For unbelief in one they never knew, Or for not doing what they could not do! The very fiends know for what crime they fell, And so do all their followers that rebell; If then a blind, well-meaning Indian stray, Shall the great gulph be shewed him for the way? For better ends our kind Redeemer died, Or the fallen angels' rooms will be but ill supplied. That Christ, who at the great deciding day, (For he declares what he resolves to say,) Will damn the goats for their ill-natured faults, And save the sheep for actions, not for thoughts, Hath too much mercy to send them to hell, For humble charity, and hoping well. To what stupidity are zealots grown, } Whose inhumanity, profusely shewn } In damning crowds of souls, may damn their own!} I'll err, at least, on the securer side, A convert free from malice and from pride. ROSCOMMON. TO MR DRYDEN, ON HIS POEM CALLED RELIGIO LAICI. Great is the task, and worthy such a muse, To do faith right, yet reason disabuse. How cheerfully the soul does take its flight On faith's strong wings, guided by reason's light? But reason does in vain her beams display, } Shewing to th' place, whence first she came, the way,} If Peter's heirs must still hold fast the key. } The house, which many mansions should contain, Formed by the great wise Architect in vain, Of disproportion justly we accuse, If the strait gate still entrance must refuse, The only free enriching port God made, } What shameful monopoly did invade? } One factious company engrossed the trade.} Thou to the distant shore hast safely sailed, Where the best pilots have so often failed. Freely we now may buy the pearl of price; } The happy land abounds with fragrant spice,} And nothing is forbidden there but vice. } Thou best Columbus to the unknown world! Mountains of doubt, that in thy way were hurled, Thy generous faith has bravely overcome, And made heaven truly our familiar home. Let crowds impossibilities receive; Who cannot think, ought not to disbelieve. Let them pay tithes, and hood-winked go to heaven; But sure the quaker could not be forgiven, Had not the clerk, who hates lay-policy, } Found out, to countervail the injury, } Swearing, a trade of which they are not free.} Too long has captive reason been enslaved, By visions scared, and airy phantasms braved, List'ning to each proud enthusiastic fool, Pretending conscience, but designing rule; Whilst law, form, interest, ignorance, design, Did in the holy cheat together join. Like vain astrologers, gazing on the skies, We fall, and did not dare to trust our eyes. 'Tis time at last to fix the trembling soul, And by thy compass to point out the pole; All men agree in what is to be done,