by John Dryden
Gave great repute to their new Merlin’s art.
Some Swifts, the Gyants of the Swallow kind,
Large limb’d, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind,
(For Swisses, or for Gibeonites design’d,)
These Lubbers, peeping through a broken pane, 550
To suck fresh air, survey’d the neighbouring plain;
And saw (but scarcely could believe their eyes)
New Blossoms flourish and new flow’rs arise;
As God had been abroad, and walking there
Had left his foot-steps and reform’d the year: 555
The sunny hills from far were seen to glow
With glittering beams, and in the meads below
The burnish’d brooks appear’d with liquid gold to flow.
At last they heard the foolish Cuckow sing,
Whose note proclaim’d the holy-day of spring. 560
No longer doubting, all prepare to fly
And repossess their patrimonial sky.
The Priest before ‘em did his wings display;
And that good omens might attend their way,
As luck wou’d have it, ’twas St. Martyn’s day. 565
Who but the Swallow now triumphs alone?
The Canopy of heaven is all her own;
Her youthfull offspring to their haunts repair;
And glide along in glades, and skim in air,
And dip for insects in the purling springs, 570
And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings.
Their mothers think a fair provision made,
That ev’ry son can live upon his trade,
And now the carefull charge is off their hands,
Look out for husbands and new nuptial bands: 575
The youthfull widow longs to be supply’d;
But first the lover is by Lawyers ty’d
To settle jointure-chimneys on the bride.
So thick they couple, in so short a space,
That Martyns marr’age offerings rise apace; 580
Their ancient houses, running to decay,
Are furbish’d up and cemented with clay;
They teem already; stores of eggs are laid,
And brooding mothers call Lucina’s aid.
Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear 585
In flocks to greet the new returning year,
To bless the founder, and partake the cheer.
And now ’twas time (so fast their numbers rise)
To plant abroad, and people colonies;
The youth drawn forth, as Martyn had desir’d 590
(For so their cruel destiny requir’d)
Were sent far off on an ill fated day;
The rest wou’d need conduct ‘em on their way,
And Martyn went, because he fear’d alone to stay.
So long they flew with inconsiderate haste, 595
That now their afternoon began to waste;
And, what was ominous, that very morn
The Sun was entr’d into Capricorn;
Which, by their bad Astronomers account,
That week the virgin balance shou’d remount; 600
An infant moon eclips’d him in his way,
And hid the small remainders of his day:
The crowd amaz’d pursued no certain mark;
But birds met birds, and justled in the dark;
Few mind the publick in a Panick fright; 605
And fear increas’d the horrour of the night.
Night came, but unattended with repose;
Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close,
Alone, and black she came, no friendly stars arose.
What shou’d they doe, beset with dangers round, 610
No neighbouring Dorp, no lodging to be found,
But bleaky plains, and bare unhospitable ground?
The latter brood, who just began to fly,
Sick-feathered and unpractis’d in the sky,
For succour to their helpless mother call, 615
She spread her wings; some few beneath ‘em craul,
She spread ‘em wider yet, but cou’d not cover all.
T’ augment their woes, the winds began to move
Debate in air, for empty fields above,
Till Boreas got the skyes, and poured amain 620
His ratling hail-stones mix’d with snow and rain.
The joyless morning late arose and found
A dreadfull desolation reign a-round,
Some buried in the Snow, some frozen to the ground:
The rest were strugling still with death, and lay 625
The Crows and Ravens rights, an undefended prey;
Excepting Martyn’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 a town, 630
And finished ‘em with bats, or poll’d ‘em down.
Martyn himself was caught a-live, and try’d
For treas’nous crimes, because the laws provide
No Martyn there in winter shall abide.
High on an Oak which never leaf shall bear, 635
He breath’d his last, exposed to open air,
And there his corps, unbless’d, is hanging still,
To show the change of winds with his prophetick 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 sowed the Serpent’s teeth, an iron-harvest rose.
But most in Martyn’s character and fate,
She saw her slander’d sons, the Panther’s hate, 645
The people’s rage, the persecuting state:
Then said, I take th’ advice in friendly part,
You clear your conscience, or at least your heart:
Perhaps you fail’d in your fore-seeing skill,
For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill: 650
As for my sons, the family is bless’d,
Whose every child is equal to the rest:
No church reform’d can boast a blameless line;
Such Martyns build in yours, and more than mine:
Or else an old fanatick Author lyes, 655
Who summ’d their Scandals up by Centuries.
