The poems of George Huddesford ... now first collected. Including Salmagundi, Topsy-Turvy, Bubble and Squeak, and Crambe Repetita. With corrections, and original additions |
 | I. |
 | II. | VOL. II. |
|
|
 | The poems of George Huddesford |  |
II. VOL. II.
1
TOPSY TURVY:
WITH ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS ILLUSTRATIVE OF LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE GOVERNMENT OF FRANCE, IN THE YEAR 1793.
3
Le plus saint devoir de l'homme est l'insurrection.
La Fayette.
La Fayette.
This shews how perfectly the Rump
And Commonwealth together jump;
For as a fly that goes to bed
Rests with his tail above his head:
So, in this mongrel state of ours,
The rabble are the supreme powers.
Butler.
And Commonwealth together jump;
For as a fly that goes to bed
Rests with his tail above his head:
So, in this mongrel state of ours,
The rabble are the supreme powers.
Butler.
5
TOPSY TURVY.
Man is but a topsy-turvy animal, his head where his heels should be.
Swift.
Swift.
Old England is ill at her ease,
She a surfeit has got, I can tell ye;
And the cause of Old England's disease
Is the pudding and beef in her belly:
To the French for relief she applies,
And their Politic Doctors assure her,
That they know where her malady lies,
And their Grand Panacea shall cure her.
She a surfeit has got, I can tell ye;
And the cause of Old England's disease
Is the pudding and beef in her belly:
To the French for relief she applies,
And their Politic Doctors assure her,
That they know where her malady lies,
And their Grand Panacea shall cure her.
“Ah! what Panacéa so grand
“Can my old constitution repair?—
Why, dame! on your head you must stand,
And kick up your heels in the air:
Then your health will be equal and good,
Nothing else can from ruin preserve ye:
For Equality, well understood,
Means to turn all the world topsy-turvy.
“Can my old constitution repair?—
Why, dame! on your head you must stand,
And kick up your heels in the air:
6
Nothing else can from ruin preserve ye:
For Equality, well understood,
Means to turn all the world topsy-turvy.
Our counsel you never can say 'tis
Like that of your medical elves,
Since you find that we offer you gratis
The prescription we follow ourselves:
Its blest operation you 've seen,
So 'tis plain that it never miscarries;
And you long in the habit have been
Of adopting the fashions of Paris.
Like that of your medical elves,
Since you find that we offer you gratis
The prescription we follow ourselves:
Its blest operation you 've seen,
So 'tis plain that it never miscarries;
And you long in the habit have been
Of adopting the fashions of Paris.
Behold our Republican State
To perfection advancing apace,
Ever since, where the Head stood of late,
We 've erected the Tail in its place!
All distinctions we nobly despise,
Yet who views our Convention must own us
A groupe who all merits comprize,
And each member “rex et sutor bonus.”
To perfection advancing apace,
Ever since, where the Head stood of late,
We 've erected the Tail in its place!
7
Yet who views our Convention must own us
A groupe who all merits comprize,
And each member “rex et sutor bonus.”
There's Pethion first on the lists
Of Levellers stands with good reason:
He can shew you that wisdom consists
In burglary, outrage and treason;
His logic will make it out plain
That allegiance and duty a farce is;
And dignity none can retain
But rogues without rags to their ------.
Of Levellers stands with good reason:
He can shew you that wisdom consists
In burglary, outrage and treason;
His logic will make it out plain
That allegiance and duty a farce is;
And dignity none can retain
But rogues without rags to their ------.
8
Robespierre, most renown'd desperado,
Next claims your profound admiration;
Who empties the veins like Sangrado,
Phlebotomist chief of the nation:
He laments, while a weasand is whole,
That his blade should inactive remain;
And (like Macedon's lord o'er his bowl)
Swears that thrice he would slaughter the slain.
Next claims your profound admiration;
Who empties the veins like Sangrado,
Phlebotomist chief of the nation:
He laments, while a weasand is whole,
That his blade should inactive remain;
And (like Macedon's lord o'er his bowl)
Swears that thrice he would slaughter the slain.
In committing to Danton the seals
We have shewn ourselves wiser than you are;
For whenever the state 's out at heels
We 've a farrier provided to shoe her:
He was nurst in the shambles 'tis known,
And now practises slaughter afresh,
To prove “What is bred in the bone
“Will never be out of the flesh.”
We have shewn ourselves wiser than you are;
For whenever the state 's out at heels
We 've a farrier provided to shoe her:
9
And now practises slaughter afresh,
To prove “What is bred in the bone
“Will never be out of the flesh.”
There's Gorsas who well ascertains
Of relative rights the extent,
Since he beat out his old father's brains
Who begot him without his consent.
Escap'd from the Wheel heretofore,
At the gallies he serv'd his probation;
His proficiency prov'd at the oar,
He's advanc'd to the helm of the nation.
Of relative rights the extent,
Since he beat out his old father's brains
Who begot him without his consent.
10
At the gallies he serv'd his probation;
His proficiency prov'd at the oar,
He's advanc'd to the helm of the nation.
11
Marat, whom all ruffians applaud,
Will to slaughter or robbery lead 'em;
This tergiverse Champion of fraud
Shall extend the dominion of freedom:
Tho' our credit (with Cambon's good care)
As threadbare is worn as our coats,
Tho' with famine we groan, and despair,
Marát can soon alter our notes.
Will to slaughter or robbery lead 'em;
This tergiverse Champion of fraud
Shall extend the dominion of freedom:
Tho' our credit (with Cambon's good care)
As threadbare is worn as our coats,
Tho' with famine we groan, and despair,
Marát can soon alter our notes.
See Merlin, preceptor of youth,
Exemplify filial affection;
Bright pattern of honour and truth,
The cement of nuptial connection!
See rev'rend
Chabot too conspire
To accomplish our regeneration:
That adulterous capuchin friar
Shall teach us to flee fornication.
Exemplify filial affection;
Bright pattern of honour and truth,
The cement of nuptial connection!
12
To accomplish our regeneration:
That adulterous capuchin friar
Shall teach us to flee fornication.
Atheistic Dupont for his pains,
With honour 'tis fit we should mention;
This globe of the world, he maintains,
Made itself like our Gallic Convention:
So, to prove ourselves creatures of chance,
We determine, and none shall gainsay us,
By disorganization of France
To establish the empire of Chaos:
With honour 'tis fit we should mention;
13
Made itself like our Gallic Convention:
So, to prove ourselves creatures of chance,
We determine, and none shall gainsay us,
By disorganization of France
To establish the empire of Chaos:
What guerdon shall Carra reward
Whose fame self-acknowledg'd we dwell on?
Who, for burglary doom'd to the cord
A true philosophical felon,
Now prescribes to reformers a plan
Of morality new and uncommon;
And the rights imprescriptive of man
Ascertains by the pillage of woman.
Whose fame self-acknowledg'd we dwell on?
Who, for burglary doom'd to the cord
A true philosophical felon,
Now prescribes to reformers a plan
Of morality new and uncommon;
14
Ascertains by the pillage of woman.
Egalite's retrogade worth
Surpasses all praise or rehearsal,
By scoundrels of ocean and earth
Unrivall'd—poltroon universal!
All jacobin murderers own
His precedence, and hail him “Tu Brute!”
While nearness in blood to the throne
Makes regicide relative duty.
Surpasses all praise or rehearsal,
15
Unrivall'd—poltroon universal!
All jacobin murderers own
His precedence, and hail him “Tu Brute!”
While nearness in blood to the throne
Makes regicide relative duty.
Thus you see in how striking a light
True merit we strive to exhibit,
When our Senators sage we invite
From the gallies, the forge, and the gibbet:
And of equal desert we can boast
Legislators, some hundreds or more,
Who with reason, you'll own, rule the roast;
They were, half of 'em, turnspits before.
True merit we strive to exhibit,
16
From the gallies, the forge, and the gibbet:
And of equal desert we can boast
Legislators, some hundreds or more,
Who with reason, you'll own, rule the roast;
They were, half of 'em, turnspits before.
At your folly mankind will exclaim
If you share not the fruit of our labours,
With the sparks of our patriot-flame
While we freely enlighten our neighbours.
From these sparks you may kindle a blaze,
If fann'd by some notable fellows,
And a grand conflagration you'll raise
Let but Priestley and Paine blow the bellows.
If you share not the fruit of our labours,
17
While we freely enlighten our neighbours.
From these sparks you may kindle a blaze,
If fann'd by some notable fellows,
And a grand conflagration you'll raise
Let but Priestley and Paine blow the bellows.
18
Even now is your church undermin'd
With Priestley's polemical nitre:
Which, exploded, you'll presently find
The red night-cap take place of the mitre.
As sure as his regimen works,
From old orthodox leaven 'twill purge ye;
And of Hebrews, Dissenters, and Turks,
Make right apostolical clergy.
With Priestley's polemical nitre:
Which, exploded, you'll presently find
The red night-cap take place of the mitre.
19
From old orthodox leaven 'twill purge ye;
And of Hebrews, Dissenters, and Turks,
Make right apostolical clergy.
Strike the flint of his heart on the steel
Of freedom; lawn sleeves be the tinder:
Well brimstone your match with his zeal,
And again make St. Paul's a huge cinder:
Rare news for the Shade of good Price!
With joy he will sing like a throstle:
So let Perigord post with advice,
To exhilarate Freedom's Apostle.
Of freedom; lawn sleeves be the tinder:
Well brimstone your match with his zeal,
And again make St. Paul's a huge cinder:
Rare news for the Shade of good Price!
With joy he will sing like a throstle:
20
To exhilarate Freedom's Apostle.
Then serve up a dish piping hot
Of the calves heads that govern the nation;
And reviving Guy Vaux's old plot,
By murder effect reformation:
Lords and Commons exalt to the skies,
Taught by Priestley new flights of devotion,
When both Houses together shall rise,
And each member at once make a motion.
Of the calves heads that govern the nation;
And reviving Guy Vaux's old plot,
By murder effect reformation:
Lords and Commons exalt to the skies,
Taught by Priestley new flights of devotion,
When both Houses together shall rise,
And each member at once make a motion.
His Birmingham thunder shall 'wake
Those blind watchmen your bishops suffragan,
And the pillars of monarchy shake;
Paine calls it the Temple of Dagon:
Like a Sampson he lustily strains
To pull down that pile Antichristian,
Which shall tumble, and beat out the brains
Of each aristocratic Philistine.
Those blind watchmen your bishops suffragan,
21
Paine calls it the Temple of Dagon:
Like a Sampson he lustily strains
To pull down that pile Antichristian,
Which shall tumble, and beat out the brains
Of each aristocratic Philistine.
For instruction repair to Paine's school,
And observe what a picture he'll draw,
Of a Brother of Mahomet's Mule,
Call'd “The Church as establish'd by Law;”
By the Hierarchy 'got on the State
That with fishes and loaves loads his crupper,
While Sectaries squint at the bait,
And get nothing but kicks for their supper.
And observe what a picture he'll draw,
Of a Brother of Mahomet's Mule,
Call'd “The Church as establish'd by Law;”
By the Hierarchy 'got on the State
That with fishes and loaves loads his crupper,
22
And get nothing but kicks for their supper.
Nor believe the assertion that those
Who would level the altar and throne,
Who all faith and allegiance oppose,
No religion can have of their own:
For David describ'd long ago
Some lambs of this very same fold,
Whose religion was Rapine, I trow,
Since “their idols were silver and gold.”
Who would level the altar and throne,
Who all faith and allegiance oppose,
No religion can have of their own:
For David describ'd long ago
Some lambs of this very same fold,
Whose religion was Rapine, I trow,
Since “their idols were silver and gold.”
Some say that with coin to supply us,
The spoils of the church we engross,
And as for our churchmen so pious,
Neither pile we have left them, nor cross;
But 'tis false.—The true church we restore
By our confiscatorial process;
And her sons, like the Christians of yore,
We make them all take up their crosses.
The spoils of the church we engross,
And as for our churchmen so pious,
Neither pile we have left them, nor cross;
23
By our confiscatorial process;
And her sons, like the Christians of yore,
We make them all take up their crosses.
What! shall prelates or nobles forsooth
In fine cloaths shew their insolent riches,
And basely oppose naked truth
By Philosophers taught without breeches!
No!—Let us of raiment bereave
All aristocratical sots,
For our ancestors, Adam and Eve,
Were, at first, like ourselves, Sans-Culottes
In fine cloaths shew their insolent riches,
24
By Philosophers taught without breeches!
25
All aristocratical sots,
26
Were, at first, like ourselves, Sans-Culottes
But, no longer in Innocence dress'd,
When they courted the fig-leaf's protection,
And green breeches put on, 'tis confess'd
They were fall'n from their pristine perfection.
Then survey Us so dauntless and bare,
Nor dispute the perfection we claim,
Who rival the primitive pair,
Unincumber'd with Breeches or Shame.
When they courted the fig-leaf's protection,
And green breeches put on, 'tis confess'd
They were fall'n from their pristine perfection.
Then survey Us so dauntless and bare,
Nor dispute the perfection we claim,
Who rival the primitive pair,
Unincumber'd with Breeches or Shame.
If our counsel with scorn is repaid
We shall bring an old house o'er your ears;
At our bidding, to swallow your trade,
All Europe shall send privateers:
Tippoo Sultan your factors shall dread;
When back'd by French blades he shall fix a
Huge price on each Englishman's head
In Bengal, in Bahàr, and Orixa.
We shall bring an old house o'er your ears;
27
All Europe shall send privateers:
Tippoo Sultan your factors shall dread;
When back'd by French blades he shall fix a
Huge price on each Englishman's head
In Bengal, in Bahàr, and Orixa.
Our ordnance affright'ning the Tagus
Shall ring a Republican peal;
We'll make Lisbon one grand Sarcophágus
And plunder the mines of Brazil.
We'll nip the Dutch navy in Zealand,
On their demi-despotic Stadhólder
Set the Patriots, his guilders to steal and
The head that looks over his shoulder.
Shall ring a Republican peal;
We'll make Lisbon one grand Sarcophágus
And plunder the mines of Brazil.
28
On their demi-despotic Stadhólder
Set the Patriots, his guilders to steal and
The head that looks over his shoulder.
Batavia we next will attack,
To Ceylon we'll establish our claim:
Fed on spices wash'd down with arrack,
How fiercely French courage will flame!
Our Dráwcansirs none shall escape,
Fleets and armies we'll fit out by dozens,
Expel the Mynheers from the Cape,
And fratérnize our Hottentot Cousins.
To Ceylon we'll establish our claim:
Fed on spices wash'd down with arrack,
How fiercely French courage will flame!
29
Fleets and armies we'll fit out by dozens,
Expel the Mynheers from the Cape,
And fratérnize our Hottentot Cousins.
In the silks which Italians export
Shall our shirtless Philosophers shine;
While for Rome, that idolatrous court,
Our new priests have a tickler in brine:
We'll shew the poor fools, who confide in
Infallible brains that are addle,
Evangelic Democracy 'striding
Superstition's old Catholic saddle.
Shall our shirtless Philosophers shine;
While for Rome, that idolatrous court,
Our new priests have a tickler in brine:
30
Infallible brains that are addle,
Evangelic Democracy 'striding
Superstition's old Catholic saddle.
Should Spain to the Bourbons prove true
From the Dons their mustachios we'll crop,
Spoil Mexico, pillage Peru,
And spend all the gold in their shop;
All around us, east, west, north, and south,
Insurrection and anarchy foster,
Sail to Hell with the winds in our mouth,
Nor care three-pence for Libs, Notus, Auster.
From the Dons their mustachios we'll crop,
Spoil Mexico, pillage Peru,
And spend all the gold in their shop;
31
Insurrection and anarchy foster,
Sail to Hell with the winds in our mouth,
Nor care three-pence for Libs, Notus, Auster.
That the good of mankind we've in view
Our extreme moderation denotes:
Then French tenets embrace, or, morbleu!
We'll invade you and cut all your throats.
In the teeth of the tower of London
Hurl the Head of your King in defiance,
His beef-eaters knock ev'ry one down,
And enfranchise hyænas and lions.
Our extreme moderation denotes:
32
We'll invade you and cut all your throats.
In the teeth of the tower of London
Hurl the Head of your King in defiance,
His beef-eaters knock ev'ry one down,
And enfranchise hyænas and lions.
33
To perfection as yet never reach'd
The world 's in a state of progression,
Heretofore, like our patriots, unbreech'd,
Soon 'twill swagger at years of discretion;
While the nations, enlighten'd, agree
To propagate rapine and slaughter,
Blest scyons of Liberty's Tree,
Which We plant, and the Devil will water.
The world 's in a state of progression,
Heretofore, like our patriots, unbreech'd,
Soon 'twill swagger at years of discretion;
While the nations, enlighten'd, agree
To propagate rapine and slaughter,
Blest scyons of Liberty's Tree,
Which We plant, and the Devil will water.
53
BUBBLE AND SQUEAK, A GALLI-MAUFRY OF BRITISH BEEF,
WITH THE CHOPP'D CABBAGE OF GALLIC PHILOSOPHY, AND RADICAL REFORM.
55
------ Liberius si
Dixero quid, si forte jocosius: hoc mihi juris
Cum venia dabis.
Hor. S. lib. i. Sat. 4.
Dixero quid, si forte jocosius: hoc mihi juris
Cum venia dabis.
Hor. S. lib. i. Sat. 4.
57
BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.
Bards, in remotest ages born
E'er grandsire Jove his beard had shorn,
Taught by the Muse, whene'er they chose,
To Heav'n were wont to soar like crows;
But they have left us no memorial
To prove their flights were flights corporeal:
Hence we the volant part suspect
To have been Nous, or Intellect,
While body snug on earth kept house
After his own inventions, Nous,
Ere his material comrade miss'd him,
Scamper'd above the solar system:
Heav'n's King no sooner sent a summons
To his celestial Lords and Commons,
Than close upon the rear of each,
Nous flew to hear his gracious speech;
The consequent address he noted,
What patriot Gods th' amendment voted,
What Goddess made Olympus' portal
Eccho the din of lungs immortal.
Jove's parliament but ill accords
With ours,—we boast an House of Lords,
Who, to assist in their decisions
Admit no lady politicians,
Though their good lordships all connive at
Ladies who legislate in private:
But in the regions over-head
Divinities are better bred:
Heav'n's courtesy the petticoat
Admits in parliament to vote,
Bills to prefer, and in long speeches
Challenge pre-eminence of breeches.
From stock of male and female orator,
Here Nous his budget fill'd memoritèr;
Then in a trice to earth he stole,
Freighted with news for Jobbernol,
His sleeping partner, a muckworm, a
Dull dog, who stuck to Terra Firma,
And made it his grand occupation
To give the tidings circulation.
Hence Homer, Hesiod, and Lucian
Treat us with such divine confusion,
While Gods above and Gods below
In hotbed verse like mushrooms grow:
Cupids display their bows and quivers,
And Naiads, flound'ring in the rivers,
Braid their dank locks with cress and sedges;
And Dryads peer through hawthorn hedges.
'Neath branching elms in shady vales
Lascivious Satyrs whisk their tails;
Fauns breakfast upon hips and haws,
And Woodnymphs make with Pan faux pas.
Here Mermaids press their liquid pillows,
And sing to sleep the growling billows;
Or make the ravish'd whales they chaunt to
In the churn'd ocean dance coranto.
With canzonettas and capricci's
Siren's catch dilettanti fishes;
With melting voice and wily looks
Allure john-dories to their hooks:
And scate, and sentimental sturgeon,
To list their dulcet song emerging;
Bid pilchards and elastic grigs
Frisk to Scotch reels and Irish jigs;
Crabs caper to melodious rhyme,
And lobsters with their tails beat time;
Eels circumvolving quit their holes
To shew they've music in their souls;
Cod-fish, with gills expanded wide,
In cadence to the kettle glide,
And soals come leaping to be fried.
And, as the strain harmonious swells,
Enamour'd oysters ope their shells,
To please each chauntress fair and fickle:
Who some would eat and some would pickle.—
E'er grandsire Jove his beard had shorn,
Taught by the Muse, whene'er they chose,
To Heav'n were wont to soar like crows;
But they have left us no memorial
To prove their flights were flights corporeal:
Hence we the volant part suspect
To have been Nous, or Intellect,
While body snug on earth kept house
After his own inventions, Nous,
Ere his material comrade miss'd him,
Scamper'd above the solar system:
Heav'n's King no sooner sent a summons
To his celestial Lords and Commons,
58
Nous flew to hear his gracious speech;
The consequent address he noted,
What patriot Gods th' amendment voted,
What Goddess made Olympus' portal
Eccho the din of lungs immortal.
Jove's parliament but ill accords
With ours,—we boast an House of Lords,
Who, to assist in their decisions
Admit no lady politicians,
Though their good lordships all connive at
Ladies who legislate in private:
But in the regions over-head
Divinities are better bred:
Heav'n's courtesy the petticoat
Admits in parliament to vote,
Bills to prefer, and in long speeches
Challenge pre-eminence of breeches.
From stock of male and female orator,
Here Nous his budget fill'd memoritèr;
Then in a trice to earth he stole,
Freighted with news for Jobbernol,
His sleeping partner, a muckworm, a
Dull dog, who stuck to Terra Firma,
59
To give the tidings circulation.
Hence Homer, Hesiod, and Lucian
Treat us with such divine confusion,
While Gods above and Gods below
In hotbed verse like mushrooms grow:
Cupids display their bows and quivers,
And Naiads, flound'ring in the rivers,
Braid their dank locks with cress and sedges;
And Dryads peer through hawthorn hedges.
'Neath branching elms in shady vales
Lascivious Satyrs whisk their tails;
Fauns breakfast upon hips and haws,
And Woodnymphs make with Pan faux pas.
Here Mermaids press their liquid pillows,
And sing to sleep the growling billows;
Or make the ravish'd whales they chaunt to
In the churn'd ocean dance coranto.
With canzonettas and capricci's
Siren's catch dilettanti fishes;
With melting voice and wily looks
Allure john-dories to their hooks:
And scate, and sentimental sturgeon,
To list their dulcet song emerging;
60
Frisk to Scotch reels and Irish jigs;
Crabs caper to melodious rhyme,
And lobsters with their tails beat time;
Eels circumvolving quit their holes
To shew they've music in their souls;
Cod-fish, with gills expanded wide,
In cadence to the kettle glide,
And soals come leaping to be fried.
And, as the strain harmonious swells,
Enamour'd oysters ope their shells,
To please each chauntress fair and fickle:
Who some would eat and some would pickle.—
The Heav'n taught Bards of whom I speak
When time was young, in crabbed Greek,
Th' achievements of celestial legions
Detail'd among these lower regions.
The strains which rais'd Them to renown,
Into plain English melted down,
Make of each school-boy rhetorician
A prodigy of erudition;
Who manufacturers prose too good
To be endur'd or understood,
And verse that emulates thy lay,
Jack Sprat! or thine, Jack Holliday!
In courts, cathedrals, armies, navies,
A blockhead's now a “rara avis:”
This is no extraordinary fact is,
For who'd the self-denial practise
That goes to constitute a dunce,
Where youths can eat and learn at once?
At once in wisdom grow and stature
By batt'ning upon literature?
Where league 'twixt belly 's form'd and head
By alphabet of gingerbread;
Whose erudition appertains
To chitterlings as well as brains,
Which boys, whom matrons sage commend,
Digest before they comprehend:
Dry-nurses, and Doctores blandi
Instruction blend with sugar-candy;
Puerile propensities discerning,
Make the red-lane the road to learning;
With spice and treacle in alliance
They mould the elements of science;
Economists of birch, cajole us
With many a literary bolus,
Whose more refin'd ingredients gain
A lodgement in the pericrane,
And would full oft betray our fancies
To literate extravagancies,
If not prevented, ere we grow men,
By Ballast-learning in abdomen.
When time was young, in crabbed Greek,
Th' achievements of celestial legions
Detail'd among these lower regions.
The strains which rais'd Them to renown,
Into plain English melted down,
Make of each school-boy rhetorician
A prodigy of erudition;
Who manufacturers prose too good
To be endur'd or understood,
61
Jack Sprat! or thine, Jack Holliday!
62
A blockhead's now a “rara avis:”
63
For who'd the self-denial practise
64
Where youths can eat and learn at once?
At once in wisdom grow and stature
By batt'ning upon literature?
Where league 'twixt belly 's form'd and head
By alphabet of gingerbread;
65
To chitterlings as well as brains,
Which boys, whom matrons sage commend,
Digest before they comprehend:
Dry-nurses, and Doctores blandi
Instruction blend with sugar-candy;
Puerile propensities discerning,
Make the red-lane the road to learning;
With spice and treacle in alliance
They mould the elements of science;
Economists of birch, cajole us
With many a literary bolus,
Whose more refin'd ingredients gain
A lodgement in the pericrane,
And would full oft betray our fancies
To literate extravagancies,
If not prevented, ere we grow men,
By Ballast-learning in abdomen.
Hence school-boys scout the birchen tree:
That weed of aristocracy,
So many ages misapplied,
No longer wounds tyronic hide.—
In these enlighten'd days is birch
Preparative for state or church?
No.—Let us be no more beguil'd
By “spare the rod and spoil the child,”
Nor heed the cry of surly Sam:
Who tells us—tho' 'tis all a flam—
“Boy's heads, where flagellation fails,
Discharge the ransom of their tails.”
Though Greek and Latin heretofore
Were in request, they're now a bore.
We skim, from abstract and translation,
The cream of classic information:
Like cream from London cows translated,
Or butter-milk sophisticated.
What lad of spirit cares a groat,
How Diomed and Ajax fought,
While at each other hurl defiance
The sons of pugilistic science;
Who on black eyes and bloody nose
Read lectures to our Bond-street beaux;
Instruct clerks-militant and laymen
To spar with coal-heavers and draymen;
Make lords and crop-ear'd petit-maitres
Their prowess prove on tavern waiters;
Challenge their corn-cutter and taylor
To arms, and catch contagious valour
From contact with each ragamuffin.
Big Ben, Mendoza, and the Ruffian.—
Who with Demosthenes or Tully
The lining of his skull would sully,
While Demagogues of mickle worth
At Anniversaries hold forth?
While T**rn*y, Gr****n, G**y, and J*k**l,
E*sk**e, law's cock, its Chicken Michael,
Import their flow'rs of elocution
From Gallic soil of Revolution;
And make our Youth of all conditions
Turn democratic rhetoricians,
And prove in politics as knowing
As those who set their tongues a going?
Lo! where, pot-valiant, they attack
The Minister behind his back,
Who, they'll be sworn, usurp'd the helm
On purpose to undo the realm;
In John Bull's cushion planted thorns,
And took him roundly by the horns
(Was ever Beast serv'd such a trick!)
