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Theſe are the worthy Dolts, your Sons advance,
By their falſe Poles, and double Diligence.
Theſe are the Men of merit, they provide,
To Row, and Toe, againſt the Wind and Tide;
Who in Tempeſtious Diſcords, they create,
Sail quite repugnant to the Church and State:
Yet to ſuch outward Godlineſs ſeem bent,
To Church they’ll come, tho’ in their Hearts Diſſent:
But for no Faith, will either Hang, or Starve,
Both God and Mammon, for advancement ſerve;
Thus ſeaſonably comply, or in fit times can ſwerve.
If ſuch unſteddy Rovers bear Command,
Whilſt Men of Worth, ſhall unregarded ſtand,
By Law, and Nature, Qualifi’d for Truſt,
To ſomething Fix’d, and known in all things Juſt.
If Men like theſe, ſhall be by Fraud put by,
And yield their Rights to the Pedantick Fry;
England muſt ſoon from all her Greatneſs fall,
And mourn her Ancient Glories Funeral.
Which Heaven prevent
And (that ſhe may once more her Grandure boaſt)
Retrieve her Virtues, now ſo nearly loſt;
And from all Factious Quarrels, and Deſpights,
Preſerve the King, Church, Nation, and our Rights:
That in One Faith, we may United be,
And accord ſweetly, in juſt Harmonie.
FINIS.
