With rage which words can ill express, With unforgiving rage, which springs From a false zeal for holy things, 1710 Wearing such robes as prophets wear, False prophets placed in Peter's chair, On which, in characters of fire, Shapes antic, horrible, and dire Inwoven flamed, where, to the view, In groups appear'd a rabble crew Of sainted devils; where, all round, Vile relics of vile men were found, Who, worse than devils, from the birth Perform'd the work of hell on earth, 1720 Jugglers, Inquisitors, and Popes, Pointing at axes, wheels, and ropes, And engines, framed on horrid plan, Which none but the destroyer, Man, Could, to promote his selfish views, Have head to make or heart to use, Bearing, to consecrate her tricks, In her left hand a crucifix, 'Remembrance of our dying Lord,' And in her right a two-edged sword, 1730 Having her brows, in impious sport, Adorn'd with words of high import, 'On earth peace, amongst men good will, Love bearing and forbearing still,' All wrote in the hearts' blood of those Who rather death than falsehood chose: On her breast, (where, in days of yore, When God loved Jews, the High Priest wore Those oracles which were decreed To instruct and guide the chosen seed) 1740 Having with glory clad and strength, The Virgin pictured at full length, Whilst at her feet, in small pourtray'd, As scarce worth notice, Christ was laid,-- Came Superstition, fierce and fell, An imp detested, e'en in hell; Her eye inflamed, her face all o'er Foully besmear'd with human gore, O'er heaps of mangled saints she rode; Fast at her heels Death proudly strode, 1750 And grimly smiled, well pleased to see Such havoc of mortality; Close by her side, on mischief bent, And urging on each bad intent To its full bearing, savage, wild, The mother fit of such a child, Striving the empire to advance Of Sin and Death, came Ignorance. With looks, where dread command was placed, And sovereign power by pride disgraced, 1760 Where, loudly witnessing a mind Of savage, more than human kind, Not choosing to be loved, but fear'd, Mocking at right, Misrule appear'd. With eyeballs glaring fiery red, Enough to strike beholders dead, Gnashing his teeth, and in a flood Pouring corruption forth and blood From his chafed jaws; without remorse Whipping and spurring on his horse, 1770 Whose sides, in their own blood embay'd, E'en to the bone were open laid, Came Tyranny, disdaining awe, And trampling over Sense and Law; One thing, and only one, he knew, One object only would pursue; Though less (so low doth passion bring) Than man, he would be more than king. With every argument and art Which might corrupt the head and heart, 1780 Soothing the frenzy of his mind, Companion meet, was Flattery join'd; Winning his carriage, every look