All this the good old man perform’d alone,
  Nor spared his pains; for curate he had none: 
  Nor durst he trust another with his care;
  Nor rode himself to Paul’s, the public fair,
  To chaffer for preferment with his gold, 70
  Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold: 
  But duly watch’d his flock, by night and day,
  And from the prowling wolf redeem’d the prey;
  And hungry sent the wily fox away.

    The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer’d;
  Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear’d. 
  His preaching much, but more his practice wrought;
  (A living sermon of the truths he taught);
  For this by rules severe his life he squared,
  That all might see the doctrine which they heard. 80
  For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest: 
  (The gold of heaven, who bear the God impress’d): 
  But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
  The Sovereign’s image is no longer seen. 
  If they be foul on whom the people trust,
  Well may the baser brass contract a rust.

    The prelate for his holy life he prized;
  The worldly pomp of prelacy despised: 
  His Saviour came not with a gaudy show;
  Nor was his kingdom of the world below. 90
  Patience in want, and poverty of mind,
  These marks of Church and Churchmen he design’d,
  And living taught, and dying left behind. 
  The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn: 
  In purple he was crucified, not born. 
  They who contend for place and high degree,
  Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.

    Not but he knew the signs of earthly power
  Might well become Saint Peter’s successor;
  The holy father holds a double reign, 100
  The prince may keep his pomp, the fisher must be plain.

    Such was the saint, who shone with every grace,
  Reflecting, Moses’-like, his Maker’s face. 
  God saw his image lively was express’d;
  And his own work, as in creation, bless’d.

    The Tempter saw him too, with envious eye;
  And, as on Job, demanded leave to try. 
  He took the time when Richard was deposed,
  And high and low with happy Harry closed. 
  This prince, though great in arms, the priest withstood:  110
  Near though he was, yet not the next of blood. 
  Had Richard, unconstrain’d, resign’d the throne,
  A king can give no more than is his own: 
  The title stood entail’d, had Richard had a son.

    Conquest, an odious name, was laid aside,
  Where all submitted, none the battle tried. 
  The senseless plea of right by Providence
  Was, by a flattering priest, invented since;
  And lasts no longer than the present sway;
  But justifies the next who comes in play. 120

    The people’s right remains; let those who dare
  Dispute their power, when they the judges are.