302
Fleet Street Eclogue
But by the altar everywhere
I find the money-changer's stall;
And littering every temple-stair
The sick and sore like maggots crawl.
I find the money-changer's stall;
And littering every temple-stair
The sick and sore like maggots crawl.
Brian.
Hush, hush!
Hush, hush!
Menzies.
I cannot hush! The poor,
The maimed, the halt, the starving come,
Crying for help at every door;
But loud the ecclesiastic drum
Outbids them; and behind it wait
The bones and cleavers of the State.
I cannot hush! The poor,
The maimed, the halt, the starving come,
Crying for help at every door;
But loud the ecclesiastic drum
Outbids them; and behind it wait
The bones and cleavers of the State.
Sandy.
This smacks of Disestablishment!
This smacks of Disestablishment!
Brian.
We'll find him next attacking Rent!
We'll find him next attacking Rent!
Basil.
Your talk is vain; your voice is hoarse.
Your talk is vain; your voice is hoarse.
Menzies.
I would they were as hoarse and vain
As their wide-weltering spring and source
Of helpless woe, of wrath insane.
I would they were as hoarse and vain
As their wide-weltering spring and source
Of helpless woe, of wrath insane.
Herbert.
