On the Fifth of November
By a COUNTRY SCHOOL-BOY
When Rome approved the horrid plan
Which Superstition laid;
On Earth was found no daring Man,
To give it Birth or Aid.
Strait down to hell a Jesuit hies,
With rapid eager hast;
To Lucifer his friend applies,
Impatience in his Face.
I come dread Sir to shew a Scheme,
From you we hope assistance,
These English Blades dislike the Theme,
Of passive Non-resistance.
A Plan to blow them up in Air,
Both Parliament and King,
With Gunpowder, a scheme so rare,
Will make Hell’s confines Ring.
But how to bring it all around,
We’ve made our Noddles ake,
With us no Mortal can be found,
This Deed to undertake.
Quoth Lucifer we’ll straitway hold
A Council on the Banks of Styx,
Some Devil perhaps may be so bold,
On whom this business we may fix.
The Divan met: their Chief declared,
The Business of this Popish Mission,
Each Devil thought the task was hard,
At length Stept forth a ghastly Vision.
Of GUIDO FAUX, quoth he I’ll take,
The very Shape and Air,
And to the House where lies the Train,
I’ll instantly repair.
And you my Peers shall hear the noise,
Before to-morrow Dinner:
I’ll soon blow up these roaring boys,
Or else I am a Sinner.
The thought approved, all Hell was pleased,
Each Devil grinned with Horror;
The Jesuit’s conscience too was eased,
In prospect of to-morrow.
To-morrow came, with greedy Ears,
Each stood to learn their lot:
When lo! to ease them of their fears,
Old James smelt out the Plot.
The Fiend abashed, without success,
Sneaked back to hell’s Domains;
Where all the Peers their Rage express,
And kicked him for his pains.