"Or all the sage divines that ever wrote,
"Grave Drelincourt, or heaven's unerring page;
"These point their arrows at your hostile breast,275
"And raise new pains that time must ne'er assuage.
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"And why should thus thy woe disturb my rest?
"Much of Theology I once did read,
"And there 'tis fixt, sure as my God is so,
"That Death shall perish, tho' a God should bleed.280
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"The martyr, doom'd the pangs of fire to feel,
"Lives but a moment in the sultry blast;
"The victim groans, and dies beneath the steel,
"But thy severer pains shall always last.
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"O miscreant vile, thy age has made thee doat—285
"If peace, if sacred peace were found for you,
"Hell would cry out, and all the damn'd arise
"And, more deserving, seek for pity too.
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"Seek not for Paradise—'tis not for thee,
"Where high in heaven its sweetest blossoms blow,290
"Nor even where, gliding to the Persian main,
"Thy waves, Euphrates, through the garden flow!
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