Peter Faultless to his brother Simon :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thee, ass deep-voic'd of not ungenial Zion,
More than on heaven, the “unco gude” rely on!
Giant in stature, but in soul a fly!
Mind lost in body, fat, and six feet high!

199

Though unapparent, and of none effect,
Thy light is essence of the intellect,
Immur'd from sense, like gem of Giamschid,
Or owl's eye, luminous in a pyramid.
Is there a ranter who still wakes in vain
Th' unwilling maggots slumbering in his brain;
Spreading the lily hand, with vulgar grace,
Where rings usurp the splendid thimble's place?
Is there a saint, whom none could teach to stitch,
A disputant in holy lumber rich,
A bigot harsh, by pride and weakness taught,
Who damns the soul, but could not shape a coat?
Is there a can't-be tailor of the Lord,
Who quits his cloth to cut and mend the word,
Weekly purloin his wond'rous weekly sermon,
Steal common-place, and deem it dew of Hermon,
Demonstrate that a devil is, and be one,
Make earth a hell, but in his priestcraft see none?
Though in the hour of Nature's affluence made,
To feed the awful dung-cart with the spade,
Knight of the Goose, ere first of holy men,
Prick'd by the needle, thou assumest the pen.

200

Servant of darkness! error's pious pander!
And, if no goose, assuredly a gander!
Think not thy triumphs give my bosom smart;
What foe would wish thee other than thou art?
From tailor's board to th' sacred tub preferr'd,
Still may thy dire, somnific voice be heard
By mice perturb'd, while happier bipeds snore
(Rock'd by the tempest, heard so oft before)
And slumber praise thee still, and evermore!