Fifty of the Protestant Ballads and " The Anti-Ritualistic Directorium, " of Martin F. Tupper ... New; and reprinted |
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| I. |
| II. | II.
THE PRIEST: BACKTURNING: INTONING: PREACHING:
PROCESSIONS: THE MASS: THE ALTAR: TRANSUBSTANTIATION:
MARIAN MARTYRS: ANOTHER REFORMATION. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Fifty of the Protestant Ballads |  |
II. THE PRIEST: BACKTURNING: INTONING: PREACHING: PROCESSIONS: THE MASS: THE ALTAR: TRANSUBSTANTIATION: MARIAN MARTYRS: ANOTHER REFORMATION.
The priest is God on earth,—a present god
To bind and loose, to be both staff and rod:
Treat the lay folk then with supreme disdain,
And thereby make your godship pretty plain;
In every gesture take the scornful tack,
And on the congregation turn your back,
While to yourself, as no concern of theirs,
With rapid drone you gabble through the prayers.
To bind and loose, to be both staff and rod:
Treat the lay folk then with supreme disdain,
And thereby make your godship pretty plain;
In every gesture take the scornful tack,
And on the congregation turn your back,
While to yourself, as no concern of theirs,
With rapid drone you gabble through the prayers.
Worship—(as did of old each Baal-priest,
So saith Ezekiel)—ever toward the East:
'Tis true, the Jewish Sanctum stood due West,
But Bel and Babylon and Rome know best;
And altar-worship is ensured beside;
And the lay-folk insulted and defied!
So saith Ezekiel)—ever toward the East:
102
But Bel and Babylon and Rome know best;
And altar-worship is ensured beside;
And the lay-folk insulted and defied!
So, with the sermon; a defiant tone;
No mercy,—saving through the priest alone,
Who flings his transubstantiated crumbs
For mean lay dogs to gather where he comes,
This be your message; ‘gospel message?’ No!
The very word's dissentery and low.
No mercy,—saving through the priest alone,
Who flings his transubstantiated crumbs
For mean lay dogs to gather where he comes,
This be your message; ‘gospel message?’ No!
The very word's dissentery and low.
Then, manage, every week advancing higher,
Some small procession with your village quire;
And cross and bow upon the Latin plan,
And be as “histrionic” as you can,
And work up all the petty pomp you may,
For Celebrating High Mass, every day!
Some small procession with your village quire;
And cross and bow upon the Latin plan,
And be as “histrionic” as you can,
And work up all the petty pomp you may,
For Celebrating High Mass, every day!
The table, where, as Puritans profess,
A humble supper, neither more nor less,
Religiously commemorates their Lord,
Drinking His spirit, feeding on His word,
And instituted by that Lord to prove
(Unsacrificed as yet) His living love,—
That table is an Altar! and that food
Not bread and wine, but human flesh and blood!
This be your teaching,—and there follows straight
The worship of the Host you consecrate,
Wafer and wine adored and set on high,
And—the shrewd priest well glorified thereby!
A humble supper, neither more nor less,
Religiously commemorates their Lord,
Drinking His spirit, feeding on His word,
And instituted by that Lord to prove
(Unsacrificed as yet) His living love,—
That table is an Altar! and that food
Not bread and wine, but human flesh and blood!
This be your teaching,—and there follows straight
The worship of the Host you consecrate,
Wafer and wine adored and set on high,
And—the shrewd priest well glorified thereby!
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Those “Marian Martyrs,”—blest be Mary's name
Who piously consigned them to the flame!—
They held such heresies; and would not kneel
Before the fragments of a holy meal;
Therefore the generous Gardiner burnt alive
Latimer, Cranmer, and their hornet hive,—
And, all for Mother-church and mercy's sake,
Bonner committed Ridley to the stake,—
And, served them right; so now shall Oxford swear,
And stone from stone their vile Memorial tear!
Who piously consigned them to the flame!—
They held such heresies; and would not kneel
Before the fragments of a holy meal;
Therefore the generous Gardiner burnt alive
Latimer, Cranmer, and their hornet hive,—
And, all for Mother-church and mercy's sake,
Bonner committed Ridley to the stake,—
And, served them right; so now shall Oxford swear,
And stone from stone their vile Memorial tear!
Yes, Anglicans,—true Catholics once more,
By Luther too long poisoned heretofore,
No longer Protestants, but free to hope
For pardon—after penance—from the Pope,
Keen English priests, who cunningly devise
How to bring back what laymen still call lies,
Scheming to break strong Britons to your rule,
Who hate your Jesuitic high-church school,
Listen, shrewd priests!—if only you'll go on
Winning such triumphs as your zeal hath won,—
No doubt, again shall Reformation stand
And sweep the stalls and stables of this land,
No doubt, you may contrive to rend in twain
The Nation's church, and leave it,—to our gain,—
No doubt, your Roman tastes may find in Rome
More genial cures than those you lose at home,
No doubt, some bishops and more priests must search
For sees and livings from some other church
Than England, in her watch-tower on the waves,
Has fixed for freemen, not for popish slaves!
By Luther too long poisoned heretofore,
No longer Protestants, but free to hope
For pardon—after penance—from the Pope,
Keen English priests, who cunningly devise
How to bring back what laymen still call lies,
Scheming to break strong Britons to your rule,
Who hate your Jesuitic high-church school,
Listen, shrewd priests!—if only you'll go on
Winning such triumphs as your zeal hath won,—
No doubt, again shall Reformation stand
And sweep the stalls and stables of this land,
No doubt, you may contrive to rend in twain
The Nation's church, and leave it,—to our gain,—
No doubt, your Roman tastes may find in Rome
More genial cures than those you lose at home,
No doubt, some bishops and more priests must search
For sees and livings from some other church
Than England, in her watch-tower on the waves,
Has fixed for freemen, not for popish slaves!
| Fifty of the Protestant Ballads | |