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CANT, 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cantsatireOOinskrich 
 
CANT, 
 
 ^ aattre* 
 
 '• Cant in this Age infects the very air, 
 
 Cant fills our Morning and our Evening Pray'r." — Page 15. 
 
 ** In vain Rome's power thou seekest to restore, 
 
 The shadovi^ of thy deeds hath pass'd before."— Page 49. 
 
 Eontron: 
 DARTON AND CLARK, 58, HOLBORN HILL, 
 
 AND 
 
 HARVEY AND DARTON, 55, GRACECHURCH STREET. 
 1843. 
 

 Morton, Printer, 16, Peter's Hill, Doctors' Commons. 
 
pro^m^ 
 
 When Age so nigh hath brought the grisly king 
 
 We see Death's features through Time's shadowy wing. 
 
 Wisdom declares, just waking to Fate's scheme. 
 
 The world a vision and this life a dream ! 
 
 A world where Hope might walk to make Life sweet. 
 
 But Disappointment shades her spell-bound feet ; 
 
 Where Pleasure sickens at the touch of Care, 
 
 Where Pow'r grows insolent with wealth, and where 
 
 Dissimulation self's sole purpose wins. 
 
 As Avarice weaves the net that Cunning spins. 
 
 B 
 
Thy business Cant, to make mankind believe. 
 And man*s profoundest study — to deceive ; 
 Refinement's tongue adorns Deception's powers, 
 — A serpent gliding through a bed of flow'rs ; — 
 Thus, the great Mesmer o'er the senses creeps. 
 And charms and plunders, whilst its victim sleeps ! 
 
CANT, 
 
 "Tantum Religio potuit sua dere malorura." — Lucretius. 
 
 When Nature form'd this nebula of earth, 
 MilUons of ages before man had birth,* 
 She stock'd it o'er with things endow'd with life. 
 With horrid forms prepared and arm'd for strife. 
 Amphibious genii of each element. 
 Mammoth, and Sloth, of size magnificent; 
 Gigantic forms that browsed the mountain- steeps, 
 Or grazed in herds beneath the ocean deeps ; 
 
 * Compare the Rev. Doctor Buckland's account of the creation 
 of the world with that of Moses, and decide as seemeth best, for 
 Philosophy or Divinity. 
 
 b2 
 
)i CANT, 
 
 But Man, at length, superior to the best, 
 — Design' d to govern and subdue the rest, — 
 To self-defence soon limited his sway. 
 And tried his skill in making human prey ; 
 'Twas soon found easier to cheat man than beast. 
 Hence the first Canter dubbed himself a Priest, 
 Forbade improvements infant mind to advance, 
 And matched his cunning 'gainst man's ignorance. 
 From that time forth his scheme prevailed, and then 
 Farewell all prospects to the sons of men ; 
 Farewell all noble thoughts and glorious deeds. 
 For Freedom sickens where'er Priestcraft treads ; 
 A tyrant stern, mysterious, and dark. 
 The foul fiend made captivity his mark ; 
 Saw man to blank credulity inclined. 
 And clapp'd Faith's iron padlock on his mind. 
 Then shot the bolt, — six thousand years have pass'd. 
 And still the present sun beholds it fast ! 
 
A SATIRE. 6 
 
 His empire fixed, an age scarce vanished when 
 
 The Harpy throve and multiplied 'mongst men : 
 
 The fraud complete they clothed themselves in black 
 
 — The emblems of their conscience graced the back. 
 
 With terror arm'd the monsters cried " give," " give," 
 
 And robb'd mankind that they themselves might live ; 
 
 The Devil smiled, his children work'd so well, 
 
 And " Tithe'' resounded from the banks of hell ! 
 
 Then the great archetype of all that's base 
 
 Drew the first likeness of the Pusey race ! 
 
 The craft improved, lo ! ages passed away. 
 
 Saw the sleek demons fattening on their prey ; 
 
 When Torquemado gave his genius scope, 
 
 Plotting fresh crimes, beyond the devil's hope ; 
 
 In holy fires he saw his victims cramm*d. 
 
 First robb'd, — then made amusement of the damn'd 
 
 Black bloated priests, carousing at the games. 
 
 Danced to the shrieks of heretics in flames ; 
 
4 CANT, 
 
 Soul-sick'ning thought ! wherever Reason gleams. 
 
 Darting her light to scare a bigot's dreams. 
 
 Throughout the historic page, stem truth it stands. 
 
 Such Christian teachers have the bloodiest hands I 
 
 In all heirs mischiefs there's a bhss that springs 
 
 Grateful ahke to priests and tyrant kings ; 
 
 To see young Freedom in the flames expire 
 
 Monarchs themselves have leaped to light the fire,* 
 
 And monks and fanatics with hearts of stones 
 
 Sung hallelujahs to his dying moans ! 
 
 But Time omnipotent saw craft decay. 
 
 For Anno Domini was growing grey ; 
 
 And Harry's lust combined with Luther's spite 
 
 Destroyed the first and brought man's second night : 
 
 Men deem'd Religion might rest unmolested 
 
 When the great German potentates protested, 
 
 * An Auto de fe was a theatrical display of human torture for 
 pious amusement, and Amphitheatres have been formed, and Courts 
 and Monarchs been present to witness these interesting spectacles I 
 
A SATIRE. 5 
 
 Whilst here in England, 'gainst their own consent. 
 Christians were made by Act of Parliament ! 
 Then State, — a rake, — look'd out a wife sedate, 
 When Church nought loth play'd thimble-rig with State; 
 And water, through State's miracle with priest. 
 Was changed to wine at Church's marriage feast. 
 
 O sad dechne of Faith's miraculous trade. 
 The bigot's substance dwindling down to shade 
 Ere long shall yield — as time and knowledge press, 
 ** Pine by degrees and beautifully less :" 
 Time that sees man a guest at Reason's feast 
 All else hath changed, but never changed a priest ; 
 The same shrewd cunning and the same devices 
 Were Is is priests as now the priests of Isis ; 
 The same delusions practised at old Rome, 
 Only less gross, are practised here at home : 
 Prophets and Gods each other give the go-by, 
 Foh — ^Vishnu — ^Mah'met — Ganesa — and Obi, 
 
*y CANT, 
 
 Worshipp'd by fools, — a rare poetic set. 
 
 But common sense was never worshipped yet ; 
 
 Cows, — Monkeys, — Leeks, — were Gods in their degree. 
 
 And dogs with one head up to dogs with three. 
 
 The cloven crown first rose in Egypt's night. 
 
 The cleft remains, but ne'er hath let in light : 
 
 In darkness proud our modern bishops tether 
 
 The cloven crown and cloven foot together : 
 
 Priestcraft consents with self-same hght to bless 
 
 Those who ca'nt see and those who know much less : 
 
 Hence Missionaries start, God's glory craving, 
 
 To every chme where souls will pay for saving ; 
 
 Teaching the Indian to beheve and pray, 
 
 Gi\TLng him Heaven to steal his Earth away; 
 
 Hence zeal at home extends the nation's ills. 
 
 And builds the Church Religion never fills !* 
 
 * *' In Manchester alone, thirteen churches have been built during 
 the last seven years ! — Five of them would be found sufficient to 
 supply room for all the church -going population." 
 
A SATIRE. 
 
 In old Colombia's soil, far in the west. 
 An Indian Chief his brother chiefs address' d ; 
 The sun descending cast a level line 
 'Midst throngs assembled 'neath the stately pine ; 
 On war-mats seated round, with club and spear. 
 Silent as death the list'ning warriors hear : — 
 " Brave Chiefs ! long used the toils of war to share, 
 Join in the white man's curse and my despair ; 
 Since Christian nations conquer to betray. 
 The red man dwindles and his race decay : 
 Like waves advancing, still, they press our feet. 
 Like waves receding, we in turn retreat ; 
 By holy Fraud they first acquired their sway. 
 By mightier force they sweep our sons away ; 
 Their holy men whine out some gospel text, 
 Plund'ring this world to pay back with the next 
 Robb'd of our home, and loaded with our shame, 
 We curse the hour the fawning Christian came. 
 
8 CANT, 
 
 Preachers of right and practisers of wrong, 
 — Fraud in the heart and mercy on the tongue, 
 Who seal their mission from their God above 
 In bloody and exterminating love : 
 They seize our homes — then teach us to ' forgive !* 
 Great Spirit ! — teach them Truth, and let us live." 
 Thus wailed the Chieftains o'er their bitter fate. 
 Whilst England's Bishops lengthen'd the debate, 
 'Mongst holy Lords, who plunder to restore. 
 And only rob to sell and give the poor ! 
 Reserving from the many -headed beast. 
 And carving sections for the Church's feast : 
 Her fingers, like her love, extend through space, 
 Baiting for Mammon with the signs of Grace. 
 Unlike the Romish Catholic of yore. 
 He built his Church on mines of undug ore ; 
 A shrewder means our Pusey priest employs. 
 Yet all the sweets man draws from gold enjoys ; 
 
A SATIRE. y 
 
 In golden scales his righteousness is weighed, 
 And Heaven is passive whilst the game is played ; 
 Livings and cures, and flocks are truck'd for gold. 
 And God*s best promises are bought and sold ; 
 Egregious Faith first reared his Church in air. 
 And half-consenting faith still keeps it there ; 
 Hence Senators conspiring, Priests contrive 
 Through the mere signs of godliness to thrive ; 
 Hence Fraud triumphant, lifting his proud head, 
 Devours Salvation as his daily bread ! 
 
 This happy league was earliest Fate's decree, 
 Twas Avarice first led to Piety ; 
 When Cant and zeal, by holy Church made one. 
 Begot Hypocrisy, — their only Son ! 
 That cunning knave, so often seen in prayer. 
 With whining voice, raised eyes, and knees threadbare. 
 Attracting blockheads by his groan and sigh. 
 With Persecution's red whip lying by ; 
 
10 CANT, 
 
 That whip which zeal presenting as her dow'r. 
 
 Still lifts exulting at the nod of Power : 
 
 That w^hip, whose clang still vibrates through the land ; 
 
 That whip — an heir-loom in Religion's hand ! 
 
 Too much like Satan, prone to wield the rod, 
 
 Man thinks himself a model for his God ; 
 
 Divines themselves, when self stands in the way, 
 
 Scarce stay their vengeance till the judgment- day ; 
 
 Knowing, those horn to rule all mercy scout, 
 
 (Too late the Whigs this secret have found out), 
 
 Kn owning the sin to take from Church her due, 
 
 — That titheless piety is toothless too, — 
 
 Knowing no change like this can be deplored. 
 
 They arm their love with Terror's frown and sword ; 
 
 Thus clad, 'gainst heathen cruelty declaim. 
 
 And call it darkness, sinking R*d*r's name ! 
 
 Not drawn by love but driven to obey, — 
 
 The rich admire, — the poor man turns away ! 
 
A SATIRE. 11 
 
 Oh England, boast not ! Heathen light divine 
 Emits a ray, well nigh as bright as thine : 
 Our knowledge hoodwinked serves to increase our gloom 
 — A lanthorn'd rushlight in a sick man's room ; 
 Take barbarous Afric — there's but little odds 
 Betwixt our devil and their feather' d gods ; 
 With all our Cant the difference is in name, 
 Change but the place the principle's the same ; 
 The child that dies uncross'd by Holy Ghost 
 Is taboo'd by our priest, and set down **lost; 
 No tears can move though parent bosoms swell. 
 Salvation's mute, and Satan tolls the bell ! 
 Malignant Priestcraft ! that with soul austere 
 Will suffer not the little babe come near. 
 But spurns the blighted flower — to malice true, 
 Because it hath not sipp'd " Salvation's dew ;" 
 Because unsprinkled by thy hand it fled. 
 Thy hand that wars against the Infant dead ; 
 
12 CANT, 
 
 Turn, turn my feet, from such dark monsters flee, 
 
 Surely Heaven's kingdom's not of such as ye ! 
 
 And are these England's sons can palter thus ? 
 
 Sure Afric's soil were more indigenous. 
 
 Where Slavishness and Fear might give them pow'r 
 
 To score their minute stripes on man's short hour, 
 
 To do their damned rites where demons glare, 
 
 And bear about the horrid death-drum there.* 
 
 Tho' more refined, like Afric's priests our own 
 
 By pulpit-drum their subtle rites make known , 
 
 Save in Rome's cause they deem all schism strange, 
 
 And dread the moon when she portendeth change ; 
 
 Tho' once indifferent to all change they stood. 
 
 And nodded o'er their prayers in holy mood. 
 
 Thieves then unheeded to the Altar crept, 
 
 And robbed the Temple whilst its guardians slept ! 
 
 * For an account of this horrible instrument and the purposes to 
 which it is applied, read the Rev. T. B. Freeman's interestinfi: jour- 
 nal of his visit to Ashanti. 
 
A SATIRE. 13 
 
 Then Ignorance, by Craft and Cunning luU'd, 
 
 Was guird by Cant, or by itself was guird : 
 
 Some dolt, in choosing creeds, eschewing sin. 
 
 Left to himself felt vanity creep in ; 
 
 Of all the faiths to save and make him blest. 
 
 His judgment ! — yes, his judgment was the test ! 
 
 Pleased he preferred one, — the egregious elf 
 
 Then straight fell down to worship — what ? — Himself ! 
 
 Himself perchance the veriest dolt or beast, 
 
 Both Temple, Idol, Worshipper, and Priest ! 
 
 Blest be the man or woman 'tis agreed. 
 Inspired by Folly to build up a Creed ; 
 Pusey or Mormon, — or names just as odd. 
 Nonsense their faith, Absurdity their god ! 
 Creeds are the holy nets the Sectarist uses 
 To take the simple fry, — the sport amuses, 
 Tho* oft alarmed, with care and caution due. 
 He sees the struggling Infidel slip through ; 
 
14 CANT^ 
 
 Vex'd to his heart to lose the precious charge, ' 
 He sees him swim the wat'ry world at large ! 
 Whilst minor Fish the hold example take, 
 Leaping dehghted in his boundless wake. 
 Yes ! every Bigot deems his Creed divine. 
 As every Drunkard hath his favourite Sign; 
 One to the " Baptist's Head" clandestine creeps, 
 One to the " Mitre," that old Fill-P**ts keeps ! 
 Of all the nostrums to embalm a soul, 
 None's like thine, Athanasius, — 'tis so droll ; 
 And which, as Tillotson devoutly saith. 
 Is a mere stumbling-block to men of faith. 
 O who can list some dolt in sleepy tone. 
 Like a Scotch bagpipe with its nasal drone. 
 Mumble this creed, and not incline to laughter. 
 Whilst Clerk and Congregation mumble after ? 
 Hear Pollio through this long rehearsal creep 
 — The dreamy music of the Saints asleep ; 
 
A SATIRE. 15 
 
 If tired with dull stupidity and him. 
 
 Then turn to W*l*yn,- to the apostle P**, 
 
 Nor rashly deem his " Warning Voice" a hum,* 
 
 The unerring prophet of Millennium. 
 
 Ah ! what's the meaning of this precious rant ? 
 
 One monosyllable explains it, — Cant I 
 
 To see this prostitution stirs my gall, — 
 
 This world of two-legged reptiles, — how they crawl ! 
 
 Cant in this age infects the very air. 
 
 Cant fills our morning and our evening prayer. 
 
 Cant is the tool of every knave alive. 
 
 Cant is the toad by which toad-eaters thrive ; 
 
 By Cant, etcetera, Curates drink their wine. 
 
 Agents get wealth, and Governesses dine : 
 
 * Let every "gentle reader" who would take a peep into futurity 
 first take a peep into **A Word of Warning," published by Nisbet 
 and Co., Berners Street, and Paternoster, Hitchin, when he will 
 soon experience that equivocal sensation which fluctuates betwixt 
 ridicule and compassion. Let every modern Isaiah read the Book 
 and hold it as '* a Word of Warning." 
 
 c 
 
16 CANT, 
 
 Of all toad-eating Cant, the Cant I hate is 
 
 That Puseyitish Cant we all get gratis, 
 
 When Saints rehuke us for each sinful blot, 
 
 As who should say ** I'm righteous, thou art not." 
 
 Almighty Cant ! with patience from thy stock. 
 
 The crawling snail might scale a weathercock. 
 
 Feel his position w^ith triumphant air, 
 
 And bless the slimy track that placed him there ! 
 
 Brutes fawning try the path so often trod, 
 
 And crouch to man, their deity and god ; 
 
 Thus P***y hopes to obtain what he may want 
 
 By wheedling deity himself with Cant, 
 
 Praying some neighbour's living may fall in 
 
 And add a triplet to his double chin ! 
 
 Thus Cant can bring, to suit a Patron's calls. 
 
 Divinity that limps and pride that crawls. 
 
 Wherever lucre's filthy tree takes root 
 
 Be sure a Pusey's planted at the foot ; 
 
A SATIRE. 17 
 
 That parasitic plant first reared at Court, 
 
 Which creeps and chmbs up all trees for support, 
 
 Whether the trunk be noble, mean, or base, 
 
 Clinging like ivy in its close embrace. 
 
 Twines round each limb where'er its branches spread. 
 
 Preys on its sap and blossoms through its head ! 
 
 In ages past when Cunning first combined. 
 
 With holy avarice to curse mankind. 
 
 When Lucifer, to draw his victims in, 
 
 With Lucre made new candidates for sin ; 
 
 Shoulder' d by Priest the evil root was brought. 
 
 By Priest 'twas fashion' d, and by Priest 'twas wrought. 
 
 Circled by Priests the brazen cauldron boil'd. 
 
 And all delighted at the labour toil'd ; 
 
 With sleeves tuck'd up, they work'd, and pray'd and knelt, 
 
 March'd round, sang mass, and stirr'd the bubbling guilt, 
 
 A new impression issued from the mint. 
 
 When pleased the Devil felt his likeness in't : 
 c2 
 
18 CANT, 
 
 Fraud, lies, and hatred gave the mischief wings — 
 
 The work of Priestcraft with the stamp of Kings ! 
 
 True to their gospel Mammon would contrive 
 
 Whatever else were poor, the Church must thrive. 
 
 Old Avarice sees our modern Priests the same. 
 
 In deed and spirit, only changed in name, 
 
 And now and then — to keep them staunch and true — 
 
 Innoculates them w4th converted Jew : 
 
 This thriftiness of Church still makes it plain 
 
 That Heaven is Merchandise, and prayer is Gain ! 
 
 Weep Man and sorrow ! Age on Age hath flown, 
 And seen thy bare knees wear away the stone ! 
 Seen Priestcraft keep thy reasoning powers in check, 
 Linking a chain of graveworms round thy neck. 
 The Sorcerer bade his magic thunders roll. 
 And laugh'd to see them terrify thy soul, 
 Call'd Science blasphemy, and Knowledge — sin 
 And quenched the glorious fires that burn'd within. 
 
A SATIRE: 19 
 
 Weep Man ! that e'en this age, however bright. 
 
 Is but the dawning of retarded hght ; 
 
 That sees thee, in the cradle of thy skill. 
 
 Harness and chain the elements at will ; 
 
 Lcok through the framework of a brighter sphere. 
 
 And read the solid mass thou tread'st on here ! 
 
 Let Science weep, — Man's intellectual spark 
 
 Long centuries lay, imprison' d in the dark ; 
 
 Dark as the gem sunk fathoms deep in earth, 
 
 'Till Fashion sigh'd and Labour gave it birth : 
 
 The Priestly dragons, with shaved crown and cape. 
 
 With flame and dagger guarded from escape 
 
 That intellectual light opposed to Faith, 
 
 Which mouldering in man's brain escaped in death ! 
 
 Their frown omnipotent, — their will their law, — 
 
 Their centre self, — the fiends exulting saw 
 
 The majesty of God by Craft debased. 
 
 And Time a blank, and this bright World a waste ! 
 
20 CANT^ 
 
 That Craft still lives, still priests of light afraid, 
 
 — Black specks seen floating in penumbral shade ; 
 
 Gloom in the heart and boding on their lips. 
 
 Like dismal ravens croaking in eclipse. 
 
 With terror quail to mark truth's gleaming ray. 
 
 And flap their wings to keep that gleam away ! 
 
 The sex*s weakness is the strength they boast. 
 
 Without such help their occupation's lost ; 
 
 Goodness is easiest warp'd, and aids their plan. 
 
 From Woman and from children comes the man. 
 
 As once the Devil tempted Eve astray. 
 
 Divinity still keeps her in the way. 
 
 Laying his snares to catch the harmless dove. 
 
 The wily priest drives on the trade of love ; 
 
 Mouthing the eighth command *' Thou shalt not steal,*' 
 
 He plunders e'en the cloth, — " B*r*h versus N**l !"* 
 
 * See the trial of the Rev. Mr. B — h versus the Rev. Mr. N — 1, 
 for criminal conversation with Mr. B — h's wife during Mr. B — 's 
 
A SATIRE. 21 
 
 Woman ! of all God's creatures still the best, — 
 
 Who makes us cling to life, and gives it zest, 
 
 Whose charms can win us to perdition's brink. 
 
 And make us reel with ecstacy to think ! 
 
 Doom'd by a vicious education plan 
 
 To be the slave, not ornament of man : 
 
 Her lamp of reason, like the lamp in mines. 
 
 Is kept just glimmering, but scarce ever shines : 
 
 Alas ! that she whose light might make us whole. 
 
 Quicken life's pulse, and elevate the soul ; 
 
 A sun eclipsed should wander in the dark. 
 
 In Reason's school scarce taught to set her mark ; 
 
 That she, man's angel in this nether sphere. 
 
 Who makes his destiny a blessing here ; 
 
 Without her heavenly love, — ethereal spark — 
 
 Man were a reptile crawhng in the dark, — 
 
 performance of divine service at Hackney Church : — at the same 
 moment the Rev. Mr. N — 1 was performing his holy interchange of 
 duties with Mrs. B — h. 
 
22 CANT, 
 
 That she, bred up in ignorance, — the gem 
 
 Set in base metal, — Earth's proud diadem — 
 
 Should be pronounced a most convenient creature. 
 
 To practise fraud on, and degrade her nature ; 
 
 That she, — Cant's fondest hope — her aid must give. 
 
 That dubious Creeds and Pusey knaves may live ! 
 
 As noxious reptiles seek the fairest flower. 
 
 On which to hatch their larvae and devour. 
 
