DAENEIDS, OR The Noble Labours of the Great Dean OF Notre-Dame IN PARIS, For the Erecting in his Quire a Throne for his Glory, and the Eclipsing the Pride of an Imperious, Usurping Chanter.
An Heroique POEM in Four Canto's.
Containing a true History, and shews the Folly, Foppery, Luxury, Laziness, Pride, Ambition, and Contention of the Romish Clergy.
Licensed, Jan. 27. 1691/2.
LONDON, Printed for Richard Baldwin in Warwick-Lane; near the Oxford-Arms-Inn. 1692.
To the Right Honourable JOHN Earl of MULGRAVE, &c. Knight of the most Honourable Order of the Garter.
My Lord,
I Have long been ashamed to see so many of my Writings march into the World, and yet not one of 'em Honour'd by Your Lordships Patronage. It is an easie matter for a Troop to force themselves on Ladies and Neutral Gentlemen, or Nobility, who will not Arm; but they must be Men of some Merit and Gallantry who compel regard from a General. Your Lordship is as much above us in our own Ways, as you are in other Respects; and I give this manifest proof of it, Your Fortune, and, most Men believe, Your Inclinations, fixes You on the top of Ease and Pleasure, therefore you [Page] wou'd never have written one Line, if it had cost you any pains, yet have you perform'd Masteries, which we who make Poetry the whole Business of our Lives, cou'd never equal. In Your Essay on Poetry there appears to me a Commanding Genius, standing on a Rise, o're-looking the Age You live in, seeing all the Writers in it marching below You, and too often disorderly; and You give us those Orders which plainly shew, Poetry attends on You, You may do what You please with it, but we compar'd with Your Lordship, are poor drudges to it, that have oftner the Will, than the Power to do well. Your Lordship has not only a perfect Understanding of what is fit to pass in the World, but You are of a severe Temper which will not give Your Pass to any false Sence, the absence therefore of Your Name from my Writings seems a silent Charge against me of want of Merit. To remove that Reproach, I take this occasion to tell the World, Your Lordship has approv'd of some of my Writings; and I have long'd to make my brags of it, but have been binder'd either by the unkindness of Fortune, which has given me some blow, and made me unfit to appear before You, or by the kindness of some Generous Persons, by which my Writings have been in a manner Morgag'd. Though the Law of the Land does not reckon Favours freely bestowed among Debts, the Law of Gratitude does; whenever a Man is oblig'd a Judgment is enter'd against him. [Page] In the late Reign when Your Lordship grac'd the Lord Chamberlains Office, You were pleas'd to shew me those Regards which made me vain: And I was very desirous to make it known to the World; but the Cloudiness of those Times, got I think into my Head, I did not Write so well as I have done formerly. Now I venture before Your Lordship, because I bring an Acquaintance of Yours, I am sure You value, Mr. Boileau; and a piece of his all Men of Sence have esteem'd, because it exposes to contempt Men, who are the Antipodes to good Sence; Priests who advance Nonsence above Reason, make Trifles of the most Solemn Matters, and Solemn Things of Trifles; are idle in the great Affairs of their Calling, and busie in Impertinence. By the few we have had amongst us, of such kind of Churchmen we may guess the misery of people who live in the Roman Church, where there are scarce any other; where the whole Mass of Priesthood is a heap of proud Flesh, and all the Strength and Nutriment of a Nation, goes to feed Ecclesiastical Corruption; thanks be to God, we are in a condition to make sport with'em, if e're they come amongst us, they will spoil the Jest. And past dispute 'tis very fit to render Men contemptible who endeavour to make Religion so. We have had too many in our Church who have busied themselves, and embroil'd others about things, which the French have had the understanding to know [Page] were only fit for a Droll. But now we have greater Affairs on our Hand. We have not time to contend for Modes in Religion, when the Being of the Protestant Religion, and indeed the English Nation lyes at stake. In a Calm at Sea Men may have leisure to wrangle at Chess; but if a Storm rises the quarrel's at an end, and the Bishops, Knights, Rooks and Pawns that bred it are left to shift for themselves. I am well assured the Lutrin pleases Your Lordship, but I may doubt of my Management of it; for I treat it as an English Privateer wou'd do a French Prize, great part of it, I fling away, and I dash-brew and disguise the rest as I think good. I shall not value how the World censures me, if I have the good Fortune to be approv'd of by Your Lordship, and thought worthy of the Title of
My Lord,
Your Lordships most Humble and Obliged Servant, John Crowne.
DAENEIDS OR The Noble Labours of the Great Dean OF Notre-Dame IN PARIS, For the Erecting in his Quire a Throne for his Glory, and the Eclipsing the Pride of an Imperious, Usurping Chanter, &c.
CANTO the First.
I Sing of Angels, not the Heavenly Quire,
Who Peace and Truth, and Harmony inspire.
Hoarse Brazen Trumpet-like is my rough Voice,
Jarring Church-Angels therefore are my choice.
[Page 2] In mighty
Paris two great Spirits Reign'd,
Where one with ease cou'd not be well contain'd.
They strove, and from 'em dreadful Thunders broke,
Which made great
Notre-Dame both shake and smoke;
And ere the almost falling Church cou'd fix,
Strange Janglings made, among Church-candlesticks.
