THE FRANCISCAN FRIAR, A SATIRE; AND CJe Carriage 3D&e OF FRANCIS OF VALOIS AND MARY, SOVEREIGNS OF FRANCE AND SCOTLAND: TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE FROM THE LATIN OF GEORGE BUCHANAN, BY GEORGE PROVAND. Jam nulla saxis figimus oscula, Nulla e sepulchris tracta cadavcra Gemmis refulgent, fascinantque Indocilesanimos Popelli. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR BRASH AND REID, GLASGOW; ARCHIBALD CON- STABLE & CO EDINBURGH; CONSTABLE, HUNTER, PARK, AND HUNTER; AND VERNOR, HOOD, AND SHARP, LONDON. 1809. D. M'Keniie, frlrfttr, 154. Trtngatc % Chsgcw. F% ADDRESS. On Evan's banks, where Cadzow's towers display The shatter'd remnant of their better day, ; . . . . Oft have my idle footsteps fondly stray'd, And pac'd its halls, veil'd with an ivy shade; While Fancy, soaring in her wildest mood, The feudal splendors of the scene renew'd. Within these walls high Hamilton's resort, The pride of chivalry would join the sport; Or in the mimic fight, with shield and glaive, Would strive to win the guerdon of the brave: Even now in Memory's eye the lances shine, And streaming banners of the mailed line; The smiles of beauty gladden all the grove, That seems a fairy realm of joy and love! But when grim war in blood embrued the land, And rous'd the chieftain and his gallant band; Far other feats his hours would then employ, And his dark looks express'd a savage joy; His hall, that lately rung with mirth and glee, Then echo'd to a sterner melody. VI Without, the watchman's busy step; within, The matron's wailing, and the anvil's din. Though past these times, when Hamilton's proud name Shone aye the foremost in the rolls of fame, And ever to a rival scornM to yield, For grace in hall, and courage in the field; Yet still it shines with undiminished blaze, And gathers greatness from a length of days. And thou, the branch of this illustrious stem, That once nigh gracd fair Scotia's diadem % Proceed in patriot fire and zeal to shine, The worthy scion of a kingly line; Still in the Senate let thy voice be strong, The right to cherish, and expose the wrong, For this thy pride of eminence maintains, More than the Royal blood that swells thy veins, GEORGE PROVAND, 'Glasgow, 1 Nov. 25 1 k 1809. S * See Bishop Leslie's History. P. 304. PREFACE. When men peruse the page of history, and look back on those dark ages of the world, when it was immersed in superstition, they are filled with astonishment, and can scarcely believe, that monks and friars, immersed in mo- nasteries, from whence they sent forth their wandering missionaries, should have had the address to hold most powerful nations under their imperious cohtroul, and that the powers of reason had not more early delivered man- kind from their arbitrary sway: but when it is considered, that the sacred writings were withheld from general peru- sal, that priests alone were educated, and the art of print- ing had not been discovered, our astonishment ceases, and we feel conviction that the magnificent churchman in his stately palace, would with zeal exert every nerve that he might still live in luxurious splendor, and remain se- cure and undisturbed in his elevated situation. With dread he beheld the dawn of rising understanding, and his anxious soul predicted that the gorgeous fabric would crumble to destruction. To uphold a system so contrary to the happiness and comfort of every individual but themselves, they established the Court of Inquisition. A priest, arrayed in a white surplice, who had vowed meek- ness and humility to all the earth, confines his fellow-crea- tures in a dungeon, conducts them to a stage erected in Vlll the market-place, attended by a train of monks and holy brethren, who sing psalms, say mass, and butcher man- kind; and, as they firmly believe the souls of heritics are to be burnt in hell-fire with eternal vengeance, they think, by consigning them to the flames, they imitate the divine justice upon earth. Notwithstanding the ter- rors of the auto defc, the thunder of bulls, and the dread of purgatory, first a Wicklinv then a Luther, a Calvin, and the great Erasmus, arose to burst asunder those fet- ters that had so long bound the human race. England embraced the religion of Luther, who, with great prince? On his side, was compelled to adopt a religion of pomp and magnificence: while the people of Scotland received the religion of Calvin, who, living amongst republicans, could well avoid dignities and pre-eminence; but their choice was denied them, and they groaned under the most cruel oppression, and for a long period sanguinary prelates de- solated their country. Scaffolds were erected in the midst of courtly entertainments, and drums were beat, that the dying declarations, of those victims devoted to death, might not be heard by the surrounding multitude. Those scenes arose from that vast desire for power and grandeur, and terror for the downfal of ecclesiastical dignity, which have so long deluged the earth with blood. Well might Shaker spear exclaim, I am no enemy to true religion, Or any thing that's for my country's good; but I abhor those lazy full fed friars, "Who neither plough nor sow, and yet they reap The fruit of all the land, and suck the poor. It is very curious to observe, no religionists have been so inveterate as Christians. At the same period they wouM IX not allow the Turks a mosque, the Turks allowed the Greeks to have churches. Many of these churches were collegiate; and in the Archipelago canons have all along liv- ed unmolested, under the eye of a Bashaw: and they are at this moment tolerated in China. The Roman pontiffs were at first poor men, preaching to mean congregations, as des- titute and lowly as themselves, in the subterranean vaults of Rome, and it was only when the doctrines of the church became vitiated that they rose to temporal eminence. At length, when they became mighty sovereigns, Europe was deluged with religious orders, of which the Franciscans were the most numerous and active. Francis of Assisi, who founded this order in 1210, was in their eye a man supe- rior to humanity, and they insist he wrought many mi- racles. In his life time he multiplied the order to such a degree, that there were 5000 deputies from the several convents to the general chapter held at Assisi in 1219; and not more than fifty years ago, they consisted upon the con- tinent of 1 15,000 men, and about 29,000 women. Those men struck at every thing; they were preachers, di- vines, missionaries, mendicants, emissaries, and every where the declared enemies of the Dominicans, who had more power than the Franciscans, and of which they were jealous. The Dominicans held the office of master of the sacred palace of Rome, and the presidency of the Courts of Inquisition, and they had the nomination of the Inqui- sitors all over Europe. There were besides Jesuits, Aus- tin friars, Cordeliers, and a great number of different so- cieties, which cannot at present be described, as it would require a volume by itself to review every regiment of this immense army. In this happy age of national spirit and improvement, while the clergy are striving for an