When he was prancing to Old Nick:
Who clapp'd a padlock on his muzzle,
Maugre F*x, L**d**d*le, and R****l,
When, seiz'd like other horned cits
With revolutionary fits,
Amidst his disaffected swarm
He bellow'd treason at Chalk Farm!
That weed of aristocracy,
66
No longer wounds tyronic hide.—
In these enlighten'd days is birch
Preparative for state or church?
No.—Let us be no more beguil'd
By “spare the rod and spoil the child,”
Nor heed the cry of surly Sam:
Who tells us—tho' 'tis all a flam—
“Boy's heads, where flagellation fails,
Discharge the ransom of their tails.”
Though Greek and Latin heretofore
Were in request, they're now a bore.
We skim, from abstract and translation,
The cream of classic information:
Like cream from London cows translated,
Or butter-milk sophisticated.
What lad of spirit cares a groat,
How Diomed and Ajax fought,
67
The sons of pugilistic science;
Who on black eyes and bloody nose
Read lectures to our Bond-street beaux;
Instruct clerks-militant and laymen
To spar with coal-heavers and draymen;
Make lords and crop-ear'd petit-maitres
Their prowess prove on tavern waiters;
Challenge their corn-cutter and taylor
To arms, and catch contagious valour
From contact with each ragamuffin.
Big Ben, Mendoza, and the Ruffian.—
Who with Demosthenes or Tully
The lining of his skull would sully,
While Demagogues of mickle worth
At Anniversaries hold forth?
While T**rn*y, Gr****n, G**y, and J*k**l,
E*sk**e, law's cock, its Chicken Michael,
68
From Gallic soil of Revolution;
And make our Youth of all conditions
Turn democratic rhetoricians,
And prove in politics as knowing
As those who set their tongues a going?
Lo! where, pot-valiant, they attack
The Minister behind his back,
Who, they'll be sworn, usurp'd the helm
On purpose to undo the realm;
In John Bull's cushion planted thorns,
And took him roundly by the horns
(Was ever Beast serv'd such a trick!)
When he was prancing to Old Nick:
Who clapp'd a padlock on his muzzle,
Maugre F*x, L**d**d*le, and R****l,
When, seiz'd like other horned cits
With revolutionary fits,
Amidst his disaffected swarm
He bellow'd treason at Chalk Farm!
But to return from whence we started:—
Though knowledge by old books imparted
In th' estimate is mouldy grown
Of those who have too much o' their own:
(Just as the sun's illustrious splendour's
An eye-sore to our candle-venders
For each dark spot upon his face
Who'd plant a thousand in its place,
With long succession of eclipses
Bronze his complexion like a gypsy's,
And bid in fogs his beams lie fallow
So 'twould but raise the price of Tallow:)
Still he who patiently explores
Old erudition's classic stores,
Whose steps from fashion's heights decline
To trace the depths of learning's mine,
Tho' cart-loads of black-letter'd lumber
Its tracts voluminous encumber,
Some text may light on, or narration
That's pregnant with edification.
As in old miser's cabinet,
With cobwebs fring'd, by worms half eat,
Bright guineas lurk, or gems that sparkle
Within its private draw'r or dark hole.
Thus, while the feats of those tall fellows
He reads, the offspring of dame Tellus,
Who brav'd the ruler of the sky,
Th' observer sees, with half an eye,
The fabling seers anticipate
Philosophy of modern date,
Who by profession's bound, and calling
Authority to combat all in;
Whose giant-appetite devours
Thrones, principalities, and powers,
Establishments delights in munching;
Takes a cathedral for its luncheon,
And kindly condescends to sate
It's hunger on communion plate,
Chalice, or consecrated flagon
Like Wantley's sacrilegious Dragon.
A true philosopher and sound,
Who ravag'd all the country round,
Effecting its regeneration
By Gallic modes of desolation.—
Though knowledge by old books imparted
69
Of those who have too much o' their own:
(Just as the sun's illustrious splendour's
An eye-sore to our candle-venders
For each dark spot upon his face
Who'd plant a thousand in its place,
With long succession of eclipses
Bronze his complexion like a gypsy's,
And bid in fogs his beams lie fallow
So 'twould but raise the price of Tallow:)
Still he who patiently explores
Old erudition's classic stores,
Whose steps from fashion's heights decline
To trace the depths of learning's mine,
Tho' cart-loads of black-letter'd lumber
Its tracts voluminous encumber,
Some text may light on, or narration
That's pregnant with edification.
As in old miser's cabinet,
With cobwebs fring'd, by worms half eat,
Bright guineas lurk, or gems that sparkle
Within its private draw'r or dark hole.
Thus, while the feats of those tall fellows
He reads, the offspring of dame Tellus,
70
Th' observer sees, with half an eye,
The fabling seers anticipate
Philosophy of modern date,
Who by profession's bound, and calling
Authority to combat all in;
Whose giant-appetite devours
Thrones, principalities, and powers,
Establishments delights in munching;
Takes a cathedral for its luncheon,
And kindly condescends to sate
It's hunger on communion plate,
Chalice, or consecrated flagon
Like Wantley's sacrilegious Dragon.
A true philosopher and sound,
Who ravag'd all the country round,
Effecting its regeneration
By Gallic modes of desolation.—
71
Let then Refinement's seminaries,
From tales of cocks and bulls and fairies
Revert to that abandon'd page,
Whence arch-rebellion's pristine rage
Our democratic youths enlightens,
And bids them emulate the Titans:
For these, like Fayette, the perfection
Of duty plac'd in Insurrection,
And (while the fervours Sieyes felt
Glow'd underneath each giant's belt)
To sweep down all distinctions strove
And make a citizen of Jove—
For Majesty, whom, while a child,
Sceptres and globes and crowns beguil'd,
Disdain'd, since he of age was grown,
His gilded cradle of a throne;
And had from thence transferr'd his state
To ev'ry ragamuffin pate,
Wherein, if any brains be found,
He turn'd 'em round and round and round,
Till, (as the legion-spirit stirr'd
To ecstacy the infuriate herd,)
He drove them headlong to the sea
Of overwhelming anarchy.
From tales of cocks and bulls and fairies
Revert to that abandon'd page,
Whence arch-rebellion's pristine rage
Our democratic youths enlightens,
And bids them emulate the Titans:
For these, like Fayette, the perfection
Of duty plac'd in Insurrection,
And (while the fervours Sieyes felt
Glow'd underneath each giant's belt)
To sweep down all distinctions strove
And make a citizen of Jove—
For Majesty, whom, while a child,
Sceptres and globes and crowns beguil'd,
Disdain'd, since he of age was grown,
His gilded cradle of a throne;
And had from thence transferr'd his state
To ev'ry ragamuffin pate,
72
He turn'd 'em round and round and round,
Till, (as the legion-spirit stirr'd
To ecstacy the infuriate herd,)
He drove them headlong to the sea
Of overwhelming anarchy.
They swore it was a monstrous thing
The thund'rer should be call'd Heav'n's King!
The Imprescriptive Rights of giants
They knew:—so bade him bold defiance;
Vow'd his supremacy to level
And with his gods to play the devil:
Intrinsic sov'reignty, they said,
Exists but in the governed,
Who're bound to wage 'gainst governors
Eternal, internecine wars:
And, since 'twas their “sublime vocation”
T' effect Heav'n's disorganization,
Wherefore should their enormous brood
(Miscall'd “the Swinish Multitude,”)
That monstrous mass of eye-less matter
Vouchsafe Omnipotence to flatter?
Why, subject to th' Almighty's yoke,
Should fane aspire or altar smoke?
Let energy of bold emprize
Spread revolution through the skies;
From his high throne, in ruin hurl'd,
Dash the Disposer of the world;
And bid ferment with freedom's leaven
The aristocracy of Heaven!
The thund'rer should be call'd Heav'n's King!
The Imprescriptive Rights of giants
They knew:—so bade him bold defiance;
Vow'd his supremacy to level
And with his gods to play the devil:
Intrinsic sov'reignty, they said,
Exists but in the governed,
73
Eternal, internecine wars:
And, since 'twas their “sublime vocation”
T' effect Heav'n's disorganization,
Wherefore should their enormous brood
(Miscall'd “the Swinish Multitude,”)
That monstrous mass of eye-less matter
Vouchsafe Omnipotence to flatter?
Why, subject to th' Almighty's yoke,
Should fane aspire or altar smoke?
Let energy of bold emprize
Spread revolution through the skies;
From his high throne, in ruin hurl'd,
Dash the Disposer of the world;
And bid ferment with freedom's leaven
The aristocracy of Heaven!
74
Behold Typhœus, horrid form,
Foremost advance the impious storm,
The features mar of Nature's face,
Make Ossa Pelion's mighty base;
Then mount astride their apex high,
Like rising scum of Anarchy!—
Enceladus at Pallas launch
Whole forests torn up root and branch
As easily as the great Nation
Tears up all sacred obligation!
Porphyrion, Rhœcus, sturdy Mimas,
Burn temples and abolish high mass;
And humble ev'ry mitred nob
In vile prostration to the Mob:
The Mob, before whose fierce bravadoes,
E'en philosophic reformadoes,
Fell desolation's work pursuing,
Quake at the storm themselves are brewing.
Mob Royal, and his royal Cubs,
The majesty of spades, and clubs,
Drays, dung-carts, besoms, mops, and matches;
Hamlet's gaunt king of shreds and patches.
Whose awful mandate says express:
Let people, nations, languages,
My potent sov'reignty adore,
As they, of old, fell down before
The idol of th' Assyrian king;
Just such another senseless thing:
Though here my simile runs cross,
Since his was gold, our Idol's dross.
Foremost advance the impious storm,
The features mar of Nature's face,
Make Ossa Pelion's mighty base;
Then mount astride their apex high,
Like rising scum of Anarchy!—
Enceladus at Pallas launch
Whole forests torn up root and branch
As easily as the great Nation
Tears up all sacred obligation!
Porphyrion, Rhœcus, sturdy Mimas,
Burn temples and abolish high mass;
And humble ev'ry mitred nob
In vile prostration to the Mob:
The Mob, before whose fierce bravadoes,
E'en philosophic reformadoes,
Fell desolation's work pursuing,
Quake at the storm themselves are brewing.
Mob Royal, and his royal Cubs,
The majesty of spades, and clubs,
75
Hamlet's gaunt king of shreds and patches.
Whose awful mandate says express:
Let people, nations, languages,
My potent sov'reignty adore,
As they, of old, fell down before
The idol of th' Assyrian king;
Just such another senseless thing:
Though here my simile runs cross,
Since his was gold, our Idol's dross.
Oh had success but crown'd these Hectors,
And giv'n Olympus Five Directors,
(For just so many rebel pates
Venusium's Bard enumerates.)
Our Whig Club, had it then existed,
Would, in their quarrel, have enlisted:
For Whigs they were, of the old leaven,
Who first made breach of peace in Heaven:
And what do Whigs of modern days
But kindle wild sedition's blaze?
Expectant, in the contest's issues,
Themselves to seize those loaves and fishes
Which they can never hope to bite,
While honest men enjoy their right:
As pettifogger's dirty wiles
Set John a Nokes on Tom a Stiles,
To prove, by desp'rate course of law,
His title to a barley straw;
Reckless of a whole country's curses,
So they can drain the loobies' purses.
And giv'n Olympus Five Directors,
(For just so many rebel pates
Venusium's Bard enumerates.)
Our Whig Club, had it then existed,
Would, in their quarrel, have enlisted:
76
Who first made breach of peace in Heaven:
And what do Whigs of modern days
But kindle wild sedition's blaze?
Expectant, in the contest's issues,
Themselves to seize those loaves and fishes
Which they can never hope to bite,
While honest men enjoy their right:
As pettifogger's dirty wiles
Set John a Nokes on Tom a Stiles,
To prove, by desp'rate course of law,
His title to a barley straw;
Reckless of a whole country's curses,
So they can drain the loobies' purses.
But Jove, to keep these rebels under,
Unlock'd his magazine of thunder.
Launch'd his avenging bolts, and sear'd,
With lightning's flash, Rebellion's beard.
Here Juno down Olympus' staircase
Kick'd sturdy Mimas' recreant carcase:
Here Pallas threw away her distaff
And crack'd Typhœus' skull with his staff:
Apollo there, with shaft unerring,
Porphyrion slew dead as a herring:
Here Vulcan strives to find in vain,
With his sledge-hammer, Rhœcus' brain:
Here Jove Enceladus o'erwhelms,
Who, with up-rooted oaks and elms,
Brought to the proof celestial patience,
And cudgell'd all the constellations;
Put the spheres' music out of tune,
Swore he'd eject the man i' the moon;
Though a fine fellow of his inches,
He'd fire his bush, eat up his green-cheese,
His claret, at a sup, absorb it,
And fustigate him round his orbit.—
But Jove resolv'd the braggadocio
Should ne'er from this time forth his nose shew;
So gave him salt eel for his supper,
And pil'd Mount Ætna on his crupper.
Pent underneath his mountain tomb
A living death's tremendous doom
The prostrate swagg'rer undergoes;
Yet still with wonted rage he glows.
Oppress'd with more than mortal pain
He writhes and strives to rise in vain,
And, bellowing in despair and ire,
Black bile commix'd with sulph'rous fire
Disgorges: through th' incumbent load
Bursting, th' imprison'd flames explode,
To Heav'n renew'd defiance bear,
And tell the Gods who sent 'em there.—
Unlock'd his magazine of thunder.