Of all the Priests that Wealthy
Dome supplyed
With Laziness, with Luxury and Pride,
None deeper sunk, or firmlier remain'd
In Peace and Fat, than he who o're it Reign'd,
The Dean; a solid Priest in Flesh and Bone,
He like a sleepy Rowler trundled on
Along all Times; and gather'd as he rowl'd
A heavy heap of fat and clammy Mold.
He never knew when Changes went or came,
All Times, Faiths, Oaths, appear'd to him the same.
He had no Palate but for Meats and Wine,
In those he was a Learn'd profound Divine;
And to those Studies kept so close and hard,
To his Cathedral he paid small regard.
Mean while a haughty Melancholly Sower,
Old busie snarling Chanter step'd in Power.
Chief of the Chanters there, he was by right,
But not contented with that Noble Height,
Usurp'd the Deans Supremacy, and more,
Took high Prerogatives unknown before,
[Page 3] As scorning Power only at second Hand;
And terrible he was in his command;
He made the Singers shake more than in Song.
This fierce Usurper Rul'd in quiet long,
Obey'd, fear'd, honour'd, Church Affairs went on,
In a profound still current cross'd by none.
At length the Dean from his long slumbers woke,
Burst through his Cloud, and Church repose he broke.
He saw his Reverence and State were gone,
And gallantly resolv'd to seize his own;
Nay his Prelatique Legal Pomp advance
On the intruding Chanters arrogance.
The great Soul'd Chanter having proudly Reign'd,
Submission scorn'd, and Usurp'd State maintain'd.
By his Devotion to Pomp, Power and Pride,
He won the Zealous Canons to his side;
Who skill'd in causes of that mighty weight,
Lent him their aid by many a loud debate:
So of old Pagan Prelates madly strove
The Moons Eclipse by noises to remove.
Pagans beat Dishes, Pans and Platters hard,
Our Priests no clattering in Quotations spar'd.
What Devil envious of Church repose,
These Fire-balls into holy Bosoms throws,
And turns the Church to a disorder'd Rout?
How can such fury enter Souls devout?
[Page 4] Stand off, Atheistique Wits, and Scoffers vain,
Do not my Grave and Solemn Song profane?
Great
Notre-Dame, the high and stately Scene
Of our ensuing Story, long had been
Adorn'd and blest with many a deep Divine,
Not deep in Arts, but in Down-beds and Wine.
Their great Devotion doubly they exprest;
In Church by Pomp, at home by Heavenly Rest.
It grac'd their Masters Service to maintain
In ease themselves, his Fav'rite Gentlemen.
On their soft Beds the Morn they dos'd away,
And left the Quire the drudgery to pray;
And to Rich lofty Cushions to supply
Their Rooms i' Church, and raise Gods Honour high.
God was well serv'd, though Priests were never there;
Bright Residentiaries the Cushions were.
The Holy Men eat, drunk and slept with Zeal,
For Heavens honour, and the Churches weal;
Kept from themselves all Sacrilegious toil;
True to their Fat they were, as Rhemes to Oil,
To anoint Gallique Kings an Angel brought
Much Unctuous Fat God sent his Holy
Lot,
Our pious Canons, which to keep from waste
Careful they were, not to preach, pray or fast;
Or only fast to give themselves a whet,
So when they charg'd, the Rout was dreadful Great.
[Page 5] Sometimes shole lulling Sermons from 'em stream'd;
But Ah! so gently, when they preach'd they seem'd
Like
Halcyons brooding o're, a slumbring Wave,
To the Cathedral peaceful calms they gave.
No croaking Preacher, spoil'd with tedious din,
Good
Sunday Dinners, or sweet weekly Sin.
No noise was there but of Harmonious sound,
Division there only in Song was found.
When horrid Discord rear'd her snaky Head,
To see who entertain'd, a calm so dead,
So loath'd by her. Her Empire she surveigh'd,
And found her will, by Millions was obey'd.
Gladly she saw in each well govern'd State
The Law, with formal Pomp support debate.
But Churches highly pleas'd her Ear and Eye,
She saw all Churches set her Honour high.
Yet our Cathedral only in Musique loud,
Lodg'd Peace in scorn of Discord and her crowd.
Discord in Rage pearch'd on the lofty Dome,
And from her Mouth she Rain'd a poys'nous foam
Which crack'd the Glass; Martyr'd the Apostles there;
Then with a sigh, which made Trees shed their Hair;
Foul'd the Church-plate, that all its splendors died
Like Men in Damps; she vented thus her pride.
How dar'st thou, proud Cathedral, Friendship shew
To peace, (said she) my known, and vanquish'd Foe,
[Page 6] Which round the World I've spurn'd? Where has she rest?
In one fair Realm sh'as scarce one single Breast.
How often there in the same person Fight,
Whig, Tory,
Williamite, and
Jacobite,
Who have by turns the better of the fray;
As
French or
Irish get or lose the day;
Or as the hands of their good
Moses rise,
Well to reward, or sharply to chastise.
I've made my self a Barricado strong,
Of stiff Non-swearers, a most stubborn throng,
Who by no Art to yield can be compell'd,
And grow more hard like Trees, by being fell'd.
Nay even some Swearers to advance my Reign,
The Crown secur'd by Law unfix again;
Carve Power by Conquest which is carv'd by Law,
Some Swearers against these keen Weapons draw
Between 'em Peace and Truth, lead wretched Lives,
These Fighters wound 'em with their Carving-knives
Me above Church and State all Nations set,
And dares one Church neglect a Power so great?
Woes for thee this provoking Crime provides.
