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139

SPLIT-TEXT

Eclogue 1st.

Argument

Crape, a Virginian Clergyman, being turn'd out of his Living for Misdemeanours, comes to the House of Split-text in Maryland, where Split-text's happy Situation & Crape's Misfortune naturally beget the following Dialogue.

Crape, Split-text
Crape:
Beneath the Shade of these wide-spreading Trees,
Dear Split-text. You can smoke your Chunk

A small Planter's Pipe which some of the Clergy don't disdain to make use of.

at Ease;
I hapless Wretch! must bid such joys Adieu;
Strip't of my Credit, & my Income too;
Must leave my Glebe, which all my Bacon

The chief Food of the Marylanders.

fed,
(Bacon, my rich repast so often made)
While you, while chearful, Plenty round you dwells,
Can talk with D---y,

A numerous Family in the Province

how Tobacco sells.
Tityrus Ecloga 1ma Meliboeus, Tityrus
Mel:
Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi
Silvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena;
Nos patriae finis et dulcia linquimus arva;
Nos patriam fugimus; tu, Tityre
Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida Sylvas



Split-text:
Yes, Brother Crape—a gen'rous Chief bestow'd
On me these Blessings—all to him I ow'd.
For which I'll ne'er forget, each Sabbath-Day,
With hearty Zeal for my good Lord to pray:
He

Too just an Insinuation, that the true merit of a Clergyman is not considered here in his Promotion.

made me Parson here; & bids me fill
My Pipe & Bowl, as often as I will.
Tit:
O Meliboe, Deus nobis hoc otia fecit
illius aram
Saepe tener nostris ab obilibus imbuet agnus
Ille meas errare boves et ipsum
Ludere quae vellem calamo permisit agresti



Crape:
I envy not your Bliss, but wonder much
Their

The name of a Clergyman almost scandalous here; which proceeds from two Causes: the ill Conduct of some of them & the vast numbers of Roman Catholicks & Quakers, who, however wide in their Points of Belief & doctrine, both of them heartily join in aspersing the Teachers and Members Church of England.

Hate for Pray'rs & Parsons here is such!
Poor I am forc'd on this lank jade to ride,
Which often alate with hunger lik'd to 've died:
But yesterday she tumbled in the Dirt.
And 'gainst a white oak

A particular kind of oak very plentiful in this Province.

Stump my Forehead hurt,
140

Fool that I was!—I might have known my Fate;
But Man is conscious of his Faults too late;
My Vestry

The Vestries in Virginia have it in their Pow'r, if the minister behaves ill, to get rid of him; which the Maryland Vestries have not.

told me oft, they'd bear no more,
And now at length have turn'd me out of Door.
—But say how you have all this Favour got?
Mel:
Non equidem invideo, miror magis; undique totis
Usque adeo turbamur agris
Protinus aeger ago; hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco
Hic inter densas corylos modo manque gamellos
Spem gregis, ah! silice in nuda connixa reliquit.
Saepe malum hoc nobis, Si mens non laeva fuisset,
De caelo tactas memini praedicere quercus.
Saepe sinistra cava praedixit ab ilice ornix
Sed tamen ille Deus qui sit, da, Tityre, nobis



Split-text:
Assurance & Good Luck:—what will they not?
A—

What Countryman my friend means, I can't exactly tell; however, am of opinion he had no Intention of aspersing any Country.

by Birth, I came a School to teach;
But little thought (God knows) I e'er should preach;
I found the Parsons here such Clods of Clay,
That soon to my Ambition I gave Way:
Why might not I, I said, harangue as well
As W---n or Wh---r or D-11?

These really are Gentlemen that bring a great discredit on their Funtion.


For we resemble those at Home no more,
Than Saints of Modern Days do Saints of yore.
Tit:
Sic canibus catulos similis,
Noram Haec tantum alias inter caput extulit urbes
Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.



Crape:
And pray, what made you to this Country come?
Mel:
Et quae tanta fuit Romam tibi causa videndi?



Split-text:
Faith! Poverty—I shou'd have starv'd at Home.
Soon as the Down 'gan on my Chin t'appear;
Ti:
Libertas, quae sera tamen respexit inertem.
Candidior postquam tondenti barba cadebat


I quite grew weary of my country Fare.
Oatmeal & Water was too thin a Diet,
To keep my grumbling Guts in peace & Quiet;
So fear of Starving, Hope of living better,
Made me have Heart enough to cross the Water.

Nec spes libertatis erat, nec cura peculi.



Crape:
I was surpris'd, that tho' you liv'd so well,
Me:
Mirabar quid maesta Deos, amarylli, vocares;


Your Carcase was so lank, you Phiz so pale;
The Cause is plain

The philosophy of this I don't pretend to assert; but I think Experience is plainly on our Side.

—your native, hungry Food
So gain'd th'Ascendant o'er your youthful Blood,
You look, as, if no meat cou'd do you good.

Split-text:
Twas Time then to some other place to roam,
And seek for better Fare than was at home;
141

Here then I came—but soon went back again,
The B[i]sh[o]p's Blessing, & my L[or]d's

Lord Proprietary of Maryland, who has all the Livings in his own Gift.

to gain
Soon both I got—I saw that noble P[ee]r,
For whom our Church puts up each week a Pray'r.

