But, if that common principle be true,
The cannon, dame, is level'd full at you.
But, fhunning long difputes, I fain would fee
That wondrous wight Infallibility.
Is he from heaven, this mighty champion, come:
Or lodg'd below in fubterranean Rome?
First, feat him fomewhere, and derive his race,
Or elfe conclude that nothing has no place.
Suppofe, though I difown it, faid the Hind,
The certain mansion were not yet affign'd ;
The doubtful refidence no proof can bring
Against the plain existence of the thing.
Because philofophers may disagree,
If fight emiffion or reception be,
Shall it be thence inferr'd, I do not fee?
But you require an answer pofitive,
Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give;
For fallacies in univerfals live.
I then affirm that this unfailing guide
In pope and general councils must reside;
Both lawful, both combin'd: what one decrees
By numerous votes, the other ratifies:
On this undoubted fenfe the church relies.
'Tis true, fome doctors in a fcantier space,
I mean, in each apart, contract the place.
Some, who to greater length extend the line,
The church's after-acceptation join.
This last circumference appears too wide;
The church diffus'd is by the council ty'd;
As members, by their representatives
Oblig'd to laws, which prince and fenate gives.
Thus fome contract, and some enlarge the fpace:
In pope and council who denies the place,
Affifted from above with God's unfailing grace?
Those canons all the needful points contain;
Their fenfe so obvious, and their words so plain,
That no difputes about the doubtful text
Have hitherto the labouring world perplex'd.
If any should in after-times appear,
New councils must be call'd, to make the meaning clear; Because in them the power fupreme resides ;
And all the promises are to the guides.
This may be taught with found and fafe defence:
But mark how fandy is your own pretence,
Who, fetting councils, pope, and church aside,
Are every man his own prefuming guide.
The facred books, you say, are full and plain,
And every needful point of truth contain:
All who can read interpreters may be:
Thus, though your several churches disagree,
Yet every faint has to himself alone
The fecret of this philofophic ftone.
These principles your jarring fects unite,
When differing doctors and disciples fight.
Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy chiefs,
Have made a battle-royal of beliefs ;
Or like wild horfes feveral ways have whirl'd
The tortur'd text about the christian world;
Each Jehu lafhing on with furious force,
That Turk or Jew could not have us'd it worse;
No matter what diffenfion leaders make,
Where every private man may fave a stake :
Rul'd by the fcripture and his own advice,
Each has a blind bye-path to Paradise ;
Where, driving in a circle flow or fast,
Oppofing fects are fure 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.
For he, kind prophet, was for damning none;
But Chrift and Mofes were to fave their own:
Himfelf was to fecure his chofen race,
Though reafon good for Turks to take the place,
And he allow'd to be the better man,
In virtue of his holier Alcoran.
True, faid the Panther, I fhall ne'er deny
My brethren may be fav'd as well as I :
Though Huguenots condemn our ordination,
Succeffion, minifterial vocation;
And Luther, more mistaking what he read,
Misjoins the facred body with the bread :
Yet, lady, ftill remember I maintain,
The word in needful points is only plain.
Needlefs, or needful, I not now contend,
For ftill you have a loop-hole for a friend;
(Rejoin'd the matron): but the rule you lay
Has led whole flocks, and leads them ftill aftray,
In weighty points, and full damnation's way.
For did not Arius firft, Socinus now,
The Son's eternal God-head difavow?
And did not thefe by gofpel texts alone
Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own?
Have not all hereticks the fame pretence
To plead the fcriptures in their own defence?
How did the Nicene council then decide
That strong debate? was it by fcripture try'd?
No, fure; to that the rebel would not yield;
Squadrons of texts he marshal'd in the field:
That was but civil war, an equal fet,
Where piles with piles, and eagles eagles met.
With texts point-blank and plain he fac'd the foe,
And did not Satan tempt our Saviour fo?
The good old bishops took a fimpler way;
Each afk'd but what he heard his father fay,
Or how he was inftructed in his youth,
And by tradition's force upheld the truth.
The Panther fmil'd at this; and when, faid fhe,
Were thofe first councils difallow'd by me?
Or where did I at fure tradition ftrike,
Provided ftill it were apoftolic?
Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground,
Where all your faith you did on fcripture found :
Now 'tis tradition join'd with holy writ;
But thus your memory betrays your wit.
No, faid the Panther; for in that I view,
When your tradition 's forg'd, and when 'tis true.
I fet them by the rule, and, as they fquare,
Or deviate from undoubted doctrine there,
This oral fiction, that old faith declare.
(Hind.) The council fteer'd, it seems, a different courfe; They try'd the fcripture by tradition's force:
But you tradition by the scripture try;
Purfued by fects, from this to that you fly,
Nor dare on one foundation to rely.
The word is then depos'd, and in this view,
You rule the fcripture, not the fcripture you.
Thus faid the dame, and, fmiling, thus purfu'd:
I fee, tradition then is difallow'd,
When not evinc'd by fcripture to be true,
And feripture, as interpreted by you.
But here you tread upon unfaithful ground;
Unless you could infallibly expound :
Which you reject as odious popery,
And throw that doctrine back with fcorn on me.
Suppofe we on things traditive divide,
And both appeal to fcripture to decide;
By various texts we both uphold our claim,
Nay, often, ground our titles on the fame :
After long labour loft, and time's expence,
Both grant the words, and quarrel for the fenfe.
Thus all difputes for ever muft depend;
For no dumb rule can controverfies end.
Thus, when you faid, Tradition must be try'd
By facred writ, whofe fense yourselves decide,
You faid no more, but that yourselves must be
The judges of the fcripture fenfe, not we.
Against our church-tradition you declare,
And yet your clerks would fit in Mofes' chair:
At least 'tis prov'd against your argument,
The rule is far from plain, where all diffent.
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