Streight her enormous Figure Discord hides
With a square Cap, a Surplice, Hood and Gown;
Nor from an old Sour Canon could be known.
Most true to Discord; he wag'd endless War
With Peace, in Presses, Pulpits, at the Bar,
[Page 7] All Bars of Civil and of Canon Laws,
To Law he went, with or without a cause.
With Suits at Law all his Tythe-corn he ground,
Ay, and himself, and all his Neighbours round.
He would not spare his Purse, Brain, Flesh or Bone,
To stir the clack of Lawyers and his own.
Discord and wrangling highly to promote,
He rail'd, he sued, he studied, and he wrote;
Toil'd unlike God, from light he darkness spun;
Worlds by this Anti-Maker were undone.
He preach'd for malice, in the Pulpit boil'd,
Till Dinners and Devotions both were spoil'd.
When his thin Flock by Winter Winds were Flead,
To gaul the Sore he'd a long Service Read;
Then far above his Hour in Pulpit Rail.
Then tack an Altar Service to the Tail,
Till all their Meat was burnt, and Noses Raw,
To provoke some to give him Food for Law.
Dissent, assent, his Dues detain or pay,
(Though not to Heaven) to Court's the certain way.
By this good Guide all they were sure to find,
Who conform'd not in all things to his mind:
If pious Reverence they forgot to shew
To Altars, and his Person by a bow;
And did not Service so exactly mark,
To start at all Responses with the Clerk,
[Page 8] To pour their Voices in the mutt'ring throng,
And help to push the murmuring Stream along;
If they nick'd not their times to kneel and rise,
And on these faults his Spectacles were spies.
But woe to Hugonots remote or nigh;
From his hot busie Zeal, and watchful Eye,
Proctors and Paritours had wealthy spoil,
And Constables an Everlasting toil.
Baptismal Water, Sacramental Wine
Cast away much of the Reformers Coin.
Basons and Bowles not blest with legal forms
Were sure to meet with most confounding storms.
Discord had chose this Canon for her own,
And therefore mark'd his Brow with many a frown.
His lean Cheeks wrangled, all the wrinkles clash'd
Whene're they met, and deep his Visage slash'd,
Therefore his Figure Discord wisely wore,
For none cou'd fit her better, please her more.
Canto the Second.
TO the Deans Palace stormy Discord steer'd,
And finds the bulky Prelate Sepulcher'd
In an Alcove and down; in hopes at last
Of joyful Resurrection to Repast.
In his fair spreading Cheeks, the Churches charge
Had rais'd a Garden beautiful and large;
And in two stories built his goodly Chin,
To let these run to Ruin were a Sin.
The Holy Man did no Expences spare,
To keep 'em faithfully in good Repair;
And every part about him fat and sound,
For they were Church Demeans and holy Ground.
Rich Curtains gave his slumbers strong defence,
Against Day's Sacrilegious violence.
Soft Pillows hid his Cheeks, and let no Air
Approach to harm the lively Flowers there:
For Youth's Spring Flowers in his Autumn grew,
Those Cheeks possessing which were Ages due.
All things in order were for Dinner laid,
When the great Goddess her proud Entry made.
The exact order highly pleas'd her Eye;
She knew the Church by scrupulous decency.
In all the joys of Silence, Ease and Pride,
And with a Breakfast strongly fortified,
[Page 10] The Dean attending Dinner slumb'ring lay;
When thus the Goddess drove his Rest away.
Wake quickly Dean, said she, or wake no more;
A Chanter haughtily usurps thy Power,
Shines in the Quire with thy Prelatique Grace,
And awes it with the same commanding Face.
All Bows of Singers are to him addrest;
All Congregations by his Mouth are blest;
He graces all the Saints High Solemn days,
When to oblige 'em he in person prays.
Shortly he'll Youth Confirm, and Priests Ordain,
And scarce to thee thy Rochet shall remain.
Renounce thy Prelacy, or thy Repose,
Thy Fortune dooms thee one of'em to lose.
This said, she breaths into him, through his Ear,
The Spirit of a common Barreter.
He wakes and yawns, and with half-opened Eyes,
Gives the dire Fiend his Blessing as he flies;
Then like a raging Bull with Hornets stung
Around the Chamber his Fat Body flung;
Chid Maids and Lacqueys, why he did not know,
And before Dinner to the Quire will go.
But his wise Steward much allay'd his Rage,
By Councils Seasonable, Calm and Sage.
What Fury's this (said he) has seiz'd your mind,
And hurries you to Church e're you ha' Din'd?
[Page 11] Oft have you left the work of saving Souls,
To sport some Hours at Tables, Chess or Bowls,
But for the Church ne're Dinner left till now;
The Dresser-board is ready for the blow.
Your Cook now foams, and so does your Pottage,
With your Judicious Palate to engage.
And if your Rost-meats you compel to stay,
Sir, they will weep their Gravy all away.
Your Haut-gousts now most vigorous and strong,
Will sicken if in cold they tarry long;
And never be reviv'd by second heat,
Sir, if you go, you'l Murder all your Meat.
It is not
Lent; say 'twere, it seems a waste
Of Holiness in Holy Men to Fast.
Your Tongues and Pens support Church Rites and Laws,
What need y'engage your Bowels in the Cause?
Sure 'twas the Churches Motherly intent
Lent should keep Prelates, and not Prelates
Lent.
Religiously support your high degree,
Do not by toil debase your Dignity.