But through your parable I plainly see
The bloudy laws, the crowds barbarity:
The sun-shine that offends the purblind sight,
Had some their wishes, it wou’d soon be night. 660
Mistake me not, the charge concerns not you,
Your sons are male-contents, but yet are true.
As far as non-resistance makes ‘em so,
But that’s a word of neutral sense you know,
A passive term, which no relief will bring, 665
But trims betwixt a rebell and a king.
Rest well assured, the Pardelis reply’d,
My sons wou’d all support the regal side,
Though heav’n forbid the cause by battel should be try’d.
The Matron answered with a loud Amen, 670
And thus pursu’d her argument agen.
If, as you say, and as I hope no less,
Your sons will practise what your self profess,
What angry pow’r prevents our present peace?
The Lyon, studious of our common good, 675
Desires (and Kings desires are ill withstood)
To join our Nations in a lasting love;
The barrs betwixt are easie to remove,
For sanguinary laws were never made above.
If you condemn that Prince of Tyranny 680
Whose mandate forced your Gallick friends to fly,
Make not a worse example of your own,
Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown,
And let the guiltless person throw the stone.
His
blunted sword, your suff’ring brotherhood 685
Have seldom felt, he stops it short of bloud:
But you have ground the persecuting knife
And set it to a razor edge on life.
Curs’d be the wit which cruelty refines
Or to his father’s rod the Scorpion joins; 690
Your finger is more gross than the great Monarch’s loins.
But you perhaps remove that bloudy 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. 695
Unjust, or just, is all the question now,
’Tis plain, that not repealing you allow.
To name the Test wou’d 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 your hand.
Yet still remember that you weild a sword
Forg’d by your foes against your Sovereign Lord.
Designed to hew th’ imperial Cedar down,
Defraud Succession and dis-heir the Crown. 705
T’ abhor the makers, and their laws approve,
Is to hate Traytors and the treason love:
What means it else, which now your children say,
We made it not, nor will we take away?
Suppose some great Oppressor had by slight 710
Of law, disseis’d your brother of his right,
Your common sire surrendring 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; 715
The sacrilegious bribe he cou’d not hold,
Nor hang in peace, before he rendr’d back the gold.
What more could you have done than now you doe,
Had Oates and Bedlow, and their Plot been true?
Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found; 720
The dire Magicians threw their mists around,
And wise men walk’d as on enchanted ground.
But now when time has made th’ imposture plain,
(Late though he follow’d truth, & limping held her train,)
What new delusion charms your cheated eyes again? 725
The painted Harlot might a while bewitch,
But why the Hag uncas’d and all obscene with itch?
The first Reformers were a modest race;
Our Peers possessed in peace their native place:
And when rebellious arms o’returned the state 730
They suffer’d onely in the common fate;
But now the Sov’reign mounts the regal chair
And mitr’d seats are full, yet David’s bench is bare:
Your answer is, they were not dispossess’d,
They need but rub their mettle on the Test 735
To prove their ore: ‘twere well if gold alone
Were touch’d and try’d on your discerning stone;
But that unfaithfull Test unfound will pass
The dross of Atheists and sectarian brass:
As if the experiment were made to hold 740
For base productions, and reject the gold:
Thus 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 onely has his Writ of ease. 745
No gainfull 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 sterve.
Still thank your selves, you cry, your noble race 750
We banish not, but they forsake the place.
Our doors are open: true, but e’er they come,
You toss your censing Test and fume the room;
As if ‘twere Toby’s rival to expell,
And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell. 755
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 satisfied to have the But and peace,
And for the Plaintiff’s cause she car’d the less, 760
Because she su’d in formâ Pauperis;
Yet thought it decent something shou’d 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. 765
Methinks such terms of proferr’d peace you bring,
As once Æneas to th’ 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
You plead like him an ancient Pedigree,
And claim a peacefull seat by fates decree.
In ready pomp your Sacrificer stands,
To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands,
And that the league more firmly may be ty’d, 775
Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride.
