Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/108

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 * It pitied holy mother church to see

A world so drowned in gross idolatry: It grieved to see such goodly nations hold Bad errors and unpardonable gold. Strange! what a fervent zeal can coin infuse! What charity pieces of eight produce! So were you chosen the fittest to reclaim The pagan world, and give it a Christian name. And great was the success; whole myriads stood At font, and were baptized in their own blood; Millions of souls were hurled from hence to burn Before their time, be damned before their turn.
 * Yet these were in compassion sent to hell,

The rest reserved in spite, and worse to feel. Compelled instead of fiends to worship you, The more inhuman devils of the two. Bare way and method of conversion this, To make your votaries your sacrifice! If to destroy be Reformation thought, A plague as well might the good work have wrought.
 * Now see we why your founder, weary grown

Would lay his former trade of killing down; He found 'twas dull, he found a crown would be A fitter case, and badge of cruelty. Each snivelling hero seas of blood can spill, When wrongs provoke, and honour bids him kill; Each tiny bully lives can freely bleed, When pressed by wine, or punk to knock on the head; Give me your thorough-paced rogue, who scorns to be Prompted by poor revenge, or injury, But does it of true inbred cruelty; Your cool and sober murderer, who prays And stabs at the same time, who one hand has Stretched up to heaven, the other to make the pass,
 * So the late saints of blessed memory,

Cut-throats in godly pure sincerity,