Launch'd his avenging bolts, and sear'd,
With lightning's flash, Rebellion's beard.
77
Kick'd sturdy Mimas' recreant carcase:
Here Pallas threw away her distaff
And crack'd Typhœus' skull with his staff:
Apollo there, with shaft unerring,
Porphyrion slew dead as a herring:
Here Vulcan strives to find in vain,
With his sledge-hammer, Rhœcus' brain:
Here Jove Enceladus o'erwhelms,
Who, with up-rooted oaks and elms,
Brought to the proof celestial patience,
And cudgell'd all the constellations;
Put the spheres' music out of tune,
Swore he'd eject the man i' the moon;
Though a fine fellow of his inches,
He'd fire his bush, eat up his green-cheese,
78
And fustigate him round his orbit.—
But Jove resolv'd the braggadocio
Should ne'er from this time forth his nose shew;
So gave him salt eel for his supper,
And pil'd Mount Ætna on his crupper.
Pent underneath his mountain tomb
A living death's tremendous doom
The prostrate swagg'rer undergoes;
Yet still with wonted rage he glows.
Oppress'd with more than mortal pain
He writhes and strives to rise in vain,
And, bellowing in despair and ire,
Black bile commix'd with sulph'rous fire
Disgorges: through th' incumbent load
Bursting, th' imprison'd flames explode,
79
And tell the Gods who sent 'em there.—
Fam'd Orator of Palace yard,
Thy melting eyes O lend the Bard!
Lend him thy bowels of compassion,
And pathos of the newest fashion,
To wail, with sympathizing grief,
The fall of each Insurgent Chief;
For when a rank arch-rebel dies,
In F*x's civic eulogies,
(Like homely jade by beauty-washes,
Or sugar-candy from molasses),
Regen'rated, transform'd, refin'd,
He soars, the noblest of his kind,
Heroes and demigods among;
A gilded fly from ordure sprung.
Thy melting eyes O lend the Bard!
Lend him thy bowels of compassion,
And pathos of the newest fashion,
To wail, with sympathizing grief,
The fall of each Insurgent Chief;
For when a rank arch-rebel dies,
In F*x's civic eulogies,
(Like homely jade by beauty-washes,
Or sugar-candy from molasses),
Regen'rated, transform'd, refin'd,
He soars, the noblest of his kind,
Heroes and demigods among;
A gilded fly from ordure sprung.
Hung be the Shakspeare's bar with black
Stript off an undertaker's back!
The club's conven'd.—Yield day to night!
Waiter!—but half the candles light;
And half of that same half snuff out!
Enlighten'd Whigs can dine without.
Cold be the cod-fish, cold the sirloin!
The claret not worth two-pence sterling,
The punch of brandy void and lemon,
The soup black broth of Lacedemon,
The beef steaks scorch'd, the oysters stinking,
The port fit for the Devil's drinking!
Half boil'd too let the pudding come
A mealy waste without a plumb!
And let Dutch herrings shed their pickle
In sympathy with tears that trickle
Down Opposition cheeks and noses,
While F*x, his friend's apotheósis
Proclaims, the solitary herald
Of all thy virtues, fell F***g****d!
To kind oblivion loth to trust
Defunct Rebellion's sacred dust!—
Stript off an undertaker's back!
80
Waiter!—but half the candles light;
And half of that same half snuff out!
Enlighten'd Whigs can dine without.
Cold be the cod-fish, cold the sirloin!
The claret not worth two-pence sterling,
The punch of brandy void and lemon,
The soup black broth of Lacedemon,
The beef steaks scorch'd, the oysters stinking,
The port fit for the Devil's drinking!
Half boil'd too let the pudding come
A mealy waste without a plumb!
And let Dutch herrings shed their pickle
In sympathy with tears that trickle
Down Opposition cheeks and noses,
While F*x, his friend's apotheósis
Proclaims, the solitary herald
Of all thy virtues, fell F***g****d!
To kind oblivion loth to trust
Defunct Rebellion's sacred dust!—
81
So hails the Democratic strain,
Philosophy, thy patriot reign!
So sound the lore, so pure the theme
Of thine inebriate académe!
Philosophy!—Not Thou of old
Heav'n-born to bless an age of gold;
Whose penetrating glance descried
The bounds which right from wrong divide,
And on the wretch indignant frown'd
Who dar'd those contraries confound;
Philosophy, at whose command
Fled Anarchy and Strife the land,
Peace rais'd her olive-circled brow,
And Plenty bloom'd on ev'ry bough;
Benignant at whose side enthron'd,
Religion her fair Sister own'd:
While both their institutes combin'd
To humanize and bless mankind.—
Philosophy, thy patriot reign!
So sound the lore, so pure the theme
Of thine inebriate académe!
Philosophy!—Not Thou of old
Heav'n-born to bless an age of gold;
Whose penetrating glance descried
The bounds which right from wrong divide,
And on the wretch indignant frown'd
Who dar'd those contraries confound;
Philosophy, at whose command
Fled Anarchy and Strife the land,
Peace rais'd her olive-circled brow,
And Plenty bloom'd on ev'ry bough;
Benignant at whose side enthron'd,
Religion her fair Sister own'd:
While both their institutes combin'd
To humanize and bless mankind.—
Far other characters arise!
Far other prospects court our eyes!
Philosophy revers'd we view,
Not of the Old School but the New.
Philosophy, which sets at nought
All that was dear and sacred thought,
And leaves for probity no room
In this world or the world to come:
Here decollates as useless lumber,
There dooms it to Eternal Slumber.
Philosophy, of curst extraction,
Whom Infidelity and Faction
Evok'd from midnight darkness Stygian
To plunder, and proscribe Religion,
And half th' insensate globe ensnare
With hollow smile and tinsel's glare:
As Paphos' Sov'reign meretricious
Rose from the sea so fair and specious,
Yet, spite of all that lovers swore,
And poets lied, was but a wh---.
Philosophy, inveterate foe
Of order, truth, and peace below,
Whose rancour never can be spent
'Till each rever'd establishment,
Ecclesiastical and civil,
Shall be sent packing to the Devil.
Philosophy, whose grasping hands
Spit tythe pigs, seize upon glebe lands,
Rob churchmen of their Christmas pye,
Dispatch their brawn and rosemary;
Beneath the cloyster's hallow'd floor
Burrow, to sap their cellar door,
And broach their casks of mellow'd juices,
Long set apart for pious uses.—
Philosophy, of Gallic climes,
Parent of unexampled crimes!
Philosophy, who, while she clouds
Bright Revelation's day, unshrouds
Dark-lantern of Regeneration,
That Will-o'-wisp of the Great Nation,
Whose glimmering sparkles emanate
From rotten pediment o' the state;
Just as stale fish and carrion trash is
Known to emit electric flashes.
But if perception's door be shut,
And density of occiput
Chance to make inadmissible
Her Gallic Darkness Visible,
Philosophy shall crack the pate
To let it in at any rate;
And all who dare to shut their eyes
'Gainst its dim gleam Septemberize,
Or guillotine the dogs by shoals
Only for being blind as moles;
Or, if they venture to beseech
Her pity, drown 'em all and each;
Or cut the varlets throats, or gibbet 'em
On Tree of Liberty ad libitum,
Where influence blest of Gallic sky
Their dark Aristocratic dye
May bleach to pure Democracy.
Far other prospects court our eyes!
Philosophy revers'd we view,
Not of the Old School but the New.
82
All that was dear and sacred thought,
And leaves for probity no room
In this world or the world to come:
Here decollates as useless lumber,
There dooms it to Eternal Slumber.
Philosophy, of curst extraction,
Whom Infidelity and Faction
Evok'd from midnight darkness Stygian
To plunder, and proscribe Religion,
And half th' insensate globe ensnare
With hollow smile and tinsel's glare:
As Paphos' Sov'reign meretricious
Rose from the sea so fair and specious,
Yet, spite of all that lovers swore,
And poets lied, was but a wh---.
Philosophy, inveterate foe
Of order, truth, and peace below,
Whose rancour never can be spent
'Till each rever'd establishment,
83
Shall be sent packing to the Devil.
Philosophy, whose grasping hands
Spit tythe pigs, seize upon glebe lands,
Rob churchmen of their Christmas pye,
Dispatch their brawn and rosemary;
Beneath the cloyster's hallow'd floor
Burrow, to sap their cellar door,
And broach their casks of mellow'd juices,
Long set apart for pious uses.—
Philosophy, of Gallic climes,
Parent of unexampled crimes!
Philosophy, who, while she clouds
Bright Revelation's day, unshrouds
Dark-lantern of Regeneration,
That Will-o'-wisp of the Great Nation,
84
From rotten pediment o' the state;
Just as stale fish and carrion trash is
Known to emit electric flashes.
But if perception's door be shut,
And density of occiput
Chance to make inadmissible
Her Gallic Darkness Visible,
Philosophy shall crack the pate
To let it in at any rate;
And all who dare to shut their eyes
'Gainst its dim gleam Septemberize,
Or guillotine the dogs by shoals
Only for being blind as moles;
Or, if they venture to beseech
Her pity, drown 'em all and each;
Or cut the varlets throats, or gibbet 'em
On Tree of Liberty ad libitum,
Where influence blest of Gallic sky
Their dark Aristocratic dye
May bleach to pure Democracy.
Philosophers! ye grand empirics!
Had I the gift, in sounding lyrics,
I'd spread your praise from clime to clime,
And soar above this scurvy rhyme;
Who fractious patients bring to reason
By quaint incisions of the weazon:
Who dose with Exile to Guiana,
Instead of Ipecacuanha,
To cleanse from contumacious matter
The vitals of the Legislature:
Administer, to cure all ills,
Your grand specific, leaden pills,
Which purge us of Aristocrats,
Had they as many lives as cats,
And unconcern'd to Charon's steerage
Consign our hierarchy and peerage;
Send them, where—, hous'd in their last home,
The Kings of Brentford and of Rome,
Where Numa, Romulus, and Ancus,
Hippocrates and Saltinbancoes,
Where vermin catchers, law expounders,
Retailers of stale jokes and flounders,
And those incorrigible curs,
Conveyancing Biographers,
And knight's o' the pad who rob and stop men,
Mayors, marquisses, and Monmouth shop-men,
Tapsters, and conventicle praters,
Gospel, and gin-sophisticators;
Quest mongers and quodlibetarians,
Varlets who set mankind at variance;
Numskulls, and critics sharp as needles,
Phlebotomists, and parish beadles,
Gallic director, and dog stealer,
Bear leader, brawn and sturgeon dealer,
Chiropodist and Cambrian squire
All toast their cheese at the same fire.—
Had I the gift, in sounding lyrics,
85
And soar above this scurvy rhyme;
Who fractious patients bring to reason
By quaint incisions of the weazon:
Who dose with Exile to Guiana,
Instead of Ipecacuanha,
To cleanse from contumacious matter
The vitals of the Legislature:
Administer, to cure all ills,
Your grand specific, leaden pills,
Which purge us of Aristocrats,
Had they as many lives as cats,
And unconcern'd to Charon's steerage
Consign our hierarchy and peerage;
Send them, where—, hous'd in their last home,
The Kings of Brentford and of Rome,
Where Numa, Romulus, and Ancus,
Hippocrates and Saltinbancoes,
Where vermin catchers, law expounders,
Retailers of stale jokes and flounders,
And those incorrigible curs,
Conveyancing Biographers,
And knight's o' the pad who rob and stop men,
Mayors, marquisses, and Monmouth shop-men,
86
Gospel, and gin-sophisticators;
Quest mongers and quodlibetarians,
Varlets who set mankind at variance;
Numskulls, and critics sharp as needles,
Phlebotomists, and parish beadles,
Gallic director, and dog stealer,
Bear leader, brawn and sturgeon dealer,
Chiropodist and Cambrian squire
All toast their cheese at the same fire.—
There your Whitehaven collier's soul
Must find itself at home t' a hole,
Who to the Lord has sworn allegiance
O' the secular infernal regions;
Serv'd an apprenticeship to night,
And darkness chose rather than light,
Since, deep as it may chance to go,
He's still but in the Shades Below.
Must find itself at home t' a hole,
Who to the Lord has sworn allegiance
O' the secular infernal regions;
Serv'd an apprenticeship to night,
And darkness chose rather than light,
Since, deep as it may chance to go,
He's still but in the Shades Below.
87
There, from terrestrial stage dismiss'd,
Bravo descends, and pugilist;
And not unsuitably with thém mix
The sable corps of fierce Polemics,
For, though the sacred statutes warn all
'Gainst putting trust in weapons carnal.
Sturdy Polemics care not three-pence,
But fight with pens, their carnal weapons.
No mortal blood these weapons drink
'Tis true, but charge of mortal ink,
That black combustible, let fly
I' the cause of type or mystery;
And those who wield 'em, not content
To maim th' opposer's argument,
Traduce his character, call names,
And doom him to eternal flames.—
Bravo descends, and pugilist;
And not unsuitably with thém mix
The sable corps of fierce Polemics,
For, though the sacred statutes warn all
'Gainst putting trust in weapons carnal.
Sturdy Polemics care not three-pence,
But fight with pens, their carnal weapons.
No mortal blood these weapons drink
'Tis true, but charge of mortal ink,
That black combustible, let fly
I' the cause of type or mystery;
And those who wield 'em, not content
To maim th' opposer's argument,
Traduce his character, call names,
And doom him to eternal flames.—
What rage impels grave theologians
To loggerheads like Greeks and Trojans!
