Dublin. LAST week, dear N -- ch -- l, making merry At dinner with our Secretary, When all were drunk, or pretty near (The time for doing business here), Says he to me, "Sweet Bully Bottom! These Papist dogs -- hiccup -- od rot'em! Deserve to be bespatter'd -- hiccup -- With all the dirt e'en @3you@1 can pick up -- But, as the P -- e -- (here 's to him -- fill -- Hip, hip, hurra!) -- is trying still To humbug them with kind professions, And, as you deal in @3strong@1 expressions -- @3'Rogue' 'traitor'@1 -- hiccup -- and all that -- You must be muzzled, Doctor Pat! -- You must indeed -- hiccup -- that's flat." -- Yes -- "muzzled" was the word, Sir John -- These fools have clapp'd a muzzle on The boldest mouth that e'er ran o'er With slaver of the times of yore! -- Was it for this that back I went As far as Lateran and Trent, To prove that they, who damn'd us then, Ought now, in turn, be damn'd again? -- The silent victim still to sit Of Gr -- tt -- n's fire and C -- nn -- g's wit, To hear e'en noisy M -- th -- w gabble on, Nor mention once the W -- e of Babylon? Oh! 'tis too much -- who now will be The Nightman of No-Popery? What courtier, saint, or even bishop. Such learned filth will ever fish up? If there among our ranks be one To take my place, 'tis @3thou@1, Sir John -- Thou -- who, like me, art dubb'd Right Hon. Like me, too, art a Lawyer Civil That wishes Papists at the devil! To whom then but to thee, my friend, Should Patrick his portfolio send? Take it -- 'tis thine -- his learn'd portfolio, With all its theologic olio Of Bulls, half Irish and half Roman, -- Of Doctrines, now believed by no man -- Of Councils, held for men's salvation, Yet always ending in damnation -- (Which shows that, since the world's creation, Your priests, whate'er their gentle shamming, Have always had a taste for damning) And many more such pious scraps, To prove (what we've long proved perhaps) That, mad as Christians used to be About the Thirteenth Century, There's @3lots@1 of Christians to be had In this, the Nineteenth, just as mad! Farewell -- I send with this, dear N -- ch -- l! A rod or two I've had in pickle Wherewith to trim old Gr -- tt -- n's jacket. -- The rest shall go by Monday's packet. P. D. @3Among the inclosures in the foregoing Letter was the following "Unanswerable Argument against the Papists."@1 We're told the ancient Roman nation Made use of spittle in lustration. -- (Vide Lactantium ap. Gallaeum -- i. e. you need not @3read@1 but @3see@1 'em) Now, Irish Papists (fact surprising!) Make use of spittle in baptizing, Which proves them all, O'Finns, O'Fagans, Connors, and Tooles, all downright Pagans! This fact's enough -- let no one tell us To free such sad, @3salivous@1 fellows -- No -- no -- the man, baptized with spittle, Hath no truth in him -- not a tittle! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAPTAINS OF THE YEARS by ARTHUR RAYMOND MACDOUGALL JR. OUT OF THE HILLS by IRENE ARCHER THE SPELL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THERE'S WISDOM IN WOMEN by RUPERT BROOKE PASSIVE PARTICIPLE'S PETITION by JOHN BYROM JEUNE FILLE ET JEUNE FLEUR by FRANCOIS AUGUSTE RENE DE CHATEAUBRIAND |