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The Hind and the Panther.
Thus she, and none but she, th' insulting Rage
Of Hereticks oppos'd from Age to Age:
Still when the Giant-brood invades her Throne
She stoops from Heav'n, and meets 'em half way down,
And with paternal Thunder vindicates her Crown.
But like Egyptian Sorcerers you stand,
And vainly lift aloft yonr Magick Wand,
To sweep away the Swarms of Vermin from the Land:
You cou'd like them; with like infernal Force
Produce the Plague, but not arrest the Course.
But when the Boils and Botches, with disgrace
And publick Scandal sat upon the Face,
Themselves attack'd, the Magi strove no more,
They saw God's Finger, and their Fate deplore;
Themselves they cou'd not Cure of the dishonest sore.
Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread
Like the fair Ocean from her Mother-Bed;
From East to West triumphantly she rides,
All Shoars are water'd by her wealthy Tides.

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