The Poems of John Byrom :: :: University of Virginia Library

Indeed, Sir Peter, I could wish, I own,
That Parsons would let Politics alone!
Plead, if they will, the customary Plea
For such like Talk, when o'er a Dish of Tea;
But when they teaze us with it from the Pulpit,
I own, Sir Peter, that I cannot gulp it.

107

II

If on their Rules a Justice should intrench
And preach, suppose, a Sermon from the Bench,
Would you not think your Brother Magistrate
Was touch'd a little in his hinder Pate?
Now, which is worse, Sir Peter, on the total,—
The Lay Vagary, or the Sacerdotal?

III

In ancient Times, when Preachers preach'd indeed
Their Sermons, ere the Learnèd learnt to read,
Another Spirit and another Life
Shut the Church Doors against all Party strife.
Since then, how often heard from sacred Rostrums
The lifeless Din of Whig and Tory Nostrums!

IV

'Tis wrong, Sir Peter, I insist upon't;
To common Sense 'tis plainly an Affront.
The Parson leaves the Christian in the Lurch,
Whene'er he brings his Politics to Church.
His Cant, on either Side, if he calls Preaching,
The Man's wrong-headed, and his Brains want Bleaching.

V

Recall the Time from conquering William's Reign,
And guess the Fruits of such a preaching Vein:

108

How oft its Nonsense must have veer'd about,
Just as the Politics were in or out;—
The Pulpit govern'd by no Gospel Data,
But new Success still mending old Errata!

VI

Were I a King (God bless me!) I should hate
My Chaplains meddling with Affairs of State;
Nor would my Subjects, I should think, be fond,
Whenever theirs the Bible went beyond.
How well, methinks, we both should live together,
If these good Folks would keep within their Tether!