"
--_Letter from Mr. S. Powell_, August 6.
No, _not_ for yourselves, ye reverend men,
Do you take one pig in every ten,
But for Holy Church's future heirs,
Who've an abstract right to that pig, as theirs;
The law supposing that such heirs male
Are already seized of the pig, in tail.
No, _not_ for himself hath Birmingham's priest
His "well-beloved" of their pennies fleeced:
But it is that, before his prescient eyes,
All future Vicars of Birmingham rise,
With their embryo daughters, nephews, nieces,
And 'tis for _them_ the poor he fleeces.
He heareth their voices, ages hence
Saying, "Take the pig"--"oh take the pence;"
The cries of little Vicarial dears,
The unborn Birminghamites, reach his ears;
And, did he resist that soft appeal,
He would _not_ like a true-born Vicar feel.
Thou, too, Lundy of Lackington!
A rector true, if e'er there was one,
Who, for sake of the Lundies of coming ages,
Gripest the tenths of laborer's wages.[1]
'Tis true, in the pockets of _thy_ small-clothes
The claimed "obvention"[2]of four-pence goes;
But its abstract spirit, unconfined,
Spreads to all future Rector-kind,
Warning them all to their rights to wake,
And rather to face the block, the stake,
Than give up their darling right _to take_.
One grain of musk, it is said, perfumes
(So subtle its spirit) a thousand rooms,
And a single four-pence, pocketed well,
Thro' a thousand rectors' lives will tell.
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