augmentation to their livings, and, in conformity to an Oration, lately published, delivered in May 1 809*, before the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, " Are contending for an act for upholding the splendor of their establishment, and opening up an easier and broader avenue to the independence of its members, to give an eclat to religion, and arm the good cause against the rising infidelity of the age. While they are thus struggling for eminence, and to be the vir- tuous companions of the great, and can pronounce, with the eye of statesmen, the church to be an essential part of the political fabric; a powerful instrument of security against the disaffection of the people," it is to be regretted that the salaries of the parish school-masters are so limit- ed and scanty, so as to afford no temptation to individuals of learning and talents to remain in that situation, and instruct the youth. Are those valuable and respectable men to be suffered to dwindle into obscurity? Will not another Fletcher arise, to perpetuate his name, and prove their pa- tron and protector, that this island may still retain her proud pre-eminence, and never more revert to days of superstition and barbarism? Though the narrow-minded politician may inculcate, keep the people in ignorance; Adam Smith has said, " That the more they are instructed, the less they arc liable to the delusions of enthusiasm and superstition, which among ignorant nations frequently occasion the most dreadful commotions. A people instructed and intelli- gent, are always more decent and orderly than the igno- rant and stupid; they feel, each individually, more respect- able, and more likely to obtain the respect of their lawful superiors; and are therefore more disposed to respect those superiors: they are more capable of de- tecting the interested complaints of faction and sedi- * Br the Reverend Mr Chalmers of Kilmanr. xi tion, and are less apt to be misled by any wanton unne- cessary opposition to the measures of Government." Edu- cation has the effect of making the people feel the bless- ings and importance of their political situation, and to glory in the rights of the British Constitution. Thus, the empire of Great Britain, has no inhabitants more discern- ing, well-informed, and loyal than the presbyterians of Scotland, nor who, in case of invasion, would be more ready to step forth to save their country from the thraldom of a nation who style themselves the great, and an aspiring individual who aims at universal empire- Mankind may now with rapture hail those auspicious years, when reason reignstriumphant, when powerful dignitariesof the church, whose predecessors for many ages kept up the flame of discord, have lost their sting, and persecution for conscience sake is at an end; when the ambitious churchman is curbed by the legislature, the good sense of his brethren, and of mankind; when men of all religions live toge- ther in harmony, andcultivate the arts of peace; when com- merce, the parent of agriculture and of science, in conse- quence thereof, now spreads its benign influence over this happy land. At length they behold the magnificent city, the inclosed and highly cultivated plain, and the splendid edifice for the purposes of manufacture; which proclaim aloud that mankind have resumed their sense and dignity, and no longer spend their days in unavail- ing rites under sacerdotal domination, but now act that part assigned to them by the Creator of the uni- verse. They are not now compelled, like Galileo, on bended knees, to renounce the system of Copernicus before the inquisition, but are daily making further advances in art and science, and converting those discoveries into useful plans for accelerating human labour in the various Xll branches of manufacture, and in the amelioration of the soil; and they live in an age when the rulers of the earth follow the wise and salutary maxims of the gospel, and exercise good-will and clemency to all around, and bear in mind, that the cause of all religious wars, that have so often made Europe a scene of blood, arose from this, that the supreme power insisted on mankind to believe in esta- blished tenets, instead of requiring of them to be just, and preached up controversy instead of morality. Europe, and particularly Scotland, has been greatly in- debted, for its emancipation from clerical slavery, to the celebrated George Buchanan, whose writings gave a death-blow to superstition in those parts of the Con- tinent where they were read; and (so true is the proverb, that a prophet is not esteemed in his own country) at the same period they were prohibited in Scotland, they were reprinted, read, and admired upon the Conti- nent, for their strength of thought, poetical beauties, and pure Latinity. He was considered by all the foreign universities as the first writer of his age. Why therefore do his writings remain under the veil of a dead language? While other notions sound the praises of their illus- trious men, shall not a part be translated and read in the land that gave Buchanan birth? With this view, an attempt has been made to translate the Friar and the Mar- riage Ode, and although the translator is fully aware, he has not been able to do them the justice they merit, as his life has been spent rather in commercial*, than literarv pursuits, he therefore hopes an allowance will be made by a generous and impartial public. * The Translator can prove, from undoubted testimony, that he wac> the first who brought the Invention of Weaving by Water or Steam to perfection in 179.5; and it is upon his principle, that the Loom is now wrought by Machinery with success to # a considerable extent in Scot- land. Tulit alter honor es. Xlll The reason that induced Buchanan to publish this ce- lebrated Satire, will be abundantly evident from the fol- lowing letter to the regent Murray. Geoige Buchanan, to James Stewart Earl of Murray. " About thirty years ago, when I was in the country with the Earl of Cassils, I wrote at my leisure an Elegy, that gave much unnecessary offence to the Franciscans. For men, ambitious even in poverty, and who would ra- ther cloak their iniquity under the shade of integrity, than that their reputation should be upheld through virtue by the duties of their calling, they took nothing worse, than that the external appearance of sanctity, or show of goodness, as Horace says, should be removed. Therefore, with the whole weight of their insolence, (as is the custom with those religious fathers), they directed their attacks against me, and with a ruffian spirit they wished to revenge what appeared to them so flagrant an Injury. These men, therefore, exercised in the dexterity of detraction, by spreading evil reports, in a short time prefect- ed their design; and rumours of their conspiracy against me also reached the royal ears, but truly with a different result from what they expected, for the king had already begun to discover their artifices, and, to add to the ill opinion he had conceived of them, another offence occurred, in the case of a nobleman that was accused of the crime of lese-majesty, the Franciscans, who