The Priest Dissected A Poem, Addressed to the Rev. Mr. ---, Author of Regulus, Toby, Caesar, And other Satirical Pieces in the Public Papers. By the author of the New Bath Guide [i.e.Christopher Anstey]. Canto I. The Second Edition |
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| PROLOGUE.
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 | The Priest Dissected |  |
PROLOGUE.
Woe! to the just occasion that compels
My verse to satire, when my soul rebels;
Must I, unskill'd her angry bolts to fling,
Or draw fell poison from th' Aonian spring,
Must I, alas! the cruel task sustain,
To seek my triumphs from another's pain?
I, who to grief the pitying tear can lend,
Or smile at folly, but would ne'er offend;
My verse to satire, when my soul rebels;
Must I, unskill'd her angry bolts to fling,
Or draw fell poison from th' Aonian spring,
Must I, alas! the cruel task sustain,
To seek my triumphs from another's pain?
I, who to grief the pitying tear can lend,
Or smile at folly, but would ne'er offend;
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Scribble, sometimes, life's burthen to forget,
But claim no empire o'er the realms of wit;
Nor damn'd with love of fame the muse once more
Tempts me to visit the Pierian shore;
But for his sake, that dark ungenerous foe,
Who now commands th' unwilling verse to flow;
Ill-judging priest! whose comminations dire
At once my laughter, and my rage inspire;
Who vainly thinks the Christian church assigns
Exclusive rights, to critical divines,
Claims some superior priviledge to curse,
And damns alike the poet and the verse.
But claim no empire o'er the realms of wit;
Nor damn'd with love of fame the muse once more
Tempts me to visit the Pierian shore;
But for his sake, that dark ungenerous foe,
Who now commands th' unwilling verse to flow;
Ill-judging priest! whose comminations dire
At once my laughter, and my rage inspire;
Who vainly thinks the Christian church assigns
Exclusive rights, to critical divines,
Claims some superior priviledge to curse,
And damns alike the poet and the verse.
Yet once (he tells me) with delight he view'd
Each Roman genius in my verse renew'd;
And still shall view, if ought of pedant lore
His classic palate can regale once more;
Yes—oft' I'll wander o'er the Latian plain
To charm his ears, (if yet his ears remain)
Who long has reign'd so bold an enterpriser,
In Evening Post, and Public Advertiser,
Manners and men condemns unknown, unheard,
And books of which he never read one word:
A robber worse than Polypheme, or Cacus,
Who to the dungeon of the press can take us,
There on our mangled reputations dine,
As late, sweet reader, he regal'd on mine;
Yet wonder not; since him alike to feed
Peers, privy-counsellors and judges bleed,
Sheriffs and members, while elections last,
And aldermen afford a rich repast;
On
Galen's sons he battens at his ease,
And roasted Scotchmen never fail to please;
More savage now all pity can discard,
And, worst of Cannibals, devours a bard.
Each Roman genius in my verse renew'd;
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His classic palate can regale once more;
Yes—oft' I'll wander o'er the Latian plain
To charm his ears, (if yet his ears remain)
Who long has reign'd so bold an enterpriser,
In Evening Post, and Public Advertiser,
Manners and men condemns unknown, unheard,
And books of which he never read one word:
A robber worse than Polypheme, or Cacus,
Who to the dungeon of the press can take us,
There on our mangled reputations dine,
As late, sweet reader, he regal'd on mine;
Yet wonder not; since him alike to feed
Peers, privy-counsellors and judges bleed,
Sheriffs and members, while elections last,
And aldermen afford a rich repast;
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And roasted Scotchmen never fail to please;
More savage now all pity can discard,
And, worst of Cannibals, devours a bard.
Yet, O! fair sun, thou golden lamp of day,
Who from such banquets turn'st thine eyes away,
O! may this son of Pelops ne'er digest
The horrors of that dire inhuman feast;
Inspire one spark celestial to my strains,
To sweat him first, then flay him for his pains!
And be it known to all that medling scum
Of scribbling priests to whom these presents come,
Such as with wrath and Slander dare to swerve
From the mild precepts of the God they serve,
Those base dispensers both of verse and prose,
That I by kind Thalia's grace propose,
With just reply this subject to correct,
Then duly flay'd, to open and dissect,
That all may know, by viewing the deceas'd,
The parts component of a worthless priest—
Who from such banquets turn'st thine eyes away,
O! may this son of Pelops ne'er digest
The horrors of that dire inhuman feast;
Inspire one spark celestial to my strains,
To sweat him first, then flay him for his pains!
And be it known to all that medling scum
Of scribbling priests to whom these presents come,
Such as with wrath and Slander dare to swerve
From the mild precepts of the God they serve,
Those base dispensers both of verse and prose,
That I by kind Thalia's grace propose,
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Then duly flay'd, to open and dissect,
That all may know, by viewing the deceas'd,
The parts component of a worthless priest—
Then when the muse shall analyze his clay,
Th' untutor'd child, and hoary eld shall say,
“ Is this the Guide, to whom our souls are given,
“Shall scoundrel link-boys light the way to heaven:—
“Disgrace to those whom Providence design'd,
“With virtuous lives to teach and bless mankind?”
