(Unwelcome truth, to his experience new!)

That he, who trusts in guilty friendship, binds

His fortune to a cloud, that shifts with veering winds.

[Pg 9]

Throned in Religion's seat, he scorn'd her laws,

And with a cool indifference view'd her cause:

Yet, might her earthly treasures feed the fire

Of wild ambition, or base gain's desire,

He could assume, at will, her fairest dress—

Could plunge in Superstition's dark recess—

Or the red mask of Bigotry put on;

The fiercest champion, where there needed none.

But, should she cross some glittering enterprise,

Her pleas, her awful threats, he could despise;

Oaths, lightly sworn, and now forgotten things,

Vanish'd, like smoke before the tempest's wings.

At interest's call, when danger's sudden voice

Extinguish'd hope, nor left a final choice,

His sacred honours he renounc'd, and fled

To hide in silent solitude his head:

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