And trusts no farther than the next above;
Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise,
The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skies?'
Sternly the savage did her answer mark,
Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark,
And said but this:-'Since lucre was your trade,
Succeeding times such dreadful gaps have made,
'Tis dangerous climbing: to your sons and you
I leave the ladder, and its omen too.'
(Hind.) 'The Panther's breath was ever famed for sweet, But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet;
You learned this language from the blatant beast,
Or rather did not speak, but were possessed.
As for your answer, 'tis but barely urged:
You must evince tradition to be forged,
Produce plain proofs, unblemished authors use,
As ancient as those ages they accuse;
Till when, 'tis not sufficient to defame;
An old possession stands till elder quits the claim.
Then for our interest, which is named 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 set 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 sincere,
Are not so wise 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 allowed;
The way to please them was to make them proud.
Thus with full sails they ran upon the shelf;
Who could suspect a cozenage from himself?
On his own reason safer 'tis to stand
Than be deceived and damned at second hand.
But you who Fathers and traditions take
And garble some, and some you quite forsake,
Pretending Church auctority to fix,
And yet some grains of private spirit mix,
Are like a mule made up of differing seed,
And that's the reason why you never breed,
At least, not propagate your kind abroad,
For home-dissenters are by statutes awed.
And yet they grow upon you every day,
While you, to speak the best, are at a stay,
For sects that are extremes abhor a middle way.
Like tricks of state to stop a raging flood
Or mollify a mad-brained senate's mood,
Of all expedients never one was good.
Well may they argue, (nor can you deny,)
If we must fix on Church-auctority,
Best on the best, the fountain, not the flood;
That must be better still, if this be good.
Shall she command who has herself rebelled?
Is Antichrist by Antichrist expelled?
Did we a lawful tyranny displace,
To set aloft a bastard of the race?
Why all these wars to win the Book, if we
Must not interpret for ourselves, but she?
Either be wholly slaves or wholly free.
For purging fires traditions must not fight;
But they must prove episcopacy's right.
Thus, those led horses are from service freed;
You never mount them but in time of need.
Like mercenaries, hired for home defence,
They will not serve against their native Prince.
Against domestic foes of hierarchy
These are drawn forth, to make fanatics fly;
But, when they see their countrymen at hand,
Marching against them under Church command,
Straight they forsake their colours and disband.'
Thus she; nor could the Panther well enlarge
With weak defence against so strong a charge;
But said, 'For what did Christ his word provide,
If still his Church must want a living guide?
And if all saving doctrines are not there,
Or sacred penmen could not make them clear,
From after ages we should hope in vain
For truths, which men inspired could not explain.'
'Before the Word was written,' said the Hind,
'Our Saviour preached his faith to human kind:
From his Apostles the first age received
Eternal truth, and what they taught believed.
Thus by tradition faith was planted first;
Succeeding flocks succeeding pastors nursed.
This was the way our wise Redeemer chose,
Who sure could all things for the best dispose,
To fence his fold from their encroaching foes.
He could have writ himself, but well foresaw
The event would be like that of Moses' law;
Some difference would arise, some doubts remain,
Like those which yet the jarring Jews maintain.
No written laws can be so plain, so pure,
But wit may gloss and malice may obscure;
Not those indited by his first command,
A prophet graved the text, an angel held his hand.
Thus faith was ere the written Word appeared,
And men believed, not what they read, but heard.
But since the Apostles could not be confined
To these or those, but severally designed
Their large commission round the world to blow,
To spread their faith, they spread their labours too.
Yet still their absent flock their pains did share;
They hearkened still, for love produces care.
And as mistakes arose or discords fell,
Or bold seducers taught them to rebel,
As charity grew cold or faction hot,
Or long neglect their lessons had forgot,
For all their wants they wisely did provide,
And preaching by Epistles was supplied:
So, great physicians cannot all attend,
But some they visit and to some they send.
Yet all those letters were not writ to all,
Nor first intended, but occasional
Their absent sermons; nor, if they contain
All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain.
Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought;
They writ but seldom, but they daily taught;
And what one saint has said of holy Paul,
He darkly writ, is true applied to all.
For this obscurity could Heaven provide
More prudently than by a living guide,
As doubts arose, the difference to decide?
A guide was therefore needful, therefore made;
And, if appointed, sure to be obeyed.
Thus, with due reverence to the Apostles' writ,
By which my sons are taught, to which submit,
I think those truths their sacred works contain
The Church alone can certainly explain;
That following ages, leaning on the past,
May rest upon the primitive at last.
Nor would I thence the Word no rule infer,
But none without the Church-interpreter;
Because, as I have urged before, 'tis mute,
And is it self the subject of dispute.
But what the Apostles their successors taught,
They to the next, from them to us is brought,
The undoubted sense which is in Scripture sought.
From hence the Church is armed, when errors rise
To stop their entrance and prevent surprise,
And, safe entrenched within, her foes without defies.
By these all-festering sores her councils heal,
Which time or has disclosed or shall reveal;
For discord cannot end without a last appeal.
Nor can a council national decide,
But with subordination to her guide,
(I wish the cause were on that issue tried ;)
Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate
Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate,
Bequeathed by some legator's last intent,
(Such is our dying Saviour's Testament ;)
The will is proved, is opened, and is read,
The doubtful heirs their differing titles plead;
All vouch the words their interest to maintain,
And each pretends by those his cause is plain.
Shall then the testament award the right?
No, that's the Hungary for which they fight,
The field of battle, subject of debate,
The thing contended for, the fair estate.
The sense is intricate, 'tis only clear
What vowels and what consonants are there.
Therefore 'tis plain, its meaning must be tried
Before some judge appointed to decide.'
'Suppose,' the fair apostate said, 'I grant,
The faithful flock some living guide should want,
Your arguments an endless chase pursue:
Produce this vaunted leader to our view,
This mighty Moses of the chosen crew.'
The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired,
With force renewed, to victory aspired;
And, looking upward to her kindred sky,
As once our Saviour owned his Deity,
Pronounced His words-She whom ye seek am I.
Nor less amazed this voice the Panther heard
Than were those Jews to hear a God declared.
Then thus the matron modestly renewed:
'Let all your prophets and their sects be viewed,
And see to which of them your selves think fit
The conduct of your conscience to submit;
Each proselyte would vote his doctor best,
With absolute exclusion to the rest:
Thus would your Polish Diet disagree,
And end, as it began, in anarchy ;
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