Th' untutor'd child, and hoary eld shall say,
“ Is this the Guide, to whom our souls are given,
“Shall scoundrel link-boys light the way to heaven:—
“Disgrace to those whom Providence design'd,
“With virtuous lives to teach and bless mankind?”
See Verses address'd to the Author, sign'd Clericus. Bath Courant, July 10, 1773:—Of which more hereafter.
Bring forth this self-made monarch of a day,
Who like Sicilian tyrants holds his sway,
Yet to sweet freedom's ever-soothing note,
Joins the harsh discord of his patriot throat,
Levels his wrath at all who dare control
The fierce emotions of his free-born soul:
But why at me? whom far from party rage
No furious schemes of politics engage;
Who like Sicilian tyrants holds his sway,
Yet to sweet freedom's ever-soothing note,
Joins the harsh discord of his patriot throat,
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The fierce emotions of his free-born soul:
But why at me? whom far from party rage
No furious schemes of politics engage;
From wealth, from honours, and from courts remov'd
I've kept the silent path my genius lov'd,
And pity'd those whom fortune oft' beguiles,
With flatt'ring hopes from false ambition's smiles;
Hence far from me the prostituted hour
Of adulation base on pride or pow'r,
Hence (thanks to heav'n) I ne'er was doom'd to know
What bitter streams from disappointment flow:
Oh! bane of life's sweet cup! you oft' compel
Your wretched victim in some lonely cell,
(Such as contains, I deem, that hapless bard
Who claims this instance of my just regard)
With soul that erst to insolence could cringe
To seek the means of impotent revenge;
Vile letters for vile printers to compose,
In one dull series of perpetual prose,
Or soaring on the muse's eagle wings,
Abuse alike all ministers and kings:
Peace to such scribes: from such protect my name,
Whose praise is infamy, whose censure fame:
I've kept the silent path my genius lov'd,
And pity'd those whom fortune oft' beguiles,
With flatt'ring hopes from false ambition's smiles;
Hence far from me the prostituted hour
Of adulation base on pride or pow'r,
Hence (thanks to heav'n) I ne'er was doom'd to know
What bitter streams from disappointment flow:
Oh! bane of life's sweet cup! you oft' compel
Your wretched victim in some lonely cell,
(Such as contains, I deem, that hapless bard
Who claims this instance of my just regard)
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To seek the means of impotent revenge;
Vile letters for vile printers to compose,
In one dull series of perpetual prose,
Or soaring on the muse's eagle wings,
Abuse alike all ministers and kings:
Peace to such scribes: from such protect my name,
Whose praise is infamy, whose censure fame:
Nor shall it e'er in future times be said,
(If e'er in future times my verse be read)
That I (tho' fame applaud me to my wrong)
Stood forth the champion of HEROIC SONG,
Or once have felt, (so heav'n direct my ways)
The conscious pang of self-condemning praise;
Tho' but with ivy deck'd, without a frown
I can behold another's laurel crown,
Unfit for me; who from the secret shade
Ne'er to the throne my humble muse convey'd,
Ne'er dar'd at majesty my jest to aim
Or sport familiar with its sacred name:
(If e'er in future times my verse be read)
That I (tho' fame applaud me to my wrong)
Stood forth the champion of HEROIC SONG,
Or once have felt, (so heav'n direct my ways)
The conscious pang of self-condemning praise;
Tho' but with ivy deck'd, without a frown
I can behold another's laurel crown,
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Ne'er to the throne my humble muse convey'd,
Ne'er dar'd at majesty my jest to aim
Or sport familiar with its sacred name:
Oh no—could I the fragrant garland twine
Of sweetest flow'rs that bloom round virtue's shrine,
To grace the husband, father, and the man
Who lives and governs on the Christian plan,
Pleas'd with mild arts his empire to improve,
Blest in his dear, and virtuous consort's love,
Who 'mid the toils of state his hours employs,
On ten sweet pledges of connubial joys,
And gives to me (who equal numbers share)
A bright example of paternal care—
Then would I raise my feeble voice to sing
My good, my honour'd, and my gracious King.
Of sweetest flow'rs that bloom round virtue's shrine,
To grace the husband, father, and the man
Who lives and governs on the Christian plan,
Pleas'd with mild arts his empire to improve,
Blest in his dear, and virtuous consort's love,
Who 'mid the toils of state his hours employs,
On ten sweet pledges of connubial joys,
And gives to me (who equal numbers share)
A bright example of paternal care—
Then would I raise my feeble voice to sing
My good, my honour'd, and my gracious King.
| The Priest Dissected | |