Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry | Page 6

you know why? The Reason's plain

They had no English_ nor _French coin
To make a longer stay, Sirs.
The Pope to Purgatory sends
Who neither Money have nor Friends,
In this he's not alone, Sirs;
For our Judge to Mercy's no inclin'd,

'Less Gold change Conscience and his Mind,
You are infallibly gone, Sirs.
His Father once exempted was
Out of all Juries [6]; why? because
He was a Man of Blood, Sirs;
And why the Butcherly Son (forsooth)

Shou'd now be Jury and Judge both
Cannot be understood, Sirs.
The good Old Man with Knife and Knocks
Made harmless Sheep and
stubborn Ox
Stoop to him in his Fury;
But the brib'd Son, like greasie Oaph,

Kneels down and worships Golden Calf,
And so do's all the Jury.
Better thou'dst been at Father's Trade,
An honest Livelihood to have
made,
In lamp'ring Bulls with Collars,
Than to thy Country prove unjust,

First sell, and then betray, thy Trust,
For so many hard Rix-Dollars.
Priest and Physician thou didst save
From Gallows, Fire, and from
the Grave,

For which we can't endure thee;
The one can ne'er absolve thy Sins,

And th'other (tho' he now begins)
Of Knav'ry ne'er can cure thee.
But lest we all shou'd end his Life,
And with a keen-whet
Chopping-Knife
In a Thousand pieces cleave him,
Let the Parliament first him
undertake,
They'll make the Rascal stink at stake,
And so, like a Knave, let's leave him.
[Footnote 6: By an old law, butchers and surgeons were unable to serve
on juries.]
THE BRAWNY BISHOP'S COMPLAINT.
TO THE TUNE OF "PACKINGTON'S POUND."
I.
When B----t [7] perceiv'd the beautiful Dames,
Who flock'd to the
Chapel of Holy St. James,
On their Lovers the kindest Looks did
bestow,
And smil'd not on him while he bellow'd below,
To the Princess he went
With Pious intent
This dangerous Ill in the
Church to prevent:
"O Madam!" quoth he, "our Religion is lost
If
the Ladies thus ogle the Knights of the Toast.
II.
"Your Highness observes how I labour and sweat
Their Affections to
raise, and new Flames to beget;
And sure when I preach all the World,
will agree
That their Ears and their Eyes should be pointed on me:
But now I can't find
One Beauty so kind
As my Parts to regard, or

my Presence to mind;
Nay, I scarce have a sight of any one Face

But those of old Oxford and ugly Arglas.
III.
"These sorrowful Matrons, with Hearts full of Truth,
Repent for the
manifold Sins of their Youth:
The rest with their Tattle my Harmony
spoil;
And Bur--ton, An--sey, K--gston, and B--le [8]
Their Minds entertain
With thoughts so profane
'Tis a mercy to find
that at Church they contain;
Ev'n Hen--ham's [9] Shapes their weak
Fancies intice,
And rather than me they will ogle the Vice. [10]
IV.
"These Practices, Madam, my Preaching disgrace;
Shall Laymen
enjoy the just Rights of my Place?
Then all may lament my Condition
for hard,
To thresh in the Pulpit without a Reward.
Then pray condescend
Such Disorders to end,
And from their ripe
Vineyards such Labourers send;
Or build up the Seats, that the
Beauties may see
The Face of no brawny Pretender but me."
V.
The Princess, by rude Importunities press'd,
Tho' she laugh'd at his
Reasons, allow'd his request;
And now Britain's Nymphs in a
Protestant Reign
Are locked up at Pray'rs like the Virgins in Spain,
And all are undone
As sure as a Gun:
Whenever a Woman is kept
like a Nun;
If any kind Man from Bondage will save her,
The Lass
in Gratitude grants him the Favour.
[Footnote 7: Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, who in 1674 was
preacher at the Rolls Chapel.]

[Footnote 8: Burlington, Anglesey, Kingston, and Boyle.]
[Footnote 9: Heningham.]
[Footnote 10: The Vice-Chamberlain.]
THE POOR BLIND BOY.
BY COLLY GIBBER, 1749.
Oh, say! what is that thing call'd light,
Which I can ne'er enjoy?

What is the blessing of the sight?
Oh, tell your poor blind boy.
You talk of wondrous things you see;
You say the sun shines bright;

I feel his warmth, but how can he
E'er make it day or night?
My day or night myself I make,
Whene'er I sleep or play;
And
could I always keep awake,
It would be always day.
With heavy sighs, I often hear
You mourn my hopeless woe;
But
sure with patience I may bear
A loss I do not know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My peace of mind destroy;
While
thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.
THE INISKILLING REGIMENT.
I.
I will sing in the Praise, if you'll lend but an Ear,
Of the first Royal
Regiment, but don't think I jeer
If I vow and protest they are as brave
Men and Willing,
As ever old Rome_ bred, or new _Iniskilling.
II.
Oh, had you but seen them March with that Decorum
That no Roman
Triumph could e're go before 'em,
Some smoking, some whistling, all

meaning no harm,
Like Yorkshire Attornies coming up to a Term,
III.
On Bobtails, on Longtails, on Trotters, on Pacers,
On Pads, Hawkers,
Hunters, on Higlers, on Racers,
You'd ha' swore Knight and Squires,
Prigs,