A very just Satyr I think on our Clergy for putting his lordship in our Pray'rs on a par with the Royal Family.


He bad me come, he bad me preach & pray,
And, if the Planters wou'd not, make 'em pay.
Tit:
neque servitio me exire licebat,
Nec tam praesentis alibi cognoscere divos.
Hic illum vidi juvenem, Meliboe, quotannis
Bis senos cui nostra dies altaria fumant.
Hic mihi responsum primus dedit ille pententi;
Pascite boves boves, pueri; submittite tauros.



Crape:
O happy Brother; happy is Thy Plight;
Mel:
Fortunate senex ergo tua rura manebunt;


Happy in all that can thy Soul delight;
Sure of the Forties,

The Clergy's Income is by forty Pound Wt of Tobacco a Head; & indeed little enough for those that are worthy of it; tho' occasion is taken from the Ill behaviour of some to represent their Income as a great Burthen on the Country.

Whate'er Loss betide
The Planter's Toil; since they must be supply'd.
O happy Brother—By this purling Rill
These shady Locusts,

A wood that grows by the Waterside, remarkable for its Hardness & it's long Continuance so that it is made use of much in their Gardens &c.

& that pleasant Hill,
What dost thou not enjoy?—the fanning Breeze
Comes sweetly breathing on thee thru the trees;
That busy Swarm with lulling sound compose
Thy wearied Soul to gentle, soft Repose;
Thy Negros, chanting forth their rustick Loves,
The melancholy Musick of the Doves;
The feather'd Choir, which, while they skim along
The liquid Plain, regale thee with a Song;
Nec Mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent.
Fortunate senex; hic inter flumina nota
Et fontes sacros frigus captabis opacum.
Hinc tibi, quae semper vicino ab limite saepes
Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti;
Saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro
canet frondator ad auras,
Nec tamen interea raucae Palumbes
Nec gemere aeria cessabit turtur ab ulmo


All, all conspire to heighten ev'ry Bliss,
And make theee taste sincerest Happiness.

Split-text:
Planters Tobacco shall forget to smoke,
Hogs to love Mast and Peaches, Frogs to croak,
The Indians range, where flows the princely Thames,
And Duchess live nigh Potomack's

A fine large River, that divides Virginia & Maryland, tis reckond twenty miles wide at it's Mouth.

Streams,
'Ere from my Heart that smiling Mien I lose
Tit:
Ante leves ergo pascentur in aethere cervi,
Et freta destituent nudos in littore pisces;
Ante pererratis amborum finibus exul
Aut Ararim Parthus bibet aut Germania Tigrim,
Quam nostro illius labatur pectore vultus.


With which the gen'rous

Gen'rous indeed, since his Church Favours fall without Distinction, on any that ask for them.

Lord his Gifts bestows.

Crape:
But I alass!
Mel:
At nos hic &c.

no more my Glebe must view,
But to my once-lov'd Dwelling bid Adieu,
Go preach the Gospel in some Indian's Ear,

Ten to one! a great deal more Purpose; tho' tis observable all over America, Christianity makes very small Progress among the Indians, which is owing no doubt to the scandalous Lives of it's pretended Professors among them.


Who'll mind my Preaching, like your Planters here?
And must a Stranger—Parson rule the roost,
And Glean the Harvest I so stupid lost?
Impius haec tam cultra novalia miles habebit
Barbarus has Segetes En quo discordia civis
Perduxit miseros


What has my Guzzling & my Folly done?
142

Go, Planters, go, your quondam Parson shun;

Ite, meae, felix quondam pecus, ite capellae;


No more shall I with you rant, drink & smoke;
Toast baudy Healths, or crack a smutty joak;
Carmina nulla canum; non, me pascente Capellae
Florentem Cytisum & salices carpetis amaras.


No more in Bumbo, or in Cyder swill;

I'm sorry to say, the Satyr here too just. Indeed Ecclesiastical Authority is much wanted here; & till proper measures are taken, there will be some among the Clergy, whose Lives will be a Scandal to the rest.


Faith! all's o'er now—I may go where I will.

Split-text:
To night howe'er with me you'll foul a Plate;
A juicy fat Gammon & a Chick we'll get;
Wine I have none; Good Bumbo

Rum, Water and Sugar without Acid.

& small Beer,
Clean, tho' coarse Linnen, will be all your Fare.
This year of Cyder I but made one Stoup,

Cider very plentiful in this Country: but tis observable that the Trees bear but ev'ry other Year. We must suppose this then to be the scarce year.


One Night the Planters came & drank it up,
Walk in—the Chimney's Smoke's more plainly seen;
And Giant Shadows cross the dewy Green;
Tit:
Hic tamen hac mecum poteras requiescere nocte
Sunt nobis mitia poma
Constaneae molles et pressi copia lactis;
Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant
Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae


In louder Musick sing the marshy Frogs;

The frogs here are of various Kinds & have notes as various, which on a summer's Ev'ning make a musick not disagreable.


—Sambo, go, pen the Turkies, feed the Hogs.

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