The plea of works, as arrogant and vain,
Heav'n turns from with abhorrence and disdain:
Not more affronted by avow'd neglect,
Than by the mere diffemblers feign'd respect.
What is all righteousness that men devife,
What, but a fordid bargain for the skies?
But Chrift as foon would abdicate his own,
As stoop from heav'n to fell the proud a throne.
His dwelling a recefs in fome rude rock,
Book, beads, and maple-difh his meagre stock,
In fhirt of hair and weeds of canvass dress'd,
Girt with a bell-rope that the Pope has blefs'd,
Aduft with ftripes told out for ev'ry crime,
And fore tormented long before his time,
His pray'r preferr'd to faints that cannot aid,
His praise postpon'd, and never to be paid,
See the fage hermit, by mankind admir'd,
With all that bigotry adopts, infpir'd,
Wearing out life in his religious whim,
'Till his religious whimfy wears out him.
His works, his abstinence, his zeal allow'd,
You think him humble, God accounts him proud;
High in demand, though lowly in pretence,
Of all his conduct, this the genuine sense→
My penitential stripes, my ftreaming blood
Have purchas'd heaven, and prove my title good.
Turn eastward now, and fancy fhall apply
weak fight her telescopic eye.
The Bramin kindles on his own bare head
The facred fire, felf-torturing his trade,
His voluntary pains, fevere and long,
Would give a barb'rous air to British song;
No grand inquifitor could worfe invent,
Than he contrive to fuffer, well content.
Which is the faintlier worthy of the two?
Paft all difpute, yon anchorite fay you.
Your fentence and mine differ.
I fay the Bramin has the fairer claim.
If fuff'rings, fcripture no where recommends,
Devis'd by felf to anfwer felfifh ends,
Give faintship, then all Europe must agree,
Ten starvling hermits fuffer lefs than he.
The truth is (if the truth may fuit your ear,
And prejudice have left a paffage clear)
Pride has attain'd its most luxuriant growth,
And poifon'd every virtue in them both.
Pride may
be pamper❜d while the flesh grows lean;
Humility may clothe an English Dean;
That grace was Cowper's-his confefs'd by all-
Though plac'd in golden Durham's fecond stall.
Not all the plenty of a bishop's board,
His palace, and his lacquey's, and, my Lord!
More nourish pride, that condefcending vice,
Than abstinence, and beggary, and lice:
It thrives in mifery, and abundant grows
In mifery fools upon themselves impose.
But why before us, Proteftants, produce
An Indian mystic or a French recluse?
Their fin is plain, but what have we to fear,
Reform'd and well instructed? You fhall hear.
Yon ancient prude, whose wither'd features fhow
She might be young fome forty years ago,
Her elbows pinion'd clofe upon her hips,
Her head erect, her fan upon her lips,
Her eye-brows arch'd, her eyes both gone aftray
To watch yon ara'rous couple in their play,
With boney and unkerchief'd neck defies
The rude inclemency of wintry skies,
And fails with lappet-head and mincing airs
Duely at clink of bell, to morning pray'rs.
To thrift and parfimony much inclin'd,
She
yet allows herself that boy hehind; The fhiv'ring urchin, bending as he goes,
With flip-fhod heels, and dew drop at his nose;
His predeceffors coat advanc'd to wear,
Which future pages are yet doom'd to share,
Carries her bible tuck'd beneath his arm,
And hides his hands to keep his fingers warm.
She, half an angel in her own account,
Doubts not hereafter with the faints to mount,
Though not a grace appears on ftrictest search,
But that the fafts, and item, goes to church.
Conscious of age fhe recollects her youth,
And tells, not always with an eye to truth,
Who fpann'd her waift, and who, where'er he came,
Scrawl'd upon glass Mifs Bridget's lovely name,
Who stole her flipper, fill'd it with tokay,
And drank the little bumper every day.
Of temper as invenom'd as an asp,
Cenforious, and her every word a wasp,
In faithful mem'ry fhe records the crimes
Or real, or fictitious, of the times,
Laughs at the reputations she has torn,
And holds them dangling at arms length in scorn.
Such are the fruits of fanctimonious pride,
Of malice fed while flesh is mortified:
Take, Madam, the reward of all your pray❜rs,
Where hermits and where Bramins meet with theirs;
Your portion is with them: nay, never frown,
But, if you please, fome fathoms lower down.
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