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I love the bold uncompromising mind,
Whose principles are fix'd, whose views defined:
Who scouts and scorns, in canting Candour's spite,
All taste in morals, innate sense of right,
And Nature's impulse, all uncheck'd by art,
And feelings fine, that float about the heart;
Content, for good men's guidance, bad men's awe,
On moral truth to rest, and Gospel law.
Who owns, when Traitor's feel the avenging rod,
Just retribution, and the hand of God;
Who hears the groans through Olmutz' roofs that ring,
Of him who mock'd, misled, betray'd his King—
Hears unappall'd:—though Faction's zealots preach—
Unmov'd, unsoften'd by F*tzp*tr*ck's speech.
—That speech on which the melting Commons hung,
“While truths divine came mended from his tongue.”

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How loving husband clings to duteous wife,—
How pure religion soothes the ills of life,—
How Popish ladies trust their pious fears
And naughty actions in their chaplain's ears.
Half novel and half sermon on it flow'd;
With pious zeal the Opposition glow'd;
And as o'er each the soft infection crept,
Sigh'd as he whined, and as he whisper'd wept;
E'en C*w*n dropt a sentimental tear,
And stout St. A*dr*w yelp'd a softer “Hear!”
O! nurse of crimes and fashions! which in vain
Our colder servile spirits would attain,
How do we ape thee, France! but blundering still
Disgrace the pattern by our want of skill.
The borrow'd step our awkward gait reveals:
(As clumsy C*rtn*y mars the verse he steals:)

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How do we ape thee, France!—nor claim alone
Thy arts, thy tastes, thy morals for our own,
But to thy Worthies render homage due,
Their “hair-breadth 'scapes” with anxious interest view;
Statesmen and heroines whom this age adores,
Tho' plainer terms would call them rogues and w****s.
 

The speech of General F*tzp*tr*ck, on his motion for an address of the House of Commons to the Emperor of Germany, to demand the deliverance of M. La Fayette from the prison of Olmutz, was one of the most dainty pieces of oratory that ever drew tears from a crowded gallery, and the clerks at the table. It was really quite moving to hear the General talk of religion, conjugal fidelity, and “such branches of learning.” There were a few who laughed indeed, but that was thought hard-hearted and immoral, and irreligious, and God knows what. Crying was the order of the day. Why will not Opposition try these topics again? La Fayette indeed (the more's the pity) is out. But why not a motion for a general gaol-delivery of all State Prisoners throughout Europe?

Now all the while did not this stony-hearted cur shed one tear. —Merchant of Venice.

This is a serious charge against an Author, and ought to be well supported. To the proof, then!

In an Ode of the late Lord Nugent's, are the following spirited lines,

“Though Cato lived—though Tully spoke—
“Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke,
“Yet perish'd fated Rome!”

The Author above-mentioned, saw these lines, and liked them—as well he might: and as he had a mind to write about Rome himself, he did not scruple to enlist them into his service; but he thought it right to make a small alteration in their appearance, which he managed thus—Speaking of Rome, he says it is the place.

Where Cato lived”—

A sober truth: which gets rid at once of all the poetry and spirit of the original, and reduces the sentiment from an example of manners, virtue, patriotism, from the vitæ exempla dedit of Lord Nugent, to a mere question of inhabitancy. Ubi habitavit Cato—where he was an inhabitant-householder, paying scot and lot, and had a house on the right hand side of the way, as you go down by Esquiline Hill, just opposite to the poulterers. But to proceed—

“Where Cato lived; where Tully spoke,
“Where Brutus dealt the godlike stroke
—“By which his glory rose!!!”

The last line is not borrowed.

We question whether the History of modern Literature can produce an instance of a theft so shameless, and turned to so little advantage.

See Recit de mes Perils, by Louvet; Memoires d'un Detenu, by Riouffe, &c. The avidity with which these productions were read, might, we should hope, be accounted for upon principles of mere curiosity (as we read the Newgate Calendar, and the history of the Buccaneers), not from any interest in favour of a set of wretches infinitely more detestable than all the robbers and pirates that ever existed.