Classic Poem

To the Tune of Packington' s Pound.

I.

My Masters, and Friends, and good People, give Ear,
I'll sing you a Song, most wonderful fine;
How the Church , when betray'd by a Spiritual Peer ,
Was, bravely, maintain'd by'n Inferior Divine ;
Andrew Snape , it is he,
That Reverend D.D.
Such a Snip-Snap Respondent, you never did see.
Oh! Sn — , thou deserv'st to be whipt and be beaten,
By the dullest Boy, thou, e'er, whipp'dst at Eton .

II.

In the Name, first, of Nonsense, what cou'd thee possess,
'Gainst Bangor to write, without Capacity ?
He, who, when but Presbyter , had such Success,
In pulling down one of the Hierarchy ?
For, since thou'rt not He ,
And the Bishop 's not Thee ,
The same Thing can't hap, in this Con-tro-ver-sy.
Oh! Sn — — , then thou'st better to drudge at In-Speech ,
Than a Rod to prepare, thus, for thine own Breech .

III.

Your Modesty 's great, but your Manners are small,
We allow, too, Scant-Reason cannot be prevailing:
But then you're inlighten'd with Rancour and Gall,
And, instead of good Reading, instruct us with
Nay, your Impotent Rage,
At a Poor Title-Page ,
Is the very Priest-mark of this Priest-ridden Age;
Oh! Sn — — , is't thy Fury and Rage, in each Line,
That proves thy Black-coat to be Jure-divine ?

IV.

You think that you see : But who sees that you think?
For I must needs tell you, you're stupidly blind
Nay, when you see most, you do no more than wink
For, the Truth, in the dark, you have still left be hind
And Father Ben 's Sects ,
Of Equal Subjects ,
Still, are Equal, for all, thou hast puzl'd the Texts
Oh! Sn — — , we allow of good Protestant Rules ,
But will not be impos'd on by High flying Tools .

V.

By his Lordship's own Tenets, you affirm you are Free,
To say what you please (even bad Names to call
But you've more regard to your proper Safety ,
And to his high Character E-pis-co-pal:
Dear Doctor , well done,
Who would a Risque run,
Tho' the Bishop and all his Clerks cou'd be won?
Oh! Sn — — , never meddle with Schism or Sin ,
Unless you can safely sleep in a whole Skin .

VI.

But, pray! read, once more, this most blundering Page,
Wherein you resolve to be free from all Harm;
Altho' it might hap that your Inner-ly Rage,
Might dictate, what, calls for the Secular Arm:
Well! we know, you don't dote,
Nor speak this by Rote;
For you're sure (by corrupting our Youth) of our Vote;
O! Sn — , then speak out, at thy natural Rate,
And reply to his Lordship in true Billingsgate .

VII.

The Book's at an End (the Preface being o'er)
For no Mortal can find one Argument in't;
You Fret, you Harangue, you Scold, and you Rore;
And this is more fit for your Pulpit , than Print:
But you wou'd raise Fame,
From BANGOR 's great Name,
Altho' you have paid very dear for the same;
O! Sn — , pray remember, then, Milo 's sad End,
Work at Logs, ever after, thou art sure thou canst rend.
VIII.

To conclude; With thy Betters, since thou'st been so free
Thou canst not take it ill, if I give thee Advice
Teach thy Boys Roman-Latin ; but English Loyalty,
And leave Church and State to People more Wise
Bid thy Friend Jonah , scrape
All these Books, in one Heap,
And burn them, for Love of his dear Andrew Snape .
O! Sn — , there's no other way left to shun Shame,
Unless You yourself increase your own Flame:
And then Men will cry,
Here a Doctor doth fry,
Who, in Flames, ever liv'd, and in Flames, too, did die
A Doctor! who, Dying, full well brought to Light,
He knew nothing , whilst Living, of what he did write .