Are watch'd by _one_, and (strange to tell!)
The _other_ is the Guard of _Hell_.
Then thus--"'Tis fit thy Eyes shou'd roll,
_Cross_ as the purpose of thy Soul,
Fit that they look a diff'rent way,
Like what You _do_, and what You _say_;
Thy _Eye-balls_ now are pois'd and hung,
As even as thy _Heart_ and _Tongue_--
Prosper--to _me_, to _Hell_ (he cried)
Be true, but false to all beside.
_Riches are mine_--I will repay
For ev'ry Soul you lead astray--
Give out thyself a Light to shew
Which way 'tis best to Heav'n to go;
But lead the Pilgrims wrong, and shine
An _Ignis fatuus_ of mine--
Draw them thro' bog, thro' brake, thro' mire,
I'll dry them at a _rousing Fire_."

_Magus_ complacent smil'd--his Eyes
Twinkled with signs of Joy, one flies
Upward, and t'other down, like Scales,
Where this ascends, when that prevails--
Then _thrice_ he turn'd upon his heel,
And swore Allegiance to the _De'el_--

Right faithfully his _Oath_ he kept,
And might each Night before he slept
Boast of his labours to maintain,
And spread abroad his _Master_'s Reign;
Might boast the magic of his Rod
To whip away the _Love of God_,
For all of _God_ he makes appear
Has nought to _love_, but all to _fear_.
That debt, which _Gratitude_ each day
Paying, wou'd still own much to pay;
Instead of _Duty_ freely paid,
A _Tyrant_'s _hard Exaction_'s made.
Fitted the simple to cajole,
First of his Wits, and then his Soul,
He urges fifty false Pretences,
Preaching his Hearers from their Senses.
He knows his _Master_'s Realm so well,
His Sermons are a _Map of Hell_,
An _Ollio_ made of _Conflagration_,
Of _Gulphs of Brimstone_, and _Damnation_,
_Eternal Torments_, _Furnace_, _Worm_,
_Hell-Fire_, a _Whirlwind_, and a _Storm_,
With _Mammon_, _Satan_, and _Perdition_,
And _Beelzebub_ to help the Dish on;
_Belial_ and _Lucifer_, and all
The _nick-Names_ which _old Nick_ we call--
But he has ta'en especial care,
To have nor _Sense_ nor _Reason_ there.
A thousand scorching Words beside,
Over his tongue as glibly slide,
Familiar as a glass of wine,
Or a Tobacco-pipe on mine;
That You wou'd swear he was compleater,
Than _Powell_, as a _Fire-Eater_.

Virgins he will seduce astray,
Only to shew the shortest Way
To _Heav