A woman's clack, if I have skill,
Sounds somewhat like a throwster's mill;
But louder than a bell, or thunder;
That does, I own, increase my wonder.
6 IN SYLLABAM LONGAM IN VOCE VERTIGINOSUS D. SWIFT CORREPTAM.'
MUSARUM antistes, Phœbi numerosus alumnus,
Vix omnes numeros Vertiginosus habet.
Intentat charo capiti vertigo ruinam :
Oh! servet cerebro nata Minerva caput. -
Vertigo nimium longa est, divina poeta ;
Dent tibi Pierides, donet Apollo, brevem.
DR. RUNDLE, BISHOP OF DERRY. 1734-5.
MAKE Rundle bishop; fie for shame!
An Arian to usurp the name!
A bishop in the isle of saints!
How will his brethren make complaints!
Dare any of the mitred host
Confer on him the Holy Ghost:
In mother church to breed a variance,
By coupling orthodox with Arians?
Yet, were he Heathen, Turk, or Jew,
What is there in it strange or new?
For, let us hear the weak pretence,
His brethren find to take offence;
Of whom there are but four at most,
Who know there is a Holy Ghost:
The rest, who boast they have conferr'd it,
Like Paul's Ephesians, never heard it;
And, when they gave it, well 'tis known,
They gave what never was their own.
Rundle a bishop! well he may;
He's still a Christian more than they.
We know the subject of their quarrels;
The man has learning, sense, and morals.
There is a reason still more weighty;
'Tis granted he believes a Deity.
Has every circumstance to please us,
Though fools may doubt his faith in Jesus.
But why should he with that be loaded,
Now twenty years from court exploded,
And is not this objection odd
From rogues who ne'er believed a God?
For liberty a champion stout,
Though not so Gospelward devout.
While others, hither sent to save us,
Come but to plunder and enslave us;
Nor ever own'd a power divine,
But Mammon, and the German line.
Say, how did Rundle undermine 'em?
Who show'd a better jus divinum?
From ancient canons would not vary,
But thrice refus'd episcopari.
Our bishop's predecessor, Magus,
Would offer all the sands of Tagus;
Or sell his children, house, and lands,
For that one gift, to lay on hands:
But all his gold could not avail
To have the spirit set to sale.
Said surly Peter, "Magus, prithee,
Be gone: thy money perish with thee."
Were Peter now alive, perhaps,
He might have found a score of chaps:
Could he but make his gift appear
In rents three thousand pounds a year.
Some fancy this promotion odd,
As not the handiwork of God;
Though e'en the bishops disappointed
Must own it made by God's anointed,
And well we know, the congé regal
Is more secure as well as legal;
Because our lawyers all agree,
That bishopricks are held in fee.
Dear Baldwin chaste, and witty Crosse, How sorely I lament your loss! That such a pair of wealthy ninnies Should slip your time of dropping guineas; For, had you made the king your debtor, Your title had been so much better.
FRIEND Rundle fell, with grievous bump,
Upon his reverential rump.
Poor rump! thou hadst been better sped,
Hadst thou been join'd to Boulter's head;
A head, so weighty and profound,
Would needs have kept thee from the ground,
AN APOLOGY, ETC.
A LADY, wise as well as fair,
Whose conscience always was her care,
Thoughtful upon a point of moment,
Would have the text as well as comment:
So hearing of a grave Divine,
She sent to bid him come and dine.
But, you must know, he was not quite
So grave as to be unpolite;
Thought human learning would not lessen
The dignity of his profession:
And, if you'd heard the man discourse,
Or preach, you'd like him scarce the worse,
He long had bid the court farewell,
Retreating silent to his cell;
Suspected for the love he bore
To one who sway'd some time before;
Which made it more surprising how
He should be sent for thither now.
The message told, he gapes, and stares,
And scarce believes his eyes or ears:
Could not conceive what it should mean,
And fain would hear it told again.
But then the squire so trim and nice,
"Twere rude to make him tell it twice;
So bow'd, was thankful for the honour;
And would not fail to wait upon her.
His beaver brush'd, his shoes, and gown,
Away he trudges into town;
Passes the lower castle yard,
And now advancing to the guard,
He trembles at the thoughts of state;
For, conscious of his sheepish gait,
A woman's clack, if I have skill,
Sounds somewhat like a throwster's mill;
But louder than a bell, or thunder;
That does, I own, increase my wonder.
IN SYLLABAM LONGAM IN VOCE VERTIGINOSUS
A D. SWIFT CORREPTAM.'
MUSARUM antistes, Phoebi numerosus alumnus,
Vix omnes numeros Vertiginosus habet.
Intentat charo capiti vertigo ruinam :
Oh! servet cerebro nata Minerva caput.
Vertigo nimium longa est, divina poeta ;
Dent tibi Pierides, donet Apollo, brevem.
DR. RUNDLE, BISHOP OF DERRY. 1734-5.
MAKE Rundle bishop; fie for shame!
An Arian to usurp the name!
A bishop in the isle of saints!
How will his brethren make complaints!
Dare any of the mitred host
Confer on him the Holy Ghost:
In mother church to breed a variance,
By coupling orthodox with Arians?
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