were in the habit of meddling with every thing, scarcely acted with sincerity. Therefore, al- most at the same time these things were transacted, when I came into the king's presence in the palace, who a little before had appointed me preceptor to his Son, he very frequently ordered me, in the hearing of many, that I 'should write something against the Franciscans, and that also with asperity, not that he thought satirical writing was my fort, but because, in my opinion, he expected, that goaded on as I was by private injuries, I would be the keen avenger of public wrong, as the most witty of all poets expresses himself, Si natvra ncgatyfacit indignatio cersum* w It happened, however, far otherwise; I verily, wh should have known the virulence of these men, and dreaded their power more than reverenced their virtue, having laid aside the purpose of warfare, I should have rather resol- ved to appease with reason, than violently to irritate wild beasts, naturally fierce, and almost irreconciliable. There- fore, that I might satisfy the king respecting the Francis- cans, and equally so the Franciscans, irritated against me, I drew out the sketch of a Poem, that might moderate hit anger, and, in 9ome degree, not violently inflame their minds against me, for it was composed so ambiguously in words and sentences, that the reader could easily interpret them differently. In fine, I kept no copy, least the report of the circumstance should spread abroad; but this design, although it might appear circumspect, so de- ceived me, that although I studied to please both par- ties, I could give satisfaction to neither. But the story being divulged by spies, which they had frequently in the palace, they attacked me with every acerbity of language, and by their wavering villanous deeds, they gave determinate signs of their malevolence against me. w But the king demanded a still keener Satire from me, which would not only pierce the skin, but penetrate into the inmost recesses of the heart; nor was it difficult to write against men so wanton, and, in their own opinion, so inviolable, and that even for expiating the most trifling of fheir offences. XV N Non debeat una parari Simla , nee serpens wins, nee Culeus unus. " I have therefore, enraged at their designs against me, written by authority, what appeared to me proper, that I might satisfy the king, although I never could con- ciliate the Franciscans; and I finished a Poem on their lives, manners, and rules, and exposed their origin and principles to the king, who with eagerness demanded it. But, however, to minds on both sides enraged, and that I might reserve some chance of regaining their favour, I made out no copy of the Poem but the one for the king. But they eagerly longed for my punishment, to shut the mouths of others, and to look forward to their own secu- rity for a long period to come. Through their foul mouth- ed and abusive harangues, and the friends of their faction in the palace, they first drove me away from my precep- torship to the son of the king, and afterwards into exile; and while in exile, they persecuted me with the whole violence of their authority, through England, France, Spain, and Italy. At length, after the 24th year of my exile, with the con- sent of the Scots nobility, the power and tyranny of the Franciscans being overthrown, I have begun to correct my Satire, written by the king's authority, discontinued by the vicissitude of the intervening period, and left off through the injustice of my own times, I have resolved to publish it at length, perfected at my leisure, under the protection of your powerful name James Stewart, who as a chief have laboured in exterminating those monsters from your coun- try; and at this time I boldly maintain, that as the Greeks, men of the highest wisdom and learning, who have excell- ed in the licence of fable, and have sent abroad the won- ders of their Hercules, yet you have outshone even Her- cules himself in these times, and have much more than XVI held up our belief iu the tales of antiquity, by your incredi- ble virtue and magnanimity, and have achieved what none could believe would ever have been accomplished. Nor do we less rejoice at thy splendid acts, than admire them. This also must be added, you, who are another representa- tion or image of your father, although late, we ought to explain how highly we should esteem you for walking in the footsteps of your sire, and thus to exhibit you, that we may compensate for our delay with fullness of interest. Farewell. Si Andrews, 9th June 1564. THE FR*4JVCISCAJV- CANTO FIRST. Why, with a slow and solemn pace advance, To mortals round scarce deign a passing glance, Beneath the fretted vault and sculptur'd dome, With downcast and delusive aspect roam? Shall splendid fame from stern grimace arise; The leering squint secure the heavenly prize; The furrow'd brow, and the terrific frqwn, Lead on to paths of honour and renown? Tell, from what source has this mad folly sprung? Why dwells this silence on your witching tongue? Why still your mirth restrain, the jest confine, Where wit, and taste, with elegance combine? c 2 THE FRANCISCAN. When Nature smiles, why not in feats excel, With active sports your limbs and sinews swell? Arise with glee, and seize the early morn, Rous'd at the cry of hounds and cheerful horn, And vaulted on the bar-surmounting steed, Fly o'er the hill and dale with rapid speedj Your guns provide, and faithful dogs prepare, To hunt the fox, and chace the timid hare; Upon the mountain's brow, or moss grown crag, Tranfix the lively breast of antler'd stag. Involv'd in thought, on life's corroding cares* Her hopes, vain labours, trembling fears, and snares, Ten thousand ills upon my fancy throng, The petty tyrant's dark revengeful wrong, Those who 'gainst freedom all their power employ, Clouds that obscure each fleeting earthly joy, Just as a ship, tost to and fro in storms, While dreadful tempest ocean's brow deforms, The daring Tar each rising billow braves, With dextrous helm o'ertops the dashing waves, THE FRANCISCAN. 3 By devious tracts, while foaming surges sport, Through skill arrives safe at his destin'd port. When Fate, indulgent, in her course prepares That I shall spend my life in holy cares, Sweeps far away, in that exalted hour, The rage for splendour, and the thirst for power, O holy festive day! with fond desire, When we behold the good Franciscan Friar, Down to the ancles wrapt in hempen gown, His rugged cowl, and shining shaven crown, From feuds, ambition," strife, remov'd afar The din of arms, and wild destructive war, To this blest goal the mind, in rising gales, Longs to advance, with far outspreading sails, From low pursuits of life's vain tumult flies, And thinks of nought but bliss beyond the skies. Should you this heavenly prospect ever gain, From tales obscure, and legends wild refrain, A2 4: THE FRANCISCAN. The mind from mean ignoble trifles raise, Your conduct fix upon a massive base, Through pious acts have lasting fame acquir'd, By Virtue's chaste and holy flame inspirM, Soon shall the film remove which clouds the eyes, To blissful streams and sacred fountains rise; Gewgaws forsake, depart from childish toys, Your ardent soul uprear to heavenly joys, While days roll on, and fleeting time allows, Pour forth your prayers, fulfil your ardent vows. When you shall err from paths of ancient sires, To knowledge bright your soul no more aspires, With splendor deck'd, array'd with stately pride, With heart deprav'd, immoral actions hide; Your sacred word contemn, and tenets veil, With eager mind the days of darkness hail, To follies strange through wild perversion tend, From your sincere and solemn promise bend; Why, at this hour, your friend sincere despise, The counsels slight of the sedate and wise? THE FRANCISCAN. $ While errors wild, which wisdom stern dispels, O'ergrown with weeds, the fruits of magic spells. Those ravings, that o'erwhelm the vulgar throng, Shall make you leave theright, and choose the wrong, Tho' they have flourished for one thousand years, They'll come to nought when heavenly truth appears; Reason, denTd with no obscure disguise, Will cause the soul to Wisdom's paths arise, To gray hairs show, and the inquiring youth, Her streamlets, open as the fount of truth, Soon shall on earth her lasting blessings shower, The subtle monk, with all his skill, o'erpower. Why then believe I long, with froward heart, To rend the Church, 'gainst heaven my strength exert, The ancient wild mysterious system view, 'Twixt gods and giants modern fights renew? From early years I always learnt to prize The fathers, just, devout, sincere, and wise, 6 THE FRANCISCAN. Whose splendid virtue, and whose acts divine, Will through each age with rising lustre shine. Yet when I see the greasy shaven head, The gloomy Friar with flowing gown full spread, The twisted girdle, and the hat's broad brim, The open'd shoe, dress'd out in monkish trim; Below that garb, I know you'll often find - The brutal tyrant, whom no laws can bind; The robber, who oppression's armour wields; The sensual glutton, who to excess yields; The husband's brow to deck the night will spend; The faithless lover, and deceitful friend, The modest face, though false, worn as a cloak To gull plebeians, and delude the flock, Ten thousand thousand crimes, dark, wild, and deep, Conceal'd beneath the clothing of the sheep! By caution warn'd, exert your special care, Lest guile seduce, and fraud your souls ensnare; THE FRANCISCAN. 7 Religion false cause you from Truth depart, Your passions blind, corrupt your artless heart; In youth's gay morn, the sly designing race Had spread their nets, that I might snares embrace; But wise Eubulus ope'd my clouded eyes, And reason taught me not to catch their flies. Yet I behold this dread distemper rage Against mankind, a horrid warfare wage, This fierce disease increase with rolling years, With passions wild the subtile song appears, While to black poison you shall fall a prey, A genius vile will sweep your thoughts astray, The hateful furies, who at ruin smile, With filth of mind will simple souls beguile. Long did my breast, with rising pleasure dwell, On creed bewild'ring, and delusive spell; Yet learn'd Eubulus dragg'd me from the den Of monks sophistic, and deceiving men. Let councils sage at length augment their sway, To court instruction, not one hour delay; 8 THE FRANCISCAN. Why, in this age, those magic tales respect, Which frantic Sibyls would with scorn reject. When you nine times shall holy water spread, The ground bedew beneath your sacred tread, Nine times cross o'er your breast, with fervor fill'd, And hellebore*s pernicious juice have swiird, Reflect, from this important hour resolve, My precepts learn, and in your mind revolve* A worthy race, in days long past and gone, For lives upright, and spotless manners shone, From holy fathers sprung, embalm'd their name, And fill'd each age with their immortal fame; But now, alas! their sons have left the road That leads by Truth to heaven's serene abodej They shadows court, embrace ignoble wiles, Wild phantoms chase, and rear fast falling piles: In dark disguise they morals base conceal, And idle dreams to mankind round reveal;. THE FRANCISCAN. 9 Their organs loud in vast Cathedrals sound, Mankind delude, their souls with guile confound, They, leaning on the ancient fathers fame, Seduce plebeians with an empty name, An image false of pious lives display, The doltish mob deprave and lead astray, They who gewgaws with gazing looks desire, The outward glare of dazzling pomp admire. Shall splendor still throw out the specious veil, With magic whims the eye and ear assail, With minds matur'd, no more to grandeur bow, Their fraud suspect, and false external show? Arise, at length behold, in just attire, What sovereign pontiffs, mighty kings admire> Explain why they denude their skulls of hair, Wrapt in their cowls, with ancient sires compare, The sun's bright rays, cloud with a sweeping train, Wear open shoes to court the summer rain; What fancies wild these plaited garments hide, Below this garb what wonders strange abide? 10 THE FRANCISCAN. Tell why religion false its power displays, Immense domains the regal sceptre sways? To this asylum they incessant fly, The wicked to this genial warren hie, Those turn'd adrift by a remorseless sire, Or have through sloth incurr'd their master's ire; To shun the step-dame's rage, vindictive jade! Who aims her blows, and scolding is her trade; The lazy, who can't throw the warlike dart, Whose cold blood freezes round their feeble heart, On weaken'd limbs, through midnight riot bend, Who never shall Parnassus' steeps ascend, With ease endure fatigues of active war, Or ply the oar, and drive the harnass'd car, Turn o'er with crooked plough the moss grown soil, And through the rough and stubborn furrows toil, Whom Pallas, and Apollo too, derides, And Hermes at his ill-star'd birth presides, To ward despair, and 'scape the dreadful foe, Stern winter's blasts, the storms of frost and snow; THE FRANCISCAN. 1 \ Here skulk beneath a base inglorious ease, To waste their hours, and listless fancies pleasej Here laymen haste to stand at convent gate, Rich viands cook, and glory in their fate; With cowl adorn'd, one plants his garden flowers, The widow with his ghostly calls o'erpowers; Through hills and dales another fondly hies, The blockish clown misleads with artful lies, With apples mild the youthful mind decoys, Prone to deceive, his amulets employs, The fillet fine, on Laura's neck bestows, While gross delusion as a torrent flows, Till, with enchanting tales, and powerful charms, He rules the mind, the feeble frame alarms, With wiles obscure,ten thousand falsehoods fraught, At length ensnar'd, the fish in nets are caught. Those who in phrenzy shall each muscle strain, Or some disease that will confuse the brain, Shall brawny limbs with sore affliction seize, From death alone can snatch relief and easej 12 THE FRANCISCAN. When the physician's fervent hopes are lost, With anguish spent, in restless couches tost, That God may these alarming ills assuage, To ward his arm, and shun his awful rage, The sacred vow they take, on earth to prowl, With holy pate, wrapt in Franciscan cowl. With heavenly cares some other friar, brimful, Inspir'd with grace, makes bare his brain-sick skull; His dusky clothes enwraps in spreading gown, On dainties feasts, and sleeps on softest down; His fertile mind with pardons ample primes, Remission for the most atrocious crimes, Ten thousand dreams croaks in the list'ning ear, The sleepless sinner drowns with anxious fear, And with ten thousand bushels of rewards, 'Gainst present ills, and future terror wards, To all around he shall forgiveness spread, For countless faults, even to the silent dead; Will rather heaven to laymen vile procure, As loss of one bright ounce of gold endure: THE FRANCISCAN. 