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But not a foul his office durft accept ; The subtle knave had all the plunder swept :
And fuch was then the temper of the timés,
He ow'd his preservation to his crimes. The candidates obferv'd his dirty paws, Nor found it difficult to guefs the cause: But when they fmelt fuch foul corruptions round him,
Away they fled, and left him as they
Thus, when a greedy floven once has thrown
His fnot into the mess; 'tis all his own.
The following poem was first printed in Fog's journal of the 17th of Sept. 1733. The Jubject of it is now over; but our author's known zeal against that project made it be generally fuppofed to be his. It was occafioned by the bishops of Ireland endeavouring to get an act to divide the church livings; which bill was rejected by the Irish house of commons
Written in the Year 1731.
LD Latimer preaching did fairly defcribe
A bishop, who rul'dall the reft of his tribe; And who is this bishop? and where does he dwell?
Why truly 'tis Satan, arch-bishop of hell. And HE was a primate, and HE wore a
Surrounded with jewels of fulphur and
How nearly this bishop our bishops refembles!
But he has the odds, who believes and who trembles,
*See confiderations on this bill in Vol. X.
fee his grim grace, for a pound
to a penny,
You'd fwear it must be the baboon of K--y: Poor Satan will think the comparison odious:
I wish I could find him out one more commodious.
But this I am fure, the most rev'rend old dragon
Has got on the bench many bishops fuffragan;
And all men believe he refides there in
cog. To give them by turns an invifible jog.
Our bishops, puft up with wealth and with pride,
To hell on the backs of the clergy would ride. They mounted and labour'd with whip and with spur
In vain--for the devil a parfon would stir. So the commons unhors'd them, and this was their doom,
On their crofiers to ride, like a witch on
Though they gallop'd fo faft on the read you may find'em,
And have left us but three out of twentybehind 'em,
Lord Belton's good grace, lord Car, and lord Howard*,
In fright of the devil, would ftill be untoward.
They came of good kindred, and could rot endure
Their former companions fhould beg at their door.
When CHRIST was betray'd to Pilate the prator,
Of a dozen apoftles but one prov'd a trai
One traitor alone, and faithful eleven ; But we can afford you fix traitors in feven.
What a clutter with clippings, dividings and cleavings!
And the clergy forfooth must take up with their leavings.
If making divifions was all their intent, They've done it, we thank 'em, but not as they meant;
* Archbishop of Cafhell, bishops of Killaloe and Elphin.
And fo may fuch bishops for ever divide, That no honeft heathen would be on their fide.
How should we rejoice, if, like Judas the first,
Those splitters of parsons in funder should burft?
Now hear an allufion :-A mitre
Is divided above, but united below.
That the mitre would never ftick faft on their head,
And yet they have learnt the chief art of a fov'reigu,
As Machiavel taught 'em ; divide and ye govern.
But courage, my lords; though it cannot be faid
That one cloven tongue ever fat on your head;