Classic Poem

Whilst here the pope's old mumpsimus remain'd,
And gall'd our senses, and our purses drain'd,
Age after age the reverend farce was play'd;
The jovial monks — they drove a gainful trade.
Patient we jogg'd along the beaten road,
Our sires and theirs, and theirs before, had trod.
Relics and beads, and other godly geer,
We us'd devoutly with religious fear,
And all the fables in the legend read,
Receiv'd as firm and sacred as our creed.
At length arose Eliza 's happy sway,
And chas'd the holy trumpery away:
Her peoples freedom strenuous she maintain'd,
And planted truth and learning thro' the land.
Illustrious Princess! thy superiour soul
No threats could fright, or prejudice controul:
Thee no vain vaunts of ancient rules could awe,
Or folly fix'd by custom into law;
Else still had Rome made good her old pretence,
Nor we been yet reform'd to common sense.