The kirk with applause
Is established by laws
As the orthodox church of the nation.
The bishops do own
It's as good as their own.
And this, Sir, is call'd moderation.
It's no riddle now
To let you see how
A church by oppression may speed;
Nor is't banter or jest
That the kirk faith is best
On the other side of the Tweed.
For no soil can suit
With every fruit,
Even so, Sir, it is with religion:
The best church by far
Is what grows where you are,
Were it Mahomet's ass or his pigeon.
Another strange story
That vexes the Tory,
But sure there's no mystery in it,
That a pension and place,
Give communicants grace,
Who designs to turn tail the next minute.
For if it be not strange,
That religion should change, As often as climates and fashions;
Then sure there's no harm, That one should conform, To serve their own private occasions.
Another new dance,
Which of late they advance, Is to cry up the birth of Pretender, And those that dare own
The queen heir to the crown, Are traitors, not fit to defend her.
That subject's most loyal That hates the blood royal, And they for employments have merit, Who swear queen and steeple, Were made by the people,
And neither have right to inherit.
The monarchy's fixt,
By making on't mixt,
And by non-resistance o'erthrown;
And preaching obedience
Destroys our allegiance,
And thus the Whigs prop up the throne.
That viceroy is best,
That would take off the test,
And made a sham speech to attempt it;
But being true blue,
When he found 'twould not do, Swore, damn him, if ever he meant it.
'Tis no news that Tom Double,
The nation should bubble,
Nor is't any wonder or riddle,
That a parliament rump,
Should play hop, step, and jump,
And dance any jig to his fiddle.
But now, sir, they tell,
How Sacheverell,
By bringing old doctrines in fashion,
Hath, like a damn'd rogue,
Brought religion in vogue,
And so open'd the eyes of the nation.
Then let's pray without spleen,
May God bless the queen,
And her fellow monarchs the people;
May they prosper and thrive,
And so may the church with the steeple.
[These verses occur on the same paper which contains the foregoing ballad, and are also in the Dean's hand-writing. They relate to the proposed repeal of the Test-act, and may be compared with the " Fable of the Bitches," p. 417.]
A MAN with expence and infinite toil,
By digging and dunging, ennobled his soil;
There fruits of the best your taste did invite,
And uniform order still courted the sight.
No degenerate weeds the rich ground produce,
But all things afforded both beauty and use:
Till from dunghill transplanted, while yet but a seed,
A nettle rear'd up his inglorious head.
The gard'ner would wisely have rooted him up,
To stop the increase of a barbarous crop ;
But the master forbid him, and after the fashion,
Of foolish good-nature, and blind moderation,
Forbore him through pity, and chose as much rather,
To ask him some questions, first how he came thither.
Kind sir, quoth the nettle, a stranger I come,
For conscience compelled to relinquish my home,
'Cause I would'nt subscribe to a mystery dark,
That the prince of all trees is the Jesuit's bark,*
An erroneous tenet I know, sir, that you,
No more than myself, will allow to be true.
* In allusion to the supremacy of Rome.
To you, I for refuge and sanctuary sue,
There's none so renown'd for compassion as you;
And, though in some things I may differ from these,
The rest of your fruitful and beautiful trees:
Though your digging and dunging, my nature much harms,
And I cannot comply with your garden in forms:
Yet I and my family after our fashion,
Will peaceably stick to our own education.
Be pleased to allow them a place for to rest 'em
For the rest of your trees we will never molest 'em;
A kind shelter to us and protection afford,
We'll do you no harm, Sir, I'll give you my word.
The good man was soon won with this plausible tale,
So fraud on good-nature doth often prevail.
He welcomes his guest, gives him free toleration
In the midst of his garden to take up his station,
And into his breast doth his enemy bring,
He little suspected the nettle could sting.
'Till flushed with success, and of strength to be feared,
Around him a numerous offspring he reared.
Then the master grew sensible what he had done,
And fain he would have his new guest to be gone;
But now 'twas too late to bid him turn out,
A well-rooted possession already was got.
The old trees decayed, and in their room grew
A stubborn, pestilent, poisonous crew.
The master, who first the young brood had admitted,
They stung like ingrates and left him unpitied.
No help from manuring or planting was found,
The ill weeds had eat out the heart of the ground.
All weeds they let in and none they refuse
That would join to oppose the good man of the house.
Thus one nettle uncropp'd, increased to such store,
That 'twas nothing but weeds what was garden be-
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