Canto 3.
LE LUTRIN.
27
Their Spirits quail'd, their Courages abated;
Rallies in hast the Troop disanimated.
Of Sidrac, she th' Audacious Visage borrow'd,
His front she smooth'd into a smile; but furrow'd
His face with wrinkles deep; A Truncheon strong
Confirms his staggering steps; thus stalks along
The Marble Pavement; guided by a Torch,
Finds out the skulking Cowards near the Porch;
Then with a squeaking Voice spoke fourscore years,
Awakes their mettle, dissipates their Fears.
Rascals! where are you? what Pannick Dread does rout you?
Run from one paultry Owl? ne're look about you!
Where are those boasts which late breath'd nought but Thunder?
Fie! shall a harmless Bird disperse y' asunder?
How would you sneak, vile Souls, if at the Barr,
My daily sport, you met with horrid Warr?
How would you stand a tedious Chanc'ry Hearing,
If poor Hobhowchin puts you in this fearing?
How would your hearts misgive to bide a Triall,
No Friend at Hand, nor in your Purse a Ryall?
Believe me (Cowards!) I, with Grace be't spoken,
Simply thô I stand here, have foil'd and broken
A Chapter, with her Chanons, Prebends, Dean;
Nor was my Soul so Abject, Base, so Mean,
But I durst look the Proctors in their faces,
And scorn their proudest braves, their stern Menaces!
I have pursu'd 'em all, Asham'd, confuted,
'Tis Persecutors, cry'd out, Persecuted!
All this I did, and ten times more in sooth,
With the sole Breast-plate arm'd of Naked Truth!
The Church of old was mann'd with Gallant Spirits,
A Novice then confiding in the Merits
Of the fam'd Good Old Cause, dar'd to Defend it
In formâ Pauperis, and make 'em end it!
Rallies in hast the Troop disanimated.
Of Sidrac, she th' Audacious Visage borrow'd,
His front she smooth'd into a smile; but furrow'd
His face with wrinkles deep; A Truncheon strong
Confirms his staggering steps; thus stalks along
The Marble Pavement; guided by a Torch,
Finds out the skulking Cowards near the Porch;
Then with a squeaking Voice spoke fourscore years,
Awakes their mettle, dissipates their Fears.
Rascals! where are you? what Pannick Dread does rout you?
Run from one paultry Owl? ne're look about you!
Where are those boasts which late breath'd nought but Thunder?
Fie! shall a harmless Bird disperse y' asunder?
How would you sneak, vile Souls, if at the Barr,
My daily sport, you met with horrid Warr?
How would you stand a tedious Chanc'ry Hearing,
If poor Hobhowchin puts you in this fearing?
How would your hearts misgive to bide a Triall,
No Friend at Hand, nor in your Purse a Ryall?
Believe me (Cowards!) I, with Grace be't spoken,
Simply thô I stand here, have foil'd and broken
A Chapter, with her Chanons, Prebends, Dean;
Nor was my Soul so Abject, Base, so Mean,
But I durst look the Proctors in their faces,
And scorn their proudest braves, their stern Menaces!
I have pursu'd 'em all, Asham'd, confuted,
'Tis Persecutors, cry'd out, Persecuted!
All this I did, and ten times more in sooth,
With the sole Breast-plate arm'd of Naked Truth!
The Church of old was mann'd with Gallant Spirits,
A Novice then confiding in the Merits
Of the fam'd Good Old Cause, dar'd to Defend it
In formâ Pauperis, and make 'em end it!
But
