THE PASTORAL LETTER REBURNT BY A POETICAL FLAMBEAU.
[...]HY Pen so paints thy self, that justly we
View Burnet burning in Effigie;
[...]ose Pastoral Letter into Fire was doom'd,
[...] Spiritual Witch-craft, as by most presum'd:
[...] doubtless 'tis, in sence of Hell, some merit,
[...]be of Pluto's Hierarchy in Spirit.
[...] o hast made Evil so refin'dly vile,
[...] in thy Mother-tongue and English Stile,
[...]ou for greedy Scotland didst devise
[...]there Presbytery should leanly rise,
[...] the Mitres had been melted down,
[...]rease the income of thy William's Crown:
[...] for thy profit couldst that Text forego,
[...] thou do'st Sarum's Mag-pye Prelate show.
[...] Sleeves of Lawn, the Badge of such a Wretch,
[...] yield, in time, a Relick for Jack-ketch.
[...] 'twill be hard for thee, as many think,
[...]' scape in Body, since thy Soul in lnk
[...]s been his Handsel, and most Men agree
[...]at thy black inside in thy Lines they see.
[...]ough impious Roman power had so prevail'd,
[...]t Tully's hand was to the Rostrum nail'd;
[...]hich held the admir'd Pen that gave to Fame
[...]e Flow'r of Eloquence living in his Name.
Thou, by a different fate, wouldst Eyes delight,
If fix'd thy Wicked Hand, which did indite
Sermons and Pamphets, to thy Sarum Chair,
That future Bishops might abhor thee there.
Had now Pythagoras liv'd, he would have said,
Hugh Peter's Soul had Transmigration made
Into thy Bulk, and not more damn'd could be,
Than as, In Spirit, he survives in thee.
From a Fanatick Scot, transform'd of late
To an immoral Pagan of our State;
Thou do'st as Antichristianly possess
Thy See, as Tillotson does his, some guess.
But thanks to Heaven, the House's prudent Vote
Does thee a Canting Prelate so denote,
That in thy condemmed Pastoral Letter's fate,
Thee and thy mischiefs all must Abdicate.
Whilst like some Witch, when lost her former spell,
Thou griev'st for want of Magick to do ill:
And though in Soul of everlasting Evil,
Thou'lt now, do what thou canst, live less a Devil.
FINIS.