Ah! Cease, vain Muse, forbear thy hardy Lays, <br />Nor urge the Thunder on thy guilty Bays, <br />How durst thou thus debase the Saviour's Blood, <br />And raise a Mortal o'er the Throne of GOD: <br />Melodiously-Profane, prefer his Name, <br />And, gay in Eloquence, thy Judge blaspheme? <br />O'er the black Lines remain perpetual Gloom, <br />And Flames, and deep Oblivion be the Doom. <br />Round the dire Rant shall sudden Lightnings rage, <br />And kindling Vengeance blast the impious Page. <br />So when th' Arch-Angel left his heav'nly Song, <br />And mock'd his Maker with a Seraph's Tongue, <br />Messiah, terrible in Wrath! arose, <br />And hurl'd him down to Hell's tremendous Woes, <br />Where Seas of fire with roaring Storms refound, <br />And endless Darkness spreads its brooding Horrors round.<br /><br />Mather Byles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-very-profane-compliment-in/
