Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly;
Where Truth in person does appear,
Like words congealed in northern air.
He knew what's what, and that's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly.
He could raise scruples dark and nice,
And, after, solve 'em in a trice,
As if Divinity had catched
The itch on purpose to be scratched;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound
And stab herself with doubts profound,
Only to show with how small pain
The sores of faith are cured again;
Although, by woeful proof, we find
They always leave a scar behind.
For his religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit:
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew,
Of errant saints whom all men grant
To be the true Church militant;
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun,
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery,
And prove their doctrine orthodox
By apostolic blows and knocks;
Call fire and sword and desolation
A godly, thorough reformation,
Which always must be carried on,
And still be doing, never done:
As if religion were intended
For nothing else but to be mended!
A sect whose chief devotion lies
In odd, perverse antipathies;
In falling out with that or this,
And finding somewhat still amiss;
More peevish, cross, and splenetic
Than dog distract, or monkey sick;
That with more care keep holy-day
The wrong than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclined to
By damning those they have no mind to.
Still to perverse and opposite,
As if they worshiped God for spite,
The self-same thing they will abhor
One way, and long another for.
Free-will they one way disavow;
Another, nothing else allow.
All piety consists therein
In them; in other men, all sin.
Rather than fail, they will decry
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with mince-pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge:
Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
And blaspheme custard through the nose.
His doublet was of sturdy buff';
And though not sword, yet cudgel-proof;
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,
Who feared no blows but such as bruise.
His breeches were of rugged woolen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen;
To old King Harry so well known,
Some writers held they were his own;
Though they were lined with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black-puddings, — proper
For warriors that delight in blood:
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry victuals in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise;
And, when he put a hand but in
The one or t'other magazine,
They stoutly on defense on't stood,
And from the wounded foe drew blood.
OTHER WRITERS OF DISTINCTION.
1632-1704. Author of "An Essay concerning Human Understanding," "Thoughts concerning Education," and other philosophical essays. RICHARD BAXTER, The Saints' Everlasting Rest," "A Call to the Unconverted," and "A Narrative of his Own Life and Times." WENTWORTH DILLON. 1634-1685. "An Essay on Translated Verse." CHARLES SACKVILLE. 1637-1705. A few songs.
CHARLES SEDLEY.-1639-1701. Plays and spirited songs.
JOHN WILMOT.-1647-1680. Writer of songs.
THOMAS OTWAY.- 1651-1685. "Venice Preserved," a play; "The Orphan.”
MATTHEW PRIOR. 1664-1721. "The Town and Country Mouse," "Solo-
JOHN PHILLIPS.-1676-1708. "The Splendid Shilling," attempt to parody Milton.
HENRY MOORE. - 1614-1687. "The Mystery of Godliness," "Immortality of
JOHN OWEN.-1616-1683. "Exposition of Hebrews," "Divine Original of the Scriptures."
WILLIAM WYCHERLEY.— 1640-1715. Writer of comedies.
WILLIAM SHERLOCK.-1641-1707. "On the Immortality of the Soul," and several works against dissenters.
1643-1715. "History of the Reformation," History of
My Own Times," and "The Thirty-nine Articles."
JOHN STRYPE. - 1643-1737. Several religious works.
1644-1718. Distinguished Quaker. "No Cross, no Crown;" 'The Conduct of Life;" and " A Brief Account of the People called Quakers." ROBERT BARCLAY.-1648-1690.
MATTHEW HENRY. -1662-1714. Unfinished "Commentary on the Bible." RICHARD BENTLEY. Celebrated editor of the classics. Sir JOHN VAUBRUG. - 1666-1726. "The Provoked Wife," and other plays. JOHN ARBUTHNOT. -1667-1735. "History of John Bull," "Scolding of the Ancients," ," "Art of Political Lying," and much of " Martinus Scriblerus" in Pope's works.
WILLIAM CONGREVE. -1670-1729. "The Mourning Bride," a tragedy; and several comedies.
Author of "Paradise Lost," the only great original epic in the English language, "Paradise Regained," ," "Ode on the Nativity," "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," " Arcades," "Comus," and "Lycidas." "The Areopagitica," and other prose-works, are worthy of the great secretary of Cromwell.
Or man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, heavenly Muse! that on the secret top
Of Oreb or of Sinai didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of chaos. Or if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost prefer
Before all temples the upright heart and pure,
Instruct me; for thou know'st thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dovelike sat'st brooding on the vast abyss,
And mad'st it pregnant. What in me is dark,
Illumine; what is low, raise and support;
That to the hight of this great argument
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
Say first (for heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of hell),- say first, what cause
Moved our grand parents in that happy state,
Favored of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the world besides?
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
The infernal Serpent: he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from heaven with all his host
Of rebel angels; by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory 'bove his peers,
He trusted to have equaled the Most High
If he opposed, and, with ambitious aim,
Against the throne and monarchy of God
Raised impious war in heaven, and battle proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him. Round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as angel's ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild:
A dungeon horrible on all sides round
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible,
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell; hope never comes,
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice had prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set
As far removed from God and light of heaven
As from the center thrice to the utmost pole.
Oh, how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom the Arch-Enemy,
And thence in heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:
"If thou beest he-but, oh, how fallen, how changed,
From him, who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine Myriads though bright! — if he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin into what pit thou seest
From what hight fallen, so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent or change,
Though changed in outward luster, that fixed mind
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield;
And what is else not to be overcome:
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power,
Who from the terror of this arm so late
Doubted his empire, that were low indeed!
![[ocr errors]](https://books.google.ru/books/content?id=kmpLAAAAIAAJ&hl=ru&output=text&pg=PA550&img=1&zoom=3&q=gave&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U0tYH6GRl6GaP6Eo2nw8nGAaqfNag&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=439,1480,22,5)
|
