Poems on Various Subjects :: :: University of Virginia Library

It may be proper to mention, that the Design of the following Song is not to lampoon the honest and sincere, but only to expose pretended Zealots, and designing Enthusiasts. Irony and Banter seem best adapted to ridicule such Visionarys, who are declared Enemies to all Reason and Learning. Those who depart from Reason become the proper Objects of Satyr and Laughter. Some will say, that every Thing may become the Subject of Drollery, Wit, and Banter, but 'tis impossible to ridicule the virtuous, sincere Man: Therefore this Song has no Relation to such.

1

Ye vagabond levites, who ramble about,
To gull with your priest-craft, an ignorant rout,
Awhile your nonsensical canting suspend,
And now to my honester ballad attend.

213

2

These pretended reformers recruiting are come,
For volunteer saints with canonical drum;
And with impudent jargon, and spiritual pother,
Damn one half of their hearers, and plunder the other.

3

By Jesuits deluded, with pious commission,
To kindle the schismatic coals of sedition;
The dupes of sly Romish, itinerant liars,
The spawn of French prophets, and mendicant friars.

4

Ye pious enthusiasts! who riot, and rob,
With holy grimace, and sanctify'd sob:
Ye saints in rebellion—far worse than the sword,
Who cheat—pray—and lie—in the name of the Lord.

5

Say, brother Fanatics—what led you to Frome,
Where weavers expound, as they sit at the loom;
Where mechanics inspir'd, the gospel explain,
And weave at a text, as well as a Chain.

6

Here at your own weapons you're fairly outdone,
For teaching, and trucking the town has o'er run;

214

With Grub-street devotion our stomachs are cram'd,
While bigots pronounce—believe—or be damn'd.

7

Here tinkers, and taylors, deep doctrines can handle,
By the light of the spirit—or light of the candle;
Here seekers—sots—ranters, religion will trim,
And tell you that virtue, and vice is all whim.

8

Here the knave, cheat, and liar, by grace are protected,
For the Lord sees no backsliding in his elected;
O! comforting creed! to sooth us in evil,
To rely all on faith—and to deal with the devil.

9

Tho' loaded with sins, yet the saints cannot fall,
The chosen are safe, and Christ must bear all.
O! perfect believers—how blest your condition?
But wo! to the reprobate sons of perdition.

10

If such-gifted brethren can gospel explain,
Then churches are needless, and learning is vain,
Who compound with the scripture, and truck with religion,
As Mahomet cheated the croud with his pidgeon.

215

11

Like that prophet they fall into trances, and fits,
And frighten the populace out of their wits;
Then utter their dreams, which they call inspirations,
By the devil suggested in those agitations.

12

Thus from Caledon hills, strolling saints, second sighted,
By call of the spirit,—and hunger invited,
With their wild-fowl, flock southward from Tweed and from Tay,
Like Calvin to curse—like Peter to pray.

13

And after their toils in the wilderness past,
Here find out the promised Canaan at last.
By instinct inspir'd with the cock, snite and widgeon,
In more fertile climate to forage provision.

14

But these winter birds, when the spring season smiles,
Repair back again to their northerly isles;
But when settled here, the devil a Scot,
E'er back to his desolate mountains will trot.

15

To proceed, these Reformers pretend to a call,
To convert the lost gentiles, like Peter or Paul.

216

But e'er one considerate convert you win,
Gospel-miracles work, and we all will come in.

16

Some wonders indeed you boast of, by saying,
That your flock is supported by fasting and praying;
For their money you feed them with spiritual leaven,
Then bid the fools gape after manna from heaven.

17

But my friends, it is surely most whimsical barter,
To starve the poor here—for to save them hereafter.
'Till decoy'd with their hypocrite tales and pretences,
The credulous dupes lose their Time, Wealth and Senses.

18

Struck with puritan looks, and barefac'd assertion,
They stake all below, for the skys in reversion,
'Till politic Satan cuts off the entail,
And sends them to Bedlam, to Box or to Jail.

19

How modest these innocent methodist elves,
Who curse half mankind, but are righteous themselves:
Those who plunder the poor, are surely accurst,
And of all rogues—the sanctify'd Rogue is the worst.

217

20

These pious reformers but frighten the croud,
And pour forth extempore nonsense aloud,
Then their sect, with much modesty, methodists call,
When th' enthusiasts observe no Method at all.

21

Much terror they preach, with boldness asserted,
And some are, for fear of the devil, converted;
But with all their wild rant, they can teach us no more,
Than the practical dutys, we all knew before.

22

Then begone, ye false prophets—go whine out damnation,
Experiences, impulse, and regeneration;
We want no such tutors, our duty to shew,
If we copy in practice—but half what we know.

23

In vain bigots prate, and zealots declaim,
While Heaven-born Virtue shines always the same;
Let them damn,—and debate,—and divide while they will,
True Religion resides in the the honest Man still.

A noted Mad-House.