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CHAPTER 16th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
Kings, like all other Idols, rear'd to draw
Blind Bigots' loans, by formal force of Law,
The Temples, Priests, and Trappings, to supply,
With all that cheats the Heart, and charms the Eye
For Pandars', Pimps', and Myrmidons', support,
Like Locusts, swarming round each carnal Court—
Collected Troops in preconcerted spot,
For wasteful Projects met, or wicked Plot—
To squander on a Queen and royal Race,
With Priest, or Peer, which fills a Courtier's Place;
That round the Throne, or at the Altar, bend,
Beyond all Name, all Number, and all End!
Those high in Office, who, in Order, wait,
To amplify the Pomp, or stretch the State—
All placed in every perjur'd point of Trust,
To prop vile Pow'r, or feed vain Pride, and Lust—
All those that look for bread from boundless Loans,
O'er which each Landlord grieves, and Labourer groans—
And that long Train which Treasury licence lacks
To levy, and purloin, each torturing Tax—
Besides each vast marine, and martial, Band,
That plague the Ocean, and oppress the Land,
Combin'd base Idol-worship to compel,
Like that paid, hourly, to the Prince of Hell;
For That which proudly stands, without a Peer,
Strives hard to institute like worship here.
His Parliaments, but Priests, like Baal's Crews,
By cruel Acts compelling partial dues.
A mere Machine! compos'd of supple Parts,
All tamely mov'd by ministerial Arts—
Which aim, by cunning scheme, and plausive speech
To get the People's purse within their reach;
To squeeze out dribblets by the Press of Pow'r,
To deal all out again in ampler Dow'r
For Pimps and Parasites, as rich rewards
For grateful flattery, and feign'd regards;
Or on those humbler Tools in bribes bestow
For uttering simple sounds of “Aye,” or “No,”
By the strict mandate of official Friends,
To further all their selfish, subtle, Ends.
Blind Bigots' loans, by formal force of Law,
The Temples, Priests, and Trappings, to supply,
With all that cheats the Heart, and charms the Eye
For Pandars', Pimps', and Myrmidons', support,
Like Locusts, swarming round each carnal Court—
Collected Troops in preconcerted spot,
For wasteful Projects met, or wicked Plot—
To squander on a Queen and royal Race,
With Priest, or Peer, which fills a Courtier's Place;
That round the Throne, or at the Altar, bend,
Beyond all Name, all Number, and all End!
Those high in Office, who, in Order, wait,
To amplify the Pomp, or stretch the State—
All placed in every perjur'd point of Trust,
To prop vile Pow'r, or feed vain Pride, and Lust—
All those that look for bread from boundless Loans,
O'er which each Landlord grieves, and Labourer groans—
And that long Train which Treasury licence lacks
To levy, and purloin, each torturing Tax—
Besides each vast marine, and martial, Band,
That plague the Ocean, and oppress the Land,
Combin'd base Idol-worship to compel,
Like that paid, hourly, to the Prince of Hell;
For That which proudly stands, without a Peer,
Strives hard to institute like worship here.
His Parliaments, but Priests, like Baal's Crews,
By cruel Acts compelling partial dues.
A mere Machine! compos'd of supple Parts,
All tamely mov'd by ministerial Arts—
Which aim, by cunning scheme, and plausive speech
To get the People's purse within their reach;
To squeeze out dribblets by the Press of Pow'r,
To deal all out again in ampler Dow'r
For Pimps and Parasites, as rich rewards
For grateful flattery, and feign'd regards;
Or on those humbler Tools in bribes bestow
For uttering simple sounds of “Aye,” or “No,”
By the strict mandate of official Friends,
To further all their selfish, subtle, Ends.
Thus, when the greedy Race of groveling Rich,
Have plac'd the Statue in respective Niche,
They call the great Arch-High-Priest to anoint
The wonderous Puppet which their Wills appoint;
Whose Pow'r, establish'd, in high Pomp and State,
May more Arch-High-Priests, in routine, create,
With all inferior High-Priests, from among
The younger Brethren of the wealthy Throng;
And they, inferior Orders—going down
To trading Squire, or agricultural Clown—
While all endeavour, in each different charge,
His arbitrary boundary still enlarge;
Making all simple Souls, from fear, submit
To all they urge as Rules of holy Writ:
This, courtly Ministers maintain, of course,
To give those gracious Themes their fullest Force,
Who, with the Priesthood banded, strongly bind
The freedom of the Body, Heart, and Mind;
While, to escape impeachment's cruel curse,
Each mean Man opens his impoverish'd Purse,
That legislative Blocks may form their Fees,
And force from that poor Fund what part they please
Have plac'd the Statue in respective Niche,
They call the great Arch-High-Priest to anoint
The wonderous Puppet which their Wills appoint;
Whose Pow'r, establish'd, in high Pomp and State,
May more Arch-High-Priests, in routine, create,
With all inferior High-Priests, from among
The younger Brethren of the wealthy Throng;
And they, inferior Orders—going down
To trading Squire, or agricultural Clown—
While all endeavour, in each different charge,
His arbitrary boundary still enlarge;
Making all simple Souls, from fear, submit
To all they urge as Rules of holy Writ:
This, courtly Ministers maintain, of course,
To give those gracious Themes their fullest Force,
Who, with the Priesthood banded, strongly bind
The freedom of the Body, Heart, and Mind;
While, to escape impeachment's cruel curse,
Each mean Man opens his impoverish'd Purse,
That legislative Blocks may form their Fees,
And force from that poor Fund what part they please
Then, that the shining bubble may not burst,
So full inflated, and so nicely nurst!
With bandages of gold all hoop'd about,
And fenc'd from dangerous breath of Rabble-rout;
The bloated Idol must be richly crown'd,
Still more each stupid Conscience to confound.
Those Ministers and Priests all deeply brib'd,
And secret Councils, which their Code prescrib'd,
With Senators, who sanction'd every clause,
To keep all Dupes at bay with binding Laws,
And make weak necks with deep devotion bend
Before that Phantasm Ignorance thinks its Friend:
Yea, while Themselves thus make the Image shine
They almost think the dazzling Thing divine—
At least they've so sublim'd their purblind Plan,
They fancy the frail Creature's more than Man.
So full inflated, and so nicely nurst!
With bandages of gold all hoop'd about,
And fenc'd from dangerous breath of Rabble-rout;
The bloated Idol must be richly crown'd,
Still more each stupid Conscience to confound.
Those Ministers and Priests all deeply brib'd,
And secret Councils, which their Code prescrib'd,
With Senators, who sanction'd every clause,
To keep all Dupes at bay with binding Laws,
And make weak necks with deep devotion bend
Before that Phantasm Ignorance thinks its Friend:
66
They almost think the dazzling Thing divine—
At least they've so sublim'd their purblind Plan,
They fancy the frail Creature's more than Man.
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CHAPTER 16th.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |