Epistle LI. On Dr. J. his divine Romant

How rare! how truly noble's this designe,
To make us fall in love with things Divine!
And raise our passions with such pious flames,
To court those truths, which lay disguis'd in names
Perplex'd and crabbed, and did heretofore
Le undiscovered in their sullen Ore;
And seem'd unamiable to the sense,
'Cause unattainable but by th' expence
Of undelightsome labour and much time.

This new invention expiates the crime,
Which did too much adhere to youthful love,
Directs the soul to doat on things above;
And consecrates th' affections to extend
Their violent motion to their proper end.

The ravish'd Puipit, which of late was made
A place, not of instruction but of trade;
Where Higlers in Divinity did sell
Salvation to us, and made heaven and hell
At their disposal, and the way to bliss,
More hard and crabbed then it ought or is;
And did advance the people, or condemn
To this or that, just as we humour'd them:
Made some those heavenly dishes to derest
And loath, 'cause they so nastily were drest.

But this ingenuous Author makes that food
Delightsome to the taste as well as good;
And with such flowers the paths to virtue strews,
That the dull soul to heav'n delighted goes.
What love, what praise, what great reward is fit
To his great worth, who with Clestial wit,
Informs and sanctifies our minds, and brings
Our souls above these low terrestrial things!
A crown of Stars must deck his learned brow,
The lawrel Garland's too unworthy now.