Classic Poem

That Clergy-men are changeable, and teach
That now 'gainst which they will to morrow preach,
Is an undoubted truth; but that in this
Their variation they do ought amiss,
I stedfastly deny; The World we see
Preserves it self by mutability;
And by an imitation each thing in it
Preserves it self by changing every minute;
The Heavenly orbes do move, and change, and ther's
The much admired musick of the sphears.
The Sun, the Moon, the Stars do alwayes vary,
The times turn round still, nothing stationary.
Why then should we blame Clergymen, that do
Because they're Heav'nly, like the Heavens go?
Nay th'Earth it self, on which we tread (they say)
Turnes round and's moving still; then why not they?
Our bodies still are changing from our birth,
Till they return to their first matter, Earth.
We draw in air, and food, that air and food
Incorporates and turns our flesh and blood
Then we breath out our selves in sweat, and vent
Our flesh and blood by use, and excrement,
With such continuall change, that none can say,
He's the same man that he was Yesterday.
Besides, all Creatures cannot choose but be
By much the worse for their stability
For standing pools corrupt, while running springs
Yeild sweet refreshment to all other things
The highest Church-things oftenest change, we know,
The weather-cock that stands o'th' top does so
The bells when rung in changes best do please,
The Nightingall, that ministrel of the trees,
Varies her note, while the dull Cucko sings
Only one note, no auditory brings.
Why then should we admire our Levites change,
Since 'tis their nat'ral motion? 'Tis not strange
To see a fish to swim, or Eagle fly;
Nor is their Protean mutability
More worth our wonder, but 'tis so in fashion,
It merits our applause, and imitation.
But I conclude, least while I speak of change,
I shall too far upon one subject range
And so become unchangeable, and by
My practice give my doctrine here the lye