Page:Notes and Queries - Series 2 - Volume 1.djvu/35

 2"- 1 S. X 2., JAN. 12. '50. ]

NOTES AND QUEEIES,

27

MARVEL S GHOST.

[The following bitter invective addressed to the pious but hesitating Sancroft, on his absenting himself from Parliament, but directed against the bishops generally, is taken from a flying sheet of the time. It deserves to be reprinted as a striking illustration of the intense personal hatred generated by party spirit which prevailed -when this satire was written.]

"MARVEL'S GHOST:

" Being the True Copy of a Letter sent to the A. B. of C.

upon his sudden Sickness, at the Prince of Orange's first

Arrival into London.

" ' The Archbishops of Canterbury have put the Kings of this Land to much Sorrow and Trouble, for which the Kings IMIVC used the more Care and Circumspection to have such Archbishops placed in that See, as either should stand with them, or at least should not be against them.' Fox, Acts and Monuments, Vol. i. p. 214.

"The APOLOGY.

" When Men of God will do the DeeWs Work, And frame New Prayers for Lewis and the Turk. In drunken Clubs Religiously Combine, To make the lost Mack-Ninny's Right Divine : And the whole Town with Sham Distinctions ring- Of a de jure and de facto King, And prate of Duty till they've lost the thing ; When those whose Business 'tis to Preach up Peace, Labour to make our Discontents increase : Foment Divisions, and new Storms create : Defame the King and undermi Which wou'd, were they but he IVTiat Indignation can be thought severe ? JIow can a true-born English Mnse forbear To lash their Folly, and Correct tlieir Vice, And teach the People wlience their Plagues arise ? How innocent and good soe're they seem, The source of all our Mischiefs lies in Them. From them, as from Pandora's Box they fly : 'Tis their corrupted Breath pollutes our Northern Sky. Therefore, my Lord, you justly can't accuse This modest Sally of a backward Muse, Which had been damned to Silence, and forgot, If you Iiad not reviv'd it with your Plot. ' Twos writ to Consolate your Sickness tiien ; If you had mended, this hud ne'er been seen. But since you every Day grow ivorse and worse, And still resolve to be the Nation's Curse, I also am Resolv'd to let you know Here's one as Stubborn and as bold as you."

"Tf,e GHOST.

" How j ust is then the Tribute of our Eyes ? When Vertue Languishes, and Goodness Dies, When holy Prelacy, from Court withdrawn, Lies sick at Lambeth in a Shrowd of Lawn ! Who fearing now Compliance with the Prince, Shou'd better Men to equal power advance, With-holds his Hand, and in the very nick The humourous Prelate willingly falls Sick. On what small Props a Church-man's health depends ! Draw but one Pin and the whole Fabrick bends;

Storms create : -\

mine the State, hang'd, be fortunate ; J

Touch but their Wealth, their Power, or their Place, They'll Snuff, and Snort, and Curse you to your Face. Has there a Mischief in the World been done, -j

E're since the odious name of B known, >

In which a Clergy -man has not been One ! J Have there been private Murders, publick Wars, Dividing Schisms or Intestine Jars, Reproaches, Scandals, Goals, Fines, Bloody Laws, Of which they have not been the chiefest Cause !

" Great Constantine, how basely hast thou stain'd Those Glorious Laurels that thy Conquests gain'd ! Untainted Honour with bright Lustre spread Itself in shining circles round thy Head, Which might have shone till now, belov'd, rever'd,

In the same Tomb had B been interr'd

With lesser Villains : but nice Goodness spar'd Those Foes that shou'd have the same ruin shar'd. Those Sanctimonious Robbers that did more Infest the Church than Heathen Priests before : They with professed Malice Blood did spill : These Pray, and Smile, and Flatter when they kill. They did their Open Enemies annoy : These kiss the Friends they Murder and Destroy. B}' these oprest the mournful Church implor'd The tardy Vengeance of thy backward Sword. Had this been done, had thy Imperial Frown But smote those haughty Mitred Monarchs down : Myriads of Blessings shou'd thy Reign adorn, Paid by past Ages, this, and those unborn.

" Tell me, ye doating Bigots who Revere These Raree Shows o' th' Church and Pageants here ; Like Tinsel Mortals on a Gewgaw Stall, Fram'd for mere show, and of no use at all. Tell me in sober seriousness, unvext, What Holiness is to their Cowl annext : What hidden Vertue in their Office lies, Unseen by Men of common Sense and Eyes ! Did e're a Bishoprick a Man advance Above the Rest in Honour, Truth, and Sense ! Or did a fat Advowson ever make A Man preach better, and more labour take ? They talk'd indeed in very Loyal strain \

To praise the King did God Himself prophane, > But sure we ne're shall hear of that again. J Born to themselves, themselves alone they please, Steep't in the Sweets of Luxury and Ease : The Land they Canton, and Divide the. Spoil, And Drain the Moisture of our Wealthy Isle. For Pulpit-work let those who can do that, They're all too Dull, too Feeble, or too Fat.

" Are these the Men that hope to Govern now ? To whom our Church and State again must bow ? Have we then but the Blessed Prospect seen Of dawning Peace, with a vast Gulph between ? Like Men Condemn'd on flattering hopes born high, To fall with greater Ruin from the Sky ; Good God forbid thy Church should e'er be sway'd By those again that have thy Truth betray'd :