« ПредишнаНапред »
Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber,
As cheap now in Rome, as our Cabbages grown, With musty old Relicks of Saints without Number,
For barely the looking upon to be shewn; Thefe, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye, Which first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy.
They'll fhew you the Place so much sung by the Poets, And the Rock from whence Martyrs were knock'd on
the Head They'll shew. you the Place too, nay, and some will
avow it, Where once a She-Pope was brought fairly to Bed; For which, eyer Gnce, to prevent Interloping, lo a Chair of Succellion they suffer a Groping.
What a Sight 'tis to see the Gay Idol accoutred,
With Mitre, and Cope, and ewo Keys by his Side? Be his Inside what it will, yet the form of his Outward Shews Servus Servorum, no Hater of Pride; Vina
These Keys into Heav'n will as surely admit
What a Sight 'tis to see the Old Man in Procession,
Thro' Rome in such Pomp as her Cæfars did ride ? Mere scattring of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing,
With all his Spiritual Trainid-bands by his side; As Confeffors, Cardinals, Monks fat as Bacon, From Rev'rend Arch-Bishop, to Rosy Arch-Deacon.
And when at New Babylon fome Time you have been, And in Punks, and in Pardons, all your Rhino have
spent, And when you have seen what is to be feen,
You'll return not so Rich, tho' as wise as you went ; And 'twill be but small Comfort, after all your Expence, That your Heirs will do the same just an Hundred Years
S. O N G
Fools of the State,
Grow wise and find all Things in DRINK.
The Man that sets up for Free-thinking,
May miss of his Aiin like an Ass; But he that delights in Deep-drinking,
Finds all he can wish in his GLASS.
In Praise of a Country LIFE. By a LADY.
How very happy is the Country Swain,
, Free from the Envy and the Pride of Court,. Bless'd in his little Flocks and fruitful Grain,
With Joy beholds his Kids and Heifers sport:
The lusty Swathes of Hay the Scyth cuts down,
OUR noble Present of right Red-Streak,
Came Yesterday by trusty James, Sir,