THE SLEEPING CONGREGATION.
The shepherd is not much more awake than his sleeping flock, whose appearance convinces us that, though there is no organ, there is much melody. The nasal music of the congregation, joined to the languid monotony of the preacher,[120] which sounds like the drowsy hum of a drone bee, must form such a concert as neither Tubal Cain nor Sir John Hawkins ever dreamed of. The text is perfectly applicable to the audience, "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." His parishioners have not troubled themselves much about the Greek version; good, easy men, they take these words in their literal sense, and, after the toil of six days, find the church a comfortable and convenient dormitory. By the preacher's aspect and attitude, we are convinced that he would lull to soft repose the most lively assembly that ever congregated in the capital. How, then, must his manner operate here? As an opiate more powerful than poppies. It is as composing as are the very descriptive lines that conclude the second book of Pope's Dunciad; which are so perfectly an echo to the sense, that they ought to be inscribed on the front of the first temple which is dedicated to Somnus. He
"In one lazy tone,
Through the long, heavy, painful page, drawls on.
Soft creeping words on words the sense compose;
At every line they stretch, they yawn, they doze.
As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low
Their heads, and lift them as they cease to blow,