The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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| XIII. | ODE XIII. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
ODE XIII.
Pious Peter acknowledgeth great obligations to the Reverend Mr. Martyn Luther—Yet lamenteth the Effects of this Parson's Reformation on Painting.
We protestants owe much to Martyn Luther,
Who found to heav'n a shorter way and smoother;
And shall not soon repay the obligation:
Martyn against the papists got the laugh,
Who, as the butchers bleed and bang a calf
To whiteness—bled and bang'd unto salvation:
Who found to heav'n a shorter way and smoother;
And shall not soon repay the obligation:
Martyn against the papists got the laugh,
Who, as the butchers bleed and bang a calf
To whiteness—bled and bang'd unto salvation:
As if such drubbings could expel their sins:
As if that Pow'r, whose works with awe we view,
Grac'd all our backs with sets of comely skins,
Then order'd us to beat them black and blue.
Well then! we must confess for certain,
That much we owe to brother Martyn,
Who altered for the better our religion—
Yet by it glorious painting much did lose—
Was pluck'd, poor goddess! like a goose,
Or, for the rhime's sake like a pigeon.
As if that Pow'r, whose works with awe we view,
Grac'd all our backs with sets of comely skins,
Then order'd us to beat them black and blue.
Well then! we must confess for certain,
That much we owe to brother Martyn,
Who altered for the better our religion—
Yet by it glorious painting much did lose—
Was pluck'd, poor goddess! like a goose,
Or, for the rhime's sake like a pigeon.
121
Mad at the whore of Babylon and bull;
Down from the churches men began to pull
Pictures that long had held a lofty station—
Pictures of saints of pious reputation,
For curing by a miracle the ills
That now so stubborn yield not to devotions,
But unto blisters, bolusses, and potions,
That make such handsome ‘pothecaries’ bills.
Down from the churches men began to pull
Pictures that long had held a lofty station—
Pictures of saints of pious reputation,
For curing by a miracle the ills
That now so stubborn yield not to devotions,
But unto blisters, bolusses, and potions,
That make such handsome ‘pothecaries’ bills.
Down tumbled Anthony who preach'd to sprats—
And he who held discourses with a hog ,
That grunting after him so us'd to jog,
Came down by favour of long sticks and bats.
And he who held discourses with a hog ,
That grunting after him so us'd to jog,
Came down by favour of long sticks and bats.
The saints who grin'd on spits like ven'son roasting,
Broiling on gridir'ns—baking in an oven;
Or on a fork like cheese of Cheshire toasting,
Or kick'd to death by Satan's hoof so cloven;
All humbled to the ground were forc'd to fall—
Spits, forks, and gridir'ns, ovens, dev'l and all.
Broiling on gridir'ns—baking in an oven;
Or on a fork like cheese of Cheshire toasting,
Or kick'd to death by Satan's hoof so cloven;
All humbled to the ground were forc'd to fall—
Spits, forks, and gridir'ns, ovens, dev'l and all.
Ev'n saints of poor old England's breeding,
In marvels many foreign ones exceeding,
Our hot reformers did as roughly handle:
In troth, poor harmless souls! they met no quarter
But down were tumbled miracle and martyr,
Put up in lots, and sold by inch of candle.
In marvels many foreign ones exceeding,
Our hot reformers did as roughly handle:
In troth, poor harmless souls! they met no quarter
But down were tumbled miracle and martyr,
Put up in lots, and sold by inch of candle.
Had we been papists—Lord! we still had seen
Devils and devils' mates, young pimping liars,
Tempting the blushing nuns of frail fifteen,
With gangs of ogling, rosy, wanton friars:
Which nuns so pure no love-speech could cajole—
Who starv'd the body to preserve the soul.
Devils and devils' mates, young pimping liars,
Tempting the blushing nuns of frail fifteen,
With gangs of ogling, rosy, wanton friars:
Which nuns so pure no love-speech could cajole—
Who starv'd the body to preserve the soul.
Then had we seen St. Dennis with his head
Fresh in his hand, and with affection kissing;
As if the nob, that from his shoulders fled
By knife or broad-sword, never had been missing:
Then had we seen, upon their friendly coating,
Saints on the waves, like gulls and widgeons, floating.
Fresh in his hand, and with affection kissing;
As if the nob, that from his shoulders fled
By knife or broad-sword, never had been missing:
Then had we seen, upon their friendly coating,
Saints on the waves, like gulls and widgeons, floating.
122
I've seen a saint on board a ship,
To whom for a fair wind the papists pray,
Well flogg'd from stem to stern by birch and whip,
Poor wooden fellow! twenty times a day:
To whom for a fair wind the papists pray,
Well flogg'd from stem to stern by birch and whip,
Poor wooden fellow! twenty times a day:
Pull'd by the nose, and kick'd—call'd lubber, owl,
To make him turn a wind to fair from foul!
And often this hath brought a prosp'rous gale,
When pray'rs and curses have been found to fail.
To make him turn a wind to fair from foul!
And often this hath brought a prosp'rous gale,
When pray'rs and curses have been found to fail.
This, had we papists been, had grac'd our churches,
Saints, seamen, nose-pulling, kicks, whips, and birches.
Saints, seamen, nose-pulling, kicks, whips, and birches.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |