Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 07

Literature -- Collections

For his religion, it was fit
    To match his learning and his wit:
    'Twas Presbyterian, true blue;
    For he was of that stubborn crew
    Of errant saints, whom all men grant
    To be the true church militant:
    Such as do build their faith upon
    The holy text of pike and gun;
    Decide all controversy by
    Infallible artillery;
    And prove their doctrine orthodox
    By apostolic blows and knocks;
    Call fire and sword and desolation
    A godly-thorough-Reformation,
    Which always must be carry'd on,
    And still be doing, never done,
    As if Religion were intended
    For nothing else but to be mended.
    A sect whose chief devotion lies
    In odd perverse antipathies:
    In falling out with that or this,
    And finding somewhat still amiss:
    More peevish, cross, and splenetic,
    Than dog distract, or monkey sick.
    That with more care keep holy-day
    The wrong, than others the right way:
    Compound for sins they are inclin'd to,
    By damning those they have no mind to:
    Still so perverse and opposite,
    As if they worship'd God for spite.
    The self-same thing they will abhor
    One way, and long another for.
    Free-will they one way disavow,
    Another, nothing else allow.
    All piety consists therein
    In them, in other men all sin.
    Rather than fail, they will defy
    That which they love most tenderly:
    Quarrel with minc'd pies, and disparage
    Their best and dearest friend--plum-porridge;
    Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
    And blaspheme custard through the nose.

       .   .   .   .   .   .   .

      His puissant sword unto his side,
    Near his undaunted heart, was ty'd,
    With basket-hilt, that would hold broth,
    And serve for fight and dinner both.
    In it he melted lead for bullets,
    To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets;
    To whom he bore so fell a grutch,
    He ne'er gave quarter t'any such.
    The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
    For want of fighting was grown rusty,
    And ate into itself, for lack
    Of somebody to hew and hack.
    The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt
    The rancor of its edge had felt....

      This sword a dagger had, his page,
    That was but little for his age:
    And therefore waited on him so,
    As dwarfs upon knights-errant do.
    It was a serviceable dudgeon,
    Either for fighting or for drudging:
    When it had stabb'd, or broke a head,
    It would scrape trenchers or chip bread,
    Toast cheese or bacon, though it were
    To bait a mouse-trap, 'twould not care:
    'Twould make clean shoes, and in the earth
    Set leeks and onions, and so forth:
    It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
    Where this, and more, it did endure;
    But left the trade, as many more
    Have lately done, on the same score.




LORD BYRON

(1788-1824)

BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

General

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 07

Literature -- Collections

For his religion, it was fit
    To match his learning and his wit:
    'Twas Presbyterian, true blue;
    For he was of that stubborn crew
    Of errant saints, whom all men grant
    To be the true church militant:
    Such as do build their faith upon
    The holy text of pike and gun;
    Decide all controversy by
    Infallible artillery;
    And prove their doctrine orthodox
    By apostolic blows and knocks;
    Call fire and sword and desolation
    A godly-thorough-Reformation,
    Which always must be carry'd on,
    And still be doing, never done,
    As if Religion were intended
    For nothing else but to be mended.
    A sect whose chief devotion lies
    In odd perverse antipathies:
    In falling out with that or this,
    And finding somewhat still amiss:
    More peevish, cross, and splenetic,
    Than dog distract, or monkey sick.
    That with more care keep holy-day
    The wrong, than others the right way:
    Compound for sins they are inclin'd to,
    By damning those they have no mind to:
    Still so perverse and opposite,
    As if they worship'd God for spite.
    The self-same thing they will abhor
    One way, and long another for.
    Free-will they one way disavow,
    Another, nothing else allow.
    All piety consists therein
    In them, in other men all sin.
    Rather than fail, they will defy
    That which they love most tenderly:
    Quarrel with minc'd pies, and disparage
    Their best and dearest friend--plum-porridge;
    Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
    And blaspheme custard through the nose.

       .   .   .   .   .   .   .

      His puissant sword unto his side,
    Near his undaunted heart, was ty'd,
    With basket-hilt, that would hold broth,
    And serve for fight and dinner both.
    In it he melted lead for bullets,
    To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets;
    To whom he bore so fell a grutch,
    He ne'er gave quarter t'any such.
    The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
    For want of fighting was grown rusty,
    And ate into itself, for lack
    Of somebody to hew and hack.
    The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt
    The rancor of its edge had felt....

      This sword a dagger had, his page,
    That was but little for his age:
    And therefore waited on him so,
    As dwarfs upon knights-errant do.
    It was a serviceable dudgeon,
    Either for fighting or for drudging:
    When it had stabb'd, or broke a head,
    It would scrape trenchers or chip bread,
    Toast cheese or bacon, though it were
    To bait a mouse-trap, 'twould not care:
    'Twould make clean shoes, and in the earth
    Set leeks and onions, and so forth:
    It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
    Where this, and more, it did endure;
    But left the trade, as many more
    Have lately done, on the same score.




LORD BYRON

(1788-1824)

BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 07

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 07

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