Like Niobe, weeps o'er her offspring—Tithes;[336]
The Prelates go to—where the Saints have gone,
And proud pluralities subside to one;
Church, state, and faction wrestle in the dark,
Tossed by the deluge in their common ark.
Shorn of her bishops, banks, and dividends,
Another Babel soars—but Britain ends.
And why? to pamper the self-seeking wants,650
And prop the hill of these agrarian ants.
"Go to these ants, thou sluggard, and be wise;"