Corn And Catholics.

utrum horum dirius borun? Incerti Auctoris. What! still those two infernal questions, That with our meals our slumbers mix-- That spoil our tempers and digestions-- Eternal Corn and Catholics! Gods! were there ever two such bores? Nothing else talkt of night or morn-- Nothing in doors or out of doors, But endless Catholics and Corn! Never was such a brace of pests-- While Ministers, still worse than either, Skilled but in feathering their nests, Plague us with both and settle neither. So addled in my cranium meet Popery and Corn that oft I doubt, Whether, this year, 'twas bonded Wheat, Or bonded Papists, they let out. Here, landlords, here polemics nail you, Armed with all rubbish they can rake up; Prices and Texts at once assail you-- From Daniel these, and those from Jacob, And when you sleep, with head still torn Between the two, their shapes you mix, Till sometimes Catholics seem Corn-- Then Corn again seems Catholics. Now Dantsic wheat before you floats-- Now Jesuits from California-- Now Ceres linkt with Titus Oats, Comes dancing thro' the "Porta Cornea." Oft too the Corn grows animate, And a whole crop of heads appears, Like Papists, bearding Church and State-- Themselves, together by the ears! In short these torments never cease, And oft I wish myself transferred off To some far, lonely land of peace Where Corn or Papists ne'er were heard of. Yes, waft me, Parry, to the Pole; For--if my fate is to be chosen 'Twixt bores and icebergs--on my soul, I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!