Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry Part 4

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 La.s.s in Grat.i.tude 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 s.h.i.+nes 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 _Yorks.h.i.+re_ 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, Cuckolds, and Pandors.

Appear'd all like so many great _Alexanders_,

IV.

Whose Warriers who thorow all Dangers durst go.

Most bravely despising Blood, Battle, and Foe, Were mounted on Steeds the last Lord Mayor's Day, From _Turky, Spain, Barbary_, Coach, Cart, and Dray.

V.

'Twas that very day their high Prowess was shown, In guarding the King thro' the Fire-works o' th' Town; Tho' Sparks were unhors'd and their lac'd Coats were spoil'd, They dreaded no Squibs of Men, Women, or Child.

VI.

The Cornet whose nose, though it spoke him no _Roman_, Was mounted that day on a Horse that feared no man, No Wounds, for all o're his Trappings so sumptuous He had ty'd Squibs and Crackers; 'twas mighty presumptuous.

VII.

For note his Design; faith, 'tis worth your admiring: 'Twas to let the Queen se how his Horse could stand firing, Not wisely consid'ring her Majesty's marry'd, And he had been hang'd if the Queen had miscarry'd.