 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
181
The Church's Petition.
[_]
Passing through the Parish of Flempton, County Suffolk, a few days since, we were much struck with the picturesque appearance of the parish church—in ruins. While gazing upon it in the twilight, with that look of pensive abstraction which sits so well upon our fine features, and which the hour was so calculated to encourage, on a sudden the church door opened slow and wide, mouth-fashion, and a voice from within, which sounded like the cracked double G of a decayed organ-pipe, uttered the following Lament:—
Pity the sorrows of a poor old Church,
With half a tower, and scarce a decent door;
The hard churchwardens leave me in the lurch,
And rural deans, despairing, give me o'er!
With half a tower, and scarce a decent door;
The hard churchwardens leave me in the lurch,
And rural deans, despairing, give me o'er!
Thatch'd roof, and porch my poverty bespeak,
Untouch'd by workman since the ancient years
Of Blastus Godly ; and my belfry's wreck
Excites the nervous congregation's fears.
Untouch'd by workman since the ancient years
Of Blastus Godly ; and my belfry's wreck
Excites the nervous congregation's fears.
Yet many a spot, with wood and mansion crown'd,
I view around me on the Bury road,
Where wanton wealth profusely decks the ground,
And cherish'd pheasants find a safe abode.
I view around me on the Bury road,
Where wanton wealth profusely decks the ground,
And cherish'd pheasants find a safe abode.
Hard is the treatment of the House of God—
The sum that gives one keeper yearly bread
Would patch my ruins, that neglected nod,
Envying the snugness of each humbler shed.
The sum that gives one keeper yearly bread
Would patch my ruins, that neglected nod,
Envying the snugness of each humbler shed.
182
I ask no gilded weathercock or dome.
But a few stones to fence me from the cold—
A boon denied not to the ploughman's home,
Or barn, no matter how unsound and old.
But a few stones to fence me from the cold—
A boon denied not to the ploughman's home,
Or barn, no matter how unsound and old.
Fair neighbours, cast an eye upon my grief,
Now that success your famed Bazaar has blest;
And when the poor have shared their due relief,
Pray, for Heaven's sake, bestow on me the rest!
Now that success your famed Bazaar has blest;
And when the poor have shared their due relief,
Pray, for Heaven's sake, bestow on me the rest!
Good Mrs. Williams,
do but print a line,
Just to describe me in the plight you see;
A stronger case can scarce be found than mine,
In thine own “Stories of Mendicity.”
Just to describe me in the plight you see;
A stronger case can scarce be found than mine,
In thine own “Stories of Mendicity.”
'Twould melt the bowels of an honest Turk,
To see a Christian Mosque so scant-equipt
Like an old shiver'd lime-kiln past its work,
Or a sham ruin with the ivy stript.
To see a Christian Mosque so scant-equipt
Like an old shiver'd lime-kiln past its work,
Or a sham ruin with the ivy stript.
The tale that Lancashire's revilers tell,
Can scarcely match my melancholy state,
When the churchwardens sold the steeple bell
To buy strong liquors, and a bull to bait.
Can scarcely match my melancholy state,
When the churchwardens sold the steeple bell
To buy strong liquors, and a bull to bait.
183
Pity the sorrows of a poor old Church,
Ye who roll past in daily coach and four,
Find a few pounds for my repair; the search
Will scarce exhaust your overflowing store!
Ye who roll past in daily coach and four,
Find a few pounds for my repair; the search
Will scarce exhaust your overflowing store!
| The Ingoldsby Lyrics | |