IT has been a long Complaint of the Vertuous and Refined World, that Poesie whose Original is Divine, should be enslav'd to Vice and Profane­ness; that an Art inspired from Heaven should have so far lost the Memory of its Birth-place, as to be in­gaged in the Interests of Hell: and bring all her re­sistless Forces of Metaphor, Wit, Rhyme and Num­ber, and range them under the Banner of the Great Malicious Spirit to assault the Honour of God and the Souls of Men.

The Eldest Song which History has brought down to our Ears was a noble Act of Worship paid to the God of Israel, ‘When his Right hand became glo­rious in Power, when thy Right hand, O Lord, dashed in pieces the Enemy; the Chariots of Pharaoh and his Host were cast into the Red-Sea; Thou didst blow with thy Wind, the Deep covered them, and they sank as Lead in the mighty Waters, Exod. 15.’ This Art was maintain'd Sacred thro' the following Ages of the Church, and imploy'd by Kings and Pro­phets, by David, Solomon, and Isaiah, in breathing the Life of Angels into the Hearts of Men, and rear­ing their Minds Heavenward in warm and tuneful Devotion.

[Page] In the Younger Days of Heathenism the Muses were devoted to the same Service: The Language in which Old Hesiod addresses them is this.

And the pursues the Subject in ten Pious Lines, which I could not forbear to Transcribe if the Aspect and Sound of so much Greek were not terrifying to a nice Reader.

But some of the later Poets of the Pagan World have more debased this Divine Gift, and many of the Writers of first Rank in this our Age of Na­tional Christians have to their Eternal Shame surpas­sed the vilest of the Gentiles. They have Expos'd Religion to Drollery, and drest her up in the most Ridiculous Habit, for the Scorn of the ruder Herd of Mankind. They have painted the Vices like so many Goddesses, added the Charms of Wit to Debau­chery, and heightned the Temptation where Nature needs the strongest Restraints. With Sweetness of Sound and Delicacy of Expression they have given a Relish to Blasphemies of the harshest kind, and when they rant at their Maker in Sonorous Numbers they fancy themselves to have acted the Hero well.

[Page] Thus almost in vain have the Throne and the Pul­pit cried, Reformation, while the Stage and Licen­tious Poems have waged open War with the Pious Design of Church and State. The Press has spread the Poyson far, and scatter'd wide the Mortal Infecti­on; Unthinking Youth have been allured to Sin be­yond the Vicious Propensities of Nature, plung'd early into Diseases and Death, and sunk down to Damnation in Multitudes. How will these Allies of the Nether World, the Lewd and Profane Versifiers stand aghast before the Great Judge, when the Blood of many Souls whom they never saw shall be laid to the Charge of their Writings, and be dreadfully re­quir'd at their Hands. The Reverend Mr. Collier has set this Awful Scene before them in just and fla­ming Colours; and if the Application were not too rude and uncivil, that noble Stanza of my Lord Ros­common on Psal. 148. might be address'd to them,

But alass! there is a deep Silence among these Men of all Divine Subjects, unless in Banter; The Wonders of Creating Power, the Mysteries of Re­deeming Love, and the mighty Works of Renewing Grace are neglected by those, whom Heaven has in­dued with a Gift proper to adorn and cultivate 'em: An Art whose sweet Insinuations might have almost [Page] convey'd Piety into resisting Nature, and melted Souls of Iron to the Love of Virtue.

Will the Writers of this Age cite the French Critic on their side, and say,

That the Mysteries of Christianity are not capable of [...] Ornaments: The Davideis and the two Arthurs [...] broke down this Obstacle, and experimentally [...]futed the vain pretence.

Besides, the Christian Mysteries have no need of these Tinsel Trappings; the Glories of our Religion in a plain Narration and a simple Dress have some­thing brighter and bolder in them, something more surprizing and Divine, than all the Adventures of Gods and Heroes, all the dazling Images of false lu­stre that compose and garnish a Heathen Poem; here the Subjects themselves would give wonderful Aids to the Muse; and the Heavenly Theme would so relieve a dull Hour and a languishing Genius, that when the Muse nods, the Sense would burn and sparkle upon the Reader, and keep him feelingly awake.

