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 CRUEL MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW OH, SWEET CONTENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON THE CHALLENGE by ALEXANDER POPE BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER; ON TURNING LATIN VERSE INTO ENGLISH by ELINOR WYLIE WORLD-MILLER by FRANCES BARBER |