BALLADE AGAINST THE JESUITS.

Rome does right well to censure all the vain

Talk of Jansenius, and of them who preach

That earthly joys are damnable!‘ T is plain

We need not charge at Heaven as at a breach;

No, amble on! We‘ ll gain it, one and all;

The narrow path's a dream fantastical,

And Arnauld's quite superfluously driven

Mirth from the world. We‘ ll scale the heavenly wall.

Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!

He does not hold a man may well be slain

Who vexes with unseasonable speech,

You may do murder for five ducats gain,

Not for a pin, a ribbon, or a peach;

He ventures ( most consistently ) to teach

That there are certain cases which befall

When perjury need no good man appal,

And life of love ( he says ) may keep a leaven.

Sure, hearing this, a grateful world will bawl,

“Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!”

“For God's sake read me somewhat in the strain

Of his most cheering volumes, I beseech!”

Why should I name them all? a mighty train —

So many, none may know the name of each.

Make these your compass to the heavenly beach,

These only in your library instal:

Burn Pascal and his fellows, great and small,

Dolts that in vain with Escobar have striven;

I tell you, and the common voice doth call,

Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!

SATAN, that pride did hurry to thy fall,

Thou porter of the grim infernal hall —

Thou keeper of the courts of souls unshriven!

To shun thy shafts, to‘ scape thy hellish thrall,

Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!