation they divide, their curates' text. 129:01,132[' ]| No bishop rather then it should bee so! 129:01,133[' ]| No Church! no trade! no king! no people! no! 129:01,134[' ]| All mischief's moulded by those state divines: 129:01,135[' ]| Aaron casts calves but Moses them calcines. 129:01,136[' ]| The legion Devil did but one man possess: 129:01,137[' ]| One bishop's fiend spirits a whole diocese. 129:01,138[' ]| That power alone can loose this spell that ties, 129:01,139[' ]| For only kings can bishops exercise. 129:01,140[' ]| Will you be treated Princes? here fall to: 129:01,141[' ]| Fish and flesh bishops are the ambigue. 129:01,142[' ]| Howe'er insipid yet the sauce will mend 'em: 129:01,143[' ]| Bishops are very good when in commendum. 129:01,144[' ]| If wealth or vice can tempt your appetites, 129:01,145[' ]| These templar lords exceed the templar knights, 129:01,146[' ]| And in a baron bishop you have both: 129:01,147[' ]| Leviathan served up and Behemoth. 129:01,148[' ]| How can you bear such miscreants should live, 129:01,149[' ]| And holy ordure holy orders give? 129:01,150[' ]| None knows what god our Flamen now adores; 129:01,151[' ]| One mitre fits the heads of full four Moors. 129:01,152[' ]| No wonder if the orthodox do bleed, 129:01,153[' ]| Whilst Arius stands at the Athanasian creed. 129:01,154[' ]| What so obdurate pagan heretic 129:01,155[' ]| But will transform for an archbishopric? 129:01,156[' ]| In faith erroneous and in life profane 129:01,157[' ]| These hypocrites their faith and linen stain. 129:01,158[' ]| Seth's pillars are no antique brick and stone 129:01,159[' ]| But of the choicest modern flesh and bone. 129:01,160[' ]| Who views but Gilbert's toils will reason find 129:01,161[' ]| Neither before to trust him nor behind. 129:01,162[' ]| How oft hath age his hallowing hands misled 129:01,163[' ]| Confirming breasts and armpits for the head. 129:01,164[' ]| Abbot one buck, but he shot many a doe, 129:01,165[' ]| Nor is our Sheldon whiter than his snow. 129:01,166[' ]| Their company's the worst that ever played 129:01,167[' ]| And their religion all but masquerade. 129:01,168[' ]| The conscious prelate therefore did not err, 129:01,169[' ]| When for a church he built a theatre. 129:01,170[' ]| A congruous dress they to themselves adapt, 129:01,171[' ]| Like smutty stories in pure linen wrapped. 129:01,172[' ]| Do but their piebald lordships once uncase 129:01,173[' ]| Of Rochets, Tippets, Copes, and where's their grace? 129:01,174[' ]| A hungry chaplain and a starved rat 129:01,175[' ]| Eating their brethren bishop turn and cat 129:01,176[' ]| But an apocryphal archbishop Bell 129:01,177[' ]| Like snake that swallows toad doth dragon swell. 129:01,178[' ]| When daring Blood to have his rents regained 129:01,179[' ]| Upon the English diadem distrained, 129:01,180[' ]| He chose the cassock circingle and gown, 129:01,181[' ]| The fittest mask for one that robs a crown. 129:01,182[' ]| But his lay pity underneath prevailed 129:01,183[' ]| And while he spared the keeper's life he failed. 129:01,184[' ]| With the priests vestments had he but put on 129:01,185[' ]| A bishop's cruelty, the crown had gone. 129:01,186[' ]| Strange was the sight the Scotch twin headed man 129:01,187[' ]| With single body like the two-necked swan, 129:01,188[' ]| And wild disputes betwixt those heads must grow, 129:01,189[' ]| Where but two hands to act, two feet to go. 129:01,190[' ]| Nature in living emblem there expressed 129:01,191[' ]| What Britain was, betwixt two kings distressed. 129:01,192[' ]| But now, when one head doth both realms control, 129:01,193[' ]| The bishops noddle perks up cheek by jowl. 129:01,194[' ]| They, though no poets, on Parnassus dream, 129:01,195[' ]| And in their causes think themselves supreme. 129:01,196[' ]| Kings head sayeth this, But bishops head that do. 129:01,197[' ]| Doth Charles the Second reign or Charles the two? 129:01,198[' ]| Well that Scotch monster and our bishops sort: 129:01,199[' ]| It was musician too and dwelt at court. 129:01,200[' ]| Hark! though at such a distance what a noise 129:01,201[' ]| Shattering the silent air disturbs our joys! 129:01,202[' ]| The mitred hubbub against Pluto moot 129:01,203[' ]| That cloven head must govern cloven foot. 129:01,204[' ]| Strange boldness! even bishops there rebel 129:01,205[' ]| And plead their Jus Divinum though in Hell. 129:01,206[' ]| Those whom you hear more clamorous yet and loud 129:01,207[' ]| Of ceremonies wrangle in the crowd, 129:01,208[' ]| And would like chemists fixing mercury 129:01,209[' ]| Transfuse indifference with necessity. 