6
LE LUTRIN
Canto i.
"Sleep'st thou, Great Prelate? Sleep'st thou then Supine?
"And to the Chanter mean'st thy Place Resign?
"Whilst he sings Oremus, makes Grave Processions,
"And hurls about by whole-sale Vows and Blessings?
"Sleep'st thou securely, till the Chanter come,
"And without Bull, or Brief procur'd from Rome,
"Whilst thou'rt wrapt up in sloath, and free from Fears,
"Rotchet and Surplice shall pluck o're thy Ears?
"Sluggard, awake, arise, bestir thee quick,
"Renounce thy Ease, or quit thy Bishoprick!
She spoke; and from her Poysonous Mouth did fling
Into his Soul the Zeal of Quarrelling.
The Dean awakes; The choler in his breast
Fermented boils; yet he the Fury Blest!
Have you not seen a Bull by Gad-fly stung,
When his tormented pride flownc'd, kick't, and flung?
The vexed Air, with Ecchoes frighted rings!
Whilst he exhales his Rage in Bellowings!
So storm'd the Prelate, with his Dream o're-heated,
Poor Page, and Chambermaid were rudely treated;
His mettle mov'd with conceiv'd Indignation,
Needs will he go to'th' Quire before Collation.
When Prudent Gilotin his Almoner
With grave Advice stept into stint the Stir;
Shews him the Danger of that Rash Design,
How mad to go to Prayers, before he Dine;
"What Rage (quoth he) is this? what head-strong crotchet?
"Pray Sir, regard the Honour of your Rotchet!
"He that for Chappel lets warm Dinner cool,
"May think himself Devout, I'le think him Fool!
"Does our Church consecrate Prelates to Pray?
"For shame, this Zeal unseasonable allay!
"Shall all your Learning e're make me believe,
"That this is Lent, or any Saints dayes Eve?
"And to the Chanter mean'st thy Place Resign?
"Whilst he sings Oremus, makes Grave Processions,
"And hurls about by whole-sale Vows and Blessings?
"Sleep'st thou securely, till the Chanter come,
"And without Bull, or Brief procur'd from Rome,
"Whilst thou'rt wrapt up in sloath, and free from Fears,
"Rotchet and Surplice shall pluck o're thy Ears?
"Sluggard, awake, arise, bestir thee quick,
"Renounce thy Ease, or quit thy Bishoprick!
She spoke; and from her Poysonous Mouth did fling
Into his Soul the Zeal of Quarrelling.
The Dean awakes; The choler in his breast
Fermented boils; yet he the Fury Blest!
Have you not seen a Bull by Gad-fly stung,
When his tormented pride flownc'd, kick't, and flung?
The vexed Air, with Ecchoes frighted rings!
Whilst he exhales his Rage in Bellowings!
So storm'd the Prelate, with his Dream o're-heated,
Poor Page, and Chambermaid were rudely treated;
His mettle mov'd with conceiv'd Indignation,
Needs will he go to'th' Quire before Collation.
When Prudent Gilotin his Almoner
With grave Advice stept into stint the Stir;
Shews him the Danger of that Rash Design,
How mad to go to Prayers, before he Dine;
"What Rage (quoth he) is this? what head-strong crotchet?
"Pray Sir, regard the Honour of your Rotchet!
"He that for Chappel lets warm Dinner cool,
"May think himself Devout, I'le think him Fool!
"Does our Church consecrate Prelates to Pray?
"For shame, this Zeal unseasonable allay!
"Shall all your Learning e're make me believe,
"That this is Lent, or any Saints dayes Eve?
These