13 Sooth'dwith vain hope, the wretch with paindistress'd, Is hourly teaz'd, with skilful fervour press'd, On friars to shower his wealth and silver plate, If they'll avert his dire impending fate; His silver cups, wares, tapestry, and gold, What mankind grasp, or are for profit sold, The plunder'd stores they claim with ceaseless calls. And lodge them safe within the convent walls. These chosen nets are for fat thrushes thrown, With rich domains and earthly gifts cergrown, A venal heaven is thus wide open laid, To swell an artful and productive tradej When rich men leave these fleeting scenes below, Friars then express fictitious signs of woe: If wretched Codrus, naked Irus dies, No trumpets sound, compassion quickly flies, No funeral hymns are sung with heavenly strain, No splendid pomp moves on with solemn trainj Where is the soul sincere, the mournful friend, That to the grave will their remains attend? 14 THE FRANCISCAN. While friars those scenes of pomp superb contrive, On skill and labour of the vulgar thrive, On dazzling power terrestrial honours brood, With art pretend to scorn all worldly good, With serious gait, imposing vile parade, Through pompous streams to high distinction wade, Deceitful sighs, affected gestures use, The untaught clown, with well-tim'd spells amuse; At length their splendid aim, and vast desire, Is not allay'd, until the monks attire. Cowl, gown, and twisted belt, are thrown aside For regal mitre and imperial pride; As far as mortals can, they then ascend, Make monarchs quake, and mighty warriors bend, Climb to an earthly heaven, load men with chains, Then rule the earth with grand celestial reins. O Muse! explain how priests deceptions spread, How torpid souls are by delusion fed, THE FRANCISCAN. \$ With pious frauds, and wild inventions full, Kingdoms entire, a wretched people gull. To gaping crowds their wonders strange reveal, Beneath a veil their base chicane conceal, Despotic creeds, a wild reproachful life, Full of wrath, fraud, ambition, envy, strife, Christ's sheepfold plunder, at each ill connive, Of sense and gold the Christian flock deprive. Those who their hours in cards and dice emplov, By lawless love a frame robust destroy, In loud debauch, nocturnal riot roar, The tavern, tap-room, and the stew explore; Who waste their lands, to worthless sharks a prey, While vigour flies, and virtue, sense, decay, Of luckless love, and wretched fate complain, Whom want distracts with all her woeful train, Now banishM from the once all-cheering fire Of cool relation, or a worthless sire, Those upon whom the greedy tutor thrives, Without one coin abroad the stripling drives; 16 THE FRANCISCAN. Those who have felt the strong devouring paw Of lengthen'd suits, and evergrasping law, Long sore oppress* d with endless hopes and fears, Drain'd by expence, have spent their joyless years, Without decisions, and oppress'd with care, To convent gates, with feeble limbs repair; The city tyrant, despot of the plain, Who at their hpmes could not in peace remain, They who had rul'd, with most unequal sway, And made the poor a source of endless prey, This motley group, o'erwhelm'd with vast distress, To this retreat with earnest footsteps press, Quick to this den the loaded sinner hies, From this blest source superior men arise, The race sublime of chaste and heaven-born friars, With grace surcharged, and cheer'd with sacred fires By thirst for power, wrapt round in mild array With priestcraft's chains, they potent nations sway, Whom fury, lust, wrath, idleness, and crimes, Contempt of life, ambition, adverse times; THE FRANCISCAN. 17 Those who have 'scap'd the scolding of a wife, And caught the relish for immortal life, To convents fly, to days of ease inclin'd, Couch'd under cowl, a sure repose they find. In former days, those press'd by adverse fate, Who would no longer Heaven's decree await, Stung by distress, could not one hour forbear To jump o'er rocks, or dance upon the air; To leap the bridge, to plunge into the main, To rush o'er windows with a troubled brain; With passion fierce urg'd on, and awful gloom, Starvation 'scap'd the wretched miser's doom. By shame impelled, or dread of powerful law, Now to the monkish den these vermin draw; The healing cowl, and mild Franciscan robe, Shall cleanse away all crimes that stain the globe; Friars, in that dress, for pardon will confide, For murder, sacrilege, and parricide; Renew'd and freed from all their former leaven, The razor fits a colony for heaven. B 18 THE FRANCISCAN. Though from bright gold and gems they quaff their wine, Their wicked souls to knavery will incline, In temples grand, or stately mansions dwell; Their rage for mischief nought on earth can quell: Although the ass in Tyrian dye may shine With precious stones, cull'd from an eastern mine, In splendor vast the great Mogul surpass, Still it remains the stubborn stupid ass: The lioness confln'd, is savage still; Bears in their dens, and wolves upon the hill; The vulture will be keen, the ox sedate; The swallow still shall chatter at the grate. Thus friars their minds will not of vice divest, Though in full robes and gorgeous vesture drest; The lily fair excel in vernal blow, In whiteness, the hyperborean snow. Although the fatal viper of Marseilles Shall cast his skin, and throw away his scales, The deadly poison still with force prevails; THE FRANCISCAN. 19 Though we may pen the tyger in his cage, Still he will feel his former native rage: Tho' monks should trace the rising hills and dales, Old ocean brave, her dreadful squalls and gales, Great cities shun, where wond'ring crowds abound, With black or white gown, reaching to the ground; In wild beasts skins roam through the lonely dell, They never can their canker'd bosoms quell, Whether they shall Ryphean winters shun, Or broil beneath an equinoctial sun; Still thirst for lucre will their steps attend, And gnaw their breasts to life's remotest end. Though they shall fly mankind and human calls, Stalk slow within the cloister's marble walls, The rising storm of an outrageous mind, Will every limb, with conscious horror, bind, B2 20 THE FRANCISCAN. Their hearts disturb, and souls in terror drown, While dismal dreams each night the whole will crown: Vain glorious pride, upon uprearing wing, Which makes them soar above their lawful king, At last shall rage, their furious lusts incline, To break each law, both human and divine. A rascal base, contemn'd, the prince of fools, Who never knew the simple grammar rules, From stable, soil to smoking dunghill threw, Despotic reign'd o'er rank and frouzy stew; Shav'd by a father in the cowl's disguise, Becomes at once a prophet, learn'd and wise, True-hearted, friendly, liberal, and kind, For prudence fam'd, the boast of all mankind; From bully mild, and modest from a pimp; From robber just, and honest from a crimp; Cull'd from his birth for pure realms above, Of mild affections and fraternal love: THE FRANCISCAN. 