,_ and thought
A sheaf in every single grain was brought.
Fain would they filch that little food away,
While unrestrained those happy gluttons prey;
And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall,
The bird that warned St. Peter of his fall;
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings, and call his family
To sacred rites; and vex the ethereal powers
With midnight mattins at uncivil hours;
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest,
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest.
Beast of a bird! supinely when he might
Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light!
What if his dull forefathers us'd that cry,
Could he not let a bad example die?
The world was fallen into an easier way:
This age knew better than to fast and pray.
Good sense in sacred worship would appear,
So to begin as they might end the year.
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls
Of crowing chanticleers in cloister'd walls.
Expell'd for this, and for their lands they fled;
And sister Partlet with her hooded head
Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed."

There is a magnanimity of abuse in some of these epithets, a fearless
choice of topics of invective, which may be considered as the heroical
in satire.

The _Annus Mirabilis_ is a tedious performance; it is a tissue of
far-fetched, heavy, lumbering conceits, and in the worst style of what
has been denominated metaphysical poetry. His Odes in general are of the
same stamp; they are the hard-strained offspring of a meagre,
meretricious fancy. The famous Ode on St. Cecilia deserves its
reputation; for, as piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or
recited in alternate strophe and antistrophe, with classical allusions,
and flowing verse, nothing can be better. It is equally fit to be said
or sung; it is not equally good to read. It is lyrical, without being
epic or dramatic. For instance, the description of Bacchus,

"The jolly god in triumph comes,
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Flush'd with a purple grace,
He shews his honest face"--

does not answer, as it ought, to our idea of the God, returning from the
conquest of India, with satyrs and wild beasts, that he had tamed,
following in his train; crowned with vine leaves, and riding in a
chariot drawn by leopards--such a