With how much less toil and expence might a Dryden, an Otway, a Congreve, or a Dennis furnish out a Christian Poem than a Modern Play; there is nothing amongst all the Ancient Fables or Later Romances, that have two such Extremes united in them, as the Eternal God becoming an Infant of Days, the Possessor of the Pallace of Heaven laid to [Page] Sleep in a Manger, the Holy Jesus who knew no Sin bearing the Sins of Men in his Body on the Tree, Agonies of Sorrow loading the Soul of him who was God over all Blessed for ever; and the So­veraign of Life stretching his Arms on a Cross, Bleeding and Expiring: The Heaven and the Hell in our Divinity are infinitely more delightful and dreadful than the Childish Figments of a Dog with three Heads, the Buckets of the Belides, the Furies with Snaky Hairs, or all the Flow'ry Stories of Ely­sium. Aud if we survey the one as Themes Divinely True, and the other as a Medly of Fooleries which we can never believe, the advantage for touching the Springs of Passion will fall infinitely on the side of the Christian Poet; our Wonder and our Love, our Pity, Delight, and Sorrow, with the long train of Hopes and Fears, must needs be under the Command of an Harmonious Pen, whose every Line makes a part of the Reader's Faith, and is the very Life or Death of his Soul.

If the trifling and incredible Tales that furnish out a Tragedy are so arm'd by Wit and Fancy as to be­come Soveraign of the Rational Powers, to triumph over all the Affections, and manage our Smiles and our Tears at pleasure; how wondrous a Conquest might be obtain'd over a wild World, and reduce it at least to Sobriety, if the same Happy Talent were employed in dressing the Scenes of Religion in their proper Figures of Majesty, Beauty and Terror. The Affairs of this Life with their reference to a Life to come, would shine bright in a Dramatick Descripti­on. The Anguish of inward Guilt, the secret Stings [Page] and Racks and Scourges of Conscience, the sweet re­tiring Hours and Seraphical Joys of Devotion, the Victory of a Resolved Soul over a thousand Temp­tations, the Inimitable Love and Passion of a Dying God, the Awful Glories of the last Tribunal, the grand Decisive Sentence from which there is no Ap­peal, and the Consequent Transports or Horrors of the two Eternal Worlds. How would such a Per­formance call back the dying Piety of the Nation to Life and Beauty: It would make Religion appear like it self, and confound the Blasphemies of a pro­fligate World, ignorant of Pious Pleasures.

But we have reason to fear that the Tuneful Men of our Day have not rais'd their Ambition to so Di­vine a Pitch; I should rejoyce to see more of this Coelestial Fire kindling within them, for the Flashes that break out in some present and past Writings be­tray an Infernal Source. This the Incomparable Mr. Cowley in the latter End of his Preface, and the Ingenious Sir Richard Blackmore in the beginning of his have so pathetically describ'd and lamented; and I rather refer the Reader to mourn with them than detain and tire him here. These Gentlemen in their large and laboured Works of Poesie have given the World happy Examples of what they wish and in­courage in Prose: The One in a rich Variety of Thought and Fancy; the Other in all the Beauties of Profuse and Florid Diction.

If shorter Sonnets were compos'd on sublime Sub­jects, such as the Psalms of David, and the Holy Transports interspers'd in the other Sacred Writings, or such as the Moral Odes of Horace, and the An­cient [Page] Lyricks, I perswade my self that the Christian Preacher would find abundant Aid from the Poet in his Design to diffuse Vertue and allure Souls to God. If the Heart were first inflam'd from Hea­ven, and the Muse were not left alone to form the Devotion and pursue a Cold Scent, but only call'd in as an Assistant to the Worship, then the Song would end where the Inspiration ceases; the whole Com­posure would be of a Piece, all Meridian Light and Meridian Fervor. And the same Pious Flame would be propagated and kept glowing in the Heart of him that reads. Some of the shorter Odes of the two Poets now mentioned, and a few of the Reverend Mr. Norris's Essays in Verse are convincing Instances of the Success of this Proposal.

'Tis my Opinion also that the free and unconfin'd Measures of Pindar would best maintain the Digni­ty of the Theme, as well as give a loose to the De­vout Soul, nor check the Raptures of her Faith and Love. Tho' in my feeble Attempts of this kind I have most unhappily fetter'd my Thoughts in the narrow Numbers of our Old Psalm-Translators, I have contracted and cramp't the Sense, or render'd it obscure and feeble by the too speedy and regular returns of Rhime.

