Volume 5 — A SONG on the JUBILEE.
Reading edition
[Listen]
COME Beaus, Virtuoso’s, rich Heirs and Musicians Away, and in Troops to the Jubile jog; Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians, Let the Vig’rous whore on, and the impotent Flog: Already Rome opens her Arms to receive ye, And ev’ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye. Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber, As cheap there is now as our Cabbages grown; While musty old Relicks of Saints without number, For barely the looking upon, shall be shown: These, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye, That first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy. They’ll shew ye the River, so Sung by the Poets, With the Rock from whence, Mortals were knockt o’th’ Head; They’ll shew ye the place too, as some will avow it, Where once a She Pope was brought fairly to Bed: For which, ever since, to prevent Interloping, In a Chair her Successors still suffer a Groping. What a sight ’tis to see the gay Idol accoutred, With Mitre and Cap, and two Keys by his side; Be his inside what ’twill, yet the Pomp of his outward, Shows Servus servorum, no hater of Pride, These Keys into Heav’n will as surely admit ye, As Clerks of a Parish to a Pew in the City. What a sight ’tis to see the old Man in Procession, Through Rome in such Pomp as here Cæsar did ride, Now scattering of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing, With all his shav’d Spiritual Train’d-bans by his side; As, Confessors, Cardinals, Monks fat as Bacons, From Rev’rend Arch-Bishops, to Rosie Arch-Deacons. Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye, Fine Music you’ll hear, and high Dancing you’ll see; Men who much shall out-warble your Famous Fideli, And make ye meer Fools, of Balloon and L’Abbe: And to shew ye how fond they’re to Kiss Vostre Manos, Each Padre turns Pimp, all Nuns Courtezana’s. And when you’ve some Months at old Babylon been-a, And on Pardons, and Punks, all your Rhino is spent; And when you have seen all, that there is to be seen-a, You’ll return not so Rich, tho’ as Wise as you went: And ’twill be but small Comfort after so much Expence-a, That your Heirs will do just so an Hundred Years hence-a.