21 Whom angels shall to heaven's high portals waft, And on a heavenly stem the sinner graft: A brother this, with all his might avers, From paths of truth a brother never errs. His splendid acts, and all his virtues own, Lest you shall be in dreadful dungeon thrown; If e'er a boor shall sacred cowl contemn, A Friar, to torture, will the wretch condemn: Those who incur the church's vengeful ire, Mid faggots bound, shall in the flames expire. Such fruits are from the shaven crown deriv'd, Scenes, worthy monks, have oft on earth reviv'd. Why deem it strange, if once the ancients thought, How wonders were by transmigration wrought, With Cadmus, that the serpent's teeth were sown, Rose up companions, active, and full grown; That Jason to arm'd men gave instant birth; The vulgar mind, alarm'd with pregnant earth: Thus he who keeps a stew, or empties jakes, And sells at rural fairs his ginger cakes; 22 THE FRANCISCAN. He who's a goat herd, or a strange buffoon, Whose brain, like ocean, rises with the moon, By razor shav'd, shall in one instant dare "| With Xenophon and Zeno to compare, Or fill with splendor Aristotle* Inspir'd can on the lore of Athens dwell, And Plato and Cleanthes far excel. compare, [> i's chair, J Attend, I will expose to noonday light, Those frauds which crown the fathers with delight. How subtile friars inglorious lives enjoy, The weak entrap, the rustic boors decoy; Widows allure in their deceitful snares, The earth involve in mist, mankind in cares; The vulgar throng with errors strange confound, Their wild destructive poison spread around. Their secret pleasures, spells, I will relate, Those various creeds that rouse the keen debate; Love potions, and unlawful tricks unfold, That in their nets the rude plebeians hold. THE FRANCISCAN. 28 He who from youth has been a clod-pole base, With razor shall his horrent bristles raze; Of homely garb devests his clownish limbs, "While he to faith through monkish order climbs; With cowl adorn'd, takes on the solemn vow; Like Tages form'd from turf at Tuscan plough; A prophet learn'd, to high distinction springs, Of nothing talks, but saints and heavenly things; Learns to adjust his steps, his gown to spread, And to the left incline his sacred head; His hands to cross, his earth-ward eye-lid close, With looks askew, on all around impose; An aspect wild, and solemn visage feigns, With smoke of incense floating round his brains; Learns soon the haunts of cheerful man to fly, To raise his pious eye-lids to the sky; When laymen rude approach, the laugh restrain. In pensive posture for a while remain; A solemn silence hold when crowds are near, And drop, in prayer, the false unwilling tear. 24 THE FRANCISCAN. Bawl in the church his loud obstrep'rous song, To charm old matrons, and to gull the throng, When he shall wine with holy fervor sip, To press the chalice to his sacred lip; With formal words arise from languid sleep, His table place, then slip away to weep; Again adjust his table, pray, turn round, The solemn grace repeat, with falsehood crown'd; Sigh like a saint, and when he sits forlorn, His twisted belt with varied knots adorn, Devise how he can gull the rustic hind, Where he shall rich and easy plunder find; How to debauch an artless female's mind, Where he can catch old maids with witching bait; How rise in power, a fortune vast create; The art to gain the ears of mighty kings, Those fountains whence great wealth and honour springs; What gifts the chiefs upon the earth will please; How minds distress'd, entrap with wondrous ease, THE FRANCISCAN. 25 With chosen spells the weak and old ensnare, Whom age has worn, and death not long will spare; How fools deceive, and hags delude with skill, To leave the church their all by latter will. Those just rewards the holy tribe acquire, This firm foundation rears the skilful friar; Points out the way to chaste and spotless lives, When they assemble in fraternal hives; Their pleasant friends forsake, and native land, The cowl adore upon some foreign strand; Why stroller, outlaw, beggar, pimp, and knave, At convent gates a friendly entrance crave; Why scoffers crowd to this delightful pen, As beasts of pray flock to the spacious den: Warm'd with the cowl, to rancour vile inclin'd, They rail aloud, and bark at all mankind; To all are fierce or friendly, kind or cool, As spleen shall urge, or rage their passions rule; By codes of church they must with care abide; Thus steer their helm, their future conduct guide: 26 THE FRANCISCAN. Below the ancient gothic vaults they stalk, On polished thresholds, marble pavements walk, The earth command, immortal mansions sell; The wicked drag from lowest depths of hell, In harmless joy their pious lives expend, And at the last through grace to Heaven ascend. THE FR4jyCISClJV. CANTO SECOND. Behold, arrang'd in groups, the docile friars, Keen to explore the lore of ancient sires; Devoted now, their listless souls to please, In pleasure's bowers, fann'd with the vernal breeze, A brother from the tribe forthwith appears, Who had their wiles imbib'd from early years; Toothless and frail, with weak and trembling hands, The blear-eyed father of those chosen bands, Begins their frauds and secrets to expound, With pleasant words and fertile fancy crown'd. To maxims wise give ear, ye untaught friars, Of manners upright, and of chaste desires; 28 THE FRANCISCAN. Whom cowl and belt constrain with firmest tie, To scatter darkness, and the truth defy; The open'd shoe, the bare and addle skull, Your love for mankind shall at once annul; Listen a while beneath these shady trees, Equip yourselves for pleasure and for ease: My temples now can scarce one gray hair show, Broken in voice, with trembling steps I go, The Fates command me to behold my end, Nor can my spells from ruthless death defend; Full fifty years, with calm complacence spent, Below the cowl has ease and comfort sent; Rid me of active life, the ocean's rage, And not in vain brought me to crooked age. If wise Tiresias could Ulysses learn His helm to steer, and perils dread discern; If aged Priam, great Anchises taught To shun the rocks and shelves, with danger fraught, His course to bend, with wide outspreading sails, The shoals avoid, in mild propitious gales; THE FRANCISCAN. 