The rest were struggling still with death, and lay
The crows' and ravens' right, an undefended prey;
Excepting Martin's race; for they and he
Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree;
But, soon discover'd by a sturdy clown,
He headed all the rabble of the town,
And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down. J
Martin himself was caught alive, and try'd
For treas'nous crimes; because the laws provide
No Martin, there, in winter shall abide.
High on an oak which never leaf shall bear,
He breath'd his last, expos'd to open air;
And there his corpse unbless'd, is hanging still,
To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill.
The patience of the Hind did almost fail,
For well she mark'd the malice of the tale; 640
Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes ;
In malice it began, by malice grows;
He sow'd the serpent's teeth, an iron harvest rose.
But most, in Martin's character and fate,
She saw her slander'd sons; the Panther's hate;
The people's rage; the persecuting state:
Then said, I take th' advice in friendly part;
You clear your conscience or at least your
Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill,
For swallows are unlucky birds to kill.
As for my sons, the family is bless'd,
Whose ev'ry child is equal to the rest:
No church reform'd can boast a blameless line;
Such Martins build in your's; and more than, mine;
Or else an old fanatic author lies,
Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries.
But, through your parable, I plainly see
The bloody laws; the crowd's barbarity;
The sunshine that offend the purblind sight:
Had some their wishes, it would soon be night. 660
Mistake me not, the charge concerns not you;
Your sons are malcontents, but yet are true,
As far as non-resistance makes them so;
But that's a word of neutral sense you know,
A passive term, which no relief will bring,
But trims betwixt a rebel and a king.
Rest well assur'd, the Pardelis reply'd,
My sons would all support the regal side,
Tho' Heav'n forbid the cause by battle should
be try'd.
The Matron answer'd with loud Amen, 670 And thus pursu'd her argument again. If, as you say, and as I hope no less, Your sons will practice what yourselves profess, What angry pow'r prevents our present peace? The Lion, studious of cur common good, Desires, (and kings' desires are ill withstood,) To join our nations in a lasting love: The bars betwixt are easy to remove; For sanguinary laws were never made above. If you condemn that prince of tyranny, 680 Whose mandate forc'd your Gallic friends to fly, Make not a worse example of your own; Or, cease to rail at causeless rigor shown, And let the guiltless person throw the stone.
His blunted sword your suff'ring brotherhood
Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood:
But you have ground the persecuting knife,
And set it to a razor-edge on life.
Curst be the wit which cruelty refines,
Or to his father's rod the scorpion's joins; 690 Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's loins.
But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note, And stick it on the first reformers' coat. Oh let their crime in long oblivion sleep : 'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep. Unjust or just, is all the question now; 'Tis plain that, not repealing, you allow.
To name the Test would put you in a rage; You charge not that on any former age;
But smile to think how innocent you stand, 700
Arm'd by a weapon put into
hand;
Yet still remember that you wield a sword
Forg'd by your foes against your sov'reign lord;
Design'd to hew th' imperial cedar down,
Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown.
T'abbor the makers, and their laws approve,
Is to hate traitors, and the treason love.
What means it else, which now your children say,
We made it not, nor will we take away? 709
Suppose some great oppressor had, by slight
Of law, disseis'd your brother of his right,
Your common sire surrend'ring in a fright;
Would you to that unrighteous title stand,
Left by the villain's will to heir the land?
More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold;
The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold;
Norhang in peace, before he render'd back the gold.
What more could you have done than now you do,
Had Oates and Bedloe, and their plot been true?
Some specious reasonsfor those wrongs were found;
There dire magicians threw their mists around, 721
And wise men walk'd as on inchanted ground.
But now when time has made th' imposture plain,
(Late though he follow'd Truth, and limping held
her train)
What new delusion charms your cheated eyes
The painted harlot might awhile bewitch; [again?
But why, the hag uncas'd, and all obscene with itch?
The first reformers were a modest race;
Our peers possess'd in peace their native place;
And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state, 730
They suffer'd only in the common fate:
But now the sovʼreign mounts the regal chair,
And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare.
Your answer is, they were not dispossest:
They need but rub their metal on the Test,
To prove their ore; 'twere well if gold alone
Were touch'd and try'd on your discerning stone;
But that unfaithful Test, unsound, will pass,
The dross of Atheists, and Sectarian brass;
As if th' experiment were made to hold
For base production, and reject the gold.
This men ungodded may to places rise,
And sects may be preferr'd without disguise:
No danger to the church, or state, from these;
The Papist, only has his writ of Ease.
No gainful office gives him the pretence
To grind the subject, or defraud the prince.
Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve
To thrive; but ours, alone, is privileg'd to starve. 749
Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race
We banish not, but they forsake the place;
Our doors are open; true, but ere they come,
You toss your 'censing Test, and fume the room;
As if 'twere Toby's rival to expel,
And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell.
To this the Panther sharply had reply'd;
But, having gain'd a verdict on her side,
She wisely gave the loser leave to chide;
Well satisfy'd to have the butt and peace;
And, for the plaintiff's cause, she car'd the less,
Because she su'd in formá pauperis :
Yet thought it decent something should be said,
For secret guilt by silence is betray'd.
So neither granted all, nor much deny'd,
But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride.
Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring,
As once Æneas to the Italian king;
By long possession all the land is mine;
You strangers come with your intruding line,
To share my sceptre, which you call to join. 770
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