 So priests, still faithful to their Craft, impart 
 
 The direst poison to the purest heart : 
 
 Not only woman, but with darkness smite 
 
 E'en tenderest Infancy, — Man's budding Wight ; 
 
 From Christian love adopt this cunning plan. 
 
 To make " the child the father to the man ;" 
 
 And thus God's image crawls through earth quite blind. 
 
 The devil's mark imprinted on his mind, — 
 
 Black prejudice, — in which the priesthood trust. 
 
 To gnaw and eat into his soul, like rust ! 
 
A SATIRE. ^ 23 
 
 What mad career hath man absurdly run, — 
 Man slave to man since Anno Mundi-ONE ! 
 E*en yet a child, whom Kings and Priests control 
 So slow doth light break on the human soul. 
 So short the hour, — so full of care his day. 
 Ere he can see Fate snatches him away ; 
 Hence Pusey triumphs now — whilst Fear supplies 
 Slaves to his Creed, — thus darkness never dies ! 
 O blest and happy league of Church and State ! 
 — ^The secret cause that Britain still is Great ! 
 Meant for each other's aid, like Siam's twins. 
 When State transgresses Church prays off her sins. 
 State, in return, by cutting and contriving. 
 Builds Church new shops, and helps her on in thriving. 
 Yet come it shall, O consummation dire ! 
 This Janus-like connexion must expire ! 
 Dissenting shears, with old reforming plea. 
 Shall clip the navel-string, and set them free ; 
 
^4 CANT, 
 
 The great Debt- Monster for the public weal 
 
 Shall make of Church a discount and a meal. 
 
 Yea, Earth on Heaven itself shall yet distrain, 
 
 And sell her lands and trumpery Saints, like Spain :* 
 
 No Pusey bishop to recount her glory, 
 
 No Gentlemen in black to tell her story. 
 
 No sleek Churchwarden to toast *' Church and King," 
 
 Sans Tithe, sans Rates, sans Dues, sans everything ! 
 
 Now pause, my muse, — the voice of prudence hear, 
 — Her warning voice still echoes in my ear ; — 
 Behold Advice and sage Remonstrance come. 
 And seated at my side thus talk me dumb : 
 
 * The Cathedral of Toledo was formerly celebrated for its jewels, 
 and its silver and gold ornaments. There was once among other 
 relics, a figure of massive gold representing San Juan de las Vinas, 
 and also a Petticoat of Our Lady, embroidered with pearls and rubies, 
 said to be of inestimable value. Most of them however disappeared 
 during the Peninsular War, and what remained have lately been dis- 
 posed of by the Government. 
 
A SATIRE. 25 
 
 " Ah ! why, my friend, shouldst thou, m bitter sort, 
 
 Because Lampoon and Satire are thy sport. 
 
 Why shouldst thou single objects for thy pen, 
 
 — Some few rare objects from the best of men — 
 
 Whom the world reverence, — and whom all agree, 
 
 Coald'st thou but eulogize, 'twere well for thee ? 
 
 The way to fortune is an easy way. 
 
 Think what thou wilt thou only hast to say 
 
 What most will please, when in their presence, — then 
 
 To bow and smile, and smile and bow again ; 
 
 This is the way the prudent man contrives ; 
 
 Be warn'd, — beware, — behold how Blandus thrives ! 
 
 Would' st thou in nose of Reverence ^^ a hook ? 
 
 Wait till thy foe, like M******, writes a book. 
 
 Vain of his weakness the egregious elf 
 
 Will spare thy vengeance and lampoon himself ! 
 
 Then how much better, if thou needs must write. 
 
 To choke that indignation miscall'd spite ; 
 
26 CANT, 
 
 To tune your Lyre to a flatter key, 
 Praise the whole body, then will all agree 
 1 share your favors, and in turn to give ; 
 This is the way all prudent men must live : 
 Try, try the plan, and all the world will read ; 
 * Visions of Judgment' must in time succeed. " 
 
 This from a friend the other day when we 
 Strove o'er our wine, as friends should, to agree. 
 Alas ! the advice was ticklish in the extreme. 
 To one overcharged with choler not with phlegm ; 
 And yet the experiment to Friendship's due. 
 Suppose for once I tiy a stave or two 
 Of Panegyric, which my soul abhors 
 — More covetous of wounds in Satire's wars ; 
 Suppose, my muse just give my friend a treat, 
 Casting her carrion to the dogs will eat. 
 And striking base ServiUty's base strings. 
 Declare N***'s arroo^ance is meek as B****s ; 
 
A SATIRE. 27 
 
 Suppose I call dull Z**** a '' man of parts," 
 
 And whining Sanctus one who wins all hearts ; 
 
 Though true or false, — yes friend, the world will say. 
 
 His charming wife 'tis puts him in the way ; 
 
 Suppose I say that Rufus has no ire. 
 
 And paltry parson PolHo's full of fire. 
 
 As B**r'^t chaste, who, in a worldly way. 
 
 By his divining -Rod was led astray;* 
 
 Suppose, regardless of Truth's righteous ties, 
 
 I call R*** liberal and Dicas wise ; 
 
 Suppose, and this is saying, Heaven knows, 
 
 More than most credulous poet can suppose, 
 
 (And might make those who know the man deride,) 
 
 That stately Tumens lacketh much in pride. 
 
 Since in his view all men mere specks appear. 
 
 Beyond the mist of his own atmosphere ; 
 
 * It is ,a singular fact, that whilst more thau one divine has 
 worshipped the Birch, this Reverend Doctor took a Rod for his 
 divinity. 
 
28 CANT^ 
 
 Stiff as a mast, o'ertopping all below. 
 
 Nought but a gale of wind can make him bow ; 
 
 Say that in pulpit though these rave or drawl. 
 
 That equal eloquence is dealt to all ! 
 
 All this, perchance, too personal is found. 
 
 And makes those blush, whom I had rather frown 'd ; 
 
 Why then my Muse, since her first effort fails, 
 
 Shall try a second, shall spread wider sails ; 
 
 From pointed steel to goosequill change her pen, 
 
 And meekly sing the wtues, not the men : 
 
 Shall sing Saint Sid, and all the lordly crew. 
 
 Lord Ex, — Lord Bex, and Lord the Lord knows who. 
 
 With other aged dames and spinster belles, 
 
 Those disappointed Evangelicals, 
 
 Who having miss'd on earth their due reward. 
 
 Despise mankind and marry to the Lord ! 
 
 What raging star thus makes the nation pant. 
 And e'en the elements so teem with Cant, 
 
A SATIRE. 29 
 
 That Neptune feels his stomach heave with qualms 
 Dinn'd in his coral groves with Prayers and Psalms ? 
 Scared in his dreams, the eternal work of love 
 Sings through his ears from the Great Deep above : 
 Hosts of amphibious saints hosannahs sing. 
 Making old Thames' s finny regions ring. 
 Where a mere hulk eat through by worms and Time 
 Rides Pusey's Ark, anchor' d in mud and slime ; 
 Mermaids and porpoises rejoiced appear. 
 And little sprats sail round and round to hear 
 Those holy strains to David's Jews-harp set. 
 Which tell us " all are fish that come to net !" 
 Here, even here, amidst the shoals and rocks. 
 Episcopacy stands to count his flocks ; 
 Here, on the waters with the fishes fed, 
 Here the great god of Cant hath cast his bread ! 
 O blessed compact ! age of pure delight ! 
 When Saints of every calibre unite 
 
30 CANT, 
 
 In sweet communion, for so heaven wills. 
 
 To call them forth, and Blandus prints the bills. 
 
 And many a Cantwell, by express desire, 
 
 Lets out his pious countenance for hire. 
 
 At holy Love-feast, — where, in love-bonds knit, 
 
 Lo ! all the doxies round the table sit ; 
 
 Each righteous spouse the true Creed represents, 
 
 And Shiloe*s crib stands waiting for events ! 
 
 Whilst heavenly sounds ascend on angel wings, 
 
 As Israel's tea-urn joins its voice and sings. 
 
 Yea, rill-p**t's self, in Evangelic trim. 
 
 Gives up his Income, and gives out the Hymn ! 
 
 Thus far the Muse, with false affected zeal, 
 Hath felt the shame all Hypocrites should feel ; 
 Thus when some voice — albeit foe's or friend's, — 
 To make me thrive and hate myself intends, 
 Th' advice so worthless on his head recoils, 
 In language suited to the blood that boils ; 
 
A SATIRE. 31 
 
 Back in thy teeth, my friend, thy words are hurl'd, 
 
 *'The best of men, their Reverence, and the World," 
 
 Hating the mean and prostituted vein. 
 
 Gladly relapsing to my former strain; 
 
 I cannot cringe, but spurning the base plan. 
 
 Leave it to G**h*m, and to those who can 
 
 My heart disdains to seek that prudent fee. 
 
 Or praise apostate Bishop for his See. 
 
 When I behold some proud aristocrat 
 
 Look down contemptuous o'er his high cravat. 
 
 Whether the creature's clothed in black or brown, 
 
 I feel my brow fast knitting to a frown, 
 
 Satire again displays ten thousand charms. 
 
 My choler rises and my soul's in arms ! 
 
 But why, my Muse, thy hated censures link 
 
 To frivolous subjects, scarcely worth thy ink } 
 
 Ermine and Sable, Pomp and Prayer divide. 
 
 And show what trifles gravity can hide ; 
 
 D 
 
32 CANT, 
 
 Yet trifles tame as Z**** or brisk as — 
 Prove that e'en trifles may be wonderful ! 
 Can bitterest Satire fitter subjects sing 
 Than modest R*d*r or meek Joshua King ? 
 Men, whose mild doctrines with their lives agree. 
 Meek and consistent as what once was Free : 
 And did not Chastity to Church commend 
 B*rr*t and Tophet as that Church's friend, 
 I'd sooner starve and perish in a garret. 
 Than be as Tophet vile, — as base as B*rr*t, 
 Yet these are props on which Church-fabric leans 
 As black and useless props as stalks of beans ; 
 The keenest wit might well despair to shame. 
 Like those two D's turn'd lacqueys to each name. 
 Delightful twain ! Light of God's House of Pray'r ! 
 High Priests of Venus, who officiate there, 
 Though proudest honours of the Church ye try 
 Such is thv base — thv secret infamv — 
 
A SATIRE. 33 
 
 Though Dean or Doctor, doubly dubb'd divine. 
 
 Men shudder at Christ's name from hps Hke thine ! 
 
 Defend us, O ** ye Ministers of Grace,'* 
 
 And save us from these Ministers of Face ; 
 
 For who but Church would call such to her feast. 
 
 Whom Satan marks, as graziers mark their beast ? 
 
 Delighted, sees the willing phalanx stand 
 
 And P***y boil the Pitch and hold the Brand : 
 
 And who but Church would e'er attempt to graft 
 
 Pure mental imbecility on Craft ? 
 
 Full many a prodigy of College breed 
 
 Profanes the service he can scarcely read. 
 
 His holiest dogmas guiltless to deceive. 
 
 Obscure with errors smoke, the light they give ; 
 
 Some Bigot from the storehouse of Divines, 
 
 Some Oxford Rushlight, that nor warms nor shines. 
 
 His duty done in haste he leaves the field. 
 
 The seed to perish and the soil half till'd ; 
 
 d2 
 
34 CANT, 
 
 Spontaneous crops in time disguise the loam. 
 
