University of Virginia Library

Crossing the river Styx, with shoals
Of new-departed motley souls,
Old Charon look'd confounded black,
Lest with the load his boat shou'd crack;
Tho' souls, as souls, are lightsome freight,
Their sins oft prove a deadly weight,
And should their floating carriage fail 'em,
Not ev'n cork jackets wou'd avail 'em:
His boat chuck-full—such screaming rose
From nurses, misses, ladies, beaus,
That Charon rais'd his voice and swore,
While Echo answer'd from the shore,
“If they continu'd their damn'd tricks,
“He'd souse them every one in Styx,”
And ask'd 'em with a phiz most grim,
If they had ever learnt to swim:—
In short, he soon becalm'd the riot,
And made 'em tolerably quiet:
He trim'd his boat, and with a frown,
Damn'd 'em, and made 'em all sit down.

Order observ'd in some degree,
A ghost of high pomposity,
With courtly air and scornful look,
Thus to his brother shadows spoke:—
“Hence, reptiles, hence—your distance know—
“Due homage to a monarch show;
“Shall one of my illustrious birth,
“A king—a deity on earth,
“Be crowded thus with the Canaille,
“Fellows who stink of beef and ale?
“You, Charon, with that dirty face,
“Depend on't, you shall lose your place;
“My brother sovereign Pluto soon
“Shall make you smart for what you've done:—
“Reptiles, avaunt—at distance tend;
“Your touch, looks, manners, all offend.”

Old Charon grumbling in his maw,
Damn'd him, and bid him hold his jaw;—
Whilst one who, living,—from the stage,
Had often entertain'd the age,
With whim Cervantic in his face,
First bowing, thus address'd his grace:—
“All hail—great king, great monarch, hail!
“Frown not, I'm not of the Canaille;
“In me your brother Brentford view,
“I've been a king as well as you;
“Like you have worn a pageant crown,
“And aw'd the millions with a frown;
“Like you too, brother Phis. resign'd,
“And left my pageant crown behind:—
“But now—good Sir, be not offended—
“The curtain dropt, the farce is ended:
“Tho' fortune for the stage equipt us,
“Our wardrobe-keeper Death has stript us,
“And the rich robes on earth possest,
“Lie folded in the grave at rest:—
“Maugre the rank we living bore,
“Like these we're shadows now—no more;
“All, brothers all—at least in this,
“We're but Personæ Dramatis;
“Like them we're bound to Critic-hall,
“By critic rules to rise or fall;
“Where kings, lords, beggars, all must stand,
“And undistinguish'd hold the hand,
“While Justice Minos and his Jury
“('Tis true, good brother, I assure ye)
“Will hiss or clap, just as they find
“We've play'd the characters assign'd;
“Where birth and rank pass unregarded,
“And merit only is rewarded.”

He spoke—the monarch, sighing swore,
“He never heard such truths before.”