Grotius, his arguments for the truth of Christian religion rendred into plain English verse.

To my Learned, and Ingenious Friend —on his Translation of Grotius de veritate Religionis Christianae, into Eng∣lish Verse.

WHat pains of old did Great Lucretius take To shew such Gods, as did Mankind forsake? Ʋnthinking, useless Beings, free from pain, Did lazily in endless Pleasures reign. A State so base, no Gen'rous Heroe wou'd After his death, vouchsafe to be a God. But you on happier Theams your Thoughts employ, Which those fantastick Notions quite destroy; In charming Numbers mystick Truths reherse, And prove a Powerful, Active God, in Verse. You shew him Great, Just, Merciful, and Good, By whom all things are made, all understood. The Night is Day to him, his piercing Ray, Do's all the Secrets of our Souls display; Our Thoughts, e're they proceed to action, He knows, and all our Actions when they'r don. No Grove, no Cave, no Cloud is so obscure, Can from our God a guilty Head secure. The Heav'nly Vengeance does like Lightning pierce The dark Recesses of the Ʋniverse:

Yet takes of humane Race propitious care, Sees, and knows ev'ry thing, is ev'ry where.

The Noble Building Learned Grotius rais'd, By you adorn'd, is doubly to be prais'd. You to his Arguments, and weighty sense, Have added Beauty, and Magnificence. So to an Ancient Church, plain built, and low, Wren gives an higher Roof, and Cupalo: Long rows of Pillars the whole Frame support, And that which was God's House, becomes his Court.

Hail great Apostle of the Muses, hail! May your Example o're their Sons prevail, To change Parnassus for your Sion Hill, And all their Minds with divine Raptures fill. Ill Plays, false Satyr, empty Songs no more, Henceforth prophane our hallow'd British shore; Before your Ark may their lewd Dagons fall, And you without Dragoons convert them all.

J. E.