THE Saviour with His Rainbow

An Iris you display, that mars her Pride Which on the Circuit of the Clouds doth ride. Tho' that exceeds all the Fair Tribes that come To paint the Rooms in Pan-meteorum. Your RAINBOW spreads a far more splendid Train, Than Sol himself when Shining after Rain. Nay, than the bright Effulgences that run Thro' the Empyreal Court, and mock the Sun. It Crowns the Temples of the Glorious Head Which lasting Rays from Light Essential shed. The Church has, how Good Aspects from the Bow! What Arrows does it scatter on the Foe! It tells the Changes of the Ages past, And bodes the Glories coming in the last. The Heavenly Messenger proclames the birth Of the Redeemers Promis'd Reign on Earth. The sense of this Fair Signal, who would know, Let him unto out Cunning Archer go; (To You, who Teach the Use, Sir, Of the Bow!) The Bow is manag'd, he'l confess at length, By one, whose own, still, does Abide in Strength.

You show how Blind the Pagans were, & odd, Who numiniz'd their Homers Bowyer God. But, Oh! the fatal Occaecations which The Gospellized Pagans do Bewitch; Who when in Flesh they Manifested see A God, deny His dread Divinitie! Rouse up, Angelick Doctor, once again; Against the Arians your Bright Shafts Ordain. Your Bow is Bent, which no deceits will shew; The Arrows feather'd from your Pen, will do.