I have but one word more to say concerning the poem as such, and abstracting from the matters, either religious or civil, which are handled in it. The first part, consisting most in general characters and narration, I have endeavoured to raise, and give it the majestic turn of heroic poesy. The second being matter of dispute, and chiefly concerning Church authority, I was obliged to make as plain and perspicuous as possibly I could; yet not wholly neglecting the numbers, though I had not frequent occasions for the magnificence of verse. The third, which has more of the nature of domestic conversation, is, or ought to be, more free and familiar than the two former. There are in it two episodes, or fables, which are interwoven with the main design; so that they are properly parts of it, though they are also distinct stories of themselves. In both of these I have made use of the commonplaces of satire, whether true or false, which are urged by the members of the one Church against the other: at which I hope no reader of either party will be scandalized, because they are not of my invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccace and Chaucer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other. * * * * * PART I. A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged; Without unspotted, innocent within, She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin. Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds, And Scythian shafts; and many winged wounds Aim'd at her heart; was often forced to fly, And doom'd to death, though fated not to die. Not so her young; for their unequal line Was hero's make, half human, half divine. 10 Their earthly mould obnoxious was to fate, The immortal part assumed immortal state. Of these a slaughter'd army lay in blood, Extended o'er the Caledonian wood, Their native walk; whose vocal blood arose, And cried for pardon on their perjured foes. Their fate was fruitful, and the sanguine seed, Endued with souls, increased the sacred breed. So captive Israel multiplied in chains, A numerous exile, and enjoy'd her pains. 20 With grief and gladness mix'd, the mother view'd Her martyr'd offspring, and their race renew'd; Their corpse to perish, but their kind to last, So much the deathless plant the dying fruit surpass'd. Panting and pensive now she ranged alone, And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own, The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd By sovereign power, her company disdain'd; Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 30 'Tis true, she bounded by, and tripp'd so light, They had not time to take a steady sight; For truth has such a face and such a mien, As to be loved needs only to be seen.