What frenzy makes of rev'rend grandsires
Ecclesiastical drawcansirs!—
To loggerheads like Greeks and Trojans!
88
Ecclesiastical drawcansirs!—
Discretion's to Polemic Courage
The same as pepper to pease porridge;
Which, when 'tis eat unpepper'd, gripes
With flatulency mortal tripes;
And sets the chitterlingian clan
At variance in our inward man;
Where, as our tubes intestine soak,
Porridge excites pneumatic croak,
Tuning to base or treble key 'em;
And discord fills peritonéum:
Thus Zeal, not pepper'd with discretion,
To the evangelical profession
Noxious alike, has often rent
The bowels of th' Establishment:
Each varying blast of doctrine vain
Inflames her disputatious train;
Oft vex her frame intestine drubs,
And military mulligrubs;
And controversial cholic wrings
Our Mother Church's chitterlings.—
What 's worse—this pestilent explosion
Of controversy puts in motion
The spawn of Godwin and Tom Paine;
Who tell their dupes that worldly gain
Is the true cause which sets by th' ears
Her venerable cavaliers.
That, while they “Orthodoxy” bawl,
They're squinting at Prebendal Stall;
While they protest “our Faith 's in danger,”
Pant for preferment's rack and manger.—
This too Dissenters sets agog,
Who, hank'ring for the Church's prog,
And, sour'd with spleen, are ever ready
To scandalize the good Old Lady:
These fain would jealousies create
Betwixt her and her spouse, the state:
“Who 's bound in duty to discard her
“Because she excludes them from her larder,
“And keeps for her own pamper'd chits
“Her dainty morsels and tid-bits.”—
This is th' offence and stone of stumbling
That sets their godly gizzards grumbling:
Hence, mad with spleen, Sectarian Shrews
Lay halters in her desks and pews;
O'erleap her pale, her pastures forage,
And ratsbane strew beside her porridge;
With lunatic bans stun and fright her,
Threat'ning with Unitarian nitre
T' involve, in sudden conflagration,
Her ancient orthodox foundation.
Hence, as his pockets empty grow,
Sectary, by inverse ratio,
Presuming his idea-case
Is full of inward light and grace,
Concludes to hide would be a scandal
The flame of Reformation-candle
Beneath a bushel or a bed;
So from brass candlestic, his head,
Makes hypocritical pretence
Illumination to dispense,
And light us to discern each rent
And wrinkle of th' establishment.
Pious munificence arraigns,
Vows betwixt benefice and brains
He cannot find the least conjunction,
But (so debas'd each sacred function!)
That cauliflower wig the wearer
Serves for a cloud t' envelop error;
Short cassoc's figleaf to defect
And nakedness of intellect;
And blocks from timber-yards and quarries
Are symbols of church dignitaries.
The same as pepper to pease porridge;
Which, when 'tis eat unpepper'd, gripes
With flatulency mortal tripes;
And sets the chitterlingian clan
At variance in our inward man;
Where, as our tubes intestine soak,
Porridge excites pneumatic croak,
Tuning to base or treble key 'em;
And discord fills peritonéum:
Thus Zeal, not pepper'd with discretion,
To the evangelical profession
Noxious alike, has often rent
The bowels of th' Establishment:
89
Inflames her disputatious train;
Oft vex her frame intestine drubs,
And military mulligrubs;
And controversial cholic wrings
Our Mother Church's chitterlings.—
What 's worse—this pestilent explosion
Of controversy puts in motion
The spawn of Godwin and Tom Paine;
Who tell their dupes that worldly gain
Is the true cause which sets by th' ears
Her venerable cavaliers.
That, while they “Orthodoxy” bawl,
They're squinting at Prebendal Stall;
While they protest “our Faith 's in danger,”
Pant for preferment's rack and manger.—
This too Dissenters sets agog,
Who, hank'ring for the Church's prog,
And, sour'd with spleen, are ever ready
To scandalize the good Old Lady:
These fain would jealousies create
Betwixt her and her spouse, the state:
“Who 's bound in duty to discard her
“Because she excludes them from her larder,
90
“Her dainty morsels and tid-bits.”—
This is th' offence and stone of stumbling
That sets their godly gizzards grumbling:
Hence, mad with spleen, Sectarian Shrews
Lay halters in her desks and pews;
O'erleap her pale, her pastures forage,
And ratsbane strew beside her porridge;
With lunatic bans stun and fright her,
Threat'ning with Unitarian nitre
T' involve, in sudden conflagration,
Her ancient orthodox foundation.
Hence, as his pockets empty grow,
Sectary, by inverse ratio,
Presuming his idea-case
Is full of inward light and grace,
91
The flame of Reformation-candle
Beneath a bushel or a bed;
So from brass candlestic, his head,
Makes hypocritical pretence
Illumination to dispense,
And light us to discern each rent
And wrinkle of th' establishment.
Pious munificence arraigns,
Vows betwixt benefice and brains
He cannot find the least conjunction,
But (so debas'd each sacred function!)
That cauliflower wig the wearer
Serves for a cloud t' envelop error;
Short cassoc's figleaf to defect
And nakedness of intellect;
And blocks from timber-yards and quarries
Are symbols of church dignitaries.
Sectarians thus the church assail,
(Losers are privileg'd to rail)
And sacrilegiously make sport
Of Grizzle-wig and Cassoc short;
While churchmen the false charge repel,
And could, if it were true, as well:
For if tall greyhounds useless grown
May into terriers be cut down;
If beards of kings make jerkins' trimming,
And superanuate wits old women;
If wig that grac'd a judge's nob
Moult to an under-sheriff's bob;
And if, oblivious of its buckle,
That bob to serve a shoe-black truckle;
If spirit, as deep mystics state,
To body may coagulate;
If Lords may dwindle into Jews,
Jack-boots degenerate to shoes,
As Henley taught.—Can it surprise ye
Should spruce Incumbent (versâ vice)
A blunderbuss already, ánon
Be metamorphos'd to a Canon:
Since the transition is no more
Than from a less t' a greater bore.
(Losers are privileg'd to rail)
92
Of Grizzle-wig and Cassoc short;
While churchmen the false charge repel,
And could, if it were true, as well:
For if tall greyhounds useless grown
May into terriers be cut down;
If beards of kings make jerkins' trimming,
And superanuate wits old women;
If wig that grac'd a judge's nob
Moult to an under-sheriff's bob;
And if, oblivious of its buckle,
That bob to serve a shoe-black truckle;
93
To body may coagulate;
If Lords may dwindle into Jews,
Jack-boots degenerate to shoes,
As Henley taught.—Can it surprise ye
Should spruce Incumbent (versâ vice)
A blunderbuss already, ánon
Be metamorphos'd to a Canon:
94
Than from a less t' a greater bore.
But straight-hair'd Sectaries uncivil,
And whigs mendacious, who speak evil
Of dignities and Dignitaries,
(No favour sure to find in théir eyes,
If we admit Saint Jude's opinion,)
Go farther and despise dominion.
Loud murmurers, complainers these are,
Intolerant of Church and Cæsar:
At Shakspeare dinners fearless feeders
With parliamentary seceders:
Predicted mockers of the last time,
Who of authority make pastime,
And preach to Democratic herds
Resistance, with great swelling words:
“System of terror Robespierrëal,—
“Freedom's sad exile, death and burial—
“Despotic bills to quell sedition
“Abhor'd by virtuous Opposition,—
“The Sov'reign People—Age of Reason—
“Pure Guilt—and Patriotic Treason,”—
Bid them take State and Church by storm,
Then: Hey, for Radical Reform!!!—
And whigs mendacious, who speak evil
Of dignities and Dignitaries,
(No favour sure to find in théir eyes,
If we admit Saint Jude's opinion,)
Go farther and despise dominion.
Loud murmurers, complainers these are,
Intolerant of Church and Cæsar:
At Shakspeare dinners fearless feeders
With parliamentary seceders:
Predicted mockers of the last time,
Who of authority make pastime,
And preach to Democratic herds
Resistance, with great swelling words:
95
“Freedom's sad exile, death and burial—
“Despotic bills to quell sedition
“Abhor'd by virtuous Opposition,—
“The Sov'reign People—Age of Reason—
“Pure Guilt—and Patriotic Treason,”—
Bid them take State and Church by storm,
Then: Hey, for Radical Reform!!!—
As, when “Revenge, Timotheus cried,”
And maudlin Greeks electrified,
His strains inspir'd ferocious joy,
And zeal to level and destroy:
Such furious joy the Factious feel,
Such transports of destructive zeal
Inflame the disaffected swarm,
At sound of Radical Reform.—
To Radical Reform ye Whigs
Carouse till ye get drunk as pigs!
Applaud it with accordant throats
Ye Corresponding Sans-Culottes!
With acclamations, three times three,
Toast it ye Lords of high degree
With whom no sense of shame prevails!—
Ye H*w*rds, R*ss*ls, L**d**d*les!
Whose wisdom it may well beseem
To lave your honours in the stream
Of foul sedition,—and, with those
Who eulogize their country's foes,
(Those patriot-ranters, and true Trojans,
O Connor's bosom friends and Grogan's,)
Conjoin'd, like birds of the same feather,
Swear that you'll live and die together.—
And maudlin Greeks electrified,
96
And zeal to level and destroy:
Such furious joy the Factious feel,
Such transports of destructive zeal
Inflame the disaffected swarm,
At sound of Radical Reform.—
To Radical Reform ye Whigs
Carouse till ye get drunk as pigs!
Applaud it with accordant throats
Ye Corresponding Sans-Culottes!
With acclamations, three times three,
Toast it ye Lords of high degree
With whom no sense of shame prevails!—
Ye H*w*rds, R*ss*ls, L**d**d*les!
Whose wisdom it may well beseem
To lave your honours in the stream
Of foul sedition,—and, with those
Who eulogize their country's foes,
(Those patriot-ranters, and true Trojans,
O Connor's bosom friends and Grogan's,)
97
Swear that you'll live and die together.—
Who shall presume to analyse
What patriot peers so highly prize,
Of Radical Reform make known
The blessed operation?—Stone.
Didst thou not, Stone: the doctrine hear
Promulg'd by Purley's holy Seer,
Pants not thy breast, with transport thrill'd,
To see his prophecy fulfill'd;
When Jacobin reform uncheck'd
Shall take its radical effect!
List! each Whig-commoner and peer!
Whig-churchmen, Whig-dissenters, hear!
Whig-bards your patriotic fiction
Forego for Parson H**ne's prediction!
Acknowledge, ye Whig-parsons all,
Among the prophets Brentford's Saul!
Hear him denounce extermination
To each rank, party, and persuasion,
Anticipate the doom funereal
Of dignity and state imperial,
When subjects shall not know subjection,
Nor touch prelatic shed infection,
When prebendary vicar, sexton,
When all who gloss the sacred text on,
All self-intitled Babes of Grace,
Their spiritual descent who trace,
And Apostolic pedigree,
From fishermen of Galilee,
And, to demonstrate the relation,
Catch gudgeons by vociferation;
'Trap flat-fish with Sectarian tackle
To store pond of the Tabernacle;
And anathématize and ban
Souls to the Devil's fryingpan.—
When commissaries, clerks, inspectors,
East India nabobs and directors,
When all our noble Peers and Peers' kin,
All barristers but Thomas Erskine;
When Pittite, ay and Anti-pittite,
Like Hivite, Girgashite, and Hittite
Driv'n, without surplice, quoif, or bannian,
From Revolutionary Canaan,
Promiscuous ruin shall o'erthrow,
The work of Horne Tooke, Stone, and Co.
What patriot peers so highly prize,
Of Radical Reform make known
The blessed operation?—Stone.
Didst thou not, Stone: the doctrine hear
Promulg'd by Purley's holy Seer,
Pants not thy breast, with transport thrill'd,
To see his prophecy fulfill'd;
When Jacobin reform uncheck'd
Shall take its radical effect!
List! each Whig-commoner and peer!
Whig-churchmen, Whig-dissenters, hear!
Whig-bards your patriotic fiction
Forego for Parson H**ne's prediction!
98
Among the prophets Brentford's Saul!
Hear him denounce extermination
To each rank, party, and persuasion,
Anticipate the doom funereal
Of dignity and state imperial,
When subjects shall not know subjection,
Nor touch prelatic shed infection,
When prebendary vicar, sexton,
When all who gloss the sacred text on,
All self-intitled Babes of Grace,
Their spiritual descent who trace,
And Apostolic pedigree,
From fishermen of Galilee,
And, to demonstrate the relation,
Catch gudgeons by vociferation;
'Trap flat-fish with Sectarian tackle
To store pond of the Tabernacle;
99
Souls to the Devil's fryingpan.—
When commissaries, clerks, inspectors,
East India nabobs and directors,
When all our noble Peers and Peers' kin,
All barristers but Thomas Erskine;
When Pittite, ay and Anti-pittite,
Like Hivite, Girgashite, and Hittite
100
From Revolutionary Canaan,
Promiscuous ruin shall o'erthrow,
The work of Horne Tooke, Stone, and Co.
This you'll acknowledge, one and all,
Is Reformation Radical.
This Reformation in the gross is;
Beards, eye-brows, whiskers, warts, and noses
Its patent razor from your sconce—Sir,
Sweeps, at one stroke, like slashing Tonsor,
Beneath whose weapon hapless curate
Bleeds (ah, what Rector could endure it!)
