So lives he, Mammon's priest, not Heaven's,
For _tenths_ thus all at _sixes_ and _sevens_,
Seeking what parsons love no less
Than tragic poets--a good _distress_.
Instead of studying St. Augustin,
Gregory Nyss., or old St. Justin
(Books fit only to hoard dust in),
His reverence stints his evening readings
To learned Reports of Tithe Proceedings,
Sipping the while that port so ruddy,
Which forms his only _ancient_ study;--
Port so old, you'd swear its tartar
Was of the age of Justin Martyr,
And, had he sipt of such, no doubt
His martyrdom would have been--to gout.
Is all then lost?--alas, too true--
Ye Tenths beloved, adieu, adieu!
My reign is o'er, my reign is o'er--
Like old Thumb's ghost, "I can no more."
[1] A reverend prebendary of Hereford, in an Essay on the Revenues of the
Church of England, has assigned the origin of Tithes to "some unrecorded
revelation made to Adam."
[2] "The tenth calf is due to the parson of common right; and if there are
seven he shall have one."--REES'S _Cyclopaedia_, art. "_Tithes_."
[3] Among the specimens laid before Parliament of the sort of Church rates
levied upon Catholics in Ireland, was a charge of two pipes of port for
sacramental wine.
[4] Ezekiel, xxxiv., 10.--"Neither shall the shepherds feed themselves any
more; for I will deliver my flock from their mouth, that they may not be
meat for them.
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