No More Learning

Pale death, lust, tortures, fill her pompous

train;
She from the easy king Truth's mirror took.
And on the ground in spiteful fall it broke ;
Then frowning thus, with proud disdain she
spoke:



f



"Are thread-bare virtues ornaments for kings ?
Such poor pedantic toys teach underlings.
Do monarchs rise by virtue, or by sword ?
Who e'er grew great by keeping of his word ?
Virtue's a faint green-sickness to brave souls,
Dastards their hearts, their active heat controls.
The rival gods, monarchs of t'other world,
This mortal poison among princes hurled,
Fearing the mighty projects of the great %

Should drive them from their proud celestial I

seat, [

If not o'erawed by this new holy cheat. ^

Those pious frauds, too slight to ensnare the

brave.
Are proper arts the long-eared rout to ( us lave.



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OP MARVELL. 203

Bribe hungry priests to deify your might, ^

To teach your will's your only rule to right, V
And sound damnation to all dare deny 't. J

Thus heaven's designs 'gainst heaven you shall

turn,
And make them feel those powers they once did

scorn.
When all the gobbling interest of mankind,
By hirelings sold to you, shall be resigned.
And by impostures, God and man betrayed.
The church and state you safely may invade ;
So boundless Lewis in full glory shines,
Whilst your starved power in legal fetters pines.
Shake off those baby-bands from your strong

armSy
Henceforth be deaf to that old witch's charms ;
Taste the delicious sweets of sovereign power,
'TIS royal game whole kingdoms to deflower.
Three spotless virgins to your bed I'll bring,
A sacrifice to you, their God and king.
As these grow stale, we'll harass human kind.
Rack nature, till new pleasures you shall find,
Strong as your reign, and beauteous as

mind. "



find, I
your J



When she had spoke, a confused murmur
rose.
Of French, Scotch, Irish, all my mortal foes ;
Some English too, O shame ! disguised I spied.
Led all by the wise son-in-law of Hyde.



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204 THE POEMS

With fury drunk, like bacchanals, they roar,
Down with that common Magna Ciiarta whore !
With joint consent on helpless me they flew.
And fi*om my Charles to a base gaol me drew ;
My reverend age exposed to scorn and shame,
To pngs, bawds, whores, was made the public

game.
Frequent addresses to my Charles I send,
And my sad state did to his care commend ;
But his fair soul, transformed by that French

dame.
Had lost all sense of honour, justice, fame,
lie in *s seraglio like a spinster sits.
Besieged by whores, buffoons, and bastard

chits;
Lulled in security, rolling in lust.
Resigns his crown to angel Carwell's trust ;

Her creature O n the revenue steals ;

False F — h, knave Ang — sey misguide the

seals.
Mac-James the Irish bigots does adore.