FABLE IV. The Priest and his Dog.
Money makes the Mare to go.
A priest, possess'd of a fat Benefice,
And Wealthier (as oft' it proves) than Wise;
By Death was, of a fav'rite Dog, depriv'd,
That was his whole Diversion while he liv'd;
And, to express his Love to the Deceas'd,
In Consecrated Ground interr'd the Beast.
His Bishop (fond of Gain) was soon inform'd
Of the Offence, and out of measure storm'd:
(Not with Concern for the Church-yard's Abuse,
But of that Crime to make as ill an Use;)
And, more to purge his Pocket than his Soul,
Enjoin'd him Penance for a Sin so foul.
The Priest, who guess'd what his good Lordship meant,
And cast about how he might Shame prevent,
Took in his Purse a tempting Sum of Gold,
And, back'd with that, his humble Story told:
My Fault, My Lord, seems very great, I own;
But not without prevailing Reason done:
Had but your Lordship known my Ranger's Parts,
His pretty and insinuating Arts,
You wou'd suspend your Censure on his score,
And rather wonder I have done no more:
Nor think his Fun'ral-Rites shou'd be deny'd,
Whose Zeal enrich'd the Corban when he dy'd;
For while he liv'd he had some Treasure stor'd,
And at his Death distributed the Hoard:
To you, My Lord, for many Favours past,
Which he, poor Curr, acknowledg'd to the last,
The grateful Creature, with his dying Breath,
Did, in Return, this Legacy bequeath.
This spoke, with Rev'rence to his Lordship made,
He to his ready Hand the Purse convey'd.
The greedy Prelate, ravish'd with the Gold,
Much the Dog's Thrift, but more his Love, extoll'd;
And own'd, That he who that Oblation sent,
Deserv'd within the Church a Monument.
The MORAL.
‘So little Care of Sacred Things they take,
‘Who only serve the Lord for Mammon's sake:
‘When Lucre draws them in to watch the Fold,
‘The Flock is purchas'd, and the Fleece is sold.
‘They make, by their detested Simonies,
‘The House of God, a House of Merchandize:
‘For impious Ends exert their sacred Pow'r,
‘And, what they were advanc'd to feed, devour.
‘Thus Eli's Sons made Sacrifice abhorr'd;
‘And Judas, tempted thus, deny'd his Lord:
‘In whose foul Steps too many since have trod,
‘Made Av'rice their Religion, Gold their God.
