"Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there / Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair; / And, Unappealable, can there decide / All Truth,--His own Illuminated Guide."
— Gould, Robert (b. 1660?, d. in or before 1709)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for W. Lewis
Date
1709
Metaphor
"Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there / Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair; / And, Unappealable, can there decide / All Truth,--His own Illuminated Guide."
Metaphor in Context
Nor let the Private Spirit here oppose
With Canting Terms, and Sniv'ling thro' the Nose;
Who tho' it most reviles the Papal Sin,
Sets up a like unfailing Judge within.
Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there
Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair;
And, Unappealable, can there decide
All Truth,--His own Illuminated Guide.
But certainly (if I may Judge for one)
The Mind is best by what it utters known:
If Fau'tless they can live, it follows, too,
They're so in what they Preach as well as what they do:
But in this Point we need but only here
Their Holding forth, and the Conviction's clear.
What e'er they boast of Supernatural Light,
There's little taught but Prejudice and Spite:
One set of Blockheads vending Fustian here,
Another Senseless Class inverting there
Clearness to Doubt, and Comfort to Despair.
So strange a blending we of Doctrines view,
So vilely do they Scriptures dash and brew,
That no Belief is wanting--But the True.
Whatever from their Guide the Rout requires,
All Sense he darkens, and all Ears he tires,
Yet Impudently says he speaks as God Inspires:
Whereas His Spirit Nothing does dictate
But what is Wisdom, Congruous, Fau'tless, Fate,
Unchang'd, Immortal, and Immaculate.
A Glimpse we have of it indeed, a Ray
That like the Magi's Star does point the Way,
And shew, among Opinion's dangerous Shelves,
W'are not in things too deep to rest upon our Selves.
His Spirit all sustains, and all does see;
There's nothing else Infallibilitie.
But grant he were dispos'd that Gift to give,
What Mortal Mind's Capacious to receive?
The Burst of Glory wou'd consume our Frame,
As Wings of Flies singe in a Pow'rful Flame.
Enough it is, and shou'd all Doubt decide,
That He has left the Scriptures for our Guide
Dictated by that Spirit, and contain
All Precepts, needful to Salvation, plain.
For Points Abstruse lie out of Human Sight,
And while vain Men wou'd make that Darkness Light,
And, big with Notion into Secrets pry
That have forbid Access to Mortal Eye,
They weave themselves in their own Web so close,
Nor Falshood, Truth, nor Wit can get 'em loose;
From this to that for ever whirl'd about;
Uneasy, in Disputes; yet more Uneasy, out.
With Canting Terms, and Sniv'ling thro' the Nose;
Who tho' it most reviles the Papal Sin,
Sets up a like unfailing Judge within.
Each Sectarist in his Breast believes he there
Has all that Popes ascribe to their Unerring Chair;
And, Unappealable, can there decide
All Truth,--His own Illuminated Guide.
But certainly (if I may Judge for one)
The Mind is best by what it utters known:
If Fau'tless they can live, it follows, too,
They're so in what they Preach as well as what they do:
But in this Point we need but only here
Their Holding forth, and the Conviction's clear.
What e'er they boast of Supernatural Light,
There's little taught but Prejudice and Spite:
One set of Blockheads vending Fustian here,
Another Senseless Class inverting there
Clearness to Doubt, and Comfort to Despair.
So strange a blending we of Doctrines view,
So vilely do they Scriptures dash and brew,
That no Belief is wanting--But the True.
Whatever from their Guide the Rout requires,
All Sense he darkens, and all Ears he tires,
Yet Impudently says he speaks as God Inspires:
Whereas His Spirit Nothing does dictate
But what is Wisdom, Congruous, Fau'tless, Fate,
Unchang'd, Immortal, and Immaculate.
A Glimpse we have of it indeed, a Ray
That like the Magi's Star does point the Way,
And shew, among Opinion's dangerous Shelves,
W'are not in things too deep to rest upon our Selves.
His Spirit all sustains, and all does see;
There's nothing else Infallibilitie.
But grant he were dispos'd that Gift to give,
What Mortal Mind's Capacious to receive?
The Burst of Glory wou'd consume our Frame,
As Wings of Flies singe in a Pow'rful Flame.
Enough it is, and shou'd all Doubt decide,
That He has left the Scriptures for our Guide
Dictated by that Spirit, and contain
All Precepts, needful to Salvation, plain.
For Points Abstruse lie out of Human Sight,
And while vain Men wou'd make that Darkness Light,
And, big with Notion into Secrets pry
That have forbid Access to Mortal Eye,
They weave themselves in their own Web so close,
Nor Falshood, Truth, nor Wit can get 'em loose;
From this to that for ever whirl'd about;
Uneasy, in Disputes; yet more Uneasy, out.
Categories
Provenance
Reading
Citation
Only 1 entry in ESTC (1709).
Text from The Works of Mr. Robert Gould: In Two Volumes. Consisting of those Poems and Satyrs Which were formerly Printed, and Corrected since by the Author; As also of the many more which He Design'd for the Press. Publish'd from his Own Original Copies (London: W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
Text from The Works of Mr. Robert Gould: In Two Volumes. Consisting of those Poems and Satyrs Which were formerly Printed, and Corrected since by the Author; As also of the many more which He Design'd for the Press. Publish'd from his Own Original Copies (London: W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
Date of Entry
02/05/2010
