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The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/Dr. Swift to Himself on St Cecilia's Day

DR. SWIFT TO HIMSELF,


ON

SAINT CECILIA'S DAY.


GRAVE dean of St. Patrick's, how comes it to pass,
That you, who know musick no more than an ass;
That you, who so lately were writing of Drapiers,
Should lend your cathedral to players and scrapers?
To act such an opera once in a year,
So offensive to every true protestant ear,
With trumpets, and fiddles, and organs, and singing,
Will sure the pretender and popery bring in.
No protestant prelate, his lordship or grace,
Durst there show his right or most reverend face:
How would it pollute their crosiers and rochets!
To listen to minims, and quavers, and crotchets.
[The rest is wanting.]