Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/128

118 When the worm-eaten book, linked to a chain, In dust lay mouldering in the Vatican, Despised, neglected, and forgot; to none But poring rabbies, or the Sorbonne known: Then in full power our sovereign prelate swayed, By kings, and all the rabble world obeyed; Here humble monarch at his feet kneeled down, And begged the alms, and charity of a crown; There, when in solemn state he pleased to ride, Poor sceptred slaves ran henchboys by his side; None, though in thought, his grandeur durst blaspheme Nor in their very sleep a treason dream. 'But since the broaching that mischievous piece, Each alderman a Father Lombard is, And every cit dares impudently know More than a council, pope, and conclave too. Hence the late damned friar, and all the crew Of former crawling sects their poison drew; Hence all the troubles, plagues, rebellion's breed, We've felt, or feel, or may hereafter dread. Wherefore enjoin, that no lay coxcomb dare About him that unlawful weapon wear; But charge him chiefly not to touch at all The dangerous works of that old Lollard, Paul; That arrant Wickliffist, from whom our foes Take all their batteries to attack our cause. Would he in his first years had martyred been, Never Damascus, nor the Vision seen; Then he our party was, stout, vigorous, And fierce in chase of heretics, like us;