 Poppies and thistles, mix'd with tares from Rome ! 
 
 Spare me O Fate, from such to learn my prayers. 
 
 Or climb to Heaven by such creaking stairs : 
 
 If deem'd a fool, yet bound to pay respect. 
 
 Let me at least be fool'd by Intellect, 
 
 And not be taught by blockheads who aspire. 
 
 With naked feet, to trample out a fire :* 
 
 Phials of righteousness, despising self. 
 
 Who stand erect upon the pulpit shelf. 
 
 In snow-white band without or soil or speck. 
 
 Like a black draught with label round its neck ! 
 
 Let me with those in sweet communion kneel. 
 
 Imparting Fill-p**'s love with Pusey's zeal. 
 
 Is there, whom low ambition could persuade 
 
 To make his Piety his Stock in Trade ? 
 
 * This fact of simplex munditiis, was actually attempted by a Rev 
 Gentleman in the diocese of Lincoln. 
 
A SATIRE. 35 
 
 In party- war engage his truckling pen. 
 
 Fighting the battles of these very men 
 
 His soul abhors ? — Could bear the common jeer 
 
 Par excellence — " The Rev'rend Pamphleteer "? 
 
 Is there whose voice in moral vigor bold 
 
 Can wake the slumb'ring Watchmen of the fold ? 
 
 Chastize their faults with Reason on his side 
 
 (Forgetting still that worst to mention, — Pride;) 
 
 His language strong, — his censures so severe. 
 
 The simple almost think the man sincere ; 
 
 Tho' cunning Statesmen their applause suspend 
 
 And wonder where his impudence will end ! 
 
 As list*ning to his sophistry they learn. 
 
 And through its meshes palpably discern 
 
 How pants the heart ! How sweats the holy brow 
 
 Encircled by a Mitre ! — How they bow. 
 
 And crouching fawn, and fawning crouch and bend. 
 
 Till abjectness no lower can descend. 
 
36 CANT. 
 
 So abject, none could e'er descend so low, 
 
 — The only Christian lowliness they know, — 
 
 Who stand, like Judas, ready for mere pay 
 
 To crucify a Saviour every day ! 
 
 Some judge the righteous Priest, to interest blind. 
 
 Stoops to this Earth to benefit mankind. 
 
 That in his heart, — o'erfraught with heav'nly care — 
 
 He spurns the worldly pomp he's doom'd to bear, 
 
 Would rather thro' the Hordes that worship, pass 
 
 Like his meek Master seated on an Ass, 
 
 Or shew the world, whilst Hate and Discord cease. 
 
 How beauteous are their feet who walk in peace ! 
 
 Thus with success, his patient labors blest. 
 
 He reaps a crown of Glory in the West ; 
 
 No more he feels Ambition's throbs arise, 
 
 '* His footstool Earth, — ^his canopy the Skies ;" 
 
 Expectant Clerks, in their turn bend the knee 
 
 To Fob, the idol of his heavenly See : 
 
A SATIRE. 37 
 
 Lo, hungry Curates in his presence sigh, 
 
 '* Not as We will, but as Thou wilt," they cry, 
 
 *' All hail," they echo round his Judgment Seat, 
 
 *' Father in God, thy mission is complete !'* 
 
 Thus fares the Church to State unholy wed. 
 
 Thus Heaven itself looks down to Earth for bread : 
 
 The Saviour's self, divided in this way. 
 
 Instead of daily Life, — is daily Prey. 
 
 What makes yon hungry Curate turn to brawn ? 
 Why two fat Livings, and two Sleeves of Lawn : 
 What prompts his zeal to preach to Royal ear ? 
 Lawn, and some twenty thousand Pounds a-year ! 
 Hail Lawn ! That giv'st importance to a Name 
 — A Beauty's or a Bishop's, all the same — 
 Both Love and Piety thy aid refines. 
 Saint Paul's disciples or Saint Valentine's : 
 Vestris looks lovely, in thy woof attir'd. 
 As B**m***d's lifted Arms, with Zeal inspir'd. 
 
38 CANT, 
 
 When squinting Faith, as fervent it beheves. 
 Sees HoHness hang dangling in his sleeves ! 
 O holy Bishopric ! The goal appointed 
 For all aspiring to the Lord's annointed ; 
 To Thee the Son of Mammon kneels and bends. 
 In Thee, Divinity begins, and ends; 
 But how can Candour, — how can Justice tell 
 Where to bestow when All deserve so well ? 
 How many, panting, — their probation past — 
 Like B***y pine, and die unfrock'd at last ! 
 
 Who but must laugh, yet due compassion feel. 
 When Vanity, — the Froth that floats on Zeal — 
 Sees pregnant Folly with Ambition big 
 Mistake that white froth for a Bishop's Wig ! 
 Who would not laugh to hear the Bigot shout 
 As reasoning Sceptics pile up Doubt on Doubt, 
 And Sceptics laugh as Saints adopt a Creed, 
 From colour of the Glass through which they read : 
 
A SATIRE. 39 
 
 Each censures each for Piety misplac'd 
 
 As if Rehgion were a work of Taste ; 
 
 And he displayed most Zeal, in doctrine clear 
 
 Who set the fashion for the ensuing year. 
 
 Religion's honors and Religion's wealth 
 
 Invite the Sectarist's plundering hand of stealth. 
 
 Hence Schism hums round pure Orthodoxy's breed. 
 
 Like Bees round Flowers, to bastardize their seed ; 
 
 Thus spurious Faiths increasing, — Fools are caught, 
 
 With Zeal proportion'd to the nonsense taught, 
 
 Saint greeting Saint, spins out a dismal tale. 
 
 Old Women groan aloud, and Prophets wail ; 
 
 P*m keeps his Flock awake by Pulpit drumming 
 
 And sleeps in Boots, to watch the '^ second coming ;" 
 
 Whilst, Pusey crouching like an ancient Dame, 
 
 Essays to puff old embers into flame. 
 
 O Satire 1 aid me whilst thy pen amuses 
 
 To sing the follies of thy P*m's and Pusey s. 
 
40 CANT, 
 
 Some wicked wights, as Satan wills, deride 
 
 At Posey trudging by Saint Peter's side ; 
 
 Sceptics attracted by irreverent whim 
 
 Turn to thy holy dreams thou Prophet P*m ; 
 
 Others stand laughing, 'till their sides nigh crack 
 
 To see thee mount Divinity's galled Hack ; 
 
 Thy bead one perfect Theologic Bump, 
 
 Prophetic Pamphlets dangling at thy mmp, 
 
 Thus sallying forth to proselyte the million. 
 
 And make them blockheads big as thine at Wily an ! 
 
 Contrast divine ! Creduhties contraries. 
 Choice illustration of Faith's wild vagaries : 
 Behold Pope Pu***y, when his wine he sups. 
 Breaking the real Corpus o'er his cups ; 
 This new old Light that strikes beholders dumb, 
 This wild'ring hght that only shines towards Rome, 
 In papal pomp preceded by his Guns, 
 And follow'd by a train of Oxford Nuns, 
 
A SATIRE. 41 
 
 Those holy Nuns, who live on College bread 
 And pray, with Friar N**m*n at their head ; 
 In triple Crown with Crucifix most proud. 
 Shall show*r his Benedictions on the crowd, 
 And hoisted up in papal chair for show 
 Gotham's wise sons shall kneeling kiss his toe ! 
 Yet shall thy follies Pusey have their day, 
 And Blockheads laud like imitating G** ; 
 Tho' Friends deride and Reason stand aghast. 
 Share in thy penitence. and hail thy fast : 
 Thy virtuous Wife by prompt obedience led 
 With holy Chastity may fill thy bed ; 
 Yet chastest Wife must feel the penance hard 
 Always to look to Heav'n for her reward : 
 Sore vex'd, thy total abstinence lament* 
 Lay by, and mourn the quick return of Lent ! 
 
 * It is currently asserted that this Rev. Gentleman confesses to 
 the example he sets his followers, of connubial abstinence during 
 Lent. 
 
42 CANT^ 
 
 Hold, Muse ! my choler rises at thy Jest, 
 Struck with fresh horror at that papal Pest — 
 That old Church Serpent, whose bare sight appals, 
 Long hid betwixt the fissures of her Walls, 
 Now warm'd to life again by that same ray 
 'Neath which her sleeping Guardians basking lay ; 
 Prepared to put forth Claws, and Dragon's Wing, 
 And doom'd in after- times to tear and sting ! 
 Yes, P***y, born to crawl, essays to climb, 
 And soils the very Altar with his slime ; 
 Born too and bred to be a Nation's curse. 
 And Heaven in its wrath hath not a worse, 
 To whose obhque debasing doctrine's given. 
 All that is Earthly, with a twang of Heaven ! 
 Like Mermaid ; Fish and Flesh — to neither true — 
 Of breed betwixt Evangehst and Jew : 
 A smooth dissembler with the heart of Turk, 
 A modem haft to old Assassin's dirk ; 
 
A SATIRE. 43 
 
 Foretold by Seer of ancient days, should come 
 
 And bring new Daggers with old Creed from Rome ! 
 
 Already see th* apostate Phalanx stand 
 
 Eager to spread conversion thro' the land; 
 
 Like swarming Locusts, greedy to devour 
 
 They quit the waning for the waxing store ; 
 
 Already guilty scores their Saviour sell 
 
 Pawning Salvation for a place in hell , 
 
 Treading the path again by Judas trod. 
 
 False to Man's trust, and Traitors to their God. 
 
 Old Orthodoxy rouses from his dream 
 
 To hear their altered Piety blaspheme : 
 
 At Mammon's table, — at his elbow fed. 
 
 In Mammon's dish they dip their daily bread ; 
 
 Already Mitres lift the approving voice 
 
 Dating long years of Peace ! — The Craft rejoice ! 
 
 And can the apathy that shrouds us be 
 
 Mere stupid blank indifference ? Can we 
 
44 CANT^ 
 
 Like drunken wretch surrounded by a fire 
 
 See the devouring element grow nigher 
 
 And like our Lama, — our and Lambeth's King 
 
 In such a strait, '' consider of the thing ?" 
 
 And hath Rome's sorcery so wrought within 
 
 That we are tongue-tied ? Is our silence Sin ? 
 
 Or is it Fate sits broodmg in the soul 
 
 Like Nature pausing ere her Thunders roll ? 
 
 Are these the Men false doctrine to condemn ? 
 
 So righteous none may touch their garment's hem ! 
 
 Once preaching Antichrist £ind Scarlet Strumpet, 
 
 Whose voice was lifted like a brazen Trumpet, 
 
 To shake old Rome ? Who tir'd of Scripture facts 
 
 Invented others, and nicknam'd them " Tracts,** 
 
 In which the ignorant were given fuU scope 
 
 To bless their Teachers and to curse the Pope ; 
 
 Pretending Heaven their holy light had sent 
 
 To teach the suffering Poor to starve content ; 
 
A SATIRE. 45 
 
 Teach them to worship Priests, and Rags, and then 
 To pass them into Heaven hke Gentlemen ! 
 Think of the time Man suffer' d every ill 
 From Priests, base hearts, and Kings, e'en baser still ; 
 When Cruelty blood- drunk was prone to reel 
 With pious Furies yelling at his heel! 
 Such hosts of Victims doom'd to burn or bleed 
 That the bare thought alone makes those who read 
 Grieve they liv'd not their Torturers to have smote. 
 Doubting God's Justice that he smote them not, 
 'Twas then blest Freedom, thy eternal spark 
 Shot from the Heavens to illume Earth's dreary dark. 
 And still thy deeds in Life as Death, still free, 
 Make those who yell at Pusey bow to Thee ! 
 And shall our bosoms still less nobly pant. 
 Grown tame and almost suffocate with Cant ? 
 Shall Freedom with new gems upon his brow 
 Be, in this age of Light, less honor'd now. 
 
