 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
A Consultation of the Bishops.
To give the last Amendment to the Bill,
Which to the Saints portended so much Ill;
To curb the Commons, and their Ends defeat,
Right Reverend Twelve last night at Lambeth met.
Tho much of Lawn did round the Room appear,
Yet none but modern Men of God were there,
Nor had been mitred more than thirteen Year:
The Ten remov'd, the grave Assembly sat,
The Bus'ness of the Day was in Debate:
This way and that their various Censures tend,
And some would pass the Bill, but more would mend.
At length, with usual Vehemence, aloud
A brawny Bishop thus harangu'd the Croud.
Which to the Saints portended so much Ill;
To curb the Commons, and their Ends defeat,
Right Reverend Twelve last night at Lambeth met.
Tho much of Lawn did round the Room appear,
Yet none but modern Men of God were there,
Nor had been mitred more than thirteen Year:
353
The Bus'ness of the Day was in Debate:
This way and that their various Censures tend,
And some would pass the Bill, but more would mend.
At length, with usual Vehemence, aloud
A brawny Bishop thus harangu'd the Croud.
Far off from us let Persecution reign;
Slav'ry in France, and Bigotry in Spain.
The best of Kings the best of Gifts bestow'd,
And Toleration by a Law allow'd,
And bid us go to God which way we would.
Must mod'rate Men from top-Preferments fall,
Because they can't agree with us in all?
We may esteem the Ore, yet slight the Dross;
May be good Christians, yet condemn the Cross;
May hate Cathedral Hymns, yet Hopkins sing,
And propagate without the Pagan Ring.
No doubt this Bill by some well-meaning Men,
Was but sent up to be sent down agen.
It needs must give weak Consciences offence,
Rogues can't be so without a vast Expence.
The Sacramental Test caus'd no Debates,
That but their Souls, this touches their Estates.
Should this Unchristian bitter Bill succeed,
'Twould be a Woe to Hypocrites indeed.
Away with't then; 'tis one of Bonner's Bills:
I'm not for saving Saints against their Wills.
Slav'ry in France, and Bigotry in Spain.
The best of Kings the best of Gifts bestow'd,
And Toleration by a Law allow'd,
And bid us go to God which way we would.
Must mod'rate Men from top-Preferments fall,
Because they can't agree with us in all?
We may esteem the Ore, yet slight the Dross;
May be good Christians, yet condemn the Cross;
May hate Cathedral Hymns, yet Hopkins sing,
And propagate without the Pagan Ring.
No doubt this Bill by some well-meaning Men,
Was but sent up to be sent down agen.
It needs must give weak Consciences offence,
Rogues can't be so without a vast Expence.
The Sacramental Test caus'd no Debates,
That but their Souls, this touches their Estates.
Should this Unchristian bitter Bill succeed,
'Twould be a Woe to Hypocrites indeed.
Away with't then; 'tis one of Bonner's Bills:
I'm not for saving Saints against their Wills.
This said, they all with a consenting Nod,
The Reformation Writer's Thoughts applaud.
When strait a most melodious Sound was heard,
And lo! in White a Rev'rend Form appear'd:
A Cross his Hand, a Mitre deck'd his Head;
And while sweet Odours round the Room were spread,
Thus to them all the Sacred Shadow said:
The Reformation Writer's Thoughts applaud.
When strait a most melodious Sound was heard,
And lo! in White a Rev'rend Form appear'd:
A Cross his Hand, a Mitre deck'd his Head;
And while sweet Odours round the Room were spread,
Thus to them all the Sacred Shadow said:
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Since Time at length turns up the happy Hour,
And Providence has put it in your pow'r,
To cote your Flocks, and sever from the Fold
The prowling Wolf, will you your hands withhold?
Forbid it Heaven! it ever should be said,
That the pure Church for which the Martyr bled,
And for which too I sacrific'd my Head,
Should be by'ts Bishops into Bondage led.
Think, such a Time may never come agen,
Seldom such Senates, never such a Queen.
