Part 15 (1/2)
Nor less the sport, when Easter sees The daisy spring to deck her leas; Then, claim'd as dues by Mother Church, I pluck the cackler from the perch; Or, in its place, the s.h.i.+lling clasp From grumbling dame's slow opening grasp.
But, Visitation Day! 'tis thine Best to deserve my native line.
Great day! the purest, brightest gem That decks the fair year's diadem.
Grand day! that sees me costless dine And costless quaff the rosy wine, Till seven churchwardens doubled seem, And doubled every taper's gleam; And I triumphant over time, And over tune, and over rhyme, Call'd by the gay convivial throng, Lead, in full glee, the choral song!”
The writers of doggerel verses have been numerous. The following is a somewhat famous composition which has been kindly sent to me by various correspondents. My father used to tell us the rhymes when we were children, and they have evidently become notorious. The clerk who composed them lived in Somersets.h.i.+re[67], and when the Lord Bishop of the Diocese came to visit his church, he thought that such an occasion ought not to be pa.s.sed over without a fitting tribute to the distinguished prelate. He therefore composed a new and revised version of Tate and Brady's metrical rendering of Psalm lxvii., and announced his production after this manner:
”Let us zing to the Praze an' Glory of G.o.d part of the zixty-zeventh Zalm; zspeshul varshun zspesh'ly 'dapted vur t'cazshun.
”W'y 'op ye zo ye little 'ills?
And what var du 'ee zskip?
Is it a'cause ter prach too we Is c.u.m'd me Lord Bis.h.i.+p?
”W'y zskip ye zo ye little 'ills?
An' whot var du 'ee 'op?
Is it a'cause to prach too we Is c.u.m'd me Lord Bishop?
”Then let us awl arize an' zing, An' let us awl stric up, An' zing a glawrious zong uv praze; An' bless me Lord Bishup.”
[Footnote 67: Another correspondent states that the incident occurred at Bradford-on-Avon in 1806. Mr. Francis Bevan remembers hearing a similar version at Dover about sixty years ago. Can it be that these various clerks were plagiarists?]
A somewhat similar effusion was composed by Eldad Holland, parish clerk of Christ Church, Kilbrogan parish, Bandon, County Cork, in Ireland.
This church was built in 1610, and has the reputation of being the first edifice erected in Ireland for the use of the Church of Ireland after the Reformation. Bandon was originally colonised by English settlers in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and for a long time was a noted stronghold of Protestantism. This fact may throw light upon the opinions and sentiments of Master Holland, an original character, whose tombstone records that ”he departed this life ye 29th day of 7ber 1722.” When the news of the victory of William III reached Bandon there were great rejoicings, and Eldad paraphrased a portion of the morning service in honour of the occasion. After the first lesson he gave out the following notice:
”Let us sing to the praise and glory of William, a psalm of my own composing:
”William is come home, come home, William home is come, And now let us in his praise Sing a _Te Deum_.”
He then continued: ”We praise thee, O William! we acknowledge thee to be our king!” adding with an impressive shake of the head, ”And faith, a good right we have, for it was he who saved us from bra.s.s money, wooden shoes and Popery.” He then resumed the old version, and reverently continued it to the end[68].
[Footnote 68: This information was kindly sent to me by Mr. Robert Clarke, of Castle Eden, Durham, who states that he derived the information from _The History of Bandon_, by George Bennett (1869). My father used to repeat the following version:
”King William is come home, Come home King William is come; So let us then together sing A hymn that's called _Te D'um_.”
I am not sure which version is the better poetry! The latter corresponds with the version composed by Wesley's clerk at Epworth, old John; so Clarke in his memoirs of the Wesley family records.]
In a parish in North Devon[69] there was a poetical clerk who had great reverence for Bishop Henry Phillpotts, and on giving out the hymn he proclaimed his regard in this form: ”Let us sing to the glory of G.o.d, and of the Lord Bishop of Exeter.” On one occasion his lords.h.i.+p held a confirmation in the church on 5 November, when it is said the clerk gave out the Psalm in the usual way, adding, ”in a stave of my own composing”:
”This is the day that was the night When the Papists did conspire To blow up the King and Parliament House With Gundy-powdy-ire.”
[Footnote 69: My kind correspondent, the Rev. J.B. Hughes, abstains from mentioning the name of the parish.]
My informant cannot vouch for the truth of this story, but he can for the fact that when Bishop Phillpotts on another occasion visited the church his lords.h.i.+p was surprised to hear the clerk give out at the end of the service, ”Let us sing in honour of his lords.h.i.+p, 'G.o.d save the King.'” The bishop rose somewhat hastily, saying to his chaplain, ”Come along, Barnes; we shall have 'Rule, Britannia!' next.”
Cuthbert Bede tells the story of a poetical clerk who was much aggrieved because some disagreeable and naughty folk had maliciously damaged his garden fence. On the next Sunday he gave out ”a stave of his own composing”:
”Oh, Lord, how doth the wicked man; They increases more and more; They break the posts, likewise the rails Around this poor clerk's door.”
He almost deserved his fate for barbarously mutilating a metrical Psalm, and was evidently a proper victim of poetical justice.