I should admit the booted prelate now, But he is even for lampoon too low; The scum and outcast of a royal race, The nation's grievance, and the gown's disgrace. None so unlearned did e'er at London sit; This driveller does the holy chair b----. I need not brand the spiritual parricide, Nor draw the weapon dangling by his side; The astonished world remembers that offence, And knows he stole the daughter of his prince. 'Tis time enough, in some succeeding age, To bring this mitred captain on the stage. Note XXXVI. _Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words, and heavenly eloquence._--P. 243. Dolben, Bishop of Rochester, and Dean of Westminster, had borne arms in his youth for Charles I., who made him a major. He was, according to Burnet, an excellent preacher, but a man of more spirit than discretion, and imprudent in his behaviour. He is unanimously allowed to have been a good-natured easy man, of most amiable manners. In 1683, he was promoted to the see of York, and made a very good archbishop. Dolben died in 1686. Settle attempts to droll upon the praises bestowed by Dryden on these three bishops, and assures us, Not David's lyre could more his touch obey; As their princes breathe and strike, they play. 'Gainst royal will they never can dispute; } But, by a strange tarantula struck mute, } Dance to no other tune but absolute: } Besides, they've sense of honour and who knows How far the gratitude of priestcraft goes? * * * * * And what if now, like old Elisha fed, To praise the sooty bird that brought them bread, In pure acknowledgment, though in despite Of their own sense, they paint the raven white? _Absalom Senior._ Note XXXVII. _Sharp-judging Adriel, the muses friend, Himself a muse._--P. 243.