Flanked with a ditch, and forced out of a marish,
I saw with two poor chambers taken in,
And razed; ere thought could urge this might have been!
See the World’s ruins! nothing but the piles
Left, and wit since to cover it with tiles.
The Brethren they straight nosed it out for news,
’Twas verily some relict of the Stews;
And this a sparkle of that fire let loose,
That was raked up in the Winchestrian goose,
Bred on the Bank in time of Popery,