The Athenians Answer. Elizabeth Rowe (née Singer) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. R7317 A57734 Rowe, Elizabeth Singer, 1674-1737. Poems on several occasions. Written by Philomela. London Printed for John Dunton at the Raven in Jewen-street 1696 pp. 28-30. [24],72,69,[11]p.; 8⁰

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The Athenians Answer . THeir Name is Legion , grinning from a far Against the Throne , who wage unequal War ; Tho' nearer , on perpetual Guard , attends A far more numerous Host of brighter Friends : Around our Prince , Heav'ns Care , the sacred Band With fiery Arms in firm Battalia stand : To him mild Light , and Lambent Beams they show , But Wrath and Terror to his harden'd Foe . See the black Phalanx melt , they melt away , As guilty Ghosts slink from approaching Day , Behold their Leaders , deckt in horrid State , Nor wonder why they Heav'n and Caesar hate . First mark their haughty General , arm'd compleat In Plates of glowing Steel ! 'tis Lucifer the great ! See his proud Standard o're his Tent enlarg'd ! With bloated Toads , an odious Bearing , charg'd . The ancient Arms which once his Shield adorn'd , Tho' 'tis of late to Flour-de-Lis's turn'd . Blasphemous Belial ! next thy Squadrons stand ! Lawless and Lewd , a baffled blasted band , Each holds a kindled Pamphlet in his hand . These make the Gross , the rest we may despise , ( Retailers they of Treason , and of Lies ) Lucifer's Friends , and Caesars Enemies . Ah were there none but these , who wou'd not be Proud and Ambitious of their Enmity ! There's one small party , near , too near their Line , Which hover yet , and scarce know which to joyn . No black , no ugly marks of Sin disgrace Their nobler Forms , no malice in their Face : A Duskier Gleam they wear then e're they fell , Their Plumes just scorcht , too near ally'd to Hell . What mad mistaken bravery draws 'em in , Where Constancy's no Virtue but a Sin ? How can they still their fallen Prince esteem ? When false to Heaven , why are they true to him ? O ! must they sink ! a glorious Starry Race ! They are almost too good , for that sad place . That waits their Fall : It must not , cannot be , If err we do , wee'l err with Charity , Father ! they may be Sav'd ! we'll joyn with Thee !