This said, he wisely cover'd all the Cloth
With Crowds of Dishes, and a Tyde of Broth.
Much on the pious Dean this Vision wrought;
His Cloth a while St.
Peter's Sheet he thought;
A Treat let down from Heaven in a Dream,
Till his pleas'd Nostrils felt th' inviting Steam.
[Page 12] Then fiercely he applyed himself to eat,
Prov'd it was more than Visionary Meat.
Fast o're the Tongue he turn'd his Morsels all,
Like Morning Collects at a Festival;
Eat till he choak'd himself, but not his wroth,
He champ'd his Words and Meat confus'dly both.
He skipt from Dish to Dish, he knew not why,
No order minded, nor sweet decency.
The Steward thought his Masters end was near,
He knew not Creatures which he lov'd so dear;
And in great sorrow was about to run
To summon Friends; but Fame that work had done.
They scatt'ring came like Troops of daunted Cranes,
When the proud Pigmy a recruit obtains.
The Visit rais'd the Prelate from Despair,
Chac'd from his Visage the late furious Air.
So pleas'd he was with the respect they shew'd,
That he vouchsaf'd to rise, nay more, he bow'd:
Commanded the
Westphalia-Ham again,
Fill'd Wine himself to honour the good Men,
Drunk first and deeply; the Example pleas'd,
And streight a Flaggon of its load was eas'd.
He kindly mov'd 'em then to take a part
Of what remain'd, and of a fair desert;
The Table clear, out burst his inward pain.
Dear Friends (said he) by whose support I Reign,
[Page 13] My self your charitable Work I own,
Which the proud Chanter thinks to tumble down.
At least by interposing in my Rights,
To make me useless, and blind up my lights.
To him do all Church Officers repair;
At his command the Sexton Rings to Prayer.
Chapters are held at his usurping call;
What need of Deans, if Chanters can do all?
But then Tears stopt the current of his talk:
His Loving Steward empower'd his Tongue to walk
With chearful Wine, when
Boyrude bending low
With heavy Age, with trembling steps and slow
Enter'd the Room. The Church had us'd his pains
In four successive Deans Illustrious Reigns.
None in Church Customs was so skill'd as he;
He was a living true Church History.
His knowledge rais'd him from a Sexton poor,
To the high Trust of all Church Garniture,
Great Office! Robes are often half the Dean,
This Rules those Robes, ordains 'em to be clean.
One in this Office half a Dean Ordains,
O're half a Dean as Dean he proudly Reigns.
He has in part an Arch-prelatique Power;
He's of one Colledge parcel Visitour.
At first approach the Reverend Sage, espics
The Deans demolisht Pride and groveling Eyes.
[Page 14] Guessing the cause he smiling towards him mov'd,
And Father-like his Childish grief reprov'd.
For shame (said he) let the poor Chanter weep,
Your Rights and Empire study you to keep.
Hark to the Counsel Heaven does now inspire;
Where the proud Chanter over-looks the Quire
With frowning arrogance, some Ages past
The Church was shaded with an Engine vast,
Desk, Throne, or Pulpit, call it what you please:
At once it serv'd Devotion, Pomp and Ease.
There Thron'd in Glory, I have seen a Dean,
In Vestments Rich, on Velvet Cushions lean.
Prayer-books Embost with Gold before him shone,
Which drew all Eyes upon 'em but his own.
A Worm stol'n from a Grave the Chanter seem'd,
Just visible enough to be contemn'd.
Time, Fate or Fiends, malicious Men, or all,
(For they're all Foes to good) conspir'd its fall.
Malicious Men we think by secret Art,
Gave it a Sickness in some Noble part,
That never visited nor minded well,
One Morn it yawn'd, and down to Ruin fell.
And to its worth the ungrateful Quire unjust,
Laid it in dark forgetfulness and dust.
What honour'd once the Quire, has now forlorn,
Lain thirty Winters languishing in scorn.
[Page 15] Three of us, fit for such a great Affair,
Will Perewig'd in Nights dishevel'd Hair,
Steal to the Pulpit, in its mournful Room,
And gloriously Reward its Martyrdom.
If once to murmur the proud Chanter dare,
The Wretch with Forty Biting Actions tear.
Since not in Learning be in Law Renown'd.
Shew a Church Spirit, the whole Church confound,
Ere quit a Title of your sacred Right;
Let Laymen pray, Prelates are known by Might.
Your Divine dazling Right dart at your Foe;
Then to the Church in all Church splendor go;
And there Brow-beat th' Usurper to the ground;
Then to out-brave him disperse Blessings round.
To blast his Pride, and shew your self Supream,
Bless all the Congregation, nay bless him.
The Counsel seem'd to admiration wise;
The Dean in Ravishments, with lifted Eyes,
Heav'ns Inspiration most devoutly blest;
But straight a new Reflection struck his Breast.
I now have in the Quire, a Seat, (said he)
Cloath'd with Rich Cushions Crown'd with Canopy,
On what pretence can I Erect this Throne?
Boyrude replyed, a most Religious one,
Sermons to hear. Th' Assembly trembled all
With horrour at the sound Fanatical.
[Page 16] The Prelate hotly fir'd profanely swore;
And almost call'd for an Inquisitor.
Dar'st thou (said he) Name Sermons in my Ear?
I'le be no Dean e're buy the place so dear.
I'le rather Combat with wild Beasts like
Paul,
Or like
Isaiah be Sawed once for all,
Than weekly be with Tort'ring Sermons Sawed,
Postpone my Meals, and be with Fasting gnawed;
Nay more my self into the Toyl they'l fetch,
And I my self shall be oblig'd to preach.
