By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd, To me is odious as the nasal twang Heard at conventicle, where worthy men, Misled by custom, strain celestial themes Some decent in demeanour while they preach, 440 Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye, Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not! 450 Now this is fulsome; and offends me more Than in a churchman slovenly neglect And rustic coarseness would. A heav'nly mind And slight the hovel as beneath her care; And quaint, in it's deportment and attire, He, that negotiates between God and man To court a grin, when you should woo a soul; Pathetic exhortation; and t' address 460 The skittish fancy with facetious tales, 470 When sent with God's commission to the heart! So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip Or merry turn in all he ever wrote, And I consent you take it for your text, Your only one, till sides and benches fail. No: he was serious in a serious cause, That he had tak'n in charge. He would not stoop Whom truth and soberness assail'd in vain. 480 O Popular Applause! what heart of man But swell'd into a gust-who then alas! And therefore heedless, can withstand thy pow'r? And craving Poverty, and in the bow 490 Respectful of the smutch'd artificer, Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb The bias of the purpose. How much more, Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, Ah 499 All truth is from the sempiternal source Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, Drew from the stream below. More favour'd we Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain head. To them it flow'd much mingled and defil'd With hurtful errour, prejudice, and dreams Illusive of philosophy, so call'd, But falsely. Sages after sages strove In vain to filter off a crystal draught Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth 510 And springtime of the world! ask'd, Whence is man? Why form'd at all? and wherefore as he is? Where must he find his Maker? with what rites Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless? Or does he sit regardless of his works? Or does the tomb take all? If he survive His ashes, where? and in what weal or wo? A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague And all at random, fabulous and dark, 520 Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life. Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak To bind the roving appetite, and lead Explains all mysteries, except her own, That fools discover it, and stray no more. 530 |