Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

What monster is this, who alarms the beholders,
With Folly and Infamy perch'd on his shoulders;
Whom hallow'd Religion is lab'ring to save,
Ere Sin and Disease goad the wretch to his grave,
'Tis ---! Alas, Nature starts at the name;
And trembles with horror, and reddens with shame!
Like the Ocean which weeps, when the tempests allay'd,
She shudders to look on the work she has made.
I marvel that God does not open the place,
To ingulph him, like Corah, and all his foul race.

In their hate of his principles, all are agreeing,
And the fruit of his loins curse the cause of their being.
Like a pestilent breeze, he infects these sad times,
A vile abstract of hell, and Italia's crimes!
See Justice offended, exhibits a halter;
And the crucifix shakes as he crawls to the altar:
E'en Angels drop tears in such habits to find him:
As he throws Retribution with horror behind him.
When his soul disembogues each infernal transgression,
Sweet Mercy revolts at the sable confession.
And Honour and Truth form a strong combination
To kick such a miscreant thro' the creation.
Lo! Eternity's paths he with terror explores,
As dæmons look up from sulphureous shores:
While Tartarean bards chaunt the caitiff's encomium,
And Satan sits hunger'd in deep Pandemonium.

His touch is contagious and preys on our sanity,
Offensive to life, and abhorr'd by humanity.
Like the plague-fraught embrace of a foul Alepponian,
Or the incrusted glove of a sick Caledonian;
It nips Virtue's bud, like the winds from the east,
Or Circe's fell wand, turns the fool to a beast:
Or that hot-bed of vagabonds, rais'd on the breast
Of fallen Britannia, to sing her to rest;
Where anticks Discretion can kick till she winces,
And rascal castratos strut prouder than princes:
Where Countesses fight, to kiss sapless Tenducci;
Or tie on the sandals of black Catenucci.

Is it wond'rous that you such antipathy see,
When the tyrant to Virtue's a tyrant to me?
Go, shew me the den where a scoundrel's confin'd,
I'll strike his black heart, and unnerve his base mind;
I'll goad him thro' life with the rod of Correction,
Till his scull pendant locks shall turn grey with reflection;
From the arm of a Titan I'd tear him elate,
Tho' guarded by all the artillery of Fate:
If I quit him, may Peace and my penitence sever;
And the smiles of Omnipotence leave me for ever.

It boots not with me if his infamous darings
Are hid by a star, or armorial bearings:

As Gregory made the proud Emperor wait,
Bare-footed and cold, at Canusium's gate;
E'en thus shall the haughty bend low at my nod,
Confess their allegiance, and honour my rod.

Nefarious island! oh, besotted nation!
Where Folly, to Vice, runs in studied gradation.
See Guilt on the judgment seat, mark'd by pollution,
To watch the degrees of a mean prosecution;
To determine the outlines of right and of wrong,
As manacled Honour is led thro' the throng;
To meet cunning Sophistry's wily position,
And the half famish'd sons of illicit Ambition.

Say, who shall be bless'd, if a Howard's unsainted!
Say, who is unsullied, if Curtius is tainted!
But his worth, like true gold, from the chemical fire,
Will rise less alloy'd, and be valu'd the higher;
And the lie of the moment, which Malice had sign'd,
Sweet Truth shall expunge from the national mind:
As the lion, awak'ning on Nemea's plain,
Indignant shakes off the dank dew from his mane.

The detested miscreant personified in this description, read his portrait, reflected, and expired.