Page:The Hind and the Panther - Dryden (1687).djvu/73

The Gospel-sound diffus'd from Pole to Pole,
Where winds can carry, and where waves can roll.
The self same doctrin of the Sacred Page
Convey'd to ev'ry clime in ev'ry age.

Here let my sorrow give my satyr place,
To raise new blushes on my British race;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Our sayling Ships like common shoars we use,
And through our distant Colonies diffuse
The draughts of Dungeons, and the stench of stews.
Whom, when their home-bred honesty is lost,
We disembogue on some far Indian coast:
Thieves, Pandars, Palliards, sins of ev'ry sort,
Those are the manufactures we export;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$And these the Missioners our zeal has made:
For, with my Countrey's pardon be it said,
Religion is the least of all our trade.

Yet