Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A28572
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Le Lutrin an heroick poem / written originally in French by Monsieur Boileau ; made English by N. O.; Lutrin. English
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Boileau Despréaux, Nicolas, 1636-1711.; N. O.
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1682
(1682)
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Wing B3465; ESTC R15698
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20,272
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44
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did strain To roll it o're with all his Might and Main He scarce had mov'd it O portentous wonder When from its hollow womb a Voice did Thunder Brontin starts back The Sexton lookt like Dead John with his Dear twice wisht himself in Bed But on their purpose obstinately bent They roll it or'e true Zeal will ne're relent Out flies the broad-fac'd Chorister of the Night And with her ruffling wings strikes out the Light This struck their Souls with horrible Confusion Amaz'd they stand they doubt but in conclusion As soon as Fear lent them the use of Feet Away they trudge fill'd with shame and Regret The Nave they soon recover whil'st their hair Stands bristling on their heads dissolving fear Makes their Knees quiver underneath their Bodies And there they sneaking stand like baffled Noddies Sheltred by the same Darkness brought them thither The Squadron flies at last they knew not whither So when a Jolly Crew of Truants gather Into some Nook to play their pranks together Secure of Eyes from Monitor and Master They burn the day in game and sport the faster If now by chance the Tyrants Eye doth watch 'em And unawares at Cards or Dice he catch 'em The sad surprize their Mirth and Pastime dashes And each shifts for himself to scape his lashes Such was our Warriours plight when once the Owl Sprung from the Pew set up her Doleful howl Discord who saw unseen their fowl disgrace Clapping her wings pity'd their woful case Their Spirits quail'd their Courages abated Rallies in hast the Troop disanimated Of Sidrac she th' Audacious Visage borrow'd His front she smooth'd into a smile but furrow'd His face with wrinkles deep A Truncheon strong Confirms his staggering steps thus stalks along The Marble Pavement guided by a Torch Finds out the skulking Cowards near the Porch Then with a squeaking Voice spoke fourscore years A wakes their mettle dissipates their Fears Rascals where are you what Pannick Dread does rout you Run from one paultry Owl ne're look about you Where are those boasts which late breath'd nought but Thunder Fie shall a harmless Bird disperse y' asunder How would you sneak vile Souls if at the Barr My daily sport you met with horrid Warr How would you stand a tedious Chanc'ry Hearing If poor Hobhowchin puts you in this fearing How would your hearts misgive to bide a Triall No Friend at Hand nor in your Purse a Ryall Believe me Cowards I with Grace be 't spoken Simply thô I stand here have foil'd and broken A Chapter with her Chanons Prebends Dean Nor was my Soul so Abject Base so Mean But I durst look the Proctors in their faces And scorn their proudest braves their stern Menaces I have pursu'd 'em all Asham'd confuted 'T is Persecutors cry'd out Persecuted All this I did and ten times more in sooth With the sole Breast-plate arm'd of Naked Truth The Church of old was mann'd with Gallant Spirits A Novice then confiding in the Merits Of the fam'd Good Old Cause dar'd to Defend it In formâ Pauperis and make 'em end it But this Decrepid Age to Sloath inclines Nor brings forth now such Puissant Divines Thus far howe're their Virtues imitate Let not an Owl your Courages abate Think what a Blot it draws upon your Glory How it does stain the lustre of your story If once the Chaunter learns your base Defeat Your flight Ignoble and your vile Retreat Where e're he meets you hee 'l thus fleer and flout you Heark the Owl cryes brave Souldiers look about you Then will your conscious guilt with shame upbraid you You 'l curse your slavish fears that Cowards made you Then reinforce your Spirits by preventing Th' Affronts which will be bitter in resenting Remember Sirs whose Cause your hands engages First win then bravely wear his Lawrel wages Recall your wonted worth new frights forgetting 'T is York-shire Cloath you know that shrinks i' th' wetting But I perceive success my speech doth follow Then march run fly brave Boys where dangers call you That our Great Mitred Prince may see his Engines Before th' Affront be spread taking due Vengeance This spoke the Fiend disguis'd in flash of Fire Vanisht with fresh rage did their hearts inspire Just so it was Great Conde at that battle When thy brave Arms made Rhine and Sheld to rattle Thy wings and Battle on Lens spacious Border Inclin'd to rout and lean'd to foul disorder Thy Valour firm'd the wavering Troops that day And spirited their Files with flesh arry Inspir'd new Hearts and gave 'em all New Hands Till vanquisht Victory follow'd thy Commands Thus in a moment Rage succeeded Fear And clouded courage once again shone clear They countermarch The Owl Retreats quite routed And now they scorn her whom so late they doubted Not unreveng'd for as she flew she muted In Boirude's gaping mouth triumph'd and hooted Rascally Bird said he All Face and Feather The Shame of Day the Boder of Ill Weather Dar'st thou presume profane to spice i' th' Quire And make the Pulpit A Sir-Reverence higher And Scot-free this No no I 'm not in sport I 'le trounce and bounce thee for 't i' th' Spiritual Court Where Doctors Proctors Paritors together Shann't leave upon thy Naked back one Feather I 'le make thee then for all thy Hooting sneak Like her that scap'd the Devils Arse i' th' Peak But talk's but talk Come Boyes let 's fall to action The Owl is flown the last o' th' Chanters faction The Pulpit now is heav'd into the Quire And on the Chanter's Seat advanced higher Her Rotten ledge repair'd her Joints that gaped With Planes united all was comely shaped The Wainscott eccho's to the lab'ring hammer The Roof back to the Walls resounds the Clamor The Organ-pipes provok'd with this rude Rumbling Struck up a Base and gravely fell a grumbling Now Chanter black 's thy Day thou little thinkest What work 's a brewing Sleep in Boles thou drinkest On both ears snoring after late Debauches Nor dream'st what mischief now thy Head approaches Secure thou ly'st unarm'd unwarn'd of Harms Hugging thy Dainty Doxy in thy Arms O that some friendly Ghost in Nightly Vision Would timously reveal thy sad condition Now now they heave the hateful Pulpit rearing 'T would strike thee dead wer 't thou within the Hearing Alas above thy Seat the Machine glories To have surmounted thee five lofty stories The Sexton at three strokes makes the Nail enter And now the Pulpit stands firm on its Center CANTO IV. The ARGUMENT Alas The Poëms curious Model Is Alter'd quite i' th' Poets Noddle So Nature oft for want of Tools Decrees Wise men produces Fools To tell you True my Muse and I Design'd at first the Victory To Master Dean how 't came about I cannot tell but now the Rout Is His yet so The Fancy's richer To end in Pot commence in Pitcher Such was the Project such th' Event But listen to the Argument The Chanter's Dream A Chapter called Fine