Whilst underfoot the rude slaves trod The works of men, and word of God; Whilst, close behind, on many a book, In which he never deigns to look, Which he did not, nay, could not read, A bold, bad man (by power decreed For that bad end, who in the dark Scorn'd to do mischief) set his mark 280 In the full day, the mark of Hell, And on the Gospel stamp'd an L. Liberty fled, her friends withdrew-- Her friends, a faithful, chosen few; Honour in grief threw up; and Shame, Clothing herself with Honour's name, Usurp'd his station; on the throne Which Liberty once call'd her own, (Gods! that such mighty ills should spring Under so great, so good a king, 290 So loved, so loving, through the arts Of statesmen, cursed with wicked hearts!) For every darker purpose fit, Behold in triumph State-craft sit! BOOK III. Ah me! what mighty perils wait The man who meddles with a state, Whether to strengthen, or oppose! False are his friends, and firm his foes: How must his soul, once ventured in, Plunge blindly on from sin to sin! What toils he suffers, what disgrace, To get, and then to keep, a place! How often, whether wrong or right, Must he in jest or earnest fight, 10 Risking for those both life and limb Who would not risk one groat for him! Under the Temple lay a Cave, Made by some guilty, coward slave, Whose actions fear'd rebuke: a maze Of intricate and winding ways, Not to be found without a clue; One passage only, known to few, In paths direct led to a cell, Where Fraud in secret loved to dwell, 20 With all her tools and slaves about her, Nor fear'd lest Honesty should rout her. In a dark corner, shunning sight Of man, and shrinking from the light, One dull, dim taper through the cell Glimmering, to make more horrible The face of darkness, she prepares, Working unseen, all kinds of snares, With curious, but destructive art: Here, through the eye to catch the heart, 30 Gay stars their tinsel beams afford, Neat artifice to trap a lord; There, fit for all whom Folly bred, Wave plumes of feathers for the head; Garters the hag contrives to make, Which, as it seems, a babe might break, But which ambitious madmen feel More firm and sure than chains of steel; Which, slipp'd just underneath the knee, 40 Forbid a freeman to be free. Purses she knew, (did ever curse Travel more sure than in a purse?) Which, by some strange and magic bands, Enslave the soul, and tie the hands. Here Flattery, eldest-born of Guile, Weaves with rare skill the silken smile, The courtly cringe, the supple bow, The private squeeze, the levee vow, With which--no strange or recent case-- Fools in, deceive fools out of place. 50 Corruption, (who, in former times, Through fear or shame conceal'd her crimes, And what she did, contrived to do it So that the public might not view it)