And oft as Saturday recurs
And sees subaltern rev'rend Sirs,
Met by hebdomadary charter,
Bristles retrench, and sermons barter,
Read Anti-jacobin newspaper,
Whiff mild tabacco's friendly vapour,
And, hopeless of Vicarial port,
To Cerevisian draught resort,
To lubricate and wet their whistles
For reading Gospels and Epistles.—
Is Reformation Radical.
This Reformation in the gross is;
Beards, eye-brows, whiskers, warts, and noses
101
Sweeps, at one stroke, like slashing Tonsor,
Beneath whose weapon hapless curate
Bleeds (ah, what Rector could endure it!)
And oft as Saturday recurs
And sees subaltern rev'rend Sirs,
Met by hebdomadary charter,
Bristles retrench, and sermons barter,
Read Anti-jacobin newspaper,
Whiff mild tabacco's friendly vapour,
And, hopeless of Vicarial port,
To Cerevisian draught resort,
To lubricate and wet their whistles
For reading Gospels and Epistles.—
Bid Semi-Reformationists
Declare wherein Reform consists,
And, laymen, cleric, whig, and tory,
They tell us, each, a different story.
Hear one to amputation spur us
Of that state-gangrene, rotten Boroughs—
List to another's dismal croak:
The Constitution 's craz'd and broke,
And there's no hope it will be mended
While Habeas Corpus is suspended.—
Dissenters cry: “We for the best
Advise you Sirs:—Repeal the Test!
Give Us preferment, wealth, and place,
We'll gladly undertake your case:
And, though we say't that should not say,
The whole Materia Medica
Has nothing in it, we'll assure you,
That like our alt'rative can cure you.”—
The recreant crew, Sedition's panders,
With gross scurrilities and slanders,
Who bait their country's friends, and worry her
Through Morning Chronicle and Courier,
Those muddy channels of detraction,
Mishapen forgery, and faction,
Cry: “Give us, in this Age of Reason,
“Carte blanche to vend and publish treason;
“Free scope afford our green-goose quills;
“Rescind your d---d Sedition Bills;
“Deliver us from mortal fear
“Of Pitt, the nation's charioteer:
“Precipitate him from his box,
“And to our Coryphœus, Fox,
“Entrust the reins—distinctions level—
“And only let us to the Devil
“Drive all your Ministerial train off,
“We'll leave you nothing to complain of.”—
Declare wherein Reform consists,
And, laymen, cleric, whig, and tory,
They tell us, each, a different story.
Hear one to amputation spur us
Of that state-gangrene, rotten Boroughs—
List to another's dismal croak:
The Constitution 's craz'd and broke,
102
While Habeas Corpus is suspended.—
Dissenters cry: “We for the best
Advise you Sirs:—Repeal the Test!
Give Us preferment, wealth, and place,
We'll gladly undertake your case:
And, though we say't that should not say,
The whole Materia Medica
Has nothing in it, we'll assure you,
That like our alt'rative can cure you.”—
The recreant crew, Sedition's panders,
With gross scurrilities and slanders,
Who bait their country's friends, and worry her
Through Morning Chronicle and Courier,
Those muddy channels of detraction,
Mishapen forgery, and faction,
Cry: “Give us, in this Age of Reason,
“Carte blanche to vend and publish treason;
“Free scope afford our green-goose quills;
“Rescind your d---d Sedition Bills;
“Deliver us from mortal fear
“Of Pitt, the nation's charioteer:
“Precipitate him from his box,
“And to our Coryphœus, Fox,
103
“And only let us to the Devil
“Drive all your Ministerial train off,
“We'll leave you nothing to complain of.”—
In an old book, that's left i' the lurch,
Save by queer folk who go to church,
We read that safety's to be found
Where learned counsellors abound;
If then, in zeal for Britain's good,
Of counsellors a multitude,
Opinions give profound as these,
And of their client ask no fees,
(Unlike your trading King's-bench counsel
Who admonition by the ounce sell),
Our Constitution safe and sound
'Gainst all attacks must stand its ground.—
Save by queer folk who go to church,
We read that safety's to be found
Where learned counsellors abound;
If then, in zeal for Britain's good,
Of counsellors a multitude,
Opinions give profound as these,
And of their client ask no fees,
(Unlike your trading King's-bench counsel
Who admonition by the ounce sell),
Our Constitution safe and sound
'Gainst all attacks must stand its ground.—
Yet, 'though these reformadoes wiser
Than Solomon in their own eyes are,
They're but reforming geese and calves
Who do their business by halves.—
Patrons of Courier, Post, and Chronicle!
Whig Sectaries, and Whigs canonical;
Chairmen of Opposition revels,
Whig Printers leagued with all your devils;
Quid-nuncs, who climb debating rostrums,
What are your alterative nostrums
To Horne Tooke's Reformation Broom,
That sweeps an empire to its doom!—
Than Solomon in their own eyes are,
They're but reforming geese and calves
Who do their business by halves.—
Patrons of Courier, Post, and Chronicle!
Whig Sectaries, and Whigs canonical;
104
Whig Printers leagued with all your devils;
Quid-nuncs, who climb debating rostrums,
What are your alterative nostrums
To Horne Tooke's Reformation Broom,
That sweeps an empire to its doom!—
Doctors of Med'cine grow renown'd
By dint of making sick men sound;
Fame-seeking Doctors politic
With trite harangues make sound men sick,
And 'though they oft get nothing by't,
Prescribe and give advice for spite:
Patent pretend from mob-authority
To purge a plethoric majority,
And cure the sturdy wights who thwart 'em
Of loyalty,—secundum artem.
Yet ev'ry doctor's but a dunce
To him who kills and cures at once:
The Constitution in a breath
Recruits by bleeding it to death.—
Resolve, Horne Tooke, this paradox!
(For, proof against Old Bailey shocks,
What nobler triumph couldst thou boast,
Unless to fill th' important post
Of meanest private in the bands
Of maudlin cits whom Fox commands,
A bankrupt cause and chest to aid;—
Illustrious Chief of Whig-brigade!)—
Thou who, by such a general led,
Wouldst dye thy cast-off black coat red,
Shoulder thy firelock, and take aim
At monarchy, the noblest game;
And neither conscience-struck nor sorry,
Search through the ranks thy Royal quarry.
Oh deign to state with just precision
(Reveal'd to thy prophetic vision,
And current in anticipation)
The sum, exceeding calculation,
Of public happiness accruing
From indiscriminative Ruin!
Shew how the wreck of ranks and orders
Shall give us peace in all our borders—
And blest Equality repay us
If we convert the realm to chäos—
Shew how, in cutting off a Crown'd Head,
The Rights of Citizens are founded!
Shew us how Freedom sanctions slaughter,
And changes blood to holy water!
As Spain's Jack Ketch of ancient date,
When Carlos quarrell'd with his fate,
Admonish'd him;—“Pray, Sir, be steady;
“'Tis for your good that I behead ye!”
By dint of making sick men sound;
Fame-seeking Doctors politic
With trite harangues make sound men sick,
And 'though they oft get nothing by't,
Prescribe and give advice for spite:
Patent pretend from mob-authority
To purge a plethoric majority,
And cure the sturdy wights who thwart 'em
Of loyalty,—secundum artem.
Yet ev'ry doctor's but a dunce
To him who kills and cures at once:
105
Recruits by bleeding it to death.—
Resolve, Horne Tooke, this paradox!
(For, proof against Old Bailey shocks,
What nobler triumph couldst thou boast,
Unless to fill th' important post
Of meanest private in the bands
Of maudlin cits whom Fox commands,
A bankrupt cause and chest to aid;—
Illustrious Chief of Whig-brigade!)—
Thou who, by such a general led,
Wouldst dye thy cast-off black coat red,
Shoulder thy firelock, and take aim
At monarchy, the noblest game;
And neither conscience-struck nor sorry,
Search through the ranks thy Royal quarry.
106
(Reveal'd to thy prophetic vision,
And current in anticipation)
The sum, exceeding calculation,
Of public happiness accruing
From indiscriminative Ruin!
Shew how the wreck of ranks and orders
Shall give us peace in all our borders—
And blest Equality repay us
If we convert the realm to chäos—
Shew how, in cutting off a Crown'd Head,
The Rights of Citizens are founded!
Shew us how Freedom sanctions slaughter,
And changes blood to holy water!
As Spain's Jack Ketch of ancient date,
When Carlos quarrell'd with his fate,
Admonish'd him;—“Pray, Sir, be steady;
“'Tis for your good that I behead ye!”
107
Let none contemn as tainted trash
This dainty Reformation-hash,
Much less our Whig-Archimagirus
To set us down to 't so desirous:
But join to eulogize Horne Tooke,
And freely own one Brentford Cook,
Who welcomes us to such Good Things,
Is worth a brace of Brentford Kings;
And, 'though our beef he 's gallimaufryd,
Swear 'tis the best we ever sáw fried!
This dainty Reformation-hash,
Much less our Whig-Archimagirus
To set us down to 't so desirous:
But join to eulogize Horne Tooke,
And freely own one Brentford Cook,
Who welcomes us to such Good Things,
Is worth a brace of Brentford Kings;
And, 'though our beef he 's gallimaufryd,
Swear 'tis the best we ever sáw fried!
Yet since Fried Cabbage, or, what 's worse
To some folks, Frícando of verse
From brain of poet piping hot, is
Likely to parch the epiglottis
Of patient readers, who neglect
Red Lane adusted to humect:
Let me an antidote suggest
Which all allow—“probatum est.”—
Of old Oporto bumpers nine
Quaff to the Muses' healths and mine!
Thus prim'd I'll set before you soon
A Second Course to th' self-same tune.—
Cheaper you'll no where read or eat;
Since Half-a-crown defrays your treat:
Of which for Paper wove and press'd are
Two Shillings paid, for Wit a Tester.
And, as plump cits with brandy choose
To qualify roast pig and goose,
'Tis my prescription; “Let a dram be
“Taken cum Repetita Crambe!”—
To some folks, Frícando of verse
From brain of poet piping hot, is
Likely to parch the epiglottis
Of patient readers, who neglect
Red Lane adusted to humect:
Let me an antidote suggest
Which all allow—“probatum est.”—
Of old Oporto bumpers nine
Quaff to the Muses' healths and mine!
Thus prim'd I'll set before you soon
A Second Course to th' self-same tune.—
108
Since Half-a-crown defrays your treat:
Of which for Paper wove and press'd are
Two Shillings paid, for Wit a Tester.
And, as plump cits with brandy choose
To qualify roast pig and goose,
'Tis my prescription; “Let a dram be
“Taken cum Repetita Crambe!”—
END OF THE FIRST PART.
109
CRAMBE REPETITA:
A SECOND COURSE OF BUBBLE AND SQUEAK, OR BRITISH BEEF GALLI-MAUFRY'D.
111
------ Liberius si
Dixero quid, si forte jocosius: hoc mihi juris
Cum venia dabis.
Hor. S. Lib. I. Sat. iv.
Dixero quid, si forte jocosius: hoc mihi juris
Cum venia dabis.
Hor. S. Lib. I. Sat. iv.
113
“Oh that I was a red hot poker!”
Thrice that Stentorophónic stoker
Of coal-black conscience, R**l**d H*ll,
Vociferates,—“that I, at will,
“Might in your hearts, ye God-less race,
“Stir up the smould'ring fire of Grace!”—
Thrice that Stentorophónic stoker
Of coal-black conscience, R**l**d H*ll,
Vociferates,—“that I, at will,
“Might in your hearts, ye God-less race,
“Stir up the smould'ring fire of Grace!”—
Thus o'er their tankards and decanters
Whigsters and Revolution ranters,
Our H***rds, Wh******ds, Gr**s, and more hacks
Of Opposition, strain their thorax
Eager to kindle through the nation
A red-hot zeal for Reformation.
Would you believe these prating drinkers,—
The Constitution 's made for tinkers,
Who fain would patch up her old house, and,
While they mend one hole, make a thousand.
Reform, or democratic botching,
Is to New Whigs meat, drink, and lodging:
And oft they cast a wistful glance,
Where cherishes enlighten'd France
The Tree by Faction's vot'ries priz'd,
And hail the Blessing realiz'd.
See from that soil all ills expell'd
Which erst Pandora's casket held!
There kindles Radical Reform
The Revolutionary storm;
Exterminates those unclean beasts,
Denominated Kings and Priests,
That, nurs'd in her Augëan stable,
Impos'd for ages on the rabble
Restrictions obsolete and odd,
Allegiance and the fear of God;
Taught duties barbarous and crude,
Justice, good faith, and gratitude;
Profanely cherish'd Revelation,
That sanctified abomination;
And bade men venerate the Bible,
That Counter-revolution Libel,
Of Gallic freedom, faith, and works,
Intolerant as Edmund Burke's—
Though Payne has prov'd the whole a fable
Devis'd by rev'rend knaves in sable.
There, though the Sabbath 's out of season,
Décades they boast, and Feasts of Reason:
Turn Crucifixes out of doors,
And adoration pay to wh---s.
For France is too refin'd a nation
To worship, in the Pagan fashion,
A cold, insensate Deity
That cannot speak, nor hear, nor see;
Whose countenance a nose may brag on,
That never peep'd into a flagon;
Nay to take snuff, or sneeze, or smell,
A shoeing-horn might serve as well:
Whose throat can chaunt no civic tunes,
Nor medlars tell from macaroons:
No.—French Philosophers take pride all
In worshipping a Living Idol;
And to a Goddess sacrifice
Who, rosy lips, and wanton eyes,
And breasts protuberant, and what else,
Of meretricious goods and chattels,
Kind Nature gave, black, brown, or fair.