29 Shall I not then my sprightly youths address, My wholesome precepts on your mind impress; The fire and spirit of my inmost soul, My constant landmark, and attractive goal; With rapture I shall sacred things indite, To sketch my life affords extreme delight; With steady breeze, and well-directed oars, To sail along the oft frequented shores. As in soft shades you've spent your early days, Refus'd to walk in wisdom's pleasant ways; With feeble limbs, unfit for active toil, Or with the plough to turn the stubborn soil, In sloth immers'd, no ray of hope can gleam, That you shall quaff the pure Castalian stream; To pleasant strains, instructive songs attend, My rules embrace, our doctrines pure defend; Your minds enrich, the wondrous tales imbibe, Fit to inspire the wise Franciscan tribe; With souls enlarg'd, our power immense maintain, On columns strong and sure, not rear'd in vain. 30 THE FRANCISCAN. Confession is an ever fertile field, That will enrich, and ample product yield; As grapes are spoil'd with showers of rattling hail, And blasted corn the farmer wont avail; It will not on the dextrous clown impose, Nor on the learn'd, who oft our tricks expose; This grand machine terrific vengeance wings, And shows itself most terrible to kings; Has noise of nations, rising tumults quell'd, And from the throne of ancestors expell'd; Its powerful arm a monarch can appal; Make rise to glory, or to ruin fall; It has the crown on worthless minions plac'd, The fertile globe with deeds of blood defac'd. Thus we the mind of mortals weak pervade, The conscience please, and the full purse invade; This engine scours the rich abundant field, "With trembling hearts men's secrets are reveal'd; The timid herd we to obedience train, Depress that power they cannot ascertain; THE FRANCISCAN. 5 1 The vulgar to complete subjection bring, While nobles shall your well-known merits sing; Plebeians curb, increase your well-earn'd fame; Your use and value to the king proclaim. It still requires our most extensive skill To search for plunder, and the pouch to fill; In deep distress let no smart dame complain, Of sins horrific, while you snatch the gain; As animals by instinct learn their tricks, The banker trembles at the name of Styx, Seize hold of piles, and rows, secure the prize, While he to heaven, like Moses, lifts his eyes; Of broils intestine dreams, invasion's ills, And will not then discount the trader's bills; Squeeze harder still from those of fertile brain, Who public wealth convert to private gain; Their notes extend, to rustic, matron, hind, Where'er they can one single hundred find; From lawyers borrow even the minor's rent, On sordid gain and matchless profit bent; 32 THE FRANCISCAN. The merchant pinch, the cash from artist lock, Then night and day contrive to purchase stock; By courtiers taught, who share the grateful prey, And secrets of the state to friends display: At length the patriots cry aloud for peace, The nations wheedle, and the empire fleece. The merchant next your urgent zeal demands, "") Or third rank nobles, who have stahvd their hands j* With reeking blood, and scour'd unhappy lands. J Without remorse augment this gainful trade, The footman spunge, groom, waiting boy and maid. With vanish'd coins provoke the Miser's grin, Despoil the landlord of the splendid inn; From daring robber catch the tempting prize, Nor presents e'en from slavish pimps despise; He who has nought, why, nothing he can give: Can friars on air, as poor Camelions live, Like Raven's croak for straws, and crimes forgive; Madmen alone will sow the sterile ground, Or water fields, where fruits shall ne'er abound. THE FRANCISCAN. 33 When you, with point of strong and piercing dart, Shall dive into the darkness of the heart; Like Proteus, in ten thousand shapes appear, Their tempers watch, and doubtful conscience clear; When the coy maid shall all her thoughts disclose, What none has heard, her plaints, disturb'd repose, What even companions never would reveal, Or faithful wife would from her mate conceal, Search the bureau and every coffer drain; Drag on the captives with your powerful chain; The burthen on the sturdy shoulder heap, Their wealth secure, the golden harvest reap; When they shall all their inward soul impart, Send forth the secrets of an artless heart; They hate themselves, and are each hour afraid, Lest, in your cups, you will their faults upbraid, When at some hour, urg'd on with vengeful ire, You had not touched enough of sacred hire; When with these chains you shall the prey secure, The layman's goods grasp with intentions pure, C 34 THE FRANCISCAN. Seize, pack, and stow, hold fast, and stoutly cry, Till with your sponge you suck their dwellings dry, Your waggons load, 'gainst plaints your bosomssteel, Their ample stores within the cloister wheel. Let neither age nor sex your feelings move, The smooth fac'd youth, who longs to sigh and love, Old age with thirst for gold is all enwraptj The virgin is by flatt'ring tongue entrapt; Cash is by merchants worshipp'd more than God; And old maids bend at Superstition's nod. If matron, who hastes to the vale of years, Of splendid rank, within your grasp appears; With artful soul, ten thousand fancies feign, To catch the judgment, and the mansion drain; Tell, that the ancient walls through time decay; The columns vast through tempests wear away; The sacred roof, by winter's awful blast, Was swept away, and all was left a waste; THE FRANCISCAN- 35 The abbey grand, of art the boast and pride, Expos'd to ruin, stands on every side. If forests tall adorn the rich domain, 1 Stern winter, still, hangs close in autumn's train; For faggots sigh, you shall not sigh in vain, J If fertile soil yields to your holy tread, Urge that the brothers eat unwholesome bread; Where vineyards flourish, o'er green vallies tower, Say that your wines are vapid, weak, and sour, From rustic boors, goats, lambkins, poultry, game, From active cits, some holy raiment claim. Linen for sacred purposes demand; To decorate the fane, explore the land For hues and tints, your images to paint, Renew the bloom, and beautify the saint: The organ gild, its splendid front adorn, And host superb, on monkish shoulders borne; With searching eye let not the artist pass; Crave for the church the cut and painted glass; To deck Cathedrals, ward the passing shower, For windows grand that o'er the altars tower, C2 36 THE FRANCISCAN. From subtile lawyers ample tribute draw, Who thrive by quibbles and the maze of law, To raise expence their varied forms increase; 'Gainstsighs and throbs their harden'd bosoms brace; The booty from the plundering soldier seize; From maidens all their hard-earn'd wages squeeze; Command the purse of robber fierce and bold; And from the griping merchant crave his gold; Stretch forth your hands, and thus your taste evince, To mistress of the king or splendid prince; To damsels fair discourse with grace and fire, And to the summit of the church aspire, They who command with artful smile or frown, Your subtile pate shall with a mitre crown. But tender nymphs have not much wealth, you know, Yet what they have they freely will bestow; If you are slow, with tardy motions move To the fair altar, and the fane of love; THE FRANCISCAN. 