Oh laugh, or mourn with me, the rueful jest,
A caffock'd huntsman, and a fiddling priest;
He from Italian fongfters takes his cue,
Set Paul to mufic he fhall quote him too.
He takes the field, the master of the pack
Cries, well done Saint-and claps him on the back.
Is this the path of fanctity? Is this
To ftand a way-mark in the road to blifs?
Himfelf a wand'rer from the narrow way,
His filly fheep what wonder if they ftray?
Go, caft your orders at your Bishop's feet,
Send your dishonour'd gown to Monmouth-street,
The facred function, in your hands is made,
Sad facrilege! No function but a trade.
Occiduus is a pastor of renown,
When he has pray'd and preach'd the fabbath down,
With wire and catgut he concludes the day,
Quav'ring and femiquav'ring care away.
The full concerto fwells upon your ear;
All elbows fhake. Look in, and you would fwear
The Babylonian tyrant with a nod
Had fummon'd them to ferve his golden God.
So well that thought th' employment feems to fuit,
Pfalt'ry and fackbut, dulcimer, and flute,
Oh fie! 'tis evangelical and pure,
Obferve each face, how fober and demure,
Extacy fets her stamp on ev'ry mien,
Chins fall'n, and not an eye-ball to be feen,
Still I infift, though mufic heretofore
Has charm'd me much, not even Occiduus more,
Love, joy and peace, make harmony more meet
For fabbath ev'nings, and perhaps as sweet.
Will not the ficklieft fheep of ev'ry flock,
Refort to this example as a rock,
There stand and justify the foul abuse
Of fabbath hours, with plaufible excufe?
If apoftolic gravity be free
To play the fool on Sundays, why not we?
If he the tinkling harpfichord regards,
As inoffenfive, what offence in cards?
Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay,
Laymen have leave to dance, if parfons play.
Oh Italy! Thy fabbaths will be foon
Our fabbaths, clos'd with mumm'ry and buffoon.
Preaching and pranks will share the motly fcené,
Our's parcell'd out, as thine have ever been,
God's worthip and the mountebank between.
What says the prophet? Let that day be bleft
With holiness and confecrated reft.
Paftime and bus'nefs both it should exclude,
And bar the door the moment they intrude
Nobly diftinguith'd above all the fix,
By deeds in which the world must never mix.
Hear him again. He calls it a delight,
A day of luxury, obferv'd aright,
When the glad foul is made heav'ns welcome guest,
Sits banquetting, and God provides the feast.
But triflers are engag'd and cannot come;
Their anfwer to the call is-Not at home.
Oh the dear pleasures of the velvet plain,
The painted tablets, dealt and dealt again.
Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die,
The yawning chasm of indolence supply!
Then to the dance, and make the fober moon
Witness of joys that fhun the fight of noon.
Blame, cynic, if you can, quadrille or ball,
The fnug close party, or the fplendid hall,
Where night, down-stooping from her ebon throne,
Views conftellations brighter than her own.
'Tis innocent, and harmless, and refin'd,
The balm of care, elyfium of the mind.
Innocent! Oh if venerable time
Slain at the foot of pleasure, be no crime,
Then with his filver beard and magic wand,
Let Comus rife Archbishop of the land,
Let him your rubric and your feasts prescribe,
Grand metropolitan of all the tribe.
Of manners rough, and courfe athletic caft,
The rank debauch fuits Clodio's filthy tafte.
Rufillus, exquifitely form'd by rule,
Not of the moral, but the dancing school,
Wonders at Clodio's follies, in a tone
As tragical, as others at his own.
He cannot drink five bottles, bilk the score,
Then kill a conftable, and drink five more;
But he can draw a pattern, make a tart,
And has the ladies etiquette by heart.
Go, fool, and arm in arm with Clodio, plead
Your cause, before a bar you little dread;
But know, the law that bids the drunkard die,
Is far too just to pass the trifler by.
Both baby-featur'd and of infant fize,
View'd from a diftance, and with heedlefs eyes,
Folly and innocence are so alike,
The diff'rence, though effential, fails to strike.
Yet folly ever has a vacant ftare,
A fimp'ring count'nance, and a trifling air;
But innocence, fedate, ferene, erect,
Delights us, by engaging our respect.
Man, nature's guest by invitation sweet,
Receives from her both appetite and treat,
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