John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series
Page 25
Her wretched remnants of precarious pow’r. 510
One evening, while the cooler shade she sought,
Revolving many a melancholy thought,
Alone she walk’d, and look’d around in vain,
With ruful visage for her vanish’d train:
None of her sylvan subjects made their court; 515
Leveés and coucheés pass’d without resort.
So hardly can Usurpers manage well
Those whom they first instructed to rebel:
More liberty begets desire of more,
The hunger still encreases with the store. 520
Without respect they brush’d along the wood,
Each in his clan, and fill’d with loathsome food,
Ask’d no permission to the neighb’ring flood.
The Panther, full of inward discontent,
Since they wou’d goe, before ‘em wisely went: 525
Supplying want of pow’r by drinking first,
As if she gave ‘em leave to quench their thirst.
Among the rest, the Hind, with fearful face
Beheld from far the common wat’ring-place,
Nor durst approach; till with an awful roar 530
The sovereign Lyon bad her fear no more.
Encourag’d thus, she brought her younglings nigh,
Watching the motions of her Patron’s eye,
And drank a sober draught; the rest amaz’d
Stood mutely still, and on the stranger gaz’d: 535
Survey’d her part by part, and sought to find
The ten-horn’d monster in the harmless Hind,
Such as the Wolfe and Panther had design’d:
They thought at first they dream’d, for ’twas offence
With them, to question certitude of sense, 540
Their guide in faith; but nearer when they drew,
And had the faultless object full in view,
Lord, how they all admir’d her heav’nly hiew!
Some, who before her fellowship disdain’d,
Scarce, and but scarce, from inborn rage restrain’d, 545
Now frisk’d about her and old kindred feign’d.
Whether for love or int’rest, every sect
Of all the salvage nation shew’d respect:
The Vice-roy Panther could not awe the herd,
The more the company the less they fear’d. 550
The surly Wolfe with secret envy burst,
Yet cou’d not howl, the Hind had seen him first:
But what he durst not speak, the Panther durst.
For when the herd suffis’d, did late repair
To ferney heaths and to their forest lare, 555
She made a mannerly excuse to stay,
Proffering the Hind to wait her half the way:
That since the Skie was clear, an hour of talk
Might help her to beguile the tedious walk.
With much good-will the motion was embrac’d, 560
To chat a while on their adventures pass’d:
Nor had the grateful Hind so soon forgot
Her friend and fellow-suff’rer in the plot.
Yet wondring how of late she grew estrang’d,
Her forehead cloudy and her count’nance chang’d, 565
She thought this hour th’ occasion would present
To learn her secret cause of discontent,
Which, well she hop’d, might be with ease redress’d,
Considering Her a well-bred civil beast,
And more a Gentlewoman than the rest. 570
After some common talk what rumours ran,
The Lady of the spotted-muff began.
The Hind and the Panther. The Second Part
DAME, said the Panther, times are mended well
Since late among the Philistines you fell.
The Toils were pitch’d, a spacious tract of ground
With expert Huntsmen was encompass’d round;
The Enclosure narrow’d; the sagacious pow’r 5
Of Hounds, and Death drew nearer, ev’ry Hour.
’Tis true, the younger Lyon scap’d the snare,
But all your priestly Calves lay strugling there;
As sacrifices on their Altars laid;
While you their careful mother wisely fled 10
Not trusting destiny to save your head.
For, whate’er Promises you have apply’d
To your unfailing Church, the surer side
Is four fair Leggs in danger to provide.
And whate’er tales of Peter’s Chair you tell, 15
Yet, saving Reverence of the Miracle,
The better luck was yours to ‘scape so well.
As I remember, said the sober Hind,
Those Toils were for your own dear self design’d,
As well as me; and with the self same throw, 20
To catch the Quarry and the Vermin too,
(Forgive the sland’rous Tongues that call’d you so.)
Howe’er you take it now, the common Cry
Then ran you down for your rank Loyalty;
Besides, in Popery they thought you nurst, 25
(As evil tongues will ever speak the worst,)
Because some forms, and ceremonies some
You kept, and stood in the main question dumb.
Dumb you were born indeed; but thinking long
The Test, it seems, at last has loos’d your tongue. 30
And, to explain what your forefathers meant,
By real presence in the Sacrament,
(After long fencing push’d against a wall,)
Your salvo comes, that he’s not there at all:
There chang’d your faith, and what may change may fall. 35
Who can believe what varies every day,
Nor ever was, nor will be at a stay?
Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell,
And I ne’er own’d my self infallible,
Reply’d the Panther; grant such Presence were, 40
Yet in your sense I never own’d it there.
A real vertue we by faith receive,
And that we in the sacrament believe.
