AN HISTORICAL TALE FOUNDED ON FACTS.
In Mary's days, when Canterbury Pole *
Summon'd the dead, and as they could not hear,
Burnt them to make their heresy more clear,
There lived about the court one Doctor Cole:
A man not form'd to play a first-rate part;
Yet marvellously skill'd to make his way,
Mole-like, by grovelling on, with plodding art,
In darkness till he stumbled into day.
On such a man (more than two centuries past)
The Queen's eyes, speaking favour, did look down.
May such a pair of eyes with such a cast
Ne'er gleam portentous 'neath the British crown!
"Here, Doctor Cole," she said, " is our commission;
Take it to Ireland-to that land of ire.
We hear 'tis in a terrible condition:
And we will have it purified by fire,
Till schism and heresy of every sort expire."
Well pleased, the Doctor bow'd himself from court,
And posted off to Chester to embark.
But packets then were more like Noah's ark,
In all their movements, than like those which sport,
Bubbling and boiling, now, with plunging keel,
Across the Channel, without oar or sail;
Some towing other ships with flapping wheel,
Like dogs that run with kettles at their tail:
They then consulted weather, wind, and tide.
So Doctor Cole invited Chester's Mayor,
To tell him who he was, mayhap, in pride;
Or, eke, that he might taste his Cheshire fare.
He then produced from underneath his gown,
With consequential air, a leathern box:
"Behold!" he cried, " this mandate from the crown
Shall lash the Dublin folks with desperate knocks,
And Ireland cleanse from all that is not orthodox."
This doubtless made the "worthy magistrate"
With wonder huge his civic optics ope,
And guess the doctor might turn out the Pope,
Travelling from policy, without his state.
And so he felt his zeal within him rise,
And shook his head most wofully, and said,
That he had heard of many heresies,
And that he did catholically dread
The very name of what they call'd reform;
That Chester city was a loyal place,
"Cardinal Pole visited both the Universities. Whilst he was at Cambridge, Bucer and Fagius, two German divines, dead some years before, were ridiculously cited before the commissioners to give an account of their faith, and, upon their non-appearance, both were condemned to be burnt. This sentence was followed by a warrant from the court to execute it, and the two bodies in their coffins were tied to stakes, and consumed to ashes."-RAPIN.
Cardinal Pole was appointed to the Archiepiscopal See of Canterbury on the condemnation of Archbishop Cranmer, but delayed taking formal possession thereof, until the day after the martyrdom of his predecessor.
And for the Romish cause extremely warm ;-
The corporation ran a godly race-
And divers other matters, such as Mayors,
When once they get a great man by the ear,
Will bore him with, though he nor knows nor cares
More of what corporations dread or fear,
Than Cole, who only held his own preferment dear.
But Mayors and Doctors in Divinity
Love not dry lips; and so they told their dame,
Good Mrs Edmonds, who had gain'd a name
For wassel, which bore strong affinity
To what we now call punch-most excellent
For men who've travell'd far, like Doctor Cole,
Who drank thereof, much to his heart's content,
Until they saw the bottom of the bowl.
Now, what it held, it were unfair to say;
But it was time to roost, at least 'twas dark,-
So Doctor Cole lay down till break of day,
And then arose for Dublin to embark.
Meanwhile good Mrs Edmonds, soon as Nox
Had drawn his curtain, and the Doctor dozed,
Pandora-like, untied the leathern box,
And felt alarm'd and wonderfully posed.-
But what at length she did, in time shall be disclosed.
The pitchy, pitching ship threw Doctor Cole
Into strange attitudes, which ill beseem'd
His courtly dignity; and so he deem'd
It wisest to creep into a dark hole
Which sailors humorously call a bed,
And there to sleep or tumble as he might,
With the much-valued box beneath his head,
Dreaming of Mary or the Stagyrite;
Of robe and mitre, stall and scarlet hat;
Anon of straight-back'd, stiff-neck'd heresy,
Acts of the faithful, fagots, and "all that."
But still Saint George's waves tumultuously Kept heaving round and thundering in their pride ;It seem'd as though he'd got some merman's " berth," Who knock'd without, in hopes to get inside;
And oft his ear caught sounds of boisterous mirth, While he lay still, and sigh'd for better sees on earth.
