The good Padre soon would so set him a frisking, That I would not, for--more than I'll say--be in his skin. 'Twas just the same thing with his own race and nation, And Christian Dissenters of every persuasion, Muggletonian, or Quaker, Or Jumper, or Shaker, No matter with whom in opinion partaker, George Whitfield, John Bunyan, or Thomas Gat-acre, They'd no better chance than a Bonze or a Fakir; If a woman, it skill'd not--if she did not deem as he Bade her to deem touching Papal supremacy, By the Pope, but he'd make her! From error awake her, Or else--pop her into an oven and bake her! No one, in short, ever came half so near as he Did, to the full extirpation of heresy; And if, in the times of which now I am treating, There had been such a thing as a "Manchester Meeting," "Pretty pork" he'd have made "Moderator" and "Minister," Had he but caught them on his side Cape Finisterre;-- Pye Smith, and the rest of them once in his bonfire, hence- -forth you'd have heard little more of the "CONFERENCE." And--there on the opposite side of the ring, He, too, sits "in his GLORY," confronting the King, With his cast-iron countenance frowning austerely, That matched with his _en bon point_ body but queerly, For, though grim his visage, his person was pursy, Belying the rumour Of fat folks' good-humour; Above waves his banner of "Justice and Mercy," Below and around stand a terrible band ad- -ding much to the scene,--_viz._ The "Holy _Hermandad_," That's "Brotherhood,"--each looking grave as a Grand-dad. Within the arena Before them is seen a Strange, odd-looking group, each one dress'd in a garment Not "dandified" clearly, as certainly "varment," Being all over vipers and snakes, and stuck thick With multiplied _silhouette_ profiles of NICK; And a cap of the same, All devils and flame, Extinguisher-shaped, much like Salisbury Spire, Except that the latter's of course somewhat higher; A long yellow pin-a-fore Hangs down, each chin afore, On which, ere the wearer had donn'd it, a man drew The Scotch badge, a _Saltire_, or Cross of St. Andrew; Though I fairly confess I am quite at a loss To guess why they should choose that particular cross, Or to make clear to you What the Scotch had to do At all with the business in hand,--though it's true That the vestment aforesaid, perhaps, from its hue, _Viz. yellow_, in juxta-position with _blue_, (A tinge of which latter tint could but accrue On the faces of wretches, of course, in a stew As to what their tormentors were going to do,) Might make people fancy, who no better knew, They were somehow connected with Jeffrey's Review; Especially too As it's certain that few Things would make Father Dominic blither or happier Than to catch hold of _it_, or its _Chef_, Macvey Napier.-- No matter for that--my description to crown,