From that dire æra, bane to Sarum's pride, <br />Which broke his schemes and laid his friends aside, <br />He talks and writes that Pop'ry will return, <br />And we, and he, and all his works will burn. <br />What touch'd himself was almost fairly prov'd, <br />(Oh, far from Britain be the rest remov'd!) <br />For, as of late he meant to bless the age <br />With flagrant Prefaces of party-rage, <br />O'er-wrought with passion and the subject's weight, <br />Lolling, he nodded in his elbow-seat, <br />Down fell the candle; Grease and Zeal conspire, <br />Heat meets with heat, and Pamphlets burn their Sire. <br />Here crawls a Preface on its half-burn'd maggots, <br />And there an Introduction brings its faggots; <br />Then roars the Prophet of the Northern Nation, <br />Scorch'd by a flaming speech on Moderation. <br /> <br />Unwarn'd by this, go on the realm to fright, <br />Thou Briton, vaunting in thy second-sight; <br />In such a Ministry you safely tell, <br />How much you'd suffer, if Religion fell.<br /><br />Thomas Parnell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-bishop-burnet-s-being-set-on-fire-in-his-closet/