Then, said the Hind, as you the matter state,
Not only Jesuits can equivocate; 45
For real, as you now the Word expound,
From Solid Substance dwindles to a Sound.
Methinks an Esop’s fable you repeat;
You know who took the Shadow for the Meat;
Your Churchs substance thus you change at will, 50
And yet retain your former figure still.
I freely grant you spoke to save your Life,
For then you lay beneath the Butchers Knife.
Long time you fought, redoubl’d Batt’ry bore,
But, after all, against your self you swore; 55
Your former self, for ev’ry Hour your form
Is chop’d and chang’d, like Winds before a Storm.
Thus Fear and Int’rest will prevail with some,
For all have not the Gift of Martyrdom.
The Panther grin’d at this, and thus reply’d; 60
That men may err was never yet deny’d.
But, if that common principle be true,
The Cannon, Dame, is level’d full at you.
But, shunning long disputes, I fain wou’d see
That wond’rous Wight, infallibility. 65
Is he from Heav’n this mighty Champion come
Or lodg’d below in subterranean Rome?
First, seat him somewhere, and derive his Race,
Or else conclude that nothing has no place.
Suppose, (though I disown it,) said the Hind, 70
The certain Mansion were not yet assign’d,
The doubtful residence no proof can bring
Against the plain existence of the thing.
Because Philosophers may disagree,
If sight b’ emission or reception be, 75
Shall it be thence infer
’d I do not see?
But you require an Answer positive,
Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give;
For Fallacies in Universals live.
I then affirm that this unfailing guide 80
In Pope and gen’ral Councils must reside;
Both lawful, both combin’d; what one decrees
By numerous Votes, the other Ratifies:
On this undoubted Sense the Church relies.
’Tis true some Doctors in a scantier space, 85
I mean in each apart contract the Place.
Some, who to greater length extend the Line,
The Churches after acceptation join.
This last Circumference appears too wide,
The Church diffus’d is by the Council ty’d; 90
As members by their Representatives
Oblig’d to Laws which Prince and Senate gives:
Thus some contract, and some enlarge the space;
In Pope and Council who denies the place,
Assisted from above with God’s unfailing grace? 95
Those Canons all the needful points contain;
Their sense so obvious, and their words so plain,
That no disputes about the doubtful Text
Have, hitherto, the lab’ring world perplex’d:
If any shou’d in after times appear, 100
New Councils must be call’d, to make the meaning clear.
Because in them the pow’r supreme resides;
And all the promises are to the Guides.
This may be taught with sound and safe Defence:
But mark how sandy is your own pretence, 105
Who, setting Councils, Pope, and Church aside,
Are ev’ry Man his own presuming Guide.
The sacred Books, you say, are full and plain,
And ev’ry needful point of Truth contain;
All who can read, Interpreters may be: 110
Thus though your several Churches disagree,
Yet ev’ry Saint has to himself alone
The Secret of this Philosophick Stone.
These Principles your jarring Sects unite,
When diff’ring Doctors and Disciples fight. 115
Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy Chiefs,
Have made a Battel Royal of Beliefs;
Or like wild Horses sev’ral ways have whirl’d
The tortur’d Text about the Christian World;
Each Jehu lashing on with furious force, 120
That Turk or Jew cou’d not have us’d it worse.
No matter what dissension leaders make
Where ev’ry private man may save a stake:
Rul’d by the Scripture and his own advice,
Each has a blind by-path to Paradise; 125
Where driving in a Circle slow or fast,
Opposing Sects are sure to meet at last.
A wondrous charity you have in Store
For all reform’d to pass the narrow Door:
So much, that Mahomet had scarcely more. 130
For he, kind Prophet, was for damning none,
But Christ and Moyses were to save their own:
Himself was to secure his chosen race,
Though reason good for Turks to take the place,
And he allow’d to be the better man 135
In virtue of his holier Alcoran.
True, said the Panther, I shall ne’er deny
My Breth’ren may be sav’d as well as I:
Though Huguenots contemn our ordination,
Succession, ministerial vocation, 140
And Luther, more mistaking what he read,
Misjoins the sacred Body with the Bread;
Yet, Lady, still remember I maintain
The Word in needfull points is only plain.
Needless or needful I not now contend, 145
For still you have a loophole for a friend,
(Rejoyn’d the Matron) but the rule you lay
Has led whole flocks and leads them still astray
In weighty points, and full damnation’s way.
For did not Arius first, Socinus now 150
The Son’s eternal god-head disavow,
And did not these by Gospel Texts alone
Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own?
Have not all hereticks the same pretence,
To plead the Scriptures in their own defence? 155
How did the Nicene council then decide
That strong debate, was it by Scripture try’d?