Devotes to public wear and tear.
To this Divinity they burn
Incense, who freely one good turn
Wont with another to repay,
Can flames enkindle and allay;
Nay, to oblige her special friends
Can light their candle at both ends,
Repay their pious fumigation
By suscitating conflagration,
In pericrane of Philosopher
'Till his regen'rate brains boil over,
And adoration he'll gainsay all,
Save what is paid to Reason's Baal.
Thus while above his fervours glow
His Goddess fires her mines below,
Fraught with electric sparks and shocks
From Cytheréan tinder-box,
'Till he 's convinc'd that Cupid's torch is
A brand that scarifies and scorches,
And Reason's aid in this emergence
Less efficacious than the surgeon's.
Whigsters and Revolution ranters,
Our H***rds, Wh******ds, Gr**s, and more hacks
Of Opposition, strain their thorax
114
A red-hot zeal for Reformation.
Would you believe these prating drinkers,—
The Constitution 's made for tinkers,
Who fain would patch up her old house, and,
While they mend one hole, make a thousand.
Reform, or democratic botching,
Is to New Whigs meat, drink, and lodging:
And oft they cast a wistful glance,
Where cherishes enlighten'd France
The Tree by Faction's vot'ries priz'd,
And hail the Blessing realiz'd.
See from that soil all ills expell'd
Which erst Pandora's casket held!
There kindles Radical Reform
The Revolutionary storm;
Exterminates those unclean beasts,
Denominated Kings and Priests,
That, nurs'd in her Augëan stable,
Impos'd for ages on the rabble
Restrictions obsolete and odd,
Allegiance and the fear of God;
Taught duties barbarous and crude,
Justice, good faith, and gratitude;
115
That sanctified abomination;
And bade men venerate the Bible,
That Counter-revolution Libel,
Of Gallic freedom, faith, and works,
Intolerant as Edmund Burke's—
Though Payne has prov'd the whole a fable
Devis'd by rev'rend knaves in sable.
There, though the Sabbath 's out of season,
Décades they boast, and Feasts of Reason:
116
And adoration pay to wh---s.
For France is too refin'd a nation
To worship, in the Pagan fashion,
A cold, insensate Deity
That cannot speak, nor hear, nor see;
Whose countenance a nose may brag on,
That never peep'd into a flagon;
Nay to take snuff, or sneeze, or smell,
A shoeing-horn might serve as well:
117
Nor medlars tell from macaroons:
No.—French Philosophers take pride all
In worshipping a Living Idol;
And to a Goddess sacrifice
Who, rosy lips, and wanton eyes,
And breasts protuberant, and what else,
Of meretricious goods and chattels,
Kind Nature gave, black, brown, or fair.
Devotes to public wear and tear.
To this Divinity they burn
Incense, who freely one good turn
Wont with another to repay,
Can flames enkindle and allay;
Nay, to oblige her special friends
Can light their candle at both ends,
Repay their pious fumigation
By suscitating conflagration,
In pericrane of Philosopher
'Till his regen'rate brains boil over,
And adoration he'll gainsay all,
Save what is paid to Reason's Baal.
118
His Goddess fires her mines below,
Fraught with electric sparks and shocks
From Cytheréan tinder-box,
'Till he 's convinc'd that Cupid's torch is
A brand that scarifies and scorches,
And Reason's aid in this emergence
Less efficacious than the surgeon's.
Adepts in Alchemy renown'd,
Boast they've the wondrous secret found
Base coin of Birmingham to mould
And metamorphose into gold;
And royal Midas with a touch,
Old Fablers say, could do as much.
Play'd he at commerce or all-fours,
His counters chang'd to luidores:
He strokes his chin, and all admire
His bristly beard become gold wire:
And, fed with choice rappee, his nose
A living mine of gold dust glows:
He walk'd his field and saw the sod
Teem with a crop of golden rod:
He seiz'd his oaken staff; behold
In 's hand the Sybil's branch of gold!
Of hock and water on his table he
Brew'd at each gulp aurum potabile:
Converted codlins bought for farthings
To apples of Hesperian gardens:
Pilchards and herrings in his dish
Transform'd themselves into gold fish:
Sausage envelop'd in a thin gut
He chang'd into a golden ingot:
Of mustard pot he next laid hold,
But grasp'd, in lieu, a pot of gold:
Your Vauxhall slice of ham or beef
He masticated to gold-leaf;
And bade black-puddings transmigrate
Into rouleaus upon his plate:—
Boast they've the wondrous secret found
Base coin of Birmingham to mould
And metamorphose into gold;
And royal Midas with a touch,
Old Fablers say, could do as much.
Play'd he at commerce or all-fours,
His counters chang'd to luidores:
He strokes his chin, and all admire
His bristly beard become gold wire:
And, fed with choice rappee, his nose
A living mine of gold dust glows:
119
Teem with a crop of golden rod:
He seiz'd his oaken staff; behold
In 's hand the Sybil's branch of gold!
Of hock and water on his table he
Brew'd at each gulp aurum potabile:
Converted codlins bought for farthings
To apples of Hesperian gardens:
Pilchards and herrings in his dish
Transform'd themselves into gold fish:
Sausage envelop'd in a thin gut
He chang'd into a golden ingot:
Of mustard pot he next laid hold,
But grasp'd, in lieu, a pot of gold:
Your Vauxhall slice of ham or beef
He masticated to gold-leaf;
And bade black-puddings transmigrate
Into rouleaus upon his plate:—
120
But in that Country where Confusion
Usurps the name of Revolution,
And petti-foggers and sow-gelders
Senates and Councils form of Elders,
Since Legislative confiscation
Answers all ends of transmutation,
Gold-making 's deem'd a sorrier trade
Than 'tis to steal it ready made:
And, since they're well convinc'd to boot,
That wealth of evil is the root,
They wisely wage inveterate quarrels
With ore that would corrupt their morals;
Which that they may preserve intact
They Midas' talent counteract,
And by their grand financial mystery,
(Unparallell'd in modern history,
In whose gazettes they bounce and vapour,)
Reform their luidores to Paper;
Make specie at their touch reducible
To nought in Requisition-crucible;
Ensepulchre men's gold and plate
In grand Crusophagus of state,
From whence regenerated cash is
Hatch'd like a Phœnix from its ashes;
And, freed in purgatory Gallic
From its corporeal part metallic,
Again to circulation springs
On metaphysic paper wings;
'Till, by the plund'rers who devis'd
Its fabrication exorciz'd,
And of all tenure dispossess'd,
Evaporates the Swindling Pest:
While famish'd dupes behold dismay'd
Credit's pale ghost for ever laid.—
But though at length annihilation
Hath rid of this fell scourge the nation,
Yet rancour, strife, chicane, oppression,
Craft, falsehood, treach'ry take possession
In right of predecessor fiend,
And where their wide-spread woes extend
Ills more destructive than the first
Engender these Sev'n Sprites accurst.
Usurps the name of Revolution,
And petti-foggers and sow-gelders
Senates and Councils form of Elders,
Since Legislative confiscation
Answers all ends of transmutation,
Gold-making 's deem'd a sorrier trade
Than 'tis to steal it ready made:
And, since they're well convinc'd to boot,
That wealth of evil is the root,
They wisely wage inveterate quarrels
With ore that would corrupt their morals;
Which that they may preserve intact
They Midas' talent counteract,
And by their grand financial mystery,
(Unparallell'd in modern history,
In whose gazettes they bounce and vapour,)
Reform their luidores to Paper;
Make specie at their touch reducible
To nought in Requisition-crucible;
Ensepulchre men's gold and plate
In grand Crusophagus of state,
From whence regenerated cash is
Hatch'd like a Phœnix from its ashes;
121
From its corporeal part metallic,
Again to circulation springs
On metaphysic paper wings;
'Till, by the plund'rers who devis'd
Its fabrication exorciz'd,
And of all tenure dispossess'd,
Evaporates the Swindling Pest:
While famish'd dupes behold dismay'd
Credit's pale ghost for ever laid.—
But though at length annihilation
Hath rid of this fell scourge the nation,
Yet rancour, strife, chicane, oppression,
Craft, falsehood, treach'ry take possession
122
And where their wide-spread woes extend
Ills more destructive than the first
Engender these Sev'n Sprites accurst.
'Tis thus reforms enlighten'd France,
Both her Religion and Finance,
Whose reformation 's of a piece
With her regen'rated Police,
Which scorns to tread the beaten road
Prescrib'd by law's impartial code,
No more on evidence depends
But bayonet to gain her ends:
All pleas of justice interdicts,
First dooms and afterwards convicts:
Expatriates its own creators,
Directors, ancients, legislators,
Bids 'em, by scores in waggons cramm'd,
With a “Sic Volo,” go be d---d!
Proscrib'd unheard their native soil,
In Afric's torrid regions broil;
Or destins on Guiana's strand
To pestilence the patriot band,
Who, faithful to their public trust,
Presum'd at Paris to be just.
Both her Religion and Finance,
123
With her regen'rated Police,
Which scorns to tread the beaten road
Prescrib'd by law's impartial code,
No more on evidence depends
But bayonet to gain her ends:
All pleas of justice interdicts,
First dooms and afterwards convicts:
Expatriates its own creators,
Directors, ancients, legislators,
Bids 'em, by scores in waggons cramm'd,
With a “Sic Volo,” go be d---d!
Proscrib'd unheard their native soil,
In Afric's torrid regions broil;
Or destins on Guiana's strand
To pestilence the patriot band,
Who, faithful to their public trust,
Presum'd at Paris to be just.
124
If such be Reformation's fruit
Where first that goodly plant took root,
If her rich bed of Gallic mould,
With harvest of an hundred fold
Prolific teem,—with plenty crown'd
See France in charity abound:
Roast meat, she cries, if well she fares,
And with the world her blessings shares:
“'Twere greedy to engross so much,
“And give none to my friends the Dutch;
“What, gorge alone!—while not a mess is
“Dish'd up for their High Mightinesses!
“Come, ope your mouths, Mynheers, we'll feed 'em
“With forc'd meat of Reform and Freedom:
“Start not 'though Frenchmen, sword in hand, do
“Present You with this fine Fricando,
“Here freely feed.—You run no risk in
“Respect of weasand-pipe or griskin,
“From your good friends who scorn to sabre
“Or stab an inoffensive neighbour:
“To answer might your wisdoms puzzle
“Reports from Gallic cannon's muzzle;
“But never let our charge affright
“Folks who can pay a bill at sight,
“Nor tremble in a vain belief
“We scent your herrings and smok'd beef;
“Each French Reformer with his own is
“Contented—your sage Belgic cronies
“Won't in this weighty point mislead ye,
“Consult them and experto crede.
“Then set your hearts at rest, and hear
“Our conscientious Chieftains swear
“By Him on high, whose kingdom stood
“As long as France thought fit it should;
“Or Him below, th' infernal blade,
“Whom we've outdone at his own trade—
“Or we the Veidam oaths a score on
“Will take, or, if you please, the Koran,
“That France of your high mighty persons
“Shall be as tender as of hér sons—
“Shall pledge herself in solemn pact
“To keep your property intact—
“That of Batavian Independence
“We'll be th' assertors and defendants—
“With kind embrace fraternal greet you,
“And love you well enough—to eat you.”
The Dutchmen answer'd in a fright:
Since their French friends were too polite
To stand on formal invitation,
They felt a load of obligation,
Whose weight they could not well express,
And therefore left their Guests to guess,
Who, over rivers, dams, and ditches,
As if they'd been convoy'd by witches,
On broomstick-geldings, whip and spur,
Brought 'em good news and gunpowder:
For both which blessings to requite 'em,
They would do any thing but fight 'em.
The points on which they had descanted
They took most thankfully for granted;
And—since they could not send them packing—
Drank their good healths, gin-grog and 'rack in.
“Save you, Mynheers”—cried these new-comers,
And merrily toss'd off their rummers—
“As you ne'er strove to keep us out,
“We'll grant you are wise men and stout;
“And for your victuals, drink, and lodgings,
“Expect, in lieu, from us true Trojans,
“Such feats, that ev'ry mother's son
“Shall own performance has outrun
“Our promises.—Our word we gave t' ye,
“To guarantee your persons' safety—
“And, lo, our thrice-redoubted soldiers
“Have left your heads upon your shoulders!
“This, from our Reformado-race,
“Account no common mark of grace.—
“We swore we would forbear to seize
“Your Property.—Then keep your fleas:
“And from your marshes, fens, and bogs,
“'Though French-men, we'll not filch your frogs,
“But gratis be content to cut on
“Sirloins of beef, prime veal and mutton.
“And deem not we infringe our oath in
“Engrossing all your carnal clothing,
“Shirts, waistcoats, pantaloons and brogues,
“To furbish up our tatter'd rogues:
“Nor growl, tho' stripp'd from snout to great-toe,
“As naked as a par'd potatoe:
“What if your dinners, shirts, and shoes—Sirs,
“We borrow,—You can be no losers,
“Since we Fraternity commute
“For meat and drink and clothes to boot,
“And, generating Reformation
“By fundamental denudation,
“Make Dutchmen, on whose spoils we've fatten'd,
“What this end loses gain at that end;
“And, from incumbrance freed below decks,
“Sansculottize both Soul and Podex,
“Like those of Clootz, a precious pair,
“Stripp'd sympathetically bare;
“'Till ev'ry Frenchified-Mynheer
“Shall emulate that British Peer,
“And most profound Gymnosophist
“Of all the Anglo-gallic list;
“Who, 'midst th' Aristocratic corps,
“Abjured the breeches that he wore:
“Dismantling his lean Lodge of Honour
“To class with Citizen O'Connor.
