Long may she scourge this mad rebellious Age, } And stem the torrent of Fanatick rage, } That once had almost overwhelm’d the Stage. } O’er all the Land the dire contagion spread, And e’en _Apollo’s_ Sons apostate fled: But while that spurious race imploy’d their parts } In studying strategems and subtile arts, } To alienate their Prince’s Subjects hearts, } Her Loyal Muse still tun’d her loudest strings, To sing the praises of the best of Kings. And, O ye sacred and immortal Gods, From the blest Mansions of your bright abodes, To the first _Chaos_ let us all be hurld, E’er such vile wretches should reform the World, That in all villany so far excell, } If they in sulphurous flames must onely dwell, } The Cursed Caitiffs hardly merit Hell. } Were not those vile _Achitophels_ so lov’d, (The blind, the senseless and deluded Crowd) Did they but half his Royal Vertues know, But half the blessings which to him they owe, His long forbearance to provoking times, And God-like mercy to the worst of crimes: Those murmuring _Shimei’s_, even they alone, } Cou’d they bestow a greater than his own, } Wou’d from a Cottage raise him to a Throne. } VIII. See, ye dull Scriblers of this frantick Age, That load the Press, and so o’erwhelm the Stage, That e’en the noblest art that e’er was known, As great as an _Egyptian_ Plague is grown: Behold, ye scrawling Locusts, what ye’ve done, What a dire judgment is brought down, By your curst Dogrel Rhimes upon the Town; On Fools and Rebels hangs an equal Fate, And both may now repent too late, For the great Charter of your Wit as well as Trade is gone. Once more the fam’d _Astræa’s_ come; ‘Tis she pronounc’d the fatal doom, And has restor’d it to the rightfull Heirs, Since Knowledge first in Paradise was theirs. IX.