If my Friends expect a particular account of this or any other Circumstance relating to what I here Publish, they will be pleas'd to accept of this short one.

The TITLE

Assures them that Poesy is not the Business of my Life, and if I seized those Hours of Leisure wherein my Soul was in a more sprightly and tuneful Frame to entertain them or my self with a Divine or Moral Song, I hope I shall find an Easy Pardon.

The SONGS Sacred to DEVOTION

Were never written with a design to appear before the Judges of Wit, but only to assist the Meditations and Worship of Vulgar Christians, to whom the Mea­sures of Hopkins by Custom are grown Familiar and Natural, and esteemed almost Sacred by being bound up in the same Volume with Scripture. These are but a small part of two hundred Hymns of the same kind which are ready for Public Use if the World receive favourably what I now present. The Rea­son that sent these out first, and divided them from their Fellows, is, that in most of These there are some Expressions which are not suited to the plain­est Capacities, and differ too much from the usual [Page] Methods of Speech in which Holy Things are pro­pos'd to the general Part of Mankind.

The ODES to VER­TUE &c.

Were form'd when the Frame and Humour of my Soul was just suited to the Subject of my Verse: The Image of my Heart is painted in them; and if they meet with a Reader whose Soul is akin to mine, perhaps they may agreeably entertain him. The Dullness of the Fancy and Coarseness of Expression will disappear, the sameness of the Humour will create a Pleasure, and insensibly overcome and con­ceal the Defects of the Muse.

The IMITATIONS

Of that Noblest Latin Poet of Modern Ages Casi­mire Sarbiewski of Poland would need no Excuse, did they but arise to the Beauty of the Original. I have often taken the Freedom to add ten or twenty Lines, or to leave out as many, that I might suit my Song more to my own Design, or because I found it Impossible to present the Force, the Fineness, and [Page] the Fire of his Expression in our Language. I wish some English Pen would import some of the Trea­sures of that rich Genius and bless our Nation.

The INSCRIPTIONS

To particular Friends are warranted and defended by the Practise of the two best Lyric Writers Horace and Casimire: And tho' the Authority of the first be more Venerable, yet if in some Instances I prefer the latter, I pray the Criticks to forgive me; and I hope my Friends will excuse the Freedom of the Ad­dress.

In the POEMS of HE­ROIC Measure

I have attempted in Rhime the same variety of Ca­dence, Comma, and Period, which Blank Verse Glories in as its peculiar Elegance and Orna­ment.

In the PINDARIQUES

I have generally conformed my Lines to the shorter Size of the Ancients, and avoided to imitate the Ex­cessive Lengths to which some Modern Writers have stretched their Sentences, and especially the conclu­ding Verse. In these the Ear is the truest Judge, nor was it made to be enslav'd to any precise Model of Elder or Later Times.

After all, I must petition my Reader to lay aside the sowr and sullen Air of Criticism, and to assume the Friend. Let him come with a design to be en­tertain'd and pleas'd, rather than to seek his own Dis­gust and Aversion, which will not be hard to find. I am not so Vain as to think there are no Faults, nor so Blind as to espy none: There is not one Copy that intirely pleases me: The best of them sinks vastly below the Idea which I form of a Divine or Moral Ode. He that deals in the Mysteries of Heaven, or of the Muses should be a Genius of no Vulgar Mould; and as the Name of Vates belongs to both, so the Furniture of Both is compriz'd in that Line of Ho­race,

[Page] But what Juvenal spake in his Age abides true in ours: A compleat Poet or a Prophet is such an one ‘—Qualem nequeo monstrare, & sentio tantùm.’

Perhaps neither of these Characters in Perfection shall ever be seen on Earth, till the Seventh Angel has sounded his Awful Trumpet, till the Victory be compleat over the Beast and his Image; when the Natives of Heaven shall joyn in Triumphal Consort with Prophets and Tuneful Saints, and Sing unto their Golden Harps, Salvation Honour and Glory to him that sits upon the Throne, and to the Lamb for ever.