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Ye dark refiners of the dirty clan,
Whom plot, or spite, have kindled to a man,—

120

Ye little Broughams, and ye bubbling great,
By lectures taught to lie and legislate—
Why foist your false philanthropy, to force
Contented ignorance from its heaven-plann'd course?
Where inborn genius flames the struggling soul,
Godlike, alone, it reaches to the goal;—
Or, like an elemental war in earth,
Will burst with single energy to birth.
 

A great national problem is now working: many of those engaged at it, are men of immense talents; many, doubtless, with the most philanthropic motives:—“the end proveth all things.” Fifty years hence, the result of these magnanimous stretches at universal intellectualism will be properly appreciated. The French atheists tried a problem very similar to that which the Broughamites, the Birkbeckites, &c. &c. are now attempting; we all know how beautifully it was solved. On such a question as this, there are innumerable opinions; I cannot help having one; which is, that Brougham is no patriot; he has made the “cause of the people,” a machine for his own tortive plans. Of those who heap such encomiums on his head, we may say—

Εστι δε φυλον εν ανθρωποισι ματαιοτατον,
Οστις, αισχυνων επιχωρια, παπταινει τα πορσω,
Μεταμωνια θηρευων ακραντοις ελπισιν.
Πινδ. Pyth. 3.