Canto 3.
LE LUTRIN.
25
Mean while, our three great Champions flown with Wine,
And Wines effects, Audacity; with Design
To push their Project on, without regard
To Danger near, had pass'd the Pallace-yard,
Embolden'd with success, still on they go
And mount the Stairs, leading to th' Portico,
Here a Bookseller in his back-shop slept,
And under double Padlock safely kept
Rogero's worthy Works! and he may still
Keep 'em entire, for sure no other will.
Now wary Boirude, fearing Danger nigh
Stops his rash Friends in heat of Zeal; to try
How they might light a Candle: from his Pocket
He takes his Marchasite, begins to knock it
With hardned Steel, out springs an Active spark,
The hope of Light in the Despair of Dark;
The spark in Tinder cherisht, toucht with Metch
In Sulphur dip't, kindles with quick dispatch
The Torch; which like a Comet blazing bright
Supplies the Office of Don Phœbus Light.
Boirude the Sexton, kept the Church-dore Key,
And if he entrance got, then why not they?
With equal pace the Temples Nave they measure!
Into the Vestry came: Here lies the Treasure!
Here prostrate they behold the Pulpit's frame,
And with due Reverence adore the same!
The Gloomy shades of that Religious place
Horrour begat, the Bigot Church-man's Grace,
Horror awakes Devotion; they pray!
And dread those Deities they Scorn'd by day.
When thus the Clock-maker: Why stare ye thus,
My Masters, A-la-mort? time's precious!
Why stand we trembling, trifling, shall I, shall I?
Our work's before us, let's no longer dally!
And Wines effects, Audacity; with Design
To push their Project on, without regard
To Danger near, had pass'd the Pallace-yard,
Embolden'd with success, still on they go
And mount the Stairs, leading to th' Portico,
Here a Bookseller in his back-shop slept,
And under double Padlock safely kept
Rogero's worthy Works! and he may still
Keep 'em entire, for sure no other will.
Now wary Boirude, fearing Danger nigh
Stops his rash Friends in heat of Zeal; to try
How they might light a Candle: from his Pocket
He takes his Marchasite, begins to knock it
With hardned Steel, out springs an Active spark,
The hope of Light in the Despair of Dark;
The spark in Tinder cherisht, toucht with Metch
In Sulphur dip't, kindles with quick dispatch
The Torch; which like a Comet blazing bright
Supplies the Office of Don Phœbus Light.
Boirude the Sexton, kept the Church-dore Key,
And if he entrance got, then why not they?
With equal pace the Temples Nave they measure!
Into the Vestry came: Here lies the Treasure!
Here prostrate they behold the Pulpit's frame,
And with due Reverence adore the same!
The Gloomy shades of that Religious place
Horrour begat, the Bigot Church-man's Grace,
Horror awakes Devotion; they pray!
And dread those Deities they Scorn'd by day.
When thus the Clock-maker: Why stare ye thus,
My Masters, A-la-mort? time's precious!
Why stand we trembling, trifling, shall I, shall I?
Our work's before us, let's no longer dally!
The
