HORACE, PART OF BOOK I, SAT. VI, PARAPHRASED
1733
If Noisy Tom[1] should in the senate prate,
"That he would answer both for church and state;
And, farther, to demonstrate his affection,
Would take the kingdom into his protection;"
All mortals must be curious to inquire,
Who could this coxcomb be, and who his sire?
"What! thou, the spawn of him[2] who shamed our isle,
Traitor, assassin, and informer vile!
Though by the female side,[3] you proudly bring,
To mend your breed, the murderer of a king:
What was thy grandsire,[4] but a mountaineer,
Who held a cabin for ten groats a-year:
Whose master Moore[5] preserved him from the halter,
For stealing cows! nor could he read the Psalter!
Durst thou, ungrateful, from the senate chase
Thy founder's grandson,[6] and usurp his place?
Just Heaven! to see the dunghill bastard brood
Survive in thee, and make the proverb good?[7]
Then vote a worthy citizen to jail,[8]
In spite of justice, and refuse his bail!"[9]
[Footnote 1: Sir Thomas Prendergast. See _post_, p. 266.]
[Footnote 2: The father of Sir Thomas Prendergast, who engaged in a plot
to murder King William III; but, to avoid being hanged, turned informer
against his associates, for which he was rewarded with a good estate, and
made a baronet.--_F_.]
[Footnote 3: Cadogan's family.--_F_.]
[Footnote 4: A poor thieving cottager under Mr. Moore, condemned at
Clonmel assizes to be hanged for stealing cows.--_F_.]
[Footnote 5: The grandfather of Guy Moore, Esq., who procured him a
pardon._--F._]
[Footnote 6: Guy Moore was fairly elected member of Parliament for
Clonmel; but Sir Thomas, depending upon his interest with a certain party
then prevailing, and since known by the title of parson-hunters,
petitioned the House against him; out of which he was turned upon
pretence of bribery, which the paying of his lawful debts was then voted
to be.--_F_.]
[Footnote 7: "Save a thief from the gallows, and he will cut your
throat."--_F_.]
[Footnote 8: Mr. George Faulkner. Mr. Sergeant Bettesworth, a member of
the Irish Parliament, having made a complaint to the House of Commons
against the "Satire on Quadrille," they voted Faulkner the printer into
custody (who was confined closely in prison three days, when he was in a
very bad state of health, and his life in much danger) for not
discovering the author.--_F_.]
[Footnote 9: Among the poems, etc., preserved by Mr. Smith are verses on
the same subject and person with these in the text. The verses are given
in Swift's works, edit. Scott, xii, 448.--_W. E. B._]
ON DR. RUNDLE, BISHOP OF DERRY
1734-5
Make Rundle bishop! fie for shame!
An Arian to usurp the name!
A bishop in the isle of saints!
How will his brethren make complaints!
Dare any of the mitred host
Confer on him the Holy Ghost:
In mother church to breed a variance,
By coupling orthodox with Arians?
Yet, were he Heathen, Turk, or Jew:
What is there in it strange or new?
For, let us hear the weak pretence,
His brethren find to take offence;
Of whom there are but four at most,
Who know there is a Holy Ghost;
The rest, who boast they have conferr'd it,
Like Paul's Ephesians, never-heard it;
And, when they gave it, well 'tis known
They gave what never was their own.
Rundle a bishop! well he may;
He's still a Christian more than they.
We know the subject of their quarrels;
The man has learning, sense, and morals.
There is a reason still more weighty;
'Tis granted he believes a Deity.
Has every circumstance to please us,
Though fools may doubt his faith in Jesus.
But why should he with that be loaded,
Now twenty years from court exploded?
And is not this objection odd
From rogues who ne'er believed a God?
For liberty a champion stout,
Though not so Gospel-ward devout.
While others, hither sent to save us
Come but to plunder and enslave us;
Nor ever own'd a power divine,
But Mammon, and the German line.
Say, how did Rundle undermine 'em?
Who shew'd a better _jus divinum_?
From ancient canons would not vary,
But thrice refused _episcopari_.
Our bishop's predecessor, Magus,
Would offer all the sands of Tagus;
Or sell his children, house, and lands,
For that one gift, to lay on hands:
But all his gold could not avail
To have the spirit set to sale.
Said surly Peter, "Magus, prithee,
Be gone: thy money perish with thee."
Were Peter now alive, perhaps,
He might have found a score of chaps,
Could he but make his gift appear
In rents three thousand pounds a-year.
Some fancy this promotion odd,
As not the handiwork of God;
Though e'en the bishops disappointed
Must own it made by God's anointed,
And well we know, the _congé_ regal
Is more secure as well as legal;
Because our lawyers all agree,
That bishoprics are held in fee.
Dear Baldwin[1] chaste, and witty Crosse,[2]
How sorely I lament your loss!
That such a pair of wealthy ninnies
Should slip your time of dropping guineas;
For, had you made the king your debtor,
Your title had been so much better.
[Footnote 1: Richard Baldwin, Provost of Trinity College in 1717. He left
behind him many natural children.--_Scott_.]
[Footnote 2: Rector of St. Mary's Dublin, in 1722; before which time he
had been chaplain to the Smyrna Company. See the Epistolary
Correspondence, May 26, 1720.--_Scott_.]