Page:Faction display'd. A poem. Answer'd paragraph by paragraph.pdf/57

Who were above all private Ends, and joy'd
When bravely for the publick Weal they dy'd:
Who spread, like Branching Oaks, their Arms around,
To shelter and Protect the Parent Ground;
Tho' Storms of Thunder rattled o'er their Head,
Yet all was safe beneath their Guardian Shade.
Or sure Historians on our Faith impose,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
And never such a Race of Men arose;
Or Nodding Nature to a Period draws;
Or Providence, incens'd by Guilty Times,
With-holds his Grace, and dooms us to our Crimes.

Pardon (for Harmony will bring Relief,
Will sooth thy anxious Cares, and charm thy Grief)