He saw a pig rapidly The pig swam well, but every stroke And Satan gave thereat his tail For he thought of his daughter War, Well enough, in sooth, he liked that truth, But this was only a first thought And in this he did not rest: Another came presently into his head, For as Piggy plied with wind and tide, And at every stroke the water dyed In cotton-spun prosperity. He walk'd into London leisurely, He entered a thriving bookseller's shop; As he passed through Cold-Bath Fields he look'd And he was well-pleased, for it gave him a hint For improving the prisons of Hell. He saw a turnkey tie a thief's hands Nimbly, quoth he, a man's fingers move He saw the same turnkey unfettering a man And he chuckled to think of his dear slave-trade, And the long debates and delays that were made, Concerning its abolition. He met one of his favorite daughters By an Evangelical Meeting: And forgetting himself for joy at her sight, And given her a fatherly greeting. But she tipt him the wink, drew back, and cried, And then she turn'd to the preacher A fine man and a famous Professor was he, Or that new Scotch performer The great Sir Arch-Bombastes. With throbs and throes, and ah's and oh's, This Scotch phenomenon, I trow, Beats Alexander hollow; Even when most tame He breathes more flame Then ten Fire-Kings could swallow. Another daughter he presently met; With music of fife and drum, And a consecrated flag, And shout of tag and rag, And march of rank and file, Which had fill'd the crowded aisle Of the venerable pile, From church he saw her come. He call'd her aside, and began to chide, Thou hast confessions to listen, And bells to christen, And altars and dolls to dress; And fools to coax, And sinners to hoax, And beads and bones to bless; And small ones for those who pay less. Nay, Father, I boast, that this is my post, She answered; and thou wilt allow, Who is clothed in scarlet, Can very well spare me now. Upon her business I am come here, That we may extend our powers: Whatever lets down this church that we hate, Is something in favor of ours. You will not think, great Cosmocrat ! When my liberal notions, And I have hopeful pupils too Fine progress they make in our liberal opinions, My Utilitarians, My all sorts of-inians And all sorts of—arians; And my Prigs and my Whigs Wise and foolish, great and small, Well pleased wilt thou be at no very far day My Macs and my Quacks and my lawless-Jacks, My merry old Jerry, My Lord Kings, and my Doctor Doyles! At this good news, so great The Devil's pleasure grew, That with a joyful swish he rent The hole where his tail came through. His countenance fell for a moment Great news! bloody news! cried a newsman; Great news? bloody news? thought the Devil, So he bought the newspaper, and no news Lying varlet, thought he, thus to take in old Nick! To know thou art paid beforehand for the trick, For the sixpence I gave thee is bad. And then it came into his head By oracular inspiration, That what he had seen and what he had said In the course of this visitation, Therewith in second sight he saw The place and the manner and time, In which this mortal story Would be put in immortal rhyme. That it would happen when two poets There while the one was shaving Would he the song begin; And the other when he heard it at breakfast, So each would help the other, And the phrase and conceit Would in unison meet, And so with glee the verse flow free, And because it was set to the razor, Therefore it was that the fancy Should be bright, and the wit be sharp. |