Thus plausibly you veil th’ intended wrong,
But still you bring your exil’d gods along;
And will endeavour in succeeding space,
Those household Poppits on our hearths to place. 780
Perhaps some barb’rous laws have been preferr’d;
I spake against the Test, but was not heard.
These to rescind and Peerage to restore
My gracious Sov’reign wou’d my vote implore:
I owe him much, but owe my conscience more. 785
Conscience is then your Plea, replied the Dame,
Which well-informed will ever be the same.
But yours is much of the Camelion hue,
To change the dye with ev’ry diff’rent view.
When first the Lyon sat with awfull sway, 790
Your conscience taught you duty to obey;
He might have had your Statutes and your Test;
No conscience but of subjects was profess’d.
He found your temper, and no farther try’d,
But on that broken reed your church rely’d. 795
In vain the sects assay’d their utmost art,
With offered treasures to espouse their part,
Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his heart.
But when by long experience you had proov’d
How far he cou’d forgive, how well he lov’d; 800
A goodness that excell’d his godlike race,
And onely short of heav’ns unbounded grace:
A floud of mercy that o’erflowed our Isle,
Calm in the rise, and fruitfull as the Nile,
Forgetting whence your Ægypt was supply’d, 805
You thought your Sov’reign bound to send the tide;
Nor upward look’d on that immortal spring,
But vainly deem’d, he durst not be a king:
Then conscience, unrestrain’d by fear, began
To stretch her limits, and extend the span, 810
Did his indulgence as her gift dispose,
And made a wise Alliance with her foes.
Can conscience own th’ associating name,
And raise no blushes to conceal her shame?
For sure she has been thought a bashfull Dame. 815
But if the cause by battel should be try’d,
You grant she must espouse the regal side:
O Proteus Conscience, never to be ty’d!
What Phœbus from the Tripod shall disclose,
Which are in last resort, your friends or foes? 820
Homer, who learn’d the language of the sky,
The seeming Gordian knot wou’d soon unty;
Immortal pow’rs the t
erm of conscience know,
But int’rest is her name with men below.
Conscience or int’rest be ‘t, or both in one; 825
(The Panther answered in a surly tone,)
The first commands me to maintain the Crown,
The last forbids to throw my barriers down.
Our penal laws no sons of yours admit,
Our Test excludes your Tribe from benefit. 830
These are my banks your ocean to withstand,
Which proudly rising overlooks the land:
And once let in, with unresisted sway
Wou’d sweep the Pastors and their flocks away.
Think not my judgment leads me to comply 835
With laws unjust, but hard necessity:
Imperious need which cannot be withstood
Makes ill authentick, for a greater good.
Possess your soul with patience, and attend:
A more auspicious Planet may ascend; 840
Good fortune may present some happier time,
With means to cancel my unwilling crime;
(Unwilling, witness all ye Pow’rs above)
To mend my errours and redeem your love:
That little space you safely may allow, 845
Your all-dispensing pow’r protects you now.
Hold, said the Hind, ’tis needless to explain:
You would postpone me to another reign:
Till when you are content to be unjust,
Your part is to possess, and mine to trust. 850
A fair exchange propos’d of future chance,
For present profit and inheritance:
Few words will serve to finish our dispute,
Who will not now repeal wou’d persecute;
To ripen green revenge your hopes attend, 855
Wishing that happier Planet wou’d ascend:
For shame let Conscience be your Plea no more,
To will hereafter proves she might before;
But she’s a Bawd to gain, and holds the Door.
Your care about your Banks, infers a fear 860
Of threatning Floods and Inundations near;
If so, a just Reprise would only be
Of what the Land usurped upon the Sea;
And all your Jealousies but serve to show
Your Ground is, like your Neighbour-Nation, low. 865
T’ intrench in what you grant unrighteous Laws
Is to distrust the justice of your Cause;
And argues that the true religion lyes
In those weak Adversaries you despise.
Tyrannick force is that which least you fear, 870
The sound is frightfull in a Christian’s ear:
Avert it, Heav’n; nor let that Plague be sent
To us from the dispeopled Continent.
But Piety commands me to refrain;
Those Pray’rs are needless in this Monarch’s Reign. 875