Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

So vast, our new Divines, we must confess,

Are Fathers of the Church for writing less.
E But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
The deeds, and dextrously omits, ses heires :

100 No Commentator can more fily pass O'er a learn’d, unintelligible place;

Or, in quotation, shrewd Divines leave out • Those words, that would against them clear the doubt, So Luther thought the Pater-nofter long,

105 When doom'd to fay his beads and Even-song; But having cast his cowle, and left those laws, Adds to Christ's pray'r, the Power and Glory clause.

The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods, that fhaded all the ground?

We fee no new-built palaces aspire, # No kitchens emulate the veftal fire.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

representation of the first part of his conduct was to ridicule his

want of devotion; as the other, where he tells us, that the ; addition was the power and glory clause, was to satirize his ambi. á tion; and both together to insinuate that, from a Monk, he

was become totally secularized.—About this time of his life Dr. Donne had a strong propensity to Popery, which appears from several strokes in these satires. We find amongst his works, a short satirical thing called a Catalogue of rare books, one article of which is intitled, M. Lutberus de abbreviatione Orationis Dominica, alluding to Luther's omiffion of the concluding Doxology, in his two Catechisms, which shews he was fond of the joke; and, in the first instance, (for the sake of his moral) at the expence of truth. As his putting Erasmus and Reuchlin in the rank of Lully and Agrippa Mews wbas were then his sentiments of Reformation.

Where the old landlords troops, and almes ? In halls

Carthufian Fafts, and fulsome. Bacchanals

Equally I hate, Mean’s bleft. In rich men's homes

I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs;

None starve, none surfeit so. But (oh) we allow

Good works as good, but out of fashion now,

Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws

Within the vast reach of th' huge ftatates jawes.

VER. 127. Treason, or the Law.] By the Law is here meant the Lawyers.

Where are those troops of Poor, that throng'd of yore
The good old landlord's hospitable door?
Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes 115
Some beasts were kill'd, tho’ not whole hecatombs;
That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
Carthufian fafts, and fulsome Bacchanals ;
And all mankind might that just Mean observe,
In which none e'er could furfeit, none could starve.
These as good works, 'tis true, we all allow; 121
But oh! these works are not in fashion now:
Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.

Thus much I've said, I trust, without offence ; Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense, 126 Nor fly Informer watch these words to draw Within the reach of Treason, or the Law.

VOL. II.

SA TIRE IV.

W

ELL; I may now receive, and die. My fin

Indeed is great, but yet I have been in A Purgatory, fuch as fear'd hell is A recreation, and (cant map of this.

My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been Poyson'd with love to see or to be feen, I had no suit there, nor new fuit to show, Yet went to Court; but as Glare which did

go To Mafs in jeft, catch'd, was fain to difburfe Two hundred markes, which is the Statutes curse, Before he scapd; so it pleas'd my destiny (Guilty of my fin of going) to think me As prone to all ill, and of good as forgetfull, as proud, luftfull, and as much in debt, As vain, as witless, and as false, as they Which dwell in Court, for once going that way.

VIR. 10. Nor the vain itch t'admire, or be admir'd;] Courtier have the same pride in admiring, that Poets have in being admiré For Vanity is as often gratified in paying our court to our fupe. siors, as in receiving it from our inferiors,

SATIRE IV.

W

ELL, if it be my time to quit the stage,

Adieu to all the follies of the age!
I die in charity with fool and knave,
Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
I've had my Purgatory here betimes,

S
And paid for all my fatires, all my rhymes.
The Poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
To this were trifles, toys and empty names.

With foolish pride my heart was never fir’d, Nor the vain itch t'admire, or be admir’d;

20 I hop'd for no commiffion from his Grace ; I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place; Had no new verfes, nor new fuit to thow ; Yet went to Court !the Dev'l would have it so. But, as the Fool that in reforming days

15 Would go to Mars in jeft (as story says) Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd, Since 'twas no form'd defign of ferving God; So was I punish'd, as if full as proud As prone to ill, as negligent of good,

20 As deep in debe, without a thought to pay, As vain, as idle, and as false, as they Who live at Court, for going once that way!

« ZurückWeiter »