The bloody Bear, an independent beast, Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd. Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare[94] Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear. Next her the buffoon Ape[95], as Atheists use, Mimick'd all sects, and had his own to choose: 40 Still when the Lion look'd, his knees he bent, And paid at church a courtier's compliment. The bristled Baptist Boar, impure as he, But whiten'd with the foam of sanctity, With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place, And mountains levell'd in his furious race; So first rebellion founded was in grace. But since the mighty ravage, which he made In German forests, had his guilt betray'd, With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name; 50 He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal'd the shame: So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile False Reynard[96] fed on consecrated spoil: The graceless beast by Athanasius first Was chased from Nice, then by Socinus nursed: His impious race their blasphemy renew'd, And nature's King through nature's optics view'd. Reversed they view'd him lessen'd to their eye, Nor in an infant could a God descry: New swarming sects to this obliquely tend, 60 Hence they began, and here they all will end. What weight of ancient witness can prevail, If private reason hold the public scale? But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide For erring judgments an unerring guide! Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. O teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, And search no farther than thyself reveal'd; But her alone for my director take, 70 Whom thou hast promised never to forsake! My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. Such was I, such by nature still I am; Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. Good life be now my task; my doubts are done: What more could fright my faith, than Three in One? Can I believe Eternal God could lie 80 Disguised in mortal mould and infancy? That the great Maker of the world could die? And after that trust my imperfect sense, Which calls in question His Omnipotence? Can I my reason to my faith compel, And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebel? Superior faculties are set aside; Shall their subservient organs be my guide? Then let the moon usurp the rule of day, And winking tapers show the sun his way; 90 For what my senses can themselves perceive, I need no revelation to believe. Can they who say the Host should be descried By sense, define a body glorified? Impassable, and penetrating parts? Let them declare by what mysterious arts