_Plu._ Dear pledges of a flame not yet forgot,
Say, what on earth has been your lot?
_Dem._ and _Zel._ The wealth of Albion's isle was ours,
Augusta stooped with all her stately towers.
_Dem._ Democracy kept nobles under.
_Zel._ Zeal from the pulpit roared like thunder.
_Dem._ I trampled on the state.
_Zel._ I lorded o'er the gown.
_Dem._ and _Zel._ We both in triumph sate,
Usurpers of the crown.
But oh, prodigious turn of fate!
Heaven controuling,
Sent us rolling, rolling down.
_Plu._ I wondered how of late our Acherontic shore
Grew thin, and hell unpeopled of her store;
Charon, for want of use, forgot his oar.
The souls of bodies dead flew all sublime,
And hither none returned to purge a crime:
But now I see, since Albion is restored,
Death has no business, nor the vengeful sword.
'Tis too, too much that here I lie
From glorious empire hurled;
By Jove excluded from the sky;
By Albion from the world.
_Dem._ Were common-wealth restored again,
Thou shouldst have millions of the slain
To fill thy dark abode.
_Zel._ For he a race of rebels sends,
And Zeal the path of heaven pretends,
But still mistakes the road.
_Plu._ My labouring thought
At length hath wrought
A bravely bold design,
In which you both shall join.
In borrowed shapes to earth return;
Thou, Common-wealth, a Patriot seem,
Thou, Zeal, like true Religion burn,
To gain the giddy crowd's esteem.
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