A Priest in Mission went from Spain ,
The blind Americans to gain,
Gravely converted, bad, or good,
All the poor Savage Souls he cou'd;
His wild Parishioners confess'd,
Absolv'd, exhorted, marry'd, blest;
Labour'd, to let his Converts see,
How far enlighten'd Man might be
By Faith , and Books of Saints inspir'd,
And preach'd, till either Side was tir'd,
On moral Virtue, Sin , and Grace ,
Expounding all Things in their Place.
A fly bold Savage , hard of Heart,
Beckons the holy Man apart.
Father , your sacred Truths are clear ;
Your Morals just, and found appear;
I here embrace them for my own:
I'm puzzled at one Thing alone.
My Son , your Doubt; — — I must confess,
Father , I'm at a loss, to guess,
How 'tis, each Pair of human Kind
You here in Marriage Bonds have join'd,
Become one Flesh , as you ordain?
My Son , give Ear, the Case is plain.
Hold, Father , first I fain, wou'd see,
Why I, who ever have been free .
And whom you Lord of all declare
On Earth, in Water, and in Air,
Shou'd yet be forc'd, to take a Wife
For better , and for worse ; for Life ;
Keep all the Children , she provides;
Renouncing all the Sex besides?
The Father , staring in his Face,
My Son , you yet are void of Grace:
The Devil baffles all I say!
The Savage sneer'd, and ran away.