Make potent Prelates preach? The Sage replies;
Pray by what Rule? You are not Tongues, but Eyes.
Our Eyes guide all our Limbs yet keep their Ease;
Labour becomes not highest Dignities.
Sect'ries like Jews with wandrings are perplext,
Doom'd all their Lives to rove from Text to Text,
Die in that Wilderness, and ne're possess
Romes Blessed Holy Land of Laziness;
A Land that flows with Honey, Milk and Gains,
At Heav'ns sole cost, and not the Owners pains.
Of this y'ave more than a dim
Pisgah sight;
And Ease is your inviolable Right.
Make Canons preach; and while the work is done,
Let your austere grave presence lash 'em on.
By their dull Saws no doubt you will be pain'd,
But you'l with sweet Revenge be Entertain'd.
[Page 17] They've uncanonical Rebellious Tongues,
And from 'em you've receiv'd a thousand wrongs.
Like Jades in Water-works, Sir, make 'em sweat,
Till from 'em penitential drops you get.
Then you'll soon have Revenge and Rev'rence both;
Soon at your Feet they'll fall to compass sloth.
Into a loud Applause th' Assembly broke,
And thought Man never with more Wisdom spoke.
All start, of Fame to have the greatest share,
But the wise Dean reduc'd 'em as they were.
All things in Church by Order must be done,
(Said he) that rears and fixes every Throne.
None shall approach this Work, but those whom Fate
Shall by a Lot Ordain and Consecrate.
Thirty selected Names are writ with haste,
And in the bottom of a Bonnet cast.
Fairly to draw the Billets, they employ
Rosie-cheek'd
Will that pretty Singing boy;
His Head new poll'd, his Face and Linnen clean,
Though no Saints day, for much he pleas'd the Dean.
The Prelate all partiality disclaims;
Having thrice blest, as often shakes the Names.
Will draws, and
Trole is the first Name that comes:
Birds promis'd good, which freely peck'd their Crums;
Sure no ill Augury could now be Read,
This Red-beak'd Bird from Liquor never fled.
[Page 18] A pleasing murmur in the Throng was rais'd,
And Fortunes choice by every one was prais'd.
Will to his Office does again Repair;
And draws a Name, most fatal to the Fair,
Of a young Singing-man whose Charms ('tis said)
Had been the Death of many a Chamber-maid.
Nay, his keen mounting Darts reach'd lofty Game,
Threatned high Ranks with loss of Life or Fame.
Whatever Beauty ogled him was lost,
Transform'd into a Strumpet or a Ghost.
Yet to the dangerous Snare they ventur'd all:
His Silver Pipe was a true Lady-call,
Which both Church-pews and Playhouse-boxes cram'd,
Entic'd the Fair both to be Sav'd and Damn'd.
But Oh! That Lady gain'd the height of Bliss,
Whom he in private taught to Sing and Kiss.
Long the soft Sex did for the Youth contend;
Some took their Eyes, some Money for their Friend.
Some had him all, and some had modest shares,
Some clear'd their Tones, some gave a crack to theirs.
To him his Fortune gave a second choice,
And now they go to ask Fates last Advice.
Their Names and panting Hearts are tost again.
Each fearing Fate his Person should disdain.
Honest old
Verger! What sincere delight
Shook thy dry Corps, when they Name rose in sight?
[Page 19] Thy Yellow Cheeks turn'd Red, and with a shout
Thou backwards gav'st a spring in spite of Gout.
Now Loyal true Church Hearts, who for Church weal
Had an unquenchable Religious Zeal,
Much prais'd Fate's choice of Men for Church Affairs,
And wish'd all Realms as able Ministers;
All Kings as deep in sight, as Fate had shewn
In chusing Men, to serve the Church and Throne.
On the design now all prepare to go;
And in a murmuring Stream, away they flow
To the Deans Celler, where they rent the Arch
With Drunken Songs, and sounded oft a March.
The Prelate calm'd, resum'd his lost Repose,
And now till Supper, laid him down to Dose.
Canto the Third.
NOW Night was in the middle of her Reign,
Great was her Pomp, and spacious was her Train.
From her large Throne of Jet she saw the proud
High Towers of
Paris scorn an humble Cloud.
Ravens, and all the Prophets o' the Air
Nightly to Dormitories near repair.
Amongst the rest for twenty Winters foul,
In a dark Cave, a Sibyl call'd an Owl
Secur'd her self from day's oppressing light;
And fled abroad to prophesie at Night.
[Page 20] Of great disasters she has early sense,
Is an Impartial true Intelligence.
All Sects believe her though she joins with none;
The Schismatick flyes all Communion.
Night for her healing touch Nature Enthrones,
She often cures both crazy Minds and Bones.
Kings fallen with Care below even common Men,
She Re-anoints, and makes 'em Kings again.
Day wears, but Night repairs, nay makes Mankind,
The only Labour to her Reign assign'd.
Therefore this Ethiope with day divides
The Rule of Time; half through her Empire slides.
Angry to see her Reign profan'd with toyl,
She posted to suppress the noisy broyl,
And the bold Authors; for the great Affair,
She chose this Owl her premier Minister,
And call'd her out; her Black Queens Voice she knew,
To her Retinue joyfully she flew.
Both swiftly through th'
August Cathedral past,
And found the Prison of the Engine vast.
