How sweet the periods, neither said, nor sung!
Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain,
While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson[R 1] preach in vain.
205 Oh great Restorer of the good old Stage,
Preacher at once, and Zany of thy age!
Oh worthy thou of Ægypt's wise abodes,
A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods!
But fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall,
210 Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and mawl;
And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise,
In Toland's, Tindal's,[R 2] and in Woolston's days.
Yet oh, my sons! a father's words attend:[R 3]
(So may the fates preserve the ears you lend)
Remarks
- ↑ Ver. 204. Sherlock, Hare, Gibson,] Bishops of Salisbury, Chichester, and London.
- ↑ Ver. 212. Of Toland and Tindal, see book 2. Tho. Woolston was an impious madman, who wrote in a most insolent style against the Miracles of the Gospel, in the years 1726, &c.
- ↑ Ver. 213. Yet oh, my sons! &c.] The caution against Blasphemy here given by a departed Son of Dulness to his yet
him; writ, read, and studied twelve hours a day; composed three dissertations a week on all subjects; undertook to teach in one year what schools and Universities teach in five; was not terrified by menaces, insults, or satyrs, but still proceeded, matured his bold scheme, and put the Church, and all that, in danger." Welsted, Narrative in Orat. Transact. N. i.}}
After having stood some Prosecutions, he turned his rhetoric to buffoonry upon all public and private occurrences. All this passed in the same room; where sometimes he broke jests, and sometimes that bread which he called the Primitive Eucharist.—This wonderful person struck Medals, which he dispersed as Tickets to his subscribers: The device, a Star rising to the meridian, with this motto, ad aumma; and below, Inveniam viam aut Faciam. This man had an hundred pounds a year given him for the secret service of a weekly paper of unintelligible nonsense, called the Hyp-Doctor.
