HUDIBRAS
On Calamy's Imprisonment, and Wild's Poetry.
To the Bishops.
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MOst Reverend Lords, the Churches Joy and Wonder,
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Whose Lives are Light'ning, and whose Do-ctrine Thunder,
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The rare Effects of both in this are found,
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Ye break Mens Hearts, yet leave their Bodies sound;
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And from the Court, (as David did, they say)
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Do with your Organs fright the Dev'l away:
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Awake: (for though you think the Days your own)
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The Cage is open, and the Bird is flown:
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That Bird (whom though your Lordships do despise)
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May Shite in Pauls, and Pick out Sheldons Eyes:
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'Tis He who taught the Pulpit and the Press
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To mask Rebellion in a Gospel-dress:
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He who blew up the Coals of Englands Wrath,
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And Pick'd Mens Pockets by the Publick Faith:
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He who the Melting Sister's Bounty try'd,
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And Preach'd their Bodkins into Caesars side:
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That Crocodile of State, who wept a Flood,
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When he was Maudlin-drunk with CHARLES his Blood;
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Is by the Sisters Gold, and Brethrens Prayer,
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Become a Tenant to the open Air:
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For some were griev'd to see that Light expire,
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That lately help'd to set the Church on fire;
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And when their Ghostly Father was perplex't,
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Could wrest an Act, as he had done a Text.
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Now enter Wild, who merrily lets fly
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The Fragments of his Pulpit-Drollery:
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Though his Seditious Ballad pleas'd the Rout,
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The Verses (like the Author) had the Gout:
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Yet he proclaims the Show, invites the Crew;
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(The Presbyters have their Jack-Puddings too)
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He tells you of a Beast (had lately been
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Within the Walls of Newgate to be seen)
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That with a Throat (wide as the Way to Hell)
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Could swallow Oaths would choak the Idol Bel,
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And burst the Dragon: yet he could not swear
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Obedience to the King, and House of Pray'r.
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Ingenious Wild, 'tis thy unhappy Fate
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That Iter Boreales out of date;
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Loves Tragedy's forgot: for (Oh Disgrace!)
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Peters succeeds him in his Martyrs place:
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Publish the Legend of that Reverend Brother,
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And act the one, as thou hast writ the other.
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For when St. Hugh did mount the Fatal Tree,
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He left his Coat a Legacy to thee.
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O may the Gout no more disturb thy ease,
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But Bishop Halter take his Diocese;
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And now th'art dead in Law, (though Zealots laugh)
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Impartial Truth shall write this Epitaph:
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This Presbyterian Brat was born and cry'd,
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Spit in his Mothers face, and so he dy'd.
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He dy'd, yet lives; and the unhappy Elf,
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Divides Beelzebub against himself;
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Abuses Calamy, that Tayl of Smec,
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And shoots the Prelates through his Brothers Neck.
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Bishops awake! and see a Holy Cheat;
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The Enemy sows Tares among your Wheat:
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Do ye not hear the Sons of Edom cry,
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Down with the Act of Uniformity?
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We will compound, and worship God by th' halves:
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Take you the Temples, and give us the Calves.
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Thus you behold the Schismaticks Bravado's;
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Wild speaks in Squibs, but Calamy Granado's.
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Kirk, still these Bearns, lest under Tyburn-hedge,
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The Squire of Newgate rock them on a Sledge.
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