Classic Poem

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 't is 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 laborers wages.
'T is true, in the pockets of thy small-clothes
The claimed " obvention " of fourpence 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 graiNof 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.
Then still continue, ye reverend souls,
And still as your rich Pactolus rolls,
Grasp every penny on every side,
From every wretch, to swell its tide:
Remembering still what the Law lays down,
In that pure poetic style of its own,
" If the parson in esse submits to loss, he
" Inflicts the same on the parson in posse . "