"Fond attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot."
Beholding some "names of little note" in the Biographia Britannica, he proceeded to satirise the publication, to laugh at the imaginary procession of worthies--the squire, his lady, the vicar, and other local celebrities, and chants in his anger:
"There goes the parson, oh! illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk."
The poet Gay is not unmindful of the
"Parish clerk who calls the hymns so clear";
and Tennyson, in his sonnet to J.M.K., wrote:
"Our dusty velvets have much need of thee:
Thou art no sabbath-drawler of old saws,
Distill'd from some worm-canker'd homily;
But spurr'd at heart with fiercest energy
To embattail and to wall about thy cause
With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone
Half God's good Sabbath, while the worn-out clerk
Brow-beats his desk below."
In the gallery of Dickens's characters stands out the immortal Solomon Daisy of Barnaby Rudge, with his "cricket-like chirrup" as he took his part in the social gossip round the Maypole fire. Readers of Dickens will remember the timid Solomon's visit to the church at midnight when he went to toll the passing bell, and his account of the strange things that befell him there, and of the ringing of the mysterious bell that told the murder of Reuben Haredale.
In the British Museum I discovered a fragmentary collection of ballads and songs, made by Mr. Ballard, and amongst these is a song relating to a very unworthy follower of St. Nicholas, whose memory is thus unhappily preserved: