Meanwhile, to the great alarm of his neighbors,
He still continues his _Quarterly_ labors;
And often has strong No-Popery fits,
Which frighten his old nurse out of her wits.
Sometimes he screams, like Scrub in the play,[2]
"Thieves! Jesuits! Popery!" night and day;
Takes the Printer's Devil for Doctor Dens,
And shies at him heaps of High-church pens;[3]
Which the Devil (himself a touchy Dissenter)
Feels all in his hide, like arrows, enter.
'Stead of swallowing wholesome stuff from the druggist's,
He _will_ keep raving of "Irish Thuggists;"[4]
Tells us they all go murdering for fun
From rise of morn till set of sun,
Pop, pop, as fast as a minute-gun![5]
If askt, how comes it the gown and cassock are
Safe and fat, mid this general massacre--
How hap sit that Pat's own population
But swarms the more for this trucidation--
He refers you, for all such memoranda,
To the "_archives of the Propaganda_!"
This is all we've got, for the present, to say--
But shall take up the subject some future day.
[1] See Congreve's "Love for Love."
[2] "Beaux' Stratagem."
[3] "Pray, may we ask, has there been any rebellious movement of Popery in
Ireland, since the planting of the Ulster colonies, in which something of
the kind was not visible among the Presbyterians of the north.
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