It lay neglected in a Desert Room;
Night plac'd her Bird deep in its dusty Womb.
Now
Trole and
Minnum two great Chiefs Elect,
Left the Deans Vault, and the slow
Verger check'd.
He was as Vigorous as they in Mind,
But Age and Gout detain'd him far behind.
[Page 21] Besides th' old Tortoise carried on his Back
Of Necessary Tools a boisterous pack,
As Hammer, Chissels, Mallet, Saw, and Nails,
Under whose weight his wasted Vigour fails.
The Warriours force through Nights affrightful shade,
The high proud
Dome then Valiantly Invade.
First they ascend to the magnifique Porch,
Which stor'd the Valued Learning of the Church.
The
Verger stop'd the Troop, whilst with the dint
Of Steel, he cut the Veins of stubborn Flint,
And forc'd from thence a Spark; the Infant bright
As soon as Born begot another light,
Which proves to them a kind of Midnight Sun,
By whose direction boldly they go on.
Th' unfolding Gates upon the Troop let loose
Detested Shades, like Floods through opening Sluce.
Like a bold Caravan the Stream they stem,
The Horrours and the Solitude contemn,
So on in Wilds where never was a Road;
And reach at length the Pulpits dark abode.
Their Wonders on the fallen Machine they Feast,
Like Birds upon the Carcase of a Beast.
How now (said
Minnum) come we here to gaze?
And then ambitious to engross the praise,
With a stiff threatning Arm, and bending back,
He singly made a desperate Attaque.
[Page 22] Ere half his force the Engine had receiv'd,
(Astonishing! and not to be believ'd,)
A horrid Voice out of the Pulpit flew,
Th' old
Verger from his Back his Burden threw;
The Fire out of
Troles flaming Visage stray'd,
Only in his Nose, as in a Socket play'd.
Pale
Minnum like a Lilly hung his Head,
With his lost Mistress wish'd himself i' Bed:
But fearing shame he put false Courage on,
Seem'd bolder now more danger might be won.
The frightful dangerous Engine shook once more,
With greater Rosolution than before.
The angry Owl once more depriv'd of Ease,
Rushes abroad with louder Menaces,
Scatt'ring a Storm of Wind and Dust about,
Which put their Candle and their Courage out.
Their trembling Knees cou'd not their Bodies bear;
Their Nerves were weaker than their staring Hair.
In wild confusion they slunk all away,
Like Truants by their Whipster catch'd at Play.
Discord rag'd at their foil, and in despight
Of their base fear will force 'em to the Fight.
In
Boyrudes wither'd Figure she appears
Aged, but worn with wrangling more than years;
Wrinkled, but Malice half the Cyphers made,
And claim to half his wasted Visage laid.
[Page 23] Her bending Trunk she with a Staff supports,
And halls to find her Warriours dark resorts.
With broken voice, and hoarse with frequent brawl
She cries, where are you fled you Cowards all?
Think you because your odious Head you hide,
Your Infamy more odious is not spyed.
Come out and shew the reason of your fear;
Stung with reproof, with boldness they appear,
Proud of th' Encounter, and prepar'd to boast,
For all of 'em believ'd the Owla Ghost.
Minnum was fix'd in the Opinion strong;
His Charms had kill'd a Sempstress fair and young.
Her Heart was crush'd between his Voice and Face,
The Kingdom had not such a dangerous place.
His Fault had fix'd her in the fatal Snare:
She often came to gaze on him at Prayer,
And when his Eye was from the Book releas'd,
He glances shot which pierc'd her tender Breast.
At length, Alas! she perish'd in the fray,
Her ruin therefore heavy on him lay.
What shape cou'd more exactly fit her Soul,
Than that of an unlovely bashful Owl,
Whom the wing'd Chanters drive out of their sight,
And make her live in melancholly Night.
With these Conceits they swelling came, and cram'd;
Minnum for th' Owl a doleful Speech had fram'd.
Said he, we saw a Ghost or Goblin Foul,
Goblin, replyed the Goddess, a poor Owl,
Drives you from Glory by base childish fears.
The Owl has been my Neighbour thirty years.
[Page 14] Near my own House she every Evening makes
And sends abroad her Nightly Almanacks.
Fear you a foolish timerous Owls grimace?
How durst y' Encounter then a Judges Face?
Board Lawyers without Fees, as I have done,
And to my self Immortal Glory won.
Judges from me cou'd not protect the Bar,
Where spite of 'em my Deeds recorded are.
Oh! Sirs the Church produc'd brave Spirits then,
A Sexton was as surly as a Dean;
Bore wrongs as proudly, and forgave as few,
The least of us wou'd a whole Chapter Sue.
But the old World grows Barren by degrees,
And breeds no more such Gallant Souls as these.
However imitate their Vertues great,
Let not an Owl compel you to retreat.
Think what dishonour on your selves you throw,
How insolent you'l make the Chanter grow.
From Texts he cannot borrow such controul,
As from the shameful Story o' the Owl.
The thought o'th' Owl will ride you Night and Day;
Dis-spirit you though you be ne're so gay;
Untune your Voices, when you'd sing your best,
Ruffle your Plumes when you are neatly drest,
Your Surplices, Wigs, Cravats, set with care;
The Women will regard you less than Prayer;
The Pews will be neglected by degrees,
And the old
Verger lose his
Sunday Fees.
I hear a murmur say, your Spirits rise,
And I see Noble Fury in your Eyes.
[Page 25] Away to Honour, gather Lawrels fast,
With present Bravery, hide Dishonour past.
This said, the Warlike Goddess took her flight,
And mounting streak'd the Air with tracks of Light,
Which fir'd our Champions Hearts. The Howlard fled,
A generous contempt succeeded dread.
Th' Affront receiv'd from the vile sawcy Foe,
On th' Engine was reveng'd by many a blow.
In mournful Tones the pitying Organ moan'd,
And all the Sympathizing Temple groan'd.
Ah! when this spacious wooden Horse was rear'd,
If thou, Oh! Chanter! hadst the Treason heard,
Thou in defence of Ecclesiastick pride,
Like a fierce Church Apostle, wou'dst have died;
Rather great Martyr been, than Chanter small,
And in Red Letters shine ere not at all.
But sleep thou feedst does with thy Foes combine,
And hug thee whilst they compass their design.
For now a lofty Ecclesiastick Throne
Buries thy Bench, where thou so long hast shone.
Canto the Fourth.
THE Clocks do now begin their Morning brawl,
And drowzy Chanters to their Mattins call.
Their Chief was troubled with a frightful Dream,
Which made him sweat, and waken with a scream.
His trembling Valets on his second cries,
Forsake their warm enticing Down, and rise.
But wakeful
Gerot reach'd his Master first,
An humble Valet, but a
Verger curst.
[Page 26] He kept the Quire on the sinister side,
He crouch'd at home, but there he shew'd his pride.
Mean were his common Customers for Pues,
So in their humble Bows he took his Dues.
Said he, what Humour drives your Rest away,
Will you to Church when it is scarcely day?
Sleep on, your Business is to take your Ease,
Let vulgar Chanters Earn their Salaries.
Friend, said the Chanter, trembling, faint and pale,
Your Mirth wou'd die, if you knew what I ail.
Insult not o're me, but prepare to hear
Th' amazing cause of my surprizing fear.
When sleep had twice upon my Eyes bestow'd
Of drowzy Poppies, a fresh gather'd load;
I dreamt I fill'd my lofty Seat in Prayer,
Triumphing o're the minor Chanters there,
Absolving, Chanting, taking Humble bows,
Giving the Blessing; all with frowning Brows:
When a great Dragon, with Jaws dreadful wide
Souz'd on my Bench, and swallow'd all my Pride.
Then Rage Tongue-tyed him;
Gerot laughing loud,
Said Dreams were fumes from ill-concocted Food;
Cooks with ill-sawce, cou'd every Night bestow
On childish Fancies, such a Poppet-show.
The sad old Man cou'd ne're with mirth agree
But now abhorr'd his ill-tim'd Raillery;
Forbad him speaking, and from Bed he flings.
Gerot to calm him his Rich Habit brings;
Which very little cou'd his mind sustain,
For if his Desk be hid, all those were vain.
[Page 27] But yet their offer'd Grace he will not slight;
He rush'd into his Gown, and Surplice white.
But above all he will not leave behind,
His spacious Scarlet Hood, with Tabby lin'd.
His haughty heart wou'd break, if he shou'd lack
That proof of Learning, to adorn his Back.
With his best Bonnet then he grac'd his Brow,
Sole mark of Learning his white Head cou'd shew.
His purple Gloves he never fail'd to wear,
When he wou'd honour much himself and Prayer.
And marching now in Battle to engage,
Omitted no Illustrious Equipage,
Then much beyond the weakness of his years
Push'd on, and earliest in the Quire appears.
But Oh! what spite and fury fir'd his Blood,
When on his Bench he saw the Pulpit stood?
Oh!
Gerot see! said he, the Dragon see,
Which broke my sleep, and now will swallow me.
Oh! faithful Dream, thou too much truth hast shown;
The Dean is an Ingenious Tyrant grown;
By this Machine, does wittily contrive,
To send me to Infernal Shades alive.
Nothing but God will ever see me here;
Dark shadows will expunge my Character.
Ere such a horrible affront I'll bear,
I'll quit my Office, and the Church forswear;
I'll give my vain superfluous Chantings o're,
And tyre the Ears of God and Man no more.
I'll never toyl that Deans may Glory win,
Nor see that Quire where I shall ne're be seen.
[Page 28] 'Tis time enough to go to Shades when dead,
I'll now have Light: Then his old Arms he spread
With fury strong, and shook the wondrous frame,
When th' Organist and the Clock-mender came,
His faithful Friends. The Vision struck 'em wan,
With trembling hands they held th' old vent'rous Man;
Said they, the work's too weighty for us all;
By a full Chapter let the Monster fall.
In open day; 'twill your great party shew,
Strengthen your self, and terrifie the Foe.
Right, said the Chanter; go, by noise or force,
The sleeping Canons from their Beds divorce.
The Champions trembled when beyond their thought
Their Counsel on themselves such danger brought.
Oh! moderate your anger, Sir, said they,
Awaken Rich Fat Canons before day?
Men doubly Buried both in Flesh and Down?
Th' Attempt is rare, the Deed was never known,
Starv'd Monks a Larum in their Bosoms keep
Hunger; a watchful Enemy to sleep.
Their thin worn Wheels are soon in motion set,
But who can stir a Canon mir'd in Fat?
Deceitful Cowards th' old testy Man, reply'd,
Your terrour of the Dean you fain wou'd hide.
