"God save the King!" It is a large economy In God to save the like; but if He will Be saving, all the better; for not one am I Of those who think damnation better still; I hardly know, too, if not quite alone am I In this small hope of bettering future ill By circumscribing, with some slight restriction, The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction. XIV. I know this is unpopular; I know 'Tis blasphemous; I know one may be damn'd For hoping no one else may e'er be so; I know my catechism: I know we 're cramm'd With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow; I know that all save England's church have shamm'd; And that the other twice two hundred churches And synagogues have made a _damn'd_ bad purchase. XV. God help us all! God help me too! I am, God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish, And not a whit more difficult to damn, Than is to bring to land a late-hooked fish, Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb; Not that I'm fit for such a noble dish, As one day will be that immortal fry Of almost everybody born to die. XVI. Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, And nodded o'er his keys; when lo! there came A wondrous noise he had not heard of late-- A rushing sound of wind, and stream, and flame; In short, a roar of things extremely great, Which would have made all save a saint exclaim; But he, with first a start and then a wink, Said, "There's another star gone out, I think!" XVII. But ere he could return to his repose, A cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his eyes-- At which Saint Peter yawn'd and rubb'd his nose; "Saint porter," said the angel, "prithee rise!" Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as glows An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly dyes; To which the Saint replied, "Well, what's the matter? Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?" XVIII. "No," quoth the cherub; "George the Third is dead." "And who _is_ George the Third?" replied the apostle; "_What George? What Third?_" "The King of England," said The angel. "Well, he won't find kings to jostle Him on his way; but does he wear his head? Because the last we saw here had a tussle, And ne'er would have got into heaven's good graces, Had he not flung his head in all our faces. XIX. "He was, if I remember, King of France, That head of his, which could not keep a crown On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance A claim to those of martyrs--like my own. If I had had my sword, as I had once When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; But having but my _keys_, and not my brand, I only knock'd his head from out his hand. XX.