37 Let skilful friars throughout the earth proclaim The road that leads to affluence and fame; The smiling path to pleasure's bowers display, To artless minds, as bright as noon-tide day; To blooming youth your secret arts expound, And wise instructions spread to all around; Tho* maids shall be than Sabines still more chaste, Yet by your wiles you'll conquer them at last. When you approach the fair with mild address, 1 Adorn'd with gems, and cloth'd in richest dress, \~ By stealth, and slowly, then her bosom press, J With foot touch foot, with hand then touch her hand, In her ear whisper, and her heart command; Converse, at length, with nought but beck and sign, Then she to you will all her wealth resign; With fingers talk, from eyes dart lustre bright, And with a nod then vanish out of sight. Let not the path, though wild, the friar dismay, The door shut slow, and gently slip away; 38 THE FRANCISCAN. By darkness hid, of mirk and lonesome night, You thus evade the search of human sight; With eager mind these golden precepts store, Lose not one hour, each fertile field explore; When time and place shall to your aid conspire, You shall with zeal the lovely nymph admire, 'Mong wanton maids your merit vast uprear, And love you'll have throughout the rolling year; Increase each day in skill, advance your name, Thus never stain your high and spotless fame. If female, coy, shall not to wisdom's voice Give ear, and in your precepts chaste rejoice, For maids loquacious, pamper'd menials send, To scandal, and an host of lies attend; Learn from some wench, who well her foibles knows. Who are her friends, and who her latent foes; Her failings tell, first whisper in the ear, Then let her faults to public view appear: But if she leads a chaste and upright life, Her hours embitter, and involve in strife; THE FRANCISCAN. 39 Tell she's an heretic, an earthly bane, With silent poison thus her honour stain; Atlength,alarm'dwith fear, o'er whelm'd with shame, In net she's caught, a sure productive game. Why from the book of fate their errors raze, Without reward the wretch with heav'n amaze; Or once of the etherial saintship brag, "1 Of bouncing matron, and the wrinkled hag, ^ Till they shall fill with gold the ample bag. J Even rogues and drabs, ere from the world they fly, Rejoice when for small sums the holy fry Shall cleanse their crimes, great rascals are content, To 'scape pale orcus for a life ill-spent; The splendid altar some repair requires, The ancient roof, and the majestic spires, The cloudcapt temple, and the lofty fane, AredrenchM withstorms, and winter's searchingrain. Spend not your hours in long delusive prayers, With sighs profound, and with oppressive cares; While wicked men in faults and scandal drown'd, Are for their pence with joy and pardon crown'd, 40 THE FRANCISCAN. Your precepts wise with crafty fraud distil, With trinkets, wares, your stretching wallets fill; Though sins out-number even the blades of grass, They'll vanish through the all-prevailing Mass. Above all things some open entrance find, To taint the heart, and blast the youthful mind, Thro' friendship's mask, and dark disguis'd deceit, Within the soul impure desires create, Spread flames of lust o'er all the empty plain, What's sown in youth will to old age remain; The seeds of sin strow o'er the fertile field, Where they shall fruits of full transgression yield: This is the vineyard of our holy sect, The mighty shield that will our cause protect. Thus spend the day, and revel through the night, In sin's rich pastures, and fair lawn's delight, No moment lose, their evil course to swell, To midnight riot and debauch impel, Until, o'erwhelm'd with vice, the syren's charms, They sink to ruin, claspt within her arms. THE FRANCISCAN. 41 Though Boreas shall his northern blasts extend, Riphean winter's o'er the earth to send, Tornados fierce with dreadful fury blow, The raging main vast empires overflow, With ardent heat the sun exhaust the air- Can all those terrors with that ill compare, Than if mankind should all our errors view, Our homilies and creeds, in native hue, Their minds illum'd, with growing reason rise, And Truth, in all her light, appear before their eyes. Now rural toils proclaim the genial spring, The trees are clad, the birds m triumph sing; Warm'd by the rays of the prolific sun, His annual sports the huntsman has begun, The wood to scour, where bulls tremendous roar, Dart his bright lance at the outrageous boar; My sprightly youth's now court the summer glades, Fly soft retirement, and your slothful shades; 42 THE FRANCISCAN. The city's noise, and the destructive stew, The lofty mountains, and the wilds to view, At crystal fountains lightly dance around, Where bands of beauteous warbling nymphs are found; The purple fields admire, enrich'd with dew, That each gay spring their varied charms renew. O! if my blood with all that fervor ran, As when I this delicious life began, My sprightly limbs would with fresh vigour glow, On rising hills surpass the nimble doej Joyful and gay, I would, without restraint, Behold how flowers the smiling meadows paint, In shades of verdant woods delight my fill, With gentle murmurs of the trickling rillj While birds should chant and through the woodlands wing, Vile cs^re would from my sluggish bosom spring: THE FRANCISCAN. 43 Old age then envied us in days of yore, And wish'd that youth would former strength re- store. Ye nimble Friars now range o'er distant lands, Trip o'er the hills in dear fraternal bands, For ample prey your spacious nets unfold, The restless vulgar in your traps to holdj Then fruitful fields, in cattle that abound, With bark of dogs Franciscan will resound. When you through groves and rural pasturesstray, With rolling years your aged limbs decay, Franciscan rules will not allow the Friar To mount the steed with all a soldier's fire, Or o'er tne hill and pleasant streamlets pass, On sterile mule, or lazy languid ass. On foot, my youths, these gladsome scenes survey, To simple souls your futile gifts display; Pardons for crimes, and figures daub'd with paints, Amusing pictures, and small leaden saints. 44 THE FRANCISCAN. The skilful fisher will not throw his lines With golden hook that with bright lustre shines; With silken net through troubled waters ply, Or through the streams in glittering garments hie; Your wallets with delicious apples fill, The early fig, nice pears, cull'd out with skill: Fish are sometimes by other fish ensnar'd, The harmless birds by hawks are never spar'd; Never from wealthy dames small gifts despise, Grasp all you can if you be truly wise. Small fetters, lions, wolves, and bears constrain, The tyger struggles with his bonds in vain; The salmon runs to smallest bait on lines; The yielding twig the eagle fast confines. If you plant snares in every wood, you dream! The mullet is not catch'd in every stream; Each field for grain will not with others vie, Nor brambles yield the rich Phoenician dye: Mark well where you shall useful traps extend, Search you the brooks, and witching bait expend; THE FRANCISCAN. 45 Thus shoals of fish you'll catch on every side, And kingdoms, with the kings themselves divide. Though sages will at my rehearsal smile, And holy Friars for wild goose schemes revile, The sacred razor, soap, and crystal lymph, The blooming monk has chang'd to lovely nymph; You can, O youths, your modest thoughts express, To lovely maids, in this enchanting dress, Which sooths the mind, to wise designs prepares, The soul relieves, worn out with anxious cares: In female gasfe,