The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey With Some Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, By his son, John Anstey |
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LETTER XIV.
Miss Prudence B---n---r---d to Lady Eliz. M---d---ss, at --- Castle, North. |
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey |  |
92
LETTER XIV. Miss Prudence B---n---r---d to Lady Eliz. M---d---ss, at --- Castle, North.
Miss Prudence B---n---r---d informs Lady Betty that she has been elected to Methodism by a Vision.
Hearken, Lady Betty, hearken,
To the dismal news I tell;
How your friends are all embarking
For the fiery gulph of hell.
To the dismal news I tell;
How your friends are all embarking
For the fiery gulph of hell.
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Brother Simkin's grown a rakehell,
Cards and dances ev'ry day,
Jenny laughs at tabernacle,
Tabby Runt is gone astray.
Cards and dances ev'ry day,
Jenny laughs at tabernacle,
Tabby Runt is gone astray.
Blessed I, tho' once rejected,
Like a little wand'ring sheep,
Who this morning was elected
By a vision in my sleep:
Like a little wand'ring sheep,
Who this morning was elected
By a vision in my sleep:
94
For I dream'd an apparition
Came, like Roger, from above;
Saying, by divine commission
I must fill you full of love.
Came, like Roger, from above;
Saying, by divine commission
I must fill you full of love.
Just with Roger's head of hair on,
Roger's mouth, and pious smile;
Sweet, methinks, as beard of Aaron
Dropping down with holy oil.
Roger's mouth, and pious smile;
Sweet, methinks, as beard of Aaron
Dropping down with holy oil.
95
I began to fall a kicking,
Panted, struggled, strove in vain;
When the spirit whipt so quick in,
I was cur'd of all my pain.
Panted, struggled, strove in vain;
When the spirit whipt so quick in,
I was cur'd of all my pain.
First I thought it was the night-mare
Lay so heavy on my breast;
But I found new joy and light there,
When with heavenly love possest.
Lay so heavy on my breast;
But I found new joy and light there,
When with heavenly love possest.
96
Come again, then, apparition,
Finish what thou hast begun;
Roger, stay, thou soul's physician,
I with thee my race will run.
Finish what thou hast begun;
Roger, stay, thou soul's physician,
I with thee my race will run.
Faith her chariot has appointed,
Now we're stretching for the goal;
All the wheels with grace anointed,
Up to heav'n to drive my soul.—
Now we're stretching for the goal;
All the wheels with grace anointed,
Up to heav'n to drive my soul.—
| The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey | |