6
Faction
And I to future Ages be renown'd,
The Party's Bullwark, and the Nation's Mound.
Now, N———, the immortal N———'s gone,
We justly his untimely Herse Bemoan.
O that I could restore his Life again!
My Manly Spirit spurns a Woman's Chain.
Full of such Nonsence lisping on he went,
Till Ario interpos'd his Spleen to Vent.
A Scotch, Seditious, Unbelieving Priest,
The Brawny Chaplain of the Calves-Head-Feast;
Who first his Patron, then his Prince Betray'd,
And does that Church, he's Sworn to guard, Invade.
Warm with Rebellious Rage, he thus began;
To talk of calling Life agen is vain.
Peace
