Classic Poem

The Vision.

A Satyr.

'Twas late, and now all Noise as well as Light
Lay dead and buried in black Shrowds of Night,
When Men, their Toils and very Vices sleep,
All, save whom Lust or Treason waking keep;
Whole Nature slept, as if its work were done,
Still, as of old ere Motion's self begun:
And I, by nought of Cares or Fears opprest,
Nought, that disturbs the Guilty or distrest,
Alike in depth of Night and Silence drownd,
By Sleep's soft magick had my Sences bound:
A dreadful Vision strait, more dreadful far
Than those of dying Jesuits in despair,
Did to my scar'd and frighten'd Soul appear:
Led to the top of a steep Rock I came;
Thrown headlong thence I fell methought in dream.
Down, vastly down I fell or seem'd to fall
Deeper than thought can reach or fancy tell;
Thro the vast caverns of eternal night,
Dark as old Chaos ere the birth of light
Darkness thick-wove, without one mingling ray,
Compar'd to which our night it self were day.
Sure this, thought I, must be the dismal road
That leads the damned to their curst abode:
My headlong flight allow'd no time for fear,
Or stop; nor had I thought, but I was there:
Thro all the Avenues of Hell I past,
Where Rome has her feign'd Purgatory plac'd,
With fancied Limbos of the dreaming Schools,
By Knaves invented, and believ'd by Fools:
To tenfold Adamant, that circles in
The flaming Realms of the infernal King;
This too I past, quick as thro open air
Shot ey-beams dart, at once both here and there:

*****

Instead of Tapestry the walls to grace,
A well-wrought Imag'ry adorn'd the place:
Vulcan (of old renown'd) the skilful Fiend
Had all the mighty workmanship design'd:
Where lively portraitures in figure tell
The great Exploits of Lucifer and Hell:
How he of old against th' Almighty led
A rebel Host and durst his Heav'n invade:
Squadrons of Seraphims in march appear
Well-rang'd with van, main battle, wings and rear:
But not the Overthrow, nor how they fell
That foul disgrace the Artist dos conceal:
How he by subtle treachery did deceive
The Mother of mankind, unwary Eve:
In scaly foulds he hugs the fatal Tree
The root and stock of all our miserie.
Next Hell's first Hero, Cain, with hands embrued
In early murder, stains of Brother's blood:
By at his feet the slaughter'd Abel lies
And looks forgiveness with his dying eys:
Here Sodom's lewdness, many a filthy scene,
Outdon by draughts of modern Aretine
Outdon by lust of Monks in Cloister walls
And fouler Jesuits in Confessionals.
There Corah's factious Crew with mutinies
Gainst faithful Moses in rebellion rise:
Hither they down thro the cleft Earth were sent;
The figure now and very work seems rent:
Next canton dos the great Arch-Traitor hold
Who for vile coyn his God and heaven sold:
From his curst lips Hail Master! seems to fly,
And shapes of Jesuits stand absolving by:
Where streams

Of Blood threaten'd to quench the neighbouring flames,
There with grim Majesty high on [a] state
Of glowing flames th'Infernall Monarch sate

Rang'd in due order stood at his right hand
Great Loyola and all his faithfull Band
Who ready still with low submission wait
There, as on Earth his Ministers of State:

The scene thus set, there was to be an ironical speech
satirizing the Jesuits: there is a marginal note:
Lucifer giving thanks to Loyola, Great Pillar of our Realm.