Where first that goodly plant took root,
125
With harvest of an hundred fold
Prolific teem,—with plenty crown'd
See France in charity abound:
Roast meat, she cries, if well she fares,
And with the world her blessings shares:
“'Twere greedy to engross so much,
“And give none to my friends the Dutch;
126
“Dish'd up for their High Mightinesses!
127
“With forc'd meat of Reform and Freedom:
“Start not 'though Frenchmen, sword in hand, do
“Present You with this fine Fricando,
“Here freely feed.—You run no risk in
“Respect of weasand-pipe or griskin,
“From your good friends who scorn to sabre
“Or stab an inoffensive neighbour:
“To answer might your wisdoms puzzle
“Reports from Gallic cannon's muzzle;
128
“Folks who can pay a bill at sight,
“Nor tremble in a vain belief
“We scent your herrings and smok'd beef;
“Each French Reformer with his own is
“Contented—your sage Belgic cronies
“Won't in this weighty point mislead ye,
“Consult them and experto crede.
“Then set your hearts at rest, and hear
“Our conscientious Chieftains swear
“By Him on high, whose kingdom stood
“As long as France thought fit it should;
129
“Whom we've outdone at his own trade—
“Or we the Veidam oaths a score on
“Will take, or, if you please, the Koran,
“That France of your high mighty persons
“Shall be as tender as of hér sons—
“Shall pledge herself in solemn pact
“To keep your property intact—
“That of Batavian Independence
“We'll be th' assertors and defendants—
“With kind embrace fraternal greet you,
“And love you well enough—to eat you.”
The Dutchmen answer'd in a fright:
Since their French friends were too polite
To stand on formal invitation,
They felt a load of obligation,
130
And therefore left their Guests to guess,
Who, over rivers, dams, and ditches,
As if they'd been convoy'd by witches,
On broomstick-geldings, whip and spur,
Brought 'em good news and gunpowder:
For both which blessings to requite 'em,
They would do any thing but fight 'em.
The points on which they had descanted
They took most thankfully for granted;
And—since they could not send them packing—
Drank their good healths, gin-grog and 'rack in.
“Save you, Mynheers”—cried these new-comers,
And merrily toss'd off their rummers—
“As you ne'er strove to keep us out,
“We'll grant you are wise men and stout;
“And for your victuals, drink, and lodgings,
“Expect, in lieu, from us true Trojans,
“Such feats, that ev'ry mother's son
“Shall own performance has outrun
“Our promises.—Our word we gave t' ye,
“To guarantee your persons' safety—
“And, lo, our thrice-redoubted soldiers
“Have left your heads upon your shoulders!
131
“Account no common mark of grace.—
“We swore we would forbear to seize
“Your Property.—Then keep your fleas:
“And from your marshes, fens, and bogs,
“'Though French-men, we'll not filch your frogs,
“But gratis be content to cut on
“Sirloins of beef, prime veal and mutton.
“And deem not we infringe our oath in
“Engrossing all your carnal clothing,
“Shirts, waistcoats, pantaloons and brogues,
“To furbish up our tatter'd rogues:
“Nor growl, tho' stripp'd from snout to great-toe,
“As naked as a par'd potatoe:
“What if your dinners, shirts, and shoes—Sirs,
“We borrow,—You can be no losers,
“Since we Fraternity commute
“For meat and drink and clothes to boot,
“And, generating Reformation
“By fundamental denudation,
“Make Dutchmen, on whose spoils we've fatten'd,
“What this end loses gain at that end;
“And, from incumbrance freed below decks,
“Sansculottize both Soul and Podex,
132
“Stripp'd sympathetically bare;
“'Till ev'ry Frenchified-Mynheer
“Shall emulate that British Peer,
“And most profound Gymnosophist
“Of all the Anglo-gallic list;
“Who, 'midst th' Aristocratic corps,
“Abjured the breeches that he wore:
“Dismantling his lean Lodge of Honour
“To class with Citizen O'Connor.
“You 've a rare bargain, Sirs! In th' end on 't,
“We vow'd to make you Independent—
“Videlicet—of your best friends!
“Which—if not yours—will serve our ends;
“And that is, you may well discern all,
“The self-same thing 'twixt blades fraternal.
“Then swear, as we do, on this jorum,
“In sæcula, boys, sæculorum,
“'Gainst Britain's insolent dominion,
“(As swore the one-eyed Carthaginian
“Against Rome's peace;—nor deem, applied
“This simile, to your blind side)—
“Inveterate enmity to nourish,
“And shew, like Us, in actions currish,
“Who'd fire the globe, set hell in motion,
“To crush those tyrants of the ocean.
“We vow'd to make you Independent—
133
“Which—if not yours—will serve our ends;
“And that is, you may well discern all,
“The self-same thing 'twixt blades fraternal.
“Then swear, as we do, on this jorum,
“In sæcula, boys, sæculorum,
“'Gainst Britain's insolent dominion,
“(As swore the one-eyed Carthaginian
“Against Rome's peace;—nor deem, applied
“This simile, to your blind side)—
“Inveterate enmity to nourish,
“And shew, like Us, in actions currish,
“Who'd fire the globe, set hell in motion,
“To crush those tyrants of the ocean.
“'Tis well!—Our Mandate You've obey'd.—
“Now, of Dependence, who 's afraid?—
“De Winter, see, the rogues have beat:
“You're independent of—your Fleet.—
“Lo, to the South, their course they shape!
“You're independent of—the Cape,
“Amboyna, Banda's isles, Ceylon.—
“(Who nutmegs wants, or cinnamon?)
“For Zealand and your Netherlands
“Care not.—We'll take them off your hands;
“And garrison your frontier towns.
“Thus France your independence crowns!—
“Now, of Dependence, who 's afraid?—
“De Winter, see, the rogues have beat:
“You're independent of—your Fleet.—
“Lo, to the South, their course they shape!
“You're independent of—the Cape,
“Amboyna, Banda's isles, Ceylon.—
“(Who nutmegs wants, or cinnamon?)
134
“Care not.—We'll take them off your hands;
“And garrison your frontier towns.
“Thus France your independence crowns!—
“Yet, one thing please to note beside,
“That France must be indemnified
“For these kind services she 's done ye:
“Stand and deliver, Sirs, your Money!
“Grudge it not Us who came so far
“To sell you assignats at par.
“And, 'till sly Ramel knock' o' the head it,
“Enrich'd you with our paper-credit!
“We ask but—all that's in your chest;
“Pay that:—We'll trust you for the rest.
“Though you dared keep, ('till the Great Nation
“Effected your regeneration,)
“To fight pro aris and pro focis,
“A Stadtholder, beneath our noses.
“Down with your cash!—Well; since you've done 't,
“We'll pocket it besides th' affront;
“And beg you'll live content and easy
“'Till, as our sponge, again we squeeze ye.”
“That France must be indemnified
“For these kind services she 's done ye:
“Stand and deliver, Sirs, your Money!
“Grudge it not Us who came so far
“To sell you assignats at par.
“And, 'till sly Ramel knock' o' the head it,
“Enrich'd you with our paper-credit!
“We ask but—all that's in your chest;
“Pay that:—We'll trust you for the rest.
“Though you dared keep, ('till the Great Nation
“Effected your regeneration,)
“To fight pro aris and pro focis,
“A Stadtholder, beneath our noses.
“Down with your cash!—Well; since you've done 't,
“We'll pocket it besides th' affront;
135
“'Till, as our sponge, again we squeeze ye.”
The Horseleech and her daughters twain,
Saith Solomon, the life-blood drain
Unsated, and athirst for more
They cry, “Give, give, da, da,” encore.
Here doubtless, in prophetic trance,
Of that fell Horseleech, Modern France,
The sapient writer had a glimpse,
And saw her two accursed imps,
Rapacity, and t'other daughter,
Still more unconscionable, Slaughter:
For 'though her reformation zeal
Made of Sev'n Provinces a meal,
Still rages, ne'er to be controll'd,
Her appetite for blood and gold.—
Cold, temperate, and torrid clime
Sees her infuriate lust of crime
Burst ev'ry social bond, confound
Order, spread insurrection round;
Rob, outrage, massacre, and spoil
Mankind from Holstein to the Nile.
Saith Solomon, the life-blood drain
Unsated, and athirst for more
They cry, “Give, give, da, da,” encore.
Here doubtless, in prophetic trance,
Of that fell Horseleech, Modern France,
The sapient writer had a glimpse,
And saw her two accursed imps,
Rapacity, and t'other daughter,
Still more unconscionable, Slaughter:
For 'though her reformation zeal
Made of Sev'n Provinces a meal,
Still rages, ne'er to be controll'd,
Her appetite for blood and gold.—
Cold, temperate, and torrid clime
Sees her infuriate lust of crime
Burst ev'ry social bond, confound
Order, spread insurrection round;
136
Mankind from Holstein to the Nile.
Yet Opposition France acquit,
“The common enemy is Pitt,”
Justly abhorr'd by each New Whig
Because he never cared a fig
How much his martial provocation
Incens'd their friends of the Great Nation.—
Yet Erskine will our ears be dinning
With “France more sinn'd against than sinning,”—
And vent in egotistic prose his
Profound concern lest Whiggish noses
Should smell—if not a rat—a stink,
Since George extinguish'd Fox's link;
Yet Charles—despairing of resistance—
Still from St. Stephen's keeps his distance:
Resistance—You'll perhaps suppose
The patriot means—to Britain's foes.
Mistake him not! Fox recommends
Resistance to Britannia's friends,
Kings, Lords, and Commons: these, he fears,
Are but so many Robespierres;
Whom, since they've cured us of sedition,
He fain would cure, as Whig-physician,
Of playing such another trick
On England's body-politic.
“The common enemy is Pitt,”
Justly abhorr'd by each New Whig
Because he never cared a fig
How much his martial provocation
Incens'd their friends of the Great Nation.—
Yet Erskine will our ears be dinning
With “France more sinn'd against than sinning,”—
137
Profound concern lest Whiggish noses
Should smell—if not a rat—a stink,
Since George extinguish'd Fox's link;
Yet Charles—despairing of resistance—
Still from St. Stephen's keeps his distance:
Resistance—You'll perhaps suppose
The patriot means—to Britain's foes.
Mistake him not! Fox recommends
Resistance to Britannia's friends,
Kings, Lords, and Commons: these, he fears,
Are but so many Robespierres;
Whom, since they've cured us of sedition,
He fain would cure, as Whig-physician,
Of playing such another trick
On England's body-politic.
138
“Can Freemen sleep secure o' nights
“While wrongs repeal the Bill of Rights;
“To curb, forsooth, Sedition's crew,
“All honourable men and true
“As he for whom, at Maidstone tried,
“I swore so lustily and l---d?—
“Back'd by right noble Blue and Buff-folk,
“Earl Thanet, Oxford, Norfolk, Suffolk,
“(Who told the Court, and told my Lady,
“Of morals, locks, post-chaise, and Paddy),
“In whose behalf too lied and swore
“Whig-commoners as many more:
“Hal Grattan, Whitbread, Taylor Mic—,
“Who, for an opposition Chick,
“Can swear a tolerable stick:
“Though nothing like us old game-cocks,
“Brindsley, the Barrister, and Fox.”—
But if the friends of Britain feel
The rancour of our patriot's zeal,
His generous plaudit he bestows
As freely on his country's foes.
When the fell snake Regenerate France
Cast her old slough, Allegiance;
When, teeming with a nation's woes,
Her baleful womb's convulsive throes,
Gave to the world its ravening brood
Of anarchists baptiz'd in blood,
Who, fraternizing with the rabble,
Those brick-makers of modern Babel,
Uprear'd her dread volcanic frame
Surcharg'd with Insurrection's flame,
That, towering in gigantic pride,
All powers of heav'n and earth defied:
Fox, with congratulating smile,
Enraptur'd view'd “the noblest pile
“That mortal wisdom e'er devis'd,
“And hail'd Eutopia realiz'd.”
“While wrongs repeal the Bill of Rights;
“To curb, forsooth, Sedition's crew,
“All honourable men and true
“As he for whom, at Maidstone tried,
“I swore so lustily and l---d?—
“Back'd by right noble Blue and Buff-folk,
“Earl Thanet, Oxford, Norfolk, Suffolk,
“(Who told the Court, and told my Lady,
“Of morals, locks, post-chaise, and Paddy),
“In whose behalf too lied and swore
“Whig-commoners as many more:
“Hal Grattan, Whitbread, Taylor Mic—,
“Who, for an opposition Chick,
“Can swear a tolerable stick:
“Though nothing like us old game-cocks,
“Brindsley, the Barrister, and Fox.”—
But if the friends of Britain feel
The rancour of our patriot's zeal,
139
As freely on his country's foes.
When the fell snake Regenerate France
Cast her old slough, Allegiance;
When, teeming with a nation's woes,
Her baleful womb's convulsive throes,
Gave to the world its ravening brood
Of anarchists baptiz'd in blood,
Who, fraternizing with the rabble,
Those brick-makers of modern Babel,
Uprear'd her dread volcanic frame
Surcharg'd with Insurrection's flame,
That, towering in gigantic pride,
All powers of heav'n and earth defied:
Fox, with congratulating smile,
Enraptur'd view'd