Your Church's Fate you falsly fear from Rome,
Out of the North more likely 'tis to come:
One Faith's Defender having hurt it more,
Than all the Kings that ever reign'd before.
Make then your legal Dams 'gainst Schism so high,
No Spring-tides of Succession may destroy.
And Providence has put it in your pow'r,
To cote your Flocks, and sever from the Fold
The prowling Wolf, will you your hands withhold?
Forbid it Heaven! it ever should be said,
That the pure Church for which the Martyr bled,
And for which too I sacrific'd my Head,
Should be by'ts Bishops into Bondage led.
Think, such a Time may never come agen,
Seldom such Senates, never such a Queen.
Your Church's Fate you falsly fear from Rome,
Out of the North more likely 'tis to come:
One Faith's Defender having hurt it more,
Than all the Kings that ever reign'd before.
Make then your legal Dams 'gainst Schism so high,
No Spring-tides of Succession may destroy.
He ceas'd; and lo! a Cloud refulgent bright
Bore up the Saint to Realms of lasting Light.
Fear and a just Confusion shook each Soul,
And Samuel's Truth with trembling fell on all.
Shame and Confusion sate on ev'ry Face,
And even S---um felt some shocks of Grace.
The Heav'nly Vision quite had chang'd their Will,
And all without Amendments now would pass the Bill.
When strange!
After an Earthquake and a flash of Flame,
Into the Room a Meager Phantom came;
His bending Bulk, and Purple Robe hung o'er,
And he in's hands the Regal Ensigns bore.
Struck with Surprize each Rev'rence arose,
And Homage paid, and recogniz'd his Nose.
When casting on them all a direful Look,
With Indignation thus the Spectre spoke.
Bore up the Saint to Realms of lasting Light.
Fear and a just Confusion shook each Soul,
And Samuel's Truth with trembling fell on all.
Shame and Confusion sate on ev'ry Face,
And even S---um felt some shocks of Grace.
The Heav'nly Vision quite had chang'd their Will,
And all without Amendments now would pass the Bill.
When strange!
After an Earthquake and a flash of Flame,
Into the Room a Meager Phantom came;
His bending Bulk, and Purple Robe hung o'er,
And he in's hands the Regal Ensigns bore.
Struck with Surprize each Rev'rence arose,
And Homage paid, and recogniz'd his Nose.
When casting on them all a direful Look,
With Indignation thus the Spectre spoke.
False to your Faith, and your Creation too,
To be to what's against your Int'rest true:
Have I been labouring thirteen Years and more
That to destroy, which you would now restore?
Did I not cull you out among the Croud,
To make you all Right Rev'rend Things in God?
Did I not thro the Surplice see the Saint?
Churchmen in show, but Calvins in your Cant;
Forc'd you the Chair Episcopal to fill,
And Mitred you almost against your Will:
And will you now at last Apostatize?
Think better on't; my former Friends be wise;
Is this a Reign in which you e'er can rise?
Can W---ster tell with his Prophetick Vein,
When he shall be Lord Almoner again?
Do G---ter, Br---tol, or St. Asaph know
The happy Time when they shall not be so?
Off with the Mask then; boldly now appear
The very Men the World once thought you were.
This said, in shapeless Air the Royal Bubble broke,
And the thin Form their wond'ring Eyes forsook.
To be to what's against your Int'rest true:
Have I been labouring thirteen Years and more
That to destroy, which you would now restore?
355
To make you all Right Rev'rend Things in God?
Did I not thro the Surplice see the Saint?
Churchmen in show, but Calvins in your Cant;
Forc'd you the Chair Episcopal to fill,
And Mitred you almost against your Will:
And will you now at last Apostatize?
Think better on't; my former Friends be wise;
Is this a Reign in which you e'er can rise?
Can W---ster tell with his Prophetick Vein,
When he shall be Lord Almoner again?
Do G---ter, Br---tol, or St. Asaph know
The happy Time when they shall not be so?
Off with the Mask then; boldly now appear
The very Men the World once thought you were.
This said, in shapeless Air the Royal Bubble broke,
And the thin Form their wond'ring Eyes forsook.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |