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So curb their Malice, as Conform of late,
And with my Flocks they Envy, Congregate.
Oft on a Sabaths Morning have I ſeen
Rich Awful Zealots, of a bulkey Mein,
Cheat Heaven, and diſſemble with the State,
To be by Flatt’ry, and Deceit made Great;
Viſit my Temples, ſeem devout as Saints;
And for their Intreſt, turn baſe Sicophants:
Thus with my Worſhip, thro’ deſign, agree,
And only Mimmick, what they hate to be,
To climb, unfairly, to Authoritie.
Then, by their own Corrupted Whimſies led,
Where the Frape meet, and common Ills are bred;
There hear the Church, from whence they came, Lampoon’d,
And True Religion, by an Ape Buffoon’d;
Who o’er his Cuſhion, full of Yawn, and Hum,
Stands Gaping like the Bear that beats the Drum.
Thus is the Afternoon at Meeting ſpent,
The Morning in the Church, at Sacrament:
Rare Pious Chriſtians, full of Faith, and Grace,
To thus with Heav’n, diſſemble for a Place;
And pawn their Souls to purchaſe Sword or Maſe.
If I am Right, and from Miſtakes moſt free,
Why do they not Conform intire to me?
If your dark Syſtem, they believe moſt True,
Why not alone Communicate with you?
Thoſe who for Intreſt, carry fair with both,
Are Juſt to neither, by their Faith or Troth:
But plung’d between two Crimes, to Greatneſs bent,
Erre with the Wrong, and from the Right Diſſent.
Graſhopper.
