Classic Poem

Upon New-Lights

What truths expectable truth to expound
When Mothers are crid up and Fathers downd
Nor Herolds-worth any credit though set by
With Browne-Brick Attlas of Divinitie
Austin and Jerom Ambros and to summ
Up all that Giulden-mouthed Chrysostom
Blasted for Popish obsolete beside
By those who seeke some newer Lights for guid
And Though the Scripture to it selfe preferr
The truest glass and best in-terpreter
Yet there are some soe mad inspird that will
Question the dictates of that sacred quill
Brand it Humane tradition and that those
Prophets or Patriarks in verse and Prose
Noe more then what the Egyptians schooles has gott
Or Jesses fruitfull Lawrel soe much wrote
Wonder of ages when the Lie is given
To truth it selfe how seeke wee after Heaven
And to shun Hell where all the misteries
Tend to promoate the Father of all Lies
But thus methinks like as each motian sent
To seeke its center proves more violent
By how much it approaches so't appears
The Divells Raign is in declineing yeares
And there upon he bends more rageing skill
To Bring more proselites in sak's to's Mill
Wher he may Grind all good in Tonle free and
Sever the Apostle Peter's flower from Bran
Syms-sonn Confute and call His Prophets nye
With Coale man to make warme his Forgery
Corne well may here begrownd and Brighter made
By Grinding too a Cousning shefeld Blade
Blacke well befits this story and the night
A favorer to every newer Light
Where Wills-sonn with a wispe Jennys Burnt arce
Seduce into that Dick or that Salt March.
From such unholdsome moory grownds alone
Those Meters have Brought-on confusion
And Lest this Sacrament or tother should
Keepe faith and Charitie from waxing Could
These respit either as notorious crimes
That seeke to falsefie thes Later times
Whilst Disputations flow truths watters ebb
And thus our Church hath spun a faire webb
For Questions are raysd many none she thurroughs
More Like to Combs of Bees then Cunny Burroughs
Notorious Rogues whither elsewhere or Kent
That Dare deny the Blessed Sacrament
In either Kind whereby wee must put on
The fertile Hopes of our Redemption
But ye are all one graine and soe become
One Batch of Leven to sower Christendome
And if your Master that setts you a worke
Had don w'yae heere I'de wish yea with the Turke
Or Caniball to preach'em Tame and Civell
For like to lik saith Collier to the Divill: —