At length they reach'd the other side o'th' water,
And Doctor Cole beheld the Hill of Howth,
And eke the bay of Dublin ope its mouth-
So in he went, the infidels to slaughter.
High beat his throbbing pulse to get to work;
He vow'd in each good deed to bear a part,
And felt like Richard when he met the Turk,
Save in the matter of the lion heart.
But Dublin quay quaked not beneath his tread,
The streets all seem'd unconscious where he walk'd
In measured step along, with upborne head,
As, at his heels a raw-boned porter stalk'd,
Bearing a trunk fill'd with canonicals,―
While he himself hugg'd close the fatal box:
And yet, 'tis said in all the chronicles,
None felt alarm; the men were mute as blocks,
And squares and houses all stood round like solid rocks.
"Soon shall they know why I the ocean braved,"
The Doctor cried,-and went into his inn,
And order'd breakfast, business to begin :
Then, sate him in an arm-chair to be shaved.
The shaver spake not. Doctor Cole was glum;
But glanced around him with a furious scowl.
"Sit aisy!" cried the barber," or, by gum !
I will not shave, but cut you, cheek by jowl!"
The Doctor, as " in cathedra❞ he sate,
Knew well the time to succumb or oppose;
And deem'd it folly to exasperate
A surly wight, who held him by the nose.
His toilet o'er, he heard the Dublin clocks
Toll out the hour of nine: then, slow and grave,
He rode forth to the Castle with his box,
Delighted much to miss the noisy wave,
But more that he was sent so fine a land to save.
Some fears he had the Deputy might falter;
For Viceroys are not Kings, and oft have cause
To dread responsibility and laws;
Yet a kind, courteous man was Earl Fitzwalter;
So, he received the Doctor with urbanity,
And (when he spake about the Queen's commission)
Somewhat he talk'd about humanity,
But more of Ireland's heretic condition;
And that, in due respect, he thought it fitting
That letters from her Grace the British Queen
Should not be open'd till the court were sitting,
That they by every member might be seen.
A messenger was then sent forth to summon
Ireland's prime rulers all," within the hour,
Because important business was to come on.'
They came, like lover to his lady's bower,
Or more, perhaps, like men who love to shew their power.
On the green cloth were paper, pens, and ink,
And, eke, a man behind each separate sheet
Sat all prepared the Queen's envoy to greet;
Yet what her will might be not one could think :
When in the Doctor walk'd, with courtly dignity,
And lost no time in coming to the point;
But waved his hand, and smiled with great benignity,
As he affirm'd "the times were out of joint
And then he sigh'd, and said that he lamented
That heresy had struck so deep a root;
Then frown'd, and vow'd such things must be prevented,
And he had power. The council all sate mute. Forthwith the Doctor raised the leathern box,
Majestic as the lion paws his cubs,
And loosed the tape that served instead of locks,
When, lo! severest of the Doctor's rubs!
A pack of dirty cards, in chief the knave of clubs!
This royal packet posed the secretary;
Not Earl Fitzwalter's self could make it out;
The Doctor gazed, in huge dismay, about;
And some around the board wax'd wondrous merry.
"Is this a bull?" cried one-and then the joke,
To Dublin ever dear, held on its way:
One cut the pack, one gave " a lucky poke,"
And on the cards most ruthlessly did play.
"I vow the Queen hath sent us here a knave!
The dirtiest knave, methinks, about her court,"
Cried one, of schism suspected, looking grave,
As wags will look, and swore 'twas "
pretty sport:"
Then begg'd the Queen's serene ambassador
Would not allow the thing his mind to ruffle,
But join their play and get a matadore;
Or, if he should decline-why, then, they'd shuffle.
So-out the Doctor stole, and strove his wrath to muffle.
"Once more upon the waters! and once more
The billows bound beneath him like a steed
That" throws "his rider." Things went ill indeed.
