To Mr Brown On His Book Against T
Giddy wth fond ambition, mad wth pride,
Apostate angells once ev'n heavn defi'de;
Avenging heavn its hottest bolts prepard,
And hell and thunder provd their sad reward.
Yet foolish man by no example won,
perverse in ill, dare rashly venture on,
Wildly rebells, calls reason to his aid,
And uses it on him who reason made.
For crimes like this what vengeance is in store?
What but the same wch heaven showrd down on fiends before?
What milder could wee hope wee should receive?
But god is kindly willing to forgive,
He usd his Justice then, but mercy now,
Was then wth thunder armd, but now wth you:
He bid you rise truths champion, & oppose
Wth their own arms wth reason his audacious foes.
You take ye lists, & in your gods defence,
Unravell all their specious arguments,
Who lull their hearers with a show of sense,
In artfull words their best objections place,
and in fair terms their sly delusions dress;
this guilding you remove, & streight we see
What nothings all their demonstrations be.
Thus when a fiend upon their sabbats cheats
The witches he has made wth fancyd treats,
The air condenses round to costly meates:
But if a stranger who by chance has viewd
their rites, dares venture to be boldly good,
No more the pleasing Phantome does remain,
But to its former air dissolves again.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Added by Poetry Lover
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