Once on a time Rome’s Church had lost her Head,
Princes and Cardinals in no Pope agreed;
At length the wearied Faction, with one voice,
To Card’nal Dossa left the sacred choice:
He nam’d himself, defeated all their hopes,
And taught ’em a new way of making Popes.
Urban and Clement did the world divide;
Scarce forty years could the dark right decide:
Councils and Card’nals both their titles damn’d,
And Alexander a third Pope was nam’d.
Where, all this while, was Rome’s unerring Guide?
Did he in none, or in all three reside?
If Popes be doubtful, who can their priesthood trust?
For if they fail, their long succession must;
Since then false Popes, as well as true ordain’d,
How can Rome’s holy orders be maintain’d?
St. Peter could no successor declare;
Clement he nam’d; but Linus took the chair;
We find some priests to gain the sacred chair;
They can usurp, kill, poison, yet not err.

Printed by J. Briscoe, Junior, Angel-Street, London.