The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
 | I. |
To Mr. Bays
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 | II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| 1 | | VI. |
| VII. |
 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
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To Mr. Bays
Thou mercenary renegade, thou slave,Thou ever changing, still to be a knave:
What sect, what error wilt thou next disgrace?
Thou art so lewd, so scandalously base,
That antichristian Popery may be
Asham'd of such a proselite as thee.
Not all the rancour and felonious spite
Which animates thy lumpish soul to write
Could have contriv'd a satire more severe,
Or more disgrac'd the cause thou wouldst prefer.
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It suits with thy poetic genius best.
There thou. . . .
Thy mind, disus'd to truth, must entertain
With tales more monstrous, fanciful, and vain
Than ev'n thy poetry could ever feign.
Or sing the lives of thy own fellow saints—
'Tis a large field and thy assistance wants.
Thence copy out new operas for the stage,
And with their miracles divert the age.
Such is thy faith, if thou hast faith indeed,
For well we may distrust the poet's creed;
Rebel to God, blasphemer of the king,
Oh, tell whence could this strange compliance spring:
So may'st thou prove to thy new gods as true
As thy old friend the Devil has been to you;
Still conscience and religion's the pretence,
But food and drink the mythologic sense.
'Twas interest reconcil'd thee to the cheat,
And vain ambition prompted thee to eat.
Oh, how persuasive is the want of bread!
Not reasons from strong box more strongly plead.
A convert thou! Why, 'tis past all believing,
'Tis a damn'd scandal of thy foes' contriving,
A jest of that malicious monster, fame:
The honest layman's faith is still the same.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |