And spying heirs melting with luxury, So huge, that men, in our times' forwardness, 90 And when rank widows purchase luscious nights, O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place; 95 Or, in quotation, shrewd divines leave out doubt. So Luther thought the Paternoster long, 105 105 So Luther thought the Paternoster long. These Satires exhibit the propensity to sneer at the Reformation, which marked the unsettled nature of Donne's opinions in early life; and the decorum of Pope's feelings was not proof against the temptation. In this unlucky spirit he transfers the scoff of the old railer against Luther to his own verses, and makes himself accountable for the slander against the piety of the most illustrious name since the days of the apostles. Donne had written a satirical 'Catalogue of Rare Books,' one of which is named, M. Lutherus de abbreviatione Orationis Dominicæ,' with reference to his omission of the doxology. It was written in imitation of Rabelais' Catalogue of the Library of St. Victor.' Rabelais was in the hands of all the wits of the age. Each day his beads; but having left those laws, Adds to Christ's prayer the power and glory clause) But when he sells or changes land, he impaires The writings, and, unwatch'd, leaves out, ses heires, As slily as any commenter goes by As controverters in vouch'd texts leave out Shrewd words, which might against them clear the doubt. Where are these spread woods which cloathed heretofore Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within door. Where the old landlords' troops, and almes? In halls Carthusian fasts and fulsome Bacchanals Equally I hate. Means blest. In rich men's homes I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs; None starve, none surfeit so. But, O, we allow Good works as good, but out of fashion now, Like old rich wardrobes. But my words none draws Within the vast reach of the huge statutes' jaws. But having cast his cowl, and left those laws, Adds to Christ's prayer the power and glory clause. The lands are bought; but where are to be found Those ancient woods that shaded all the ground? We see no new-built palaces aspire, No kitchens emulate the vestal fire. 111 Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of yore The good old landlord's hospitable door? 115 Well, I could wish that still in lordly domes tombs ; 121 That both extremes were banish'd from their walls; 126 SATIRE IV. WELL! I may now receive, and die. My sin A recreation, and scant map of this. My mind, neither with pride's itch, nor hath been Poyson'd with love to see or to be seen: I had no suit there, nor new suit to show; |