On The Irish Bishops.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Old Latimer preaching did fairly describe	A
A bishop who ruled all the rest of his tribe	A
And who is this bishop and where does he dwell	B
Why truly 'tis Satan Archbishop of Hell	B
And He was a primate and He wore a mitre	C
Surrounded with jewels of sulphur and nitre	C
How nearly this bishop our bishops resembles	D
But he has the odds who believes and who trembles	D
Could you see his grim grace for a pound to a penny	C
You'd swear it must be the baboon of Kilkenny	C
Poor Satan will think the comparison odious	D
I wish I could find him out one more commodious	D
But this I am sure the most reverend old dragon	C
Has got on the bench many bishops suffragan	C
And all men believe he resides there incog	E
To give them by turns an invisible jog	E
Our bishops puft up with wealth and with pride	F
To hell on the backs of the clergy would ride	F
They mounted and labour'd with whip and with spur	C
In vain for the devil a parson would stir	C
So the commons unhors'd them and this was their doom	G
On their crosiers to ride like a witch on a broom	G
Though they gallop'd so fast on the road you may find 'em	H
And have left us but three out of twenty behind 'em	H
Lord Bolton's good grace Lord Carr and Lord Howard	I
In spite of the devil would still be untoward	J
They came of good kindred and could not endure	C
Their former companions should beg at their door	C
When Christ was betray'd to Pilate the pretor	C
Of a dozen apostles but one proved a traitor	C
One traitor alone and faithful eleven	C
But we can afford you six traitors in seven	C
What a clutter with clippings dividings and cleavings	D
And the clergy forsooth must take up with their leavings	D
If making divisions was all their intent	K
They've done it we thank them but not as they meant	K
And so may such bishops for ever divide	F
That no honest heathen would be on their side	F
How should we rejoice if like Judas the first	L
Those splitters of parsons in sunder should burst	L
Now hear an allusion A mitre you know	C
Is divided above but united below	C
If this you consider our emblem is right	M
The bishops divide but the clergy unite	M
Should the bottom be split our bishops would dread	N
That the mitre would never stick fast on their head	N
And yet they have learnt the chief art of a sovereign	C
As Machiavel taught them divide and ye govern	C
But courage my lords though it cannot be said	N
That one cloven tongue ever sat on your head	N
I'll hold you a groat and I wish I could see't	C
If your stockings were off you could show cloven feet	O
But hold cry the bishops and give us fair play	P
Before you condemn us hear what we can say	P
What truer affections could ever be shown	C
Than saving your souls by damning our own	C
And have we not practised all methods to gain you	Q
With the tithe of the tithe of the tithe to maintain you	Q
Provided a fund for building you spittals	P
You are only to live four years without victuals	P
Content my good lords but let us change hands	P
First take you our tithes and give us your lands	P
So God bless the Church and three of our mitres	P
And God bless the Commons for biting the biters	P

Jonathan Swift

On The Irish Bishops.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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