_By the Younger Bowyer, written at St. John's College, Cambridge,
November 29, 1719._
"Ne quicquam sapit, qui sibi ipsi non sapit."
A goodly parson once there was,
To 's maid would chatter Latin;
(For that he was, I think, an ass,
At least the rhyme comes pat in.)
One day the house to prayers were met,
With well united hearts;
Below, a goose was at the spit,
To feast their grosser parts.
The godly maid to prayers she came,
If truth the legends say,
To hear her master English lame,
Herself to sleep and pray.
The maid, to hear her worthy master,
Left all alone her kitchen;
Hence happened much a worse disaster
Than if she'd let the bitch in.
While each breast burns with pious flame,
All hearts with ardours beat,
The goose's breast did much the same
With too malicious heat.
The parson smelt the odours rise;
To 's belly thoughts gave loose,
And plainly seemed to sympathise
With his twice-murdered goose.
He knew full well self-preservation
Bids piety retire,
Just as the _salus_ of a nation
Lays obligation higher.
He stopped, and thus held forth his _Clerum_,
While him the maid did stare at,
_Hoc faciendum; sed alterum
Non negligendum erat_.
_Parce tuum Vatum sceleris damnare._
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