CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. 



XXV 



And its eyeball fiercely turning, 

 Thus addressed the mitred foes : 



" Whilst you Bishops here are boasting 



Of the reformation -tricks, 

 My poor soul is damned and roasting, 



On the other side of Styx. 



See me punished for the measures, 

 Which I followed here on earth, 



When I stole the sacred treasures, 

 And to Church by law, gave birth. 



0, that in earth's farthest corner, 



I had hid my wanton head, 

 Ere I first became the scorner, 



Then the scourge of our old creed. 



Villains, bent on holy plunder, 



Strove to drive from Albion's shore, 



What had been her pride and wonder, 

 For nine hundred years and more. 



Vain have proved their machinations ; 



Vain each tyrant act of mine ; 

 Vain all impious protestations, 



Raised against that faith divine. 



Still in Albion's sea-girt regions, 



Just as when I first began, 

 This firm faith defies hell's legions, 



And dispenses truth to man. 



0 



