BELIEVE ye not (yes, all I see
In sound belief concur with me)
That PROVIDENCE for worthy ends,
To us unknown,  SPIRIT sends?
Tho' speechless lay the trembling tongue,
Your  was on your Features hung,
Your  I in your eyes could see
When  were pale and star'd like
But scruples to prevent, and root
Out ev'ry shadow of dispute,
POMPOSO, PLAUSIBLE, and I,
With FANNY have agreed, to try
A deep concerted scheme. This night,
To fix, or to destroy HER quite.
If it be  before we've done
We'll make it glaring as the Sun;
If it be  admit no doubt,
E're Morning's dawn we'll find it out.
Into the vaulted womb of Death,
Where FANNY now, depriv'd of breath,
Lies fest'ring, whilst her troubled
Adds horror to the gloom of night,
Will  descend, and bring from thence
Proofs of such force to Common Sense,
Vain  shall no more deceive,
And ATHEISTS tremble, and believe.