A hundred times, I've seen you crouching stand
With servile Necks, beneath his Blessing Hand.
The work, good
Gerot, shall by us be done,
Our Friends for once shall shame the loyt'ring Sun.
Cunning old
Gerot knew the Canons well
[...] his worn Lungs, rung the great Master Bell;
[Page 29] Which like the heavy Dean but serv'd for State,
And almost broke the Church with needless weight.
Th' unchristned Bell, with Sacrilegious roar,
From his strong Camp the God of slumbers tore;
Broke open all the Holy Canons Eyes;
And made the Devis of noise and tumult rise.
Some believ'd Thunder broke into the Room,
Others half fear'd it was the Day of Doom.
Some Priests less scar'd, thought 'twas a dying knell,
Some keenly hungry hop'd 'twas Pancake-bell.
The sound with different sence fill'd every head,
Like a dark Text wondrous confusion bred.
So when to batter down a hundred Walls,
The thund'ring
Lewis leaves the fair
Versailles
To the young Spring, not valuing her delights,
And with spread Banners all the World affrights;
Danow to th'
Euxin hastes his March to shun,
Swift
Rhy
[...]
[...]great commotion hurries on.
Brussels for rending Bombs looks every hour,
And
Sodom-like to feel a fiery Shower.
Rich skirted
Tagus creeps far under ground,
And hides much Treasure there in Vaults profound.
Amphibious
Holland plunges deep in Waves,
Buries it self alive in watry Graves.
So under Blankets the Priests duckt their Heads,
Sought a warm easie Burial in their Beds.
Vexatious
Gerot knew their temper well,
With potent words he seconded the Bell.
Ho! Breakfast waits the cunning
Verger cries,
At that Angelick Summons they arise,
[Page 30] In Expectations of Divine Delights:
All look their Cloaths, but none their Appetites.
For they were ready ere their Gowns were on:
Headlong undrest to the great Hall they run,
But 'stead of Breakfast met a mournful Tale,
Told by the Chanter, with great fury pale;
Who as a Pestilence were in his Breath,
Struck mighty Hunger with a sudden Death.
Everard painful abstinence abhorr'd,
And bad the
Verger cover straight the Board.
To that once savoury motion no Man spoke,
At length Learn'd
Allen the deep silence broke.
He only of all the Priests our Church obey'd,
Had not his Latin smother'd and o'relay'd.
Others by wealth to dulness did advance,
And with the Churches Coin bought Ignorance.
But he had wander'd from that practis'd Rule,
And was as Learn'd as when he came from School
[...]
His
Roman Tongue there gave him mighty Power,
There he was almost
Roman Emperour.
None in his presence durst lay claim to Parts,
For if they did his Latin stab'd their Hearts.
This Tyrant yet was their Defence and Grace;
Latin was such a terrour to the place,
All other Canons fled at first Alarms,
Of men approaching with such dreadful Arms.
But Noble
Allen scorn'd his Head to hide,
And sturdy shocks of Latin durst abide.
Most Learnedly Equip'd, th' accomplisht Man
Having first cough'd, his wise Harangue began.
[Page 31] Some Huguenots our curst Eternal Foes,
Planted this here, to batter our repose.
In some Church History they have read, I fear,
Canons once preach'd, and Deans sat here to hear.
I range in Volumes not to poach for Art,
But to meet Latin which delights my Heart.
Let us all study with what speed we may,
And shew our selves as deeply Learn'd as they.
About this Pulpit then, let's quickly sound,
All Learned Men in these great things profound.
Th' unlook'd for Counsel all the Assembly scar'd,
But made an Earthquake in Fat
Everard;
Who shaking with astonishment and rage,
How I (said he) turn School-boy in my Age?
Do thou look pale, and wither o're a Book,
I ne're so much as on the Bible look.
I only Study when our Rents are due,
When Leases fall, and Tenants shou'd renew.
Books I abhor, they fill the Church with Schisms;
Much mischief we have had from Syllogisms.
If to Religion you wou'd Converts make,
Burn Books and Men say I, and use a Stake.
I will not vex my Head, my Arm alone,
Shall without Latin throw this Pulpit down.
I care not what Heretique Rascals say;
What troubles me I'll throw out o' my way.
So let's prepare for the Renown'd design,
And when accomplish'd, plentifully Dine.
No sooner the word Dinner past their Ears,
Than up their Stomachs rose, down fell their fears.
[Page 32] But than the Chanter none more bold and great,
Said he, this Tub too long has made us sweat.
Do Deans fear Dust, they must be cas'd like Clocks?
Wou'd they like Cent'ries awe us from a Box?
In our Church Pillar is some rottenness spread,
To hide himself he wou'd be Wainscotted?
My Vengeance on this Foppery I'll throw;
And an Hours Fasting on the work bestow.
This done at once we'll break our Fast, and Dine,
And two fair Meals with both their portions join.
By this inspir'd, the haughty Champions go
With an audacious Zeal to charge the Foe.
The Walls vain aid to the poor Engine lent,
The Nails in vain their Iron Fingers bent,
The Champions vanquisht all resistance found.
The batter'd Engine fell with many a Wound.
Antichrist never had such dreadful blows,
From mighty Priests who were his bitter Foes,
For as this Pulpit was, he's wondrous high,
A great Usurper of Church Vanity.
Therefore have many rail'd at him aloud,
He will let no Man but himself be proud.
Now the Dean's State of late so high and great,
Once more is in a Sea of Darkness set.
FINIS.