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

To his worthy Friend—on his Version of Hugo Grotius, of the Truth of Chri∣stian Religion, into English Verse.

'TIs not, Dear Sir, the least ambitious aim Of being noted for Poetick Flame, Or with exalted your's to mix my Name; That now invites my Muse to celebrate Those praises, you have justly got of late▪ But as a Tribute to our Friendship due, That I this slender Off'ring make to you. As Noah, with a pious firmness, stood Against th' Assaults of the invading Flood, Ʋntil those happy days the welcome Dove The Olive brought, by Orders from Above; So you in stormy Weather have I seen, Easy in Thought, and of a Mind serene, Ʋntil those Clouds Jehovah did disperse, And led your setled Thoughts to sacred Verse: And surely from Above you took that Fire, For none below such thoughts could e're inspire. For, David-like, your charming Lyre you string, In praise and honour of th' Eternal King. But first of all, as a wise Architect, Who, that he may unshaken Piles erect,

Sees his Foundations solid are and sure, The only means his Buildings to secure; So while Religion does your Numbers fill, And sweetly flows from your judicious Quill, Your Corner-stone, and Principles you take From him, who did those equal Precepts make. And first 'gainst Ath'ists you his Being prove, And all their shallow Arguments remove. With strongest Reasons then you plainly show, That all his Attributes from's Essence flow; And this in Verse, and terms so well exprest, As if He taught from your inspired Breast. Then by your Verse, you liberty have giv'n To Providence, which some confin'd to Heav'n; As did Lucretius, who had fondly taught, The lazy Gods of earthly things ne're thought. In better colours you the Godhead show, And fully prove, to Providence we ow The change & turns of all things here below. Then next Religion, you in all its parts Have surely fortifi'd, by the best Arts Of Verse and Reason, and to th' World evince, That Piety ne're stranger was to sense. Here may the empty noisy Town-Gallant, Who knows no Language but the modish Cant, Whose tedious minutes stick upon his hands, And make him curse the slow and lingring Sands; By your Example learn his time t'employ On things, that yield a solid lasting joy.

Thus taught by you, he speedily will find, No Pleasures equal those' oth' pious Mind. But tho' in well-chose Numbers you excel, And true Philosophy your Verse does swell; Yet no confinement knows your active Soul, But rifles other Arts without controul. You into the abstrusest Notions dive, And loaded with the sweets return from th' Hive. Nor does the knotty Law, which few untwist, Your piercing Judgment's conq'ring force resist; And tho' to some it takes Gigantick Form, Yet you its Frowns and Menaces do scorn; And being o'recome at your expence and toil, The weaker Heads may bear away the Spoil. Thus joining Law to Piety, you prove, The Law not more of Serpent hath than Dove.

A. M.