46 CANT^ 
 
 When shall bhnd Man to Reason's test be brought. 
 
 Nor crucify his Brother for a thought 
 
 Thro' Zeal ? — that basihsk of Error's mind — 
 
 Which turns from Pity and strikes Mercy blind ! 
 
 When shall the voice of Cruelty be dumb ? 
 
 When shall God's service, '' perfect freedom J' come ? 
 
 See Persecution in Rehgion's name, 
 With glaring eyeballs and a breath of flame. 
 Hot from Rathcormac, at the Altar kneel, — 
 A Dragon's fierceness in his heart, — call'd Zeal — 
 With lifted fingers spread in holy mood, 
 Stroking his pious face leave streaks of blood ! 
 What tho' o'erjoy'd to shorten man's short hour. 
 Hypocrisy turn prostitute to Pow'r, 
 And Pow'r the purposes of both to suit. 
 Crushes out Life with Priestcraft's leaden foot ; 
 Disguises Meekness in a robe of red 
 And straps a helmet on the Saviour's head ! 
 
A SATIRE. 47 
 
 What, tho' the Muse refuses to concur 
 
 In Faith or Doctrine — where the best may err — 
 
 May that Muse perish and her strain be nought 
 
 Who spurns the captive of imprisoned thought ; 
 
 May Freedom's blessed light burn cold and dim. 
 
 Nor yield one transport she denies to him ! 
 
 Shall Man, a slave to his own tyrant will. 
 
 Arrest Time's flight, and bid the World stand still ? 
 
 Shall Man rejoice to hear a brother's moans. 
 
 Inventing keener pangs for flesh and bones ? 
 
 Or deem, committed to a Prison's charge , 
 
 The Mind immur'd and wanders not at large ? 
 
 No ! Tho' to Dungeon and to Chains confined. 
 
 Not all the Caesars that e'er curst mankind 
 
 Could grasp Thought's subtle spirit, or coerce, 
 
 That soars aloft and skims the Universe, 
 
 Leaving the pulse to play with imconcem 
 
 And warm the Body's clay 'till it return I 
 • £ 
 
48 CANT, 
 
 Yet grov*ling Superstition thinks it meet 
 Philosophy should bend to kiss her feet. 
 Approach her presence with a reverend bow. 
 And play with the Hag*s nightshade round her brow ; 
 Whilst Pusey fawning at her dexter hand 
 Points to his Legions blackening thro' the land ; 
 And Doctor Wiseman having given them shrift. 
 Stands rampant forth with crucifix uplift. 
 From the high Dome overtopping Oxford's press 
 Sees them go forth, and prays for their success ! 
 
 Hail, Oxford ! long for Bigotry renown'd ; 
 Old Rome's old Harlot, — Pusey's new profound ! 
 Whose magic touch can cure the clodpole slouch, 
 Teach fools to think, and make a beau of Z****, 
 Turn Irish Beef to tasteless Pusey Veal, 
 Like Dan O'Connell with the face of Peel : 
 Quirks of Divinity of newest sort 
 Hold in solution with the oldest Port ; 
 
A SATIRE. 49 
 
 Mix Athanasian with Armenian Creed, 
 
 And thus by holy crossing make them breed. 
 
 Pf oud as thou art of thy too lofty state. 
 
 Blind to the present, — blind to future fate ; 
 
 In vain Rome's pow'r thou seekest to restore. 
 
 The shadow of thy deeds hath passed before ; 
 
 Thy wisdom's cunning to old Dullness knit, 
 
 Thy craft a Magpie's, with a tongue that's slit ; 
 
 Thy doctrine damnable, — thy Priest a knave. 
 
 And thou the Capitol whose Geese must save ! 
 
 The Press to light thy vile designs shall bring. 
 
 Thou Imp, — thou shred of Rome, — thou filthy thing ! 
 
 Thy heart's disease no med'cine can subdue. 
 
 But rods of Wormwood and a pill of Rue : 
 
 The Press ; — the Press to rescue Man shall come, — 
 
 The Press that cannot shame, shall strike thee dumb. 
 
 Lo ! History's pen hath set her damning mark. 
 
 Thou Stye of Circe, still uncleansed and dark ; 
 e2 
 
50 CANT, 
 
 Whose mire is fiU'd with offal call'd " divine,** 
 
 Offensive to the smell, — Christ's filthy Swine ! 
 
 Thy Reverend bowels dread a scanty meal * 
 
 Should Ignorance think, or Faith relax her zeal ; 
 
 Dark are thy ways, and darker far thy Will, 
 
 For Satan moulds thee to Rome's purpose still ; 
 
 Thou hatest Light to visit thy abode. 
 
 In secret, hatching venom, hke a Toad : 
 
 On mischiefs errand bent ; from Arctic gloom 
 
 Obedient Spirits at thy bidding come ; 
 
 Thy papal doctrines spreading far and wide. 
 
 And ** Number Ninety " lends them wings to ride :* 
 
 Egregious Ninety ! In whose page thou see'st 
 
 Thy Hope ! Thy Creed ! Thy Gospel 1 and thy Beast ! 
 
 Far in the North, in Cave now little known. 
 An ancient Pair in darkness dwelt, alone : 
 
 * See the notorious No. 90, of the Oxford Tracts, written uncle 
 the New-mania influence. 
 
A SATIRE. 51 
 
 Silence kept watch, and nought disturbed the scene 
 
 Save the OwFs hoot, or Raven's croak between ; 
 
 Or dismal blast that swept the holy Stone 
 
 Rear'd in the dell to ancient murder done ! 
 
 Wizard and Witch here came to pay their vows 
 
 To beldame Superstition, and her spouse. 
 
 Much charm of Witchcraft round the Cave was seen, 
 
 Phials of blood, with Crucifix between, 
 
 An Astrolabe, — Hermippus in old dress. 
 
 And Book on Dreams ; — both from the Oxford Press ! 
 
 Mitres and musty Volumes, with the Rack 
 
 Of Inquisition, stamp'd upon their back. 
 
 And papal Arms ; their crest old Darkness* Prince, 
 
 Supporters ; — Exeters of Centuries since ! 
 
 No children had they, save one only Boy, 
 
 A sullen Youth ; — but still their hope, their joy : 
 
 Tho* grown to manhood and of goodly size. 
 
 At feeblest hght he wink*d his narrow eyes ; 
 
52 CANT, 
 
 Long used from ev*ry transient gleam to run 
 He never dar'd to look upon the Sun ! 
 One day, when snows were drifting from the South, 
 And drizzling sleet half fill'd the Cavern's mouth, 
 A lurid yellow mingled with the haze. 
 And blest his vision with a twilight blaze ; 
 When Bigotry inspired by Fate within. 
 Bespoke his Dame, and chuck'd her leathern chin ! 
 " Our life nigh clos'd, our Son may seek in vain. 
 Throughout the World, our empire to maintain ; 
 Thy form, dear Superstition 's weak and old. 
 And Priestcraft's heart, hke Bigotry's, grows cold ; 
 Yet ere we die, our Son shall strive at least, 
 'Neath Oxford's Dome, to qualify for Priest ; 
 Oxford, whose Sons for centuries have come 
 To pay their vows at Superstition's home, 
 Still anxious to resume her ancient part — 
 So true to Rome — so Jacobite at heart ! 
 
A SATIRE. 53 
 
 His life, tho* short, with difficulty run — 
 Oxford shall be a Mother to our Son, 
 With more than Mother's love shall clasp him fast. 
 And in her arms shall watch him breathe his last I" 
 Thus Bigotry's cold heart, with bursting swell. 
 Sung its own Requiem to Fate's passing knell ; 
 His Son's ambition felt new fire and hope. 
 And Heaven grew tired of Pusey, and the Pope ! 
 
 And can the Mind, — th' immortal Mind of man. 
 Panting to learn, — impatient still to scan 
 Those Truths sublime, — taught by the Universe, 
 The drivelling Creed of Pusey Priest rehearse ? 
 A collar' d Hound, kept for that Priest's defence — 
 A Dog of darkness — baying common sense ! 
 Can Man, insensible to that blest hght, 
 Which beckons onward, hide his soul in night ? 
 Nor list the tidings Time for ever brings — 
 The voice of Knowledge singing through his wings ! 
 
54 
 
 CANT, 
 
 No ! millions yet shall covet to be wise. 
 
 As Ignorance, the slave of Tyrants, dies ! 
 
 Tlius shall his chains drop from both Limb and Mind, 
 
 As pressing on he scorns to look behind 
 
 On Pusey's wreck, — an undistinguished heap 
 
 Or wake a corse where Fools remain to weep ! 
 
 O holy privilege ! Inspiring thought ! 
 
 Where Man's Religion 's neither sold nor bought ; 
 
 But Adoration prompts Devotion's feast 
 
 Where God's the Idol, and his works the Priest : 
 
 Where every Insect's great, — and every stone. 
 
 And all is Wisdom that we look upon. 
 
 Where matter's atoms, silent praises sing 
 
 And Man, — the most unreasonable thing, 
 
 Whose pimping craft, God of his glory cheats 
 
 To buy the venal bread he daily eats ! 
 
 Hence Universities may date their birth. 
 
 Teaching the low Divinity of Earth : 
 
A SATIRE. 55 
 
 Hence infant prejudice the mind deceives. 
 And Truth's defunct, and Athanasius Hves ; 
 Hence Oxford, — Cambridge, — labour to produce 
 Divines just ready made and fit for use ! 
 
 Oxford ! where'er thou send'st a Pusey Hack, 
 Be sure have *' Bigot" labelled on his back ; 
 Give him a brain of lead, — a heart of stone. 
 That thou and all the world may know thine own. 
 As Cambridge did the Israelite, whom face 
 And Circumcision made a Child of Grace ; 
 Dark Bigotry hath made his home unblest. 
 Hatching his mischiefs in his little breast. 
 Where little soul like little self in size, 
 Asquat sits squinting through his little eyes ; 
 Denouncing Lust is useless from his throat. 
 His face is Fornication's antidote. 
 Had Marcius been but placed in Joseph's stead. 
 The Wife of Potiphar had tum'd and fled ! 
 
56 CANTj 
 
 Turn, turn my Muse and cross thyself, and then 
 
 Shake such ignoble trifles from thy pen ; 
 
 Turn from those Insects which but buzz and fade, 
 
 And sing the merits of the *' Great Unpaid," 
 
 Turn to the Great Unpaid, once prompt and wilhng 
 
 To sign a Parish Rate-Book for a shilling !* 
 
 Yet nought was lost, — for every one might say, 
 
 " Their Worship's wisdom's equal to their pay/' 
 
 Who but must smile when sagely they reflect. 
 
 The very men w^ho claim such large respect. 
 