No sure to those the Rebel would not yield,
Squadrons of Texts he marshal’d in the field;
That was but civil war, an equal set, 160
Where Piles with piles, and Eagles Eagles met.
With Texts point-blank and plain he fac’d the Foe:
And did not Sathan tempt our Saviour so?
The good old Bishops took a simpler way,
Each ask’d but what he heard his Father say, 165
Or how he was instructed in his youth,
And by tradition’s force upheld the truth.
The Panther smil’d at this, and when, said she,
Were those first Councils disallow’d by me?
Or where did I at sure tradition strike, 170
Provided still it were Apostolick?
Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground,
Where all your faith you did on Scripture found,
Now, ’tis tradition joined with holy writ;
But thus your memory betrays your wit. 175
No, said the Panther, for in that I view
When your tradition’s forg’d, and when ’tis true.
I set ‘em by the rule, and as they square
Or deviate from undoubted doctrine there,
This Oral fiction, that old Faith declare. 180
(Hind.) The Council steered, it seems, a diff’rent course,
They try’d the Scripture by tradition’s force;
But you tradition by the Scripture try;
Pursu’d, by sects, from this to that you fly,
Nor dare on one foundation to rely. 185
The Word is then depos’d, and in this view
You rule the Scripture, not the Scripture you.
Thus said the Dame, and, smiling, thus pursu’d,
I see tradition then is disallow’d,
When not evinc’d by Scripture to be true, 190
And Scripture, as interpreted by you.
But here you tread upon unfaithfull ground;
Unless you cou’d infallibly expound.
Which you reject as odious Popery,
And throw that doctrine back with scorn on me. 195
Suppose we on things traditive divide,
And both appeal to Scripture to decide;
By various texts we both uphold our claim
Nay, often ground our titles on the same:
After long labour lost, and times expence, 200
Both grant the words and quarrel for the sense.
Thus all disputes for ever must depend;
For no dumb rule can controversies end.
Thus when you said tradition must be try’d
By Sacred Writ, whose sense your selves decide, 205
You said no more, but that your selves must be
The judges of the Scripture sense, not we.
Against our church tradition you declare,
And yet your Clerks would sit in Moyses chair:
At least ’tis prov’d against your argument, 210
The rule is far from plain, where all dissent.
If not by Scriptures, how can we be sure,
(Replied the Panther) what tradition’s pure?
For you may palm upon us new for old,
All, as they say, that glitters is not gold. 215
How but by following her, reply’d the dame,
To whom deriv’d from sire to son they came;
Where ev’ry age do’s on another move,
>
And trusts no farther than the next above;
Where all the rounds like Jacob’s ladder rise, 220
The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skyes?
Sternly the salvage did her answer mark,
Her glowing eye-balls glitt’ring in the dark,
And said but this, since lucre was your trade,
Succeeding times such dreadfull gaps have made 225
’Tis dangerous climbing: to your sons and you
I leave the ladder, and its omen too.
(Hind.) The Panther’s breath was ever fam’d for sweet,
But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet:
You learn’d this language from the blatant beast, 230
Or rather did not speak, but were possess’d.
As for your answer, ’tis but barely urg’d;
You must evince tradition to be forg’d;
Produce plain proofs; unblemished authors use
As ancient as those ages they accuse; 235
Till when ’tis not sufficient to defame:
An old possession stands, till Elder quitts the claim.
Then for our int’rest, which is nam’d alone
To load with envy, we retort your own.
For when traditions in your faces fly, 240
Resolving not to yield, you must decry:
As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man
Excepts, and thins his jury all he can;
So when you stand of other aid bereft,
You to the twelve Apostles would be left. 245
Your friend the Wolfe did with more craft provide
To set those toys traditions quite aside:
And Fathers too, unless when reason spent
He cites ‘em but sometimes for ornament.
But, Madam Panther, you, though more sincere, 250
Are not so wise as your Adulterer:
The private spirit is a better blind
Than all the dodging tricks your authours find.
For they who left the Scripture to the crowd,
Each for his own peculiar judge allow’d; 255
The way to please ‘em was to make ‘em proud.
Thus with full sails they ran upon the shelf;
Who cou’d suspect a couzenage from himself?
On his own reason safer ’tis to stand,
Than be deceiv’d and damn’d at second hand. 260
But you who Fathers and traditions take
And garble some, and some you quite forsake,
Pretending church auctority to fix,
And yet some grains of private spirit mix,
Are like a Mule made up of diff’ring seed, 265
And that’s the reason why you never breed;
At least not propagate your kind abroad,
For home-dissenters are by statutes aw’d.
And yet they grow upon you ev’ry day,
While you (to speak the best) are at a stay, 270