The Doctor thought the sea a monstrous bore:
For, though the "heaving ocean," in a sonnet,
Looks mighty smooth, and makes a gentle rhyme
With "soft emotion," yet, when once upon it,
Albeit the scene is wondrous and sublime,
There are such ups and downs, such jerks and jolting,
Squalls, creaking booms, ropes, planks, shrouds, sails, and yards,
With divers other matters more revolting,
We needs must loathe it more than Cole did cards.
The Doctor's passage was both long and rough,
Provoking to a man in haste and bilious;
And, as though these disasters wer'n't enough,
His tale "got wind," which drove him half delirious,For tars, who love a joke, are seldom too punctilious.
At length he landed, though in sad condition,
And, caring nought if winds now blew contrary,
Posted, on terra firma, to Queen Mary,
To beg her to renew his lost commission.
Safely he got to town. The lord in waiting
Heard his sad tale-look'd grave—and then said—" Oh-no;
You cannot see the Queen-I know-'tis grating
For-really-entre nous-her Grace is-so-80.'
But Doctor Cole, whate'er might be his failings,
Had perseverance, which is often better
Than giving way to impotent bewailings;
And so contrived to get another letter
Sign'd by the sickly Queen, which, in the box
He seal'd with his own seal, and vow'd to keep
By night and day, as shepherds tend their flocks,
That no vile heretic therein might peep,
And rob him of his strength, like Sampson when asleep.
Big with the fate of Ireland, off he sped,
Nor once for Mayors or wassel bowls delay'd,
Until again the ocean he survey'd,
And felt himself secure at Holyhead.
Then came the gusty breeze from off the main,
A furious western equinoctial gale,
With firm resolve the Doctor to detain,
And end right merrily our pleasant tale.
For while his Reverence by the wind was bound,
Watching the world of waters dark and green,
There rang through England's vales a joyous sound,
Hailing ELIZABETH the Island's Queen.
Mary had past away. And, with a start,
The British Lion shook himself and woke ;
Stern indignation fill'd his free-born heart
From off his sinewy neck the chain he broke,
And trampled under foot the slavish Roman yoke.
His deep-toned roar was heard throughout the nation!
And some turn'd pale, as Doctors Pole and Cole,
While Mistress Edmonds' friends sat round the bowl
And drank, "Success to Britain's Reformation!"
Then, the poor Doctor's high-prized leathern box
Had fallen in its value most immensely,
More than 'Change Alley e'er could lower the stocks,―
And so he mused thereon, sad and intensely.
Thus often ends the courtier's proud ambition:
Our dreams and hopes are most notorious cheaters.
Of far more value now than his commission
Was that of Captain of the Queen's beef-eaters;
For they went to and fro, like carrier pigeons,
That keep the dove-cot, though it change its master ;
Nor ponder'd much on difference in religions:
Fashion they deem'd the genuine Court plaster
To shield their dubious souls from heretic disaster.
But truth, in those good days, was most prevailing,
Especially among the men of learning,
Who found no difficulty in discerning
That good sound arguments for Rome were* failing.
For, while the Reformation was advancing,
Though it may seem but an irreverent trope,
Men carried their religion as, when dancing,
The tumbler holds his balance on a rope;
Lifting up either end to keep him steady,
As he to either side inclining feels,
And ever with quick eye and hand still ready
To shift his pole to save his neck and heels.
So men's religion seem'd to have two ends,
Though well we know it ought to have but one;
This went aloft to greet reforming friends,
That rose when Mary's papal reign begun,
And see-saw'd up and down till Rome's proud race was run.†
The Doctor, at this juncture, held a place,
And was most intimate with Bishop Bonner :
Wherefore, he said, that really, on his honour,
He must consider his a doubtful case;
"Of nine thousand four hundred beneficed clergymen in the kingdom, only one hundred and seventy-one chose to quit their preferments rather than their religion.”— RAPIN.
"The same thing happened in this (Elizabeth's) Parliament, as in those under Henry, Edward, and Mary, that is, the Court caused to be enacted almost whatever they pleased. This is not very strange with regard to the House of Commons, where the members may be changed every new Parliament. But the readiness wherewith the House of Lords consented, one while to acts favouring the Reformation, another while to those establishing the Romish religion, is much more surprising."-RAPIN.
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