Fifty of the Protestant Ballads :: :: University of Virginia Library

Folly and vanity; puerile trifling,
Such as all earnest true souls must despise;
Priestcraft all spirituality stifling
By the poor playthings so dear in its eyes;
Playthings? say rather, with subtlest intention,
Poison-drops meant for consumption at home,
Arsenic'd sweetmeats, of Jesuit invention,
Fatal for England, but vital to Rome.

Music? oh yes! for that Siren has powers
Luring the men since Ulysses was wreck'd;
Flowers? most certainly! filch all the flowers,
Winsome for women since Tammuz was deck'd:

Flare up the thuribles! kindle the candles,
Bring forth the vestments, bedizen the priest;
For he creates, dispenses, and handles
God! (so he says), in the Passover feast!

Choristers? drill them to march in procession
Bearded bass-voices, and small treble-boys;
Banners? oh surely! and crosses, confession,
High-coloured groups, and Gregorian noise:
Everything helps where we serve through the senses
Rather than worship in spirit and truth,
Catching alive on the basest pretences
Womanly warmth, and the weakness of youth.

Hymns? your sensational, “modern and olden,”
Praising some virgin, or angel or saint;
And sentimental “Jerusalem the Golden,”
Just such an Eden some Pasha might paint;
With the “dear country,” so little ethereal
Odin is heard in its songs and its feasts;
While even Islam is scarce more material
As to the “Paradise” pleasures of priests!

Organ? yes! toil at your anthems, your chanting;
“Sounds going forth” must evangelize earth;
Not like S. Paul's puritanical ranting
Preaching the Christ and the Spirit's new birth:
Down with the pulpit! and all its old story,
Faith, and forgiveness and life from the dead;
Up with the altar! in candle-light glory,
For the priest's Gospel, a morsel of bread!

Jesuit Pharisees! rare combination
Of the worst vices of Gentile and Jew,
Catholics greet you with repudiation,
Protestants also repudiate you!
Be not high-minded, if crowds of the curious
Watch your weak antics with ignorant eyes,
Everyone sees that the sheepskin is spurious,
Everyone watches the wolf in disguise.

Oh this high treason! you clerical traitors,
Eating the bread of the Church you betray,
Papist adorers, and Protestant-haters,
How shall we deal with such caitiffs to-day?
We truer Churchmen, the lay, loyal-hearted,
Cannot in reason give treason more rope;
England demands from such priests to be parted:
Rome is your home, so—begone to the Pope!