 These men who preach up lowliness of life, 
 
 — Their own a bitter comment full of strife — 
 
 Born 'neath the Crescent holier light had seen, 
 
 Mohammed's Priests, for Priests they still had been, 
 
 In barbarous Turkey more at home, — more clever. 
 
 But Fortime dropp'd them just wrong side the River. 
 
 This good old practice has recently been abolished, and left the 
 ** Great Unpaid'* to lament (like Lord Bacon) that Justice should 
 go " scot free." 
 
A SATIRE. 57 
 
 Yes ! but for this our Puseys to a man 
 True Moslems were, — expounders of Koran, 
 
 Ready to do the Sultan's dirty work. 
 
 And then as now as meek as any Turk ! 
 
 Alas ! that holy men with impious feet 
 
 Should ever dare profane the Judgment Seat, 
 
 That Gospel Saint on Law's just right encroaching, 
 
 Exults in punishing a wretch for poaching ; 
 
 That meekness gladly quits his heart for Power, 
 
 Delighting on the brow of Pride to lowV, 
 
 Where trembling Wretches read it as a sign, 
 
 Tho' crawling Reptiles call the Thing, Divine ; 
 
 His Law a Scorpion, and his Church a Feather, 
 
 The Surphce and the Treadmill work together ! 
 
 'Tis ever thus, in every clime we see 
 
 The T)rrant and the Hypocrite agree ; 
 
 E'en in that kingless soil where Patriots grow. 
 
 And wing of Time ne'er fann'd a Monarch's brow. 
 
58 CANT, 
 
 A bloodier Tyrant doth his footsteps plant, 
 Which millions kneel to kiss ; — the Tyrant Cant ! 
 Is there a Land adventurous man can roam 
 Where every needy Villain finds a home ? 
 The Despots sneer ! Yet such her tyrant name, 
 Europe's worst deeds find refuge in her shame ! 
 Whose Worth and Honor with her Manners suits. 
 Honest as Fraud and civil as her Brutes ! 
 Where Freedom hath whelp*d forth a Son and Heir, 
 And left unlick'd, the shaggy Cub, — the Bear ! 
 Look o'er the Atlantic, list its booming waves. 
 And hear the moaning of her Yankee Slaves! 
 There Saints Cant loud, whilst murder's heart within 
 Wears England's serpent scales and cast-ofi* skin ! 
 There Cruelty uncheck'd his red arm rears 
 Midst Temples built to Christ with Negro tears : 
 
A SATIRE. 59 
 
 There palp-fac*d Cant harangues his Demon brood^ 
 
 In walls of Plaster moist with Negro-blood ! 
 
 Nation of Slicks ! What centuries must come 
 
 To separate thy sediment and scum ! 
 
 Ages on Ages shall thy breed display 
 
 Offspring benign of Lynch and Mrs. Prayf 
 
 Thy tongue, like Janus* double face, was meant 
 
 One side for Bully, and one side for Cant ! 
 
 To bawl out liberty o*er Slaves that crawl. 
 
 Then hoist thy Hangman's Flag to cover all ! 
 
 * Doctor Knibb tells us that **the Slave Population are de- 
 graded — robbed — peeled — destroyed — flogged — maimed and sold by 
 Ministers of every denomination, and by members of every church 1 
 Religion writes Liberty in blood, and fetters Freedom in chains. She 
 measures it by the colour of the skin, and while she holds out 
 liberty to aZZ, and tells all that they are free and equal, she takes 
 my Brethren and Sisters and manacles them — binds them — chains 
 them — flogs them — and then beseeches the God of Mercy to convert 
 the World." 
 
 f" A whimsical instance of * Zeal standing sentry at the door 
 of Sin,' appears in a pious Lady named Ann Pray, who bequeathed 
 one-fourth of certain Negro Slaves to a Missionary Society for the 
 purpose of sending the Gospel to the Heathen !" 
 
60 CANT^ 
 
 Thy Christian Priests their eyes enraptured roll 
 
 Driving the iron in a Brother's soul ! 
 
 Here Woman's kindred spirit bruised and bow'd. 
 
 Her mangled flesh for mercy crying loud 
 
 Sees gloomy Saint rejoicing in her tears. 
 
 Her shriek is music to his freeborn ears, 
 
 What'er his Creed, his heart to murder knit. 
 
 The Cunning — Canting — Soul-less Hypocrite, 
 
 With feet in Hell, — spreads forth his arms to Heaven, 
 
 Tampers with God and hopes to be forgiven ! 
 
 O England ! Glorious England ! Truly Great 
 In spite of Pusey and of Potentate, 
 Who whilst with envy Man's improvements eyed 
 Would tether knowledge to their pathway side ; 
 The Sufferers' cries have travell'd o'er the wave. 
 And millions wept to hear the shrieking Slave : 
 From Faction's heart no Hope, — no Solace fell 
 For Mercy fled where Justice scorn'd to dwell ; 
 
A SATIRE. 61 
 
 And holy Lords turn'd not the face away 
 
 Nor ope'd their hps the Murderer's scourge to stay ; 
 
 As Avarice bade they gave their Genius scope 
 
 To fix Despair and shut the Hght from Hope ; 
 
 China's light fumes above the table roU'd, 
 
 And Luxury turn'd a Demon's feet to gold. 
 
 Stifled the cries of Nature in the breast 
 
 And luU'd the polish'd cruelty to rest ; 
 
 The Nation's heart at the recital bled. 
 
 But Lordly Christians stir'd their Tea, and read ! 
 
 At length, — when Ruin on the Sceptre sate 
 
 And all the Land blaz'd out in Crime and Hate, 
 
 Far abler hands the reins of Empire drew. 
 
 Men who meant well, and what they meant, dare do ; 
 
 To Faction's mean and narrow spirit blind, 
 
 England their Party, and their cause — Mankind : 
 
 Thro' England's weal the love of Man they win. 
 
 And give her power without and Peace within : 
 
62 CANT, 
 
 The Negro's gratitude for Slavery done 
 
 Glows more intense beneath a Tropic Sun ; 
 
 Sick of the traffic. Nature cried '' Hold," Hold," 
 
 And human blood was weighed against our gold, 
 
 The price, tho' large it sound in Virtue's ear, 
 
 To blot that Guilt can never be too dear ! 
 
 Talk not of price ! but clap your hands with Joy; 
 
 The Man-Destroyer shall no more destroy ! 
 
 The Negro's Yoke and Scourge advanc'd in Air* 
 
 Shall ornament the Portals of Despair, 
 
 The names of those who pledg'd the System " good'* 
 
 On the hard stone inscribed ; — eat in with blood, 
 
 And Nature's friends, as they with tears survey, 
 
 Reading those Names, turn horror-struck away ! 
 
 But oh ! For those, what shall be deem'd their lot 
 
 Who turn from Mercy's cries and heed them not ! 
 
 *" The Manacles ani Fetters worn by the Christian Captives of 
 Granada liberated at the taking of that city in 1492, were suspeneled 
 to the outside walls of th? building, where they are to be seen to 
 this day." 
 
A SATIRE. 63 
 
 The curse of Nature thro' all Time and Space 
 
 With Cain and Murder shall involve their race, 
 
 The Tiger- Saint long tear the helpless Lamb, 
 
 For Cant and Cruelty both suck one Dam.* 
 
 In ages hence, when Afric's Sons shall burn. 
 
 To emulate the Sons of Light, and learn. 
 
 On every Plain shall stand a sculptured Stone 
 
 To tell the Crime, — stand desolate, — alone ; 
 
 A Monument of guilt, to mark the sod 
 
 Where'er the gaunt, — the dread Man -hunter trod ; 
 
 The winds of Desolation passing by 
 
 Shall sing the Captive's plaintive moan and sigh : 
 
 Here Youth shall meet ; — their Legends mutter o'er, 
 
 Recording fearful tales of deeds of yore, 
 
 When weak with woe the Sons of Afric stood 
 
 And Christians at their meals long lapp'd their blood ! 
 
 *" A Baptist Association at the South decreed that a Slave sold 
 at a distance from his Wife might marry again in obedience to his 
 Master, and that he would even do wrong to disobey in this par- 
 ticular."— Dr. Channing. 
 
 F 
 
64 CANT, 
 
 How long, O Man ! the slave of Whim and Pride 
 Shall self and self-delusion be thy guide ? 
 How long with Christ and Mercy for thy Creed, 
 Still ask for poor Humanity to bleed ? 
 Without all purity ! All Faith within. 
 The Champion pf Sanctity and Sin : 
 By Faith made whole, yet ill with Faith at ease 
 — A mass of solemn Inconsistencies ! 
 Self- worshipped Idol ! Folly's golden Calf, 
 At whom e*en Brutes might spurn and Angels laugh ; 
 How long from Sense the smile of Scorn provoke. 
 Blind Faith thy guide, — thy Reason but a Joke ; 
 Searching for light where'er the blessing flows, 
 Ti-ying new Dogmas as ye try new Clothes : 
 Floundering in quagmires of Divinity, 
 The more immers'd pretending more to see. 
 Like that sleek Sect, — that over-righteous Crew, 
 God's holv pets of Grace, — predestined few. 
 
A SATIRE. 65 
 
 By whom alone Salvation's understood, 
 
 SeaFd by John Calvin with Servetus' blood ! 
 
 Vessels Elect ! who Faith not Works rely on, 
 
 At Ebenezer — Bethel — and Mount Zion : 
 
 Sectarian Dens, where Saints groan loud within, 
 
 Sunday Asylums that keep Bedlam thin ! 
 
 The Priest delighted sees some yellow face 
 
 Exhibit symptoms of the " inward Grace/' 
 
 Tho^ mortal Doctors soon perceive, — and smile — 
 
 Zeal in the Liver, — Piety in Bile ; 
 
 Hence certain habits the disease insure. 
 
 And lead to Phrenzy, whilst Aperients cure ; 
 
 Hence Hypocrites besiege Salvation's gate. 
 
 Hence Zeal, hence Gloom,hence Cant, andhence mi/Hate ! 
 
 With equal Scorn, I feel my soul detest 
 
 That Saurian tribe who swallow up the rest. 
 
 From See to See their way still fattening keep. 
 
 And are themselves, ** God's wonders of the Deep.'* 
 F 2 
 
66 CANT^ 
 
 See Childs a Victim long in Prison live, 
 
 — ^Vindictive case of Men who preach, *' Forgive" — 
 
 See them at Chelmsford ready to repeat it, 
 
 Shylocks who claim their pound of Flesh, and eat it 
 
 At Mammon's bidding, whilst they reel with wine. 
 
 Ransack the Temple, and debase the Shrine ; 
 
 So proud, with hfted chin and lowring eye. 
 
 That little children hide as they pass by. 
 
 And Meekness trembles, as it lifts the hat. 
 
 To hearts of Fhnt, and eyes that stare thro' fat ! 
 
 Tho' in his service they by stealth have got 
 
 Lo ! Jesus turns aside and knows them not ! 
 