129:01,210[' ]| To sit is necessary in parliament, 129:01,211[' ]| To preach in diocese indifferent. 129:01,212[' ]| To conform is necessary or be shent, 129:01,213[' ]| But to reform is all indifferent: 129:01,214[' ]| 'Tis necessary bishops have their rent, 129:01,215[' ]| To cheat the plague money indifferent. 129:01,216[' ]| 'Tis necessary to rebabel Pauls, 129:01,217[' ]| Indifferent to rob churches of their coals. 129:01,218[' ]| 'Tis necessary Lambeth never wed, 129:01,219[' ]| Indifferent to have a wench in bed. 129:01,220[' ]| Such bishops are without a complement: 129:01,221[' ]| Not necessary nor indifferent. 129:01,222[' ]| Incorrigible among all their pains 129:01,223[' ]| Some sue for tithe of the Elysian plains; 129:01,224[' ]| Others attempt, to cool their fervent chine, 129:01,225[' ]| The second time to ravish Proserpine. 129:01,226[' ]| Even Father Dis though so with age defaced 129:01,227[' ]| With much ado preserves his postern chaste. 129:01,228[' ]| The innocentest mind their thirst alone 129:01,229[' ]| And unenforced quaff healths in Phlegethon. 129:01,230[' ]| Luxury, malice, superstition, pride, 129:01,231[' ]| Oppression, avarice, ambition, id~~ 129:01,232[' ]| ~~leness and all the vice that did abound, 129:01,233[' ]| While they lived here, still haunts them underground. 129:01,234[' ]| Had it not been for such a bias strong, 129:01,235[' ]| Two nations near had missed the mark so long. 129:01,236[' ]| The world in all doth but two nations bear, 129:01,237[' ]| The good, the bad, and those mixed everywhere. 129:01,238[' ]| Under each pole place either of the two, 129:01,239[' ]| The good will bravely, bad will basely do; 129:01,240[' ]| And few indeed can parallel our climes 129:01,241[' ]| For worth heroic or heroic crimes. 129:01,242[' ]| The trial would however be too nice 129:01,243[' ]| Which stronger were, a Scotch or English vice, 129:01,244[' ]| Or whether the same virtue would reflect 129:01,245[' ]| From Scotch or English heart the same effect. 129:01,246[' ]| Nation is all but name as Shibboleth, 129:01,247[' ]| Where a mistaken accent causeth death. 129:01,248[' ]| In Paradise names only Nature showed, 129:01,249[' ]| At Babel names from pride and discord flowed, 129:01,250[' ]| And ever since men with a female spite 129:01,251[' ]| First call each other names and then they fight. 129:01,252[' ]| Scotland and England cause of just uproar! 129:01,253[' ]| Does man and wife signify rogue and whore? 129:01,254[' ]| Say but a Scot and straight we fall to sides: 129:01,255[' ]| That syllable like a Pict's wall divides. 129:01,256[' ]| Rational men's words pledges are of peace, 129:01,257[' ]| Perverted serve dissentions to increase. 129:01,258[' ]| For shame extirpate from each loyal breast 129:01,259[' ]| That senseless rancour against interest. 129:01,260[' ]| One king, one faith, one language and one isle: 129:01,261[' ]| English and Scotch, 'tis all but cross and pile 129:01,262[' ]| Charles our great soul this only understands: 129:01,263[' ]| He our affection both and will commands, 129:01,264[' ]| And, where twin sympathies cannot atone, 129:01,265[' ]| Knows the last secret how to make them one. 129:01,266[' ]| Just so the prudent husbandman who sees 129:01,267[' ]| The idle tumult of his factious bees, 129:01,268[' ]| The morning dews and flowers neglected grown, 129:01,269[' ]| The hive a comb case, every bee a drone, 129:01,270[' ]| Powders them o'er till none discern their foes 129:01,271[' ]| And all themselves in meal and friendship close. 129:01,272[' ]| The insect kingdom straight begins to thrive 129:01,273[' ]| And each works honey for the common hive. 129:01,274[' ]| Pardon, young hero, this so long transport 129:01,275[' ]| Thy death more noble did the same extort. 129:01,276[' ]| My former satyr for this verse forget, 129:01,277[' ]| The hare's head 'gainst the goose giblets set. 129:01,278[' ]| I single did against a nation write, 129:01,279[' ]| Against a nation thou didst singly fight. 129:01,280[' ]| My differing crime doth more thy virtue raise 129:01,281[' ]| And such my rashness best thy valour praise. 129:01,282[' ]| Here Douglas smiling said he did intend 129:01,283[' ]| After such frankness shown to be his friend, 129:01,284[' ]| Forewarned him therefore lest in time he were 129:01,285[' ]| Metempsychosed to some Scotch Presbyter.