//a[@class="pb"][@id = "DJA02p62"]
He, who contends for Freedom,
can ne'er be justly deem'd his Sovereign's Foe:
No, 'tis the wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the Bosom,
Who best deserves that name; he is a worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.1
When Life, or Death,
becomes the Question, all Distinctions vanish;
Then the first Monarch and the lowest Slave
on the same Level Stand, in this the Sons
of equal Nature all.
Algernon Sidney fills this Tomb,
An Atheist for disdaining Rome
A Rebel bold for striving still
To keep the Laws above the Will
Of Heaven he sure must needs despair
If holy Pope be turnkey there
And Hell him ne'er will entertain
For there is all Tyrannick Reign
Where goes he then? Where he ought to go.
Where Pope, nor Devil have to do.