| |
| IN 1 those cold Regions which no Summers chear, | |
| When 2 brooding darkness covers half the year, | |
| To hollow Caves the shivering Natives go, | |
| Bears range abroad and hunt in tracks of Snow; | |
| But when the tedious Twilight wears away | 5 |
| And Stars grow paler at the approach of Day, | |
| The longing crowds to frozen Mountains run, | |
| Happy who first can see the glimmering Sun; | |
| The surly Salvage Off-spring disappear; | |
| And curse the bright Successor of the Year. | 10 |
| Yet though rough Bears in covert seek defence, | |
| White Foxes stay with seeming Innocence; | |
| That crafty kind with day-light can dispense. | |
| Still we are throng’d so full with Reynard’s race | |
| That Loyal Subjects scarce can find a place: | 15 |
| Thus modest Truth is cast behind the Crowd, | |
| Truth speaks too Low, Hypocrisie too Loud. | |
| Let them be first to flatter in success; | |
| Duty can stay, but Guilt has need to press. | |
| Once, when true Zeal the Sons of God did call, | 20 |
| To make their solemn show at Heaven’s White-hall, | |
| The fawning Devil appear’d among the rest | |
| And made as good a Courtier as the best. | |
| The friends of Job, who rail’d at him before, | |
| Came Cap in hand when he had three times more. | 25 |
| Yet, late Repentance may perhaps be true; | |
| Kings can forgive, if Rebels can but sue. | |
| A Tyrant’s Pow’r in rigour is exprest: | |
| The Father yearns in the true Prince’s breast. | |
| We grant an Ore’grown Whig no grace can mend, | 30 |
| But most are Babes that know not they offend. | |
| The Crowd, to restless motion still enclin’d, | |
| Are clouds that rack 3 according to the wind. | |
| Driv’n by their Chiefs, they storms of Hail-stones pour, | |
| Then mourn, and soften to a silent showre. | 35 |
| O welcome to this much offending land | |
| The Prince that brings forgiveness in his hand! | |
| Thus Angels on glad messages appear; | |
| Their first Salute commands us not to fear: | |
| Thus Heav’n, that cou’d constrain us to obey, | 40 |
| (With rev’rence if we might presume to say,) | |
| Seems to relax the rights of Sov’reign sway, | |
| Permits to Man the choice of Good and Ill, | |
| And makes us Happy by our own Free-will. | |
