HAD I but, Sir, Ability and Skill,
To speak thy Praises, equal to my Will,
My forward Pen wou'd lift thy Memory
Beyond the wrathful Silence of Envy.

Shall Ravillac his then first Fame Commence,
From basely murd'ring a Brave Christian Prince?
And don't our Presses owe thee far much more,
Who wou'dst thy Exil'd K------g, kindly restore?
Shall Herostratus still Survive in Story,
Who won, by Burning the Heathen Fane, such Glory?
And dost not thou Deserve a Kinder Turn,
Who wou'dst both Whiggs and Whiggish Temples Burn?
Thy Brother Harrys Opportune Essays,
Exalt his Name, and spread his Swelling Praise:
Equal Encomiums sure thou canst not miss,
Thy Flaming Tongue has said as much as his.

Hail mighty Priest! Heroick Son of Aaron,
What Daring Feats hast thou perform'd thy Share on?
With Hostile Brav'ry, Damn'd the Revolution,
And brought the Gasping Whiggs almost to Dissolution.
True to thy Cause, Irresolute to flinch,
Witness thy Awful Conquest of the Bench;
Where with uplifted Hand thou foil'd the Board,
Confusion to Dissenters was the Word:
Oh! how they shrunk, and Trembling took Alarm,
At Brandishing thy Thunder-bearing Arm!

Untaught, to yield, brave Stand-fast, ever strong,
Great ne plus ultra of the Whiggish Throng!
They dread thy Weighty Arm and Fulminating Tongue.

Mirror of Courage mixt with Manly Pride,
Thou bravely layst Unmanly Grace aside,
As quite unfit to Stem th' Unpassive Tide,
Of Whiggish Factions, that must needs o'erwhelm thee,
Hadst thou but bare Unfighting Grace, wherewith to helm thee.
But stung with Daring Rage thou wilt prevail,
By Volleys of Gigantick roaring Zeal:
Thy Warlike Boldness doth all Foes subdue,
Where Peaceful Grace, alas! cou'd little do.

Thus Rome, whose Footsteps you so closely Tread,
Great Rome! thy Mother-Church, and Darling Head;
When all her Arguments are wanting Force,
To more Convincing Fire and Faggot, hath recourse;
And that thou'rt Ally'd to the Triple Crown,
Thy Brother Laughton can Inform the Town:
Back'd by the Pope thou never canst be Poor,
Whilst thou stands Bully for the Scarlet Whore;
What tho' the stiff-neck'd Whiggs sometime retard thee,
Her Whoreship (certainly) will well reward thee,
For Preaching Non-Resistance to her Son,
Who's by Resisting Whiggs almost undone;
If thy Bold Truths 'gainst A---ne cost thee a Prison,
What's Loyalty to him, to her is Treason.

Thou boldly prov'd before the City Praetor
That Liberty and Right, have a pernicious Nature;
That they're made use of as a stalking Stallion,
For Trooping Whiggs to Ride on to Rebellion;
These bloody Watch-words lost old J------s his Throne,
And the same Whiggish Cant, destroys the Son.

The Gown and Smock are thy equal Admirers;
The Convocation proves the Jury Liars;
The Friendly Junto's satisfy'd, and knows,
Thou art a Sober Priest, as ever pluck'd Man's Nose;
And tho' thy Sermon happen'd to be Burn'd,
'Twas in Resisting Days before the Times were Turn'd.

Now for the Nymphs; thy Doctrine there prevails,
They tamely turn to thee their Non-Resisting Tails;
Whene'er thy Rising Cod-Piece falls a working,
They lift their Smocks, and Passively take Jerking;
There's no Resisting there, they must comply,
The Hero Conquers sure, who mounts so high.
A Universal Name thou merits fully,
At once a Priest, a Champion, and a Bully.
If such there be as bid thee a Defiance,
Thy frightful Paws soon scare 'em to Compliance.
Thou hast a Conq'ring Arm, and Conq'ring Tool,
How dare then Whiggs call thee an Hair-brain'd Fool?

Thou art the Gayest Fellow e'er was whelped,
When in thy State thou Climbs the Passive Pulpet;
Puff'd with some furious Pow'r, thy Lungs do Roar,
Vengeance and Death to all that will not Soar,
As high as thee, Scotus, or Doctor Suazez,
Against whose Gain-sayers thy constant War is.

Thy Fist, when't makes the Suffering Pulpit crack,
Methinks, I see a Peal of Light'ning break;
Thy fiery Words with cutting Kenness fly,
Like painted Rockets darting to the Sky;
Now Damn'st our Dutch Redeemer and his Cause,
Then cursest Anti-Arbitrary Laws;
Now loudly Raves against Soft Moderation,
Then leaps upon the Hanover-Succession;
Now mightily extols all High-Church Ranters,
Now lashes all False Brethren and Dissenters.
A Pulpit Comit, thou, a Blazing Star,
With Pestilential Breath, denouncing Civil War.
No matter what the Text says, thou'll apply't,
No matter how, so as thy Cause gains by't.

Thou know'st thy Stickling for Proud Tyranny,
Will, with thy hop'd for Change, bring thee a Bishop's See.

Fear not Oblivion when thou'rt dead and gone,
Thy Speaking Dust will assail ANNAs Throne,
And Rome and France will their Dead Agent own.
And if thy Soul should fly as high as Heaven,
By Peters Keys thy Entrance will be given;
Of if it rather fly to Shades Below,
Thy Friendships made with Pluto e'er thou Go.

FINIS.