Methinks I see thee decently array'd

Methinks I see thee decently array'd
In long flowed nightgown of stuff-damask made;
Thy cassock underneath it closely braced
With surcingle about thy mod'rate waist;
Thy morning wig, grown tawny to the view,
Though once a grizzle, and thy square-toed shoe.
The day was, when the sacerdotal race
Esteem'd their proper habit no disgrace,
Or rather when the garb their order wears
Was not disgrac'd as now, by being theirs.
I speak of prigs--