 Great God ! Who built up this stupendous whole 
 And taught each day th' Eternal Spheres to roll ; 
 Bade Time, a Giant Shadow, bom of Light, 
 To point their starry motions in thy sight : 
 
 I Fix'd the bright Sun to light thy World below; 
 
 ! And shew'd his beauty in thy radiant Bow : 
 
A SATIRE, 67 
 
 Saw rolling orbs celestial change prolong. 
 Hymning Duration's everlasting song! j 
 
 System on System bade their tasks fulfil, \ 
 
 And saw a Universe perform thy Will ; 
 Who bade this sublunary World rejoice 
 With all things fitted to thy Wisdom's choice, 
 That man might see and trace thy glory out. 
 And pondering o'er the wonder feel devout : 
 
 Where all of Nature's forms so lovely seem, / 
 
 / 
 
 His Life might pass lapp'd in a golden Dream, | 
 
 Might mix his mortal with immortal fire. 
 
 And antedate more bUss than Saints desire ! ^^(. 
 
 Prepost'rous Man ! rejecting Reason's bliss. 
 
 Perversely understanding God amiss : 
 
 A peevish Creature full of Wants and Spite ! 
 
 An Atom's dust, — imploring Heaven's own might ; 
 
 As Heaven would stoop to heed thy vile afiTairs 
 
 From guiding Worlds to hsten to thy Pray'rs, 
 
68 CANT, 
 
 By ceaseless folly wearied to consent 
 And deem a Canting Prayer a compliment ! 
 Degraded Man ! willing to Craft to bow ! 
 Dar'st thou not think ? — and lifting up thy brow. 
 Treading the righteous path by Goodness trod 
 Walk reconciled to Nature and to God ? 
 Instead of treading Hell's eternal brink 
 The slave of Fear, too indolent to think. 
 O'er this Life's stage mere human puppet pass 
 Where cunning Pusey's showman to the farce ; 
 Deluded Man the audience of that show. 
 And W****f**d the Andrew here below ; 
 From Irish pastures shewing high Church breed, 
 — Last blossom of a Church just run to seed. 
 In whom we see with love of Church increased, 
 A whole-length Bully grafted on half Priest ! 
 Who spuming Reason's Hght, ordained to bless. 
 Makes God a riddle for mankind to guess. 
 
A SATIRE. Q9 
 
 Sees God's own image finished at the schools. 
 
 And deems this Earth a paradise for Fools ! 
 
 Instead of these, ah ! would mankind but take 
 
 From Virtue's self, examples for her sake. 
 
 Then might we look through Nature and her laws. 
 
 Tracing the wonder to its first Great Cause, 
 
 In all the miracles and mummery past 
 
 Trace Faith's new Canty and Pusey the great Last ! ^ 
 
 O wert thou Virtue, Man's true friend and guide, 
 lb walk the world with wisdom by thy side. 
 To win the wicked to adopt thy rules, 
 And curb the wishes and the wants of Fools ; 
 Thy soul's bright sunshine none but good Men share. 
 That gilds Life's path and melts the clouds of Care, 
 Daughter of Heaven ! In wisdom's lore profound. 
 Sublimely calm, tho' Worlds should rock around, 
 Methinks I see thee Earth's low Joys despise, 
 And track thy way back to thy native skies. 
 
70 CANT, 
 
 Truth*s Sun effulgent imaged on thy breast, 
 
 A youth's left hand within thy right compress' d. 
 
 Taught by thy voice the World's dark ways to scan, 
 
 And look with pity on the guilt of man ; 
 
 Vice sees ye scale the rugged mountain steep, 
 
 Astonish* d at the dauntless course ye keep. 
 
 Turns from the vision with malignant grin. 
 
 Shelters in Faith and grovels on in Sin ! 
 
 Virtue ! The wise behold thy fate with pain. 
 
 Permitted just to bear Rehgion's train. 
 
 To lend to Priest the glory of thy name. 
 
 Then hear him 'gainst thy filthy works declaim ; 
 
 A serf at whom rich Faith turns up her nose, 
 
 A handmaid grudged Religion's cast-off clothes ! 
 
 Thrice happy Church ! condemn' d by Fate to hear 
 The younger Booby of some pauper Peer, 
 Taught from the Nursery with disdain to throw 
 His glance and spit upon the Herd below. 
 
A SATIRE. 71 
 
 Eton receives the Tyro with dehght, 
 
 Training him gladly for the holy fight, 
 
 To Oxford sent his bigot Creed to scan, 
 
 He comes out Saint upon the Pusey plan ; 
 
 As Curate first in his vocation labors. 
 
 Ordain d, to be — a nuisance to his Neighbors ; 
 
 By Nature dull and fitted for his post, 
 
 Tho' filled and quicken'd now by Holy Ghost ! 
 
 His Sire turn'd Sycophant, — and glad to turn one. 
 
 Begs him a Living who could never earn one : 
 
 In four-wheel Chariot next to Church he rolls. 
 
 To cast out Devils and to cure much souls ; 
 
 An expletive, by Fraud and Folly led. 
 
 With Pride nigh bursting and the Nation's bread ! 
 
 His heavenly master's meekness he despises. 
 
 He smokes, — he sports, — he swears, — he advertises. 
 
 Exchanging Livings with his own dear Race, 
 
 He swops Salvation with some Chip of Grace ; 
 
72 CANT, 
 
 Two precious Scamps, — so equally unblest, 
 
 It puzzles Satan much which bargain's best ! 
 
 On Sabbath day Paul's faith he strives to fix. 
 
 But gives to Ovid all the other six ! 
 
 Love's God on Sunday even, smiles to see 
 
 The Priest denouncing Pride in each degree ; 
 
 For Love and Lust he points his deadUest sting. 
 
 And lashes Pride with elevated Ring, 
 
 As wandering glances from the Pulpit fly. 
 
 Caught in the beaming of some Beauty's eye ! 
 
 His patron Lord, who asks him oft to dine 
 
 Receives the Parish scandal for his wine ; 
 
 Proud, — mean, — despised, he joins the hungry pack. 
 
 His Life a Steeple-Chase, — the Church his Hack ! 
 
 Such thy new Sons that in the Pulpit perch 
 
 Hatching fresh scandal for their Mother Church, — 
 
 Unhappy Matron, fall'n on evil hour 
 
 — Like many Matrons ruin'd by thy dow'r : 
 
A SATIRE. 73 
 
 Thine own liege Lord plays false, — the naughty Varlet, 
 
 Gallanting it about with Lady Scarlet ; 
 
 But new Adorers to thy worship come. 
 
 For Church, like Nature, hates a Vacuum ! 
 
 True, P*s*y preacheth with a shaven Crown, 
 
 Yet J***z B*****g preacheth in a Gown ; 
 
 Yes, pious J***z round thy person lingers. 
 
 Sighing to touch the gems upon thy fingers ; 
 
 With wrinkled soul and hypocritic face. 
 
 Whines in thine ear, and pants for thy embrace ! 
 
 O Paul ! thou great apostle of thy Lord, 
 By whom both pride and Mammon were abhorr'd, 
 Hadst thou encountered in thy pious search 
 The rampant Tigers of our modern Church, 
 Thy gladiatorial task were work of ease. 
 Thy Beasts at Ephesus were tame to these: 
 Yet names, still sacred, sleep beneath her sod. 
 The humble, faithful followers of their God, 
 
74 CANTj 
 
 Thro' whom, the just prepared for life*s release, 
 The sick found comfort, and the dying peace ; 
 Ere Pusey Wolves defiled God's House of Pray'r, 
 And foul Hyenas snuflTd Rome's incense there ! 
 
 The Church! Mysterious phrase ! — with fools at least, 
 With Men of understanding it means Priest ; 
 The Church, itself imconscious of all crime, 
 That fine old picture down the vale of Time, 
 Which fills a space up in the human mind. 
 When the arch'd Rainbow gilds the blue behind. 
 That glows impartially on Saint and Knave, 
 Shedding Hope's Halo o'er the poor Man's Grave ! 
 
 To scenes thus sacred, oft in Youth, I sped 
 To hold communion with the peaceful dead. 
 With life's poor Relics in Earth's bosom thrust. 
 And note the gathering of human dust. 
 Where Death, sole Monarch o'er his fav'rite spot. 
 Collects his trophies side by side, to rot; 
 
A SATIRE. 75 
 
 Where Knave or Hero to Earth's cleft is hurVd, 
 The Thief who cogs a Die or shakes a World ! 
 Here once the Muse, an Idler stood, to scan 
 The pompous Funeral of the wealthy Man, 
 (When the long fleece kept lazy Shepherd warm. 
 And Heavn's Flocks starved on its celestial farm) ; 
 Unlike the pauper Corse, — oft doomed to wait, — 
 His Reverence meets it at the Church- Yard Gate ; 
 A holier sympathy inspired his breast, 
 As College elocution did its best. 
 And Rhetoric, as it gaz'd upon the Bier, 
 Squeezed out its favorite figure in a tear : 
 Much sleepless nights it takes, and midnight flame 
 To hammer Panegyric for his name. 
 Departed Virtue at full length's express 'd. 
 And Sunday's Sermon leaves him with " the blest ;" 
 His greedy Heir, lamenting o'er his dust. 
 Admires the well-drawn Portrait, — " 'tis so just, ' 
 
76 CANT^ 
 
 Down at the Hall his gratitude's displayed 
 In frequent dinners for the tribute paid, 
 And all this pomp and ceremony's pass'd. 
 Perchance to give the devil his due at last ! 
 
 The Sexton calls upon the Priest next day, 
 To inter the Rehcs of poor old John Gray ! 
 The Muse was there, admiring to behold 
 The poor man's exit with the man of gold : 
 The hour arrives ; but ah ! unlucky fate. 
 The Corpse arrived, five minutes just too late : 
 Unlucky Corpse ! his Reverence time to waste, 
 Engag'd to dine, made Duty side with Haste, 
 And Mourners felt the service as they sigh'd. 
 Come chill and hurried thro' the lips of Pride ; 
 But what avails to place with flattering breath, 
 A Peacock's Feather on the brow of Death ? 
 Wealth hires the pomp of Grief, — the Poor, more blest. 
 Like babes turn peaceful to their mother's breast : 
 
A SATIRE. n 
 
 \ In this dark nook, released from Sorrow'^ stings, 
 John's form rots nobly as the flesh of Kings, 
 A hoHer Sabbath to his Dust decreed, 
 Tho' no proud marble lies to all who read. 
 Where old Derision, poring o'er the clay. 
 Lifts up his eyes, — and sneers, — and turns away ! 
 
 Struck with the contrast, mild Reflection's beam. 
 Illumes the objects on Time's shadowy stream ; 
 Thro' every Age I see, with selfish art, 
 The root of evil twine through Priestcraft's heart : 
 Sick at the thought of slavish millions aw'd, 
 And still condemn'd to kiss the skirts of Fraud, 
 I turn my steps to Mona's hilly groves. 
 And seek the solitude my soul so loves 
 Fatigued I sink beneath the cooling shade. 
 And mark with closing eye the landscape fade, 
 Visions of ages crowd upon my brain. 
 And seek permission to live o'er again ; 
 
78 CANT, 
 
 Truth, though more stern, less hideous appears 
 Through the grey twihght of departed years ; 
 Hist'ry shews Man a shadow on the wall. 
 In all the forms that Faith and Fear can crawl. 
 Whilst Fancy, — busy Architect of Dreams — 
 Uprears an Edifice of Holy Schemes ! 
 
 On barren Hill where Druid Priest of yore. 
 Taught Odin's horrid Rites in human gore, 
 A spacious Temple rose, like that in Rome, 
 A thousand Aisles all met *neath one vast Dome : 
 The fashion of its Gates from Bedlam came. 
 Where Gibber's genius rivalled Phidias' fame. 
 Madness and Melancholy's forms above 
 Shew'd the intensity of heavenly love. 
 And sculptured Angels and such uncouth Things 
 In Stone, — ^Hke Penguins, stood erect with wings ! 
 Gentaurs and Shapes of Darkness, — types of Sin — 
 Encircling darker living Things within 
 
A SATIRE. 79 
 
 Mark'd the wide frieze; from niche whereDemons frown'd, 
 Folly stood out and wav*d her Sceptre round : 
 Satan, as Vane, sprawl'd out o'er swarms below. 
 In Dragon-form, as on the Spire of Bow. 
 
 Chapels and Altars in each nook were plann'd. 
 Where Priests pray'd loud, announcing Wrath at hand ; 
 The Crescent and the Cross together flew. 
 And Sectarist groan'd near unbelieving Jew ! 
 From thousand Pulpits, Priests taught various ways. 
 To worship nothing, — and to call it Praise ; 
 From ev'ry Clime they came their Craft to teach, 
 And brought a Prophet and a Creed with each ; 
 Bells, — Gongs, — Muezzins, — troubled the still air. 
 And Afric's Death- drum call'd the hour of Pray'r ; 
 Ten thousand thousand Blockheads kneel'd and pray'd. 
 Ten thousand others with loud voices bray'd ; 
 The Genius of Salvation shook his wings. 
 Playing Fantasias on ten thousand strings : 
 
 G 
 
80 CANT, 
 
 A Dwarf might list their Sermon, Prayer and Psalm, 
 And gather all the sense in one small Palm ! 
 Sweeping the Aisle, with staid and solemn pace, 
 Lo ! Mystery pass*d ! A veil conceaFd her face. 
 Prostrate all fell, as though smote down by Death, 
 And silence kept ; — and each held in his breath ; 
 At intervals each dar'd to lift an eye, 
 To view Faith's Sister-Majesty pass by ! 
 At ev'ry Altar with prostrations first. 
 From holy Cup she seemed to slake her thirst. 
 And when her Garment's hem the Priest had kiss'd. 
 She vanished in a native cloud of Mist ! 
 
 Placed 'neath the Dome, stern arbiter of Fate, 
 A living Idol, the arch High-Priest sate ; 
 A triple Crown his Locks of sable graced. 
 And Heaven's bright Silver Keys hung round his waist, 
 A Dagger's Haft with Crucifix emboss'd 
 Peep'd out beneath his Vest, — the Holy Ghost, 
 
A SATIRE. 81 
 
 A radiant Dove, o*er-canopied his Head, 
 
 And '' Ecce Homo" o'er the Altar bled ! 
 
 His face was Cruelty's in Zeal's disguise, 
 
 A Serpent's cunning lurking in his eyes. 
 
 His hollow voice made Youth with Terror start, 
 
 A Demon's malice seething in his heart ; 
 
 Suspicious, — Proud, — of Devotees afraid, 
 
 Christ on his lips, he preach'd the red Crusade, 
 
 Girdled by kneeling Kings, — who worshipped him, 
 
 His scowl convulsing every recreant limb. 
 
 Of massive Ignorance,— striking Reason blind. 
 
 He loos'd the Dogs of Hell to tear Mankind ! 
 
 \"A holy War'* they shout ; ** by Jordan's Flood, 
 
 — In Palestine we'll drink the Paynim Blood !" 
 
 A holy War e'en on the spot arose. 
 
 And Love and Charity were chang'd for blows, 
 
 A zealous Devotee of Pusey breed, 
 
 O'erheard and quick impeach'd his Brother's Creed, 
 
 g2 
 
82 CANT, 
 
 Discord triumphant seiz'd the Godly Crew 
 And holy trumpery at each other flew ; 
 Hell's din resounding, — the Angelic Rout, 
 Prepar'd for battle with infernal shout ! 
 
 Tlie Temple split, and crumbled to my view. 
 And as it rent, the Incense smoke curVd through. 
 Fancy no more saw Truth to Fiction wed, 
 The Vision melted and the Fools were fled ! 
 
 Type of Reality ! In future hour. 
 When Truth shall see, and Craft shall lose its powV, 
 Wlien new secessions weaken old respect. 
 And Orthodoxy quails to Schism and Sect ; 
 When Schism and Sect, — both bloated with renown- 
 Two Giants, shake the pillar'd Temple down. 
 The Sun of Knowledge at Meridian height. 
 Shall melt the mists of Prejudice and Night ; 
 And Mitred Relics some short Centuries hence. 
 Excite the stare and grin of Common Sense ; 
 
A SATIRE. 83 
 
 Placed in Museums for the Public show, 
 Great Rarities as are their Wearers now. 
 Who set aloof on Bench, the World amuse. 
 Too grave to think, — too sacred far to use. 
 Like China Deities on Mantle thrust. 
 Shall merely breed a smile and gather dust ! 
 Yes, the whole host in Faith's declining day. 
 When mystic Creeds and holy Men decay. 
 These Pusey expletives to Fate resigned. 
 Shall turn to use and mingle with mankind ! 
 Meantime some future Muse their worth shall show 
 And hold them up to scorn as mine does now. 
 
 Yes, now, whilst thus their Papal rage I dare. 
 And prudent Friends alarm' d exclaim " forbear ;" 
 Prudence who yearns to see me sleek and fat, 
 Begs me to Reverence to lift off my hat. 
 Albeit my bare head with scorn he views 
 Absorb'd in Deity and Easter dues ! 
 
84 CANT, 
 
 Prudence, who leaves our consciences to rot, 
 
 Crawling, where'er a penny's to be got : 
 
 Who dreams not how I toil'd on Youth's hard Stage, 
 
 Before the days of this vile canting age, 
 
 Resolved to brave the insolence of Might, 
 
 And dared to think what now I dare to write ; 
 
 Prudence, so very like our grave Divines, 
 
 Affecting Scorn for these imprudent lines. 
 
 Pulling my Coat with Countenance sedate, 
 
 Perks in my face and thus begins to prate : — 
 
 ** Fool that thou art ! Ah ! more than doubly so, 
 
 To join ' the March ' and learn the Criss Cross row ; 
 
 Else hadst thou chosen some more low pursuit, 
 
 A jocund, — careless, — easy, — two legg'd Brute, 
 
 On Dogs and Horses cast all mortal cares, 
 
 Bow'd to Divinity and said thy pray'rs ; 
 
 Thus in thy generation thrift and wise. 
 
 Escaping Pusey hate which never dies T* 
 
A SATIRE. 85 
 
 Thus Prudence predicates a fate to dread, 
 Taking her last farewell and shakes her head ; 
 Whilst I, in frolic mood, — now stern, now blithe. 
 Resolve to have a fling, let who will writhe ; 
 Resolve to give the indignant Muse a feast. 
 And probe a Bishop 'till he yawn at least ! 
 Yes ! I enjoy to meet the awkward glance, 
 The hanging lip, and tossing head askance. 
 Laugh to o'erhear my name devoutly curst. 
 And when I look most grave am nigh to burst ! 
 My great delight in laughing 'till I pant, 
 ^ Pouring derision on the head of Cant ! 
 
 Almighty Cant ! By thee Man makes his gains ; 
 The counterfeit that knaves exchange for brains. 
 Children and Blockheads the gilt surface view 
 And take thy spurious coin before the true. 
 Almighty Cant ! Thou God of Fraud and Wiles, 
 More worshipp'd at St. James's than St. Giles ; 
 
86 CANT, 
 
 All the low arts in thy sight finding grace. 
 One gives thy speech its whine, — one maps thy face. 
 Cunning and Candour lend their little wits. 
 And Humbug fits his Mask, and sees it Jits ; 
 Hypocrisy concealed prompts all within. 
 Giving thy tongue the eloquence of Sin ; 
 Blockheads and Knaves eternal fealty vow. 
 And wilhng Nations bless thy cheat, and bow ! 
 Forgive me Cant, if to thy ways unknown, 
 I shunn'd thy course and took my way alone : 
 The paths of rural solitude I trod, 
 (For Towns and Cities hide the works of God ;) 
 With what delight I turn'd such scenes to greet. 
 From Man, a Reptile at his fellow's feet ! 
 I'd sooner be the veriest Stone or Stock, 
 Or pick my living from the barren Rock, 
 Where Independence sees his white-flag blow, 
 Th^Ji fatten with thy servile Herd below ; 
 
A SATIRE. 87 
 
 Forgive me Cant, if, spurning thy base ways, 
 I snatch'd the Holly and escaped thy Bays. 
 Fortune ! to thee few are the thanks I owe, 
 1 My Life's best blessing pluck'd from Labor's brow ; 
 Labor to me seemed ease, however hard. 
 The Muse's favor was my sweet reward : 
 Satire found none beyond her searching reach, 
 But laugh' d at Blockheads much above my speech 
 And many a stilted Dolt and canting Knave, 
 Shall carry her sharp stripemarks to the Grave. 
 Welcome then Toil, — that stopp'd far short of wealth. 
 That gave my mind its vigor and its health : 
 It taught me to perform the Satyr's part. 
 And like the Aruspex bare the victim's heart ; 
 It shew'd its spots, — a sacrifice so base. 
 To God 'twere insult and to Man disgrace ! 
 It saved me from that servile cringing way 
 Tyrants exact, and none but slaves will pay ; 
 
88 CANT, 
 
 It sav'd me from all quibbling, pious jars. 
 It sav'd me from the Cant my soul abhors. 
 It saved me from the scorn by Greatness shown. 
 And better still, — it sav'd me from my own ! 
 Welcome then Labor 'till my sinews crack ; 
 My soul stands upright 'neath a bending back. 
 The darUng Muse ! Her countenance in sight — 
 What is the heaviest Labor ? Lord how hght ! 
 Fancy ! blest power, — to frail existence kind 
 Hath given me subjects in the realm of mind. 
 And when she feels dispos'd my Taste to suit. 
 Frames me new Worlds and peoples them to boot ! 
 A Paradise for Bards, by Duns abhorr'd. 
 Here Fancy lets me live like any Lord, 
 Tho' now and then she gives me leave to stray 
 Thro' Earth, and lash a Scoundrel in my way ; 
 And every shaft that Satire deals shall find 
 Its point deep buried in ignoble Mind ; 
 
A SATIRE. 89 
 
 In language bold, — to sharp invective strung, 
 Pregnant with Thought and vehement of Tongue, 
 That makes the blood thro' Cant's vile pulses leap. 
 And Conscience tremble so it dare not sleep ; 
 Nor need she fear of Theme to be bereft. 
 Whilst Oxford, — Cambridge,— Exeter are left ; 
 Nay were she silent, or made strictest search. 
 For Argument to prop a falling Church, 
 Rapacity, — of Reverend Parents born. 
 That Child of Ostentation, nursed by Scorn, 
 Revenge, — the light of Persecution's brand, — 
 These holy Vultures, shadowing the Land, 
 With Meanness, whose lean fingers all detest 
 Have wrought Men's hatred ; — Pusey does the rest ! 
 
Morton, Priuter, l6, Peter's Hill, Doctor's Commons. 
 
ft i „ \ a 1 952 
 
 i'^^ 
 
 n//^,3*3B53 
 
 Z'S9o' 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY