For factious wretches, impious and absurd. Yet to the Cause she lov’d with so much Zeal 550 She could no more than Approbation deal, And had her Schemes to lessen or evade The fairest Tax that could on Man be laid; Thinking that one so loyal should requite Her Self for shewing what was just and right. She kept her Church, and often would exclaim To her unwilling Partner, “What a Shame! Is it so much, a quiet hour to pass And give Example to the lower Class!” She heard of Battles, where ten thousand fell, 560 And beg’d that none would on the Subject dwell: “Such Wounds and Carnage, fire, blood, and Smoke! Good God! it poison’d every Meal she took!” Active and able to contend, she still } Found in her Lord a Stubbornness of Will; } A dull resisting Strength, that baffled all her Skill; } A _Vis inertiæ_—and, in fact, no stone Could be more stubborn to be wrought upon— A Mind at rest, that she could neither please } By any Effort, nor by any teize; 570} A Soul envelop’d deep in intellectual Ease— } But this not always; favourite points to gain, He would a Warfare valiantly maintain; And then her Prudence taught the Dame to yield, That she with double strength might take the field; And, when victorious in some grand affair, She [yielded] others as beneath her Care. The first-born Child had every dawning Grace And promis’d Beauty in her form and face. “We’ll call her Julie, if you please, my dear,” 580 The Mother cry’d, “I doat on Julie Vere.”— “What! no Remembrance of her Aunt! for shame! You doat indeed! be Barbara her name!”— “Oh! never, never”—and a storm began That quite o’erpower’d the Spirit of the Man. The Babe was Julie, nor a Word was heard That spoke his Wishes to have interfer’d. Succeeding Daughters came with feeble Cry Who caus’d few Cares, and only liv’d to die; But ten years past, when, to the Father’s Joy 590 And Mother’s Glory, she produc’d a Boy. Now said the Lady, “If you would consent To call him Frederick, I should be content.” “Be [sure],” he answer’d with a Sneer, “my Love, I’ll give the Boy a Name you must approve: He shall be Julian!” “An heroic Name Of some old fool!” said the indignant Dame. “Fool!” said the Husband; “nay, a glorious Prince; Nor have Mankind beheld his equal since. He the whole World from Superstition free’d, 600 A[nd] left the Bigots neither Cross nor Creed.” “Well,” said the Wife, with infinite Disdain, “Could not the Bigots get a Creed again? And ’tis your Maxim that all Crimes are bred By Men with new Opinions in their Head; Was it not foolish in your Prince to force These quiet Bigots from their antient Course?”— “Nay, you mistake; he wanted to restore Things as they had been in the Times of yore.” “What!” quoth the Lady; “both a foe and friend 610 To Superstition! this can you defend?