An Impious Poem
With a Whirl of Thought opress'd,
I sink from Reverie to Rest.
An horrid Vision seiz'd my Head.
I saw the Graves give up their Dead.
Jove, arm'd with Terrors, burst the Skies,
And Thunder roars, and Light'ning flies!
Amaz'd, confus'd, its Fate unknown,
The World stands trembling at his Throne.
While each pale Sinner hangs his Head,
Jove, nodding, shook the Heav'ns, and said,
"Offending Race of Human Kind,
By Nature, Reason, Learning, blind:
You who thro' Frailty step'd aside,
And you who never fell—thro' Pride:
You who in different Sects have shamm'd,
And come to see each other damn'd:
(So some Folks told you, but they knew
No more of Jove's Designs than you)
The World's mad Business now is o'er,
And I resent these Pranks no more.
I to such Blockheads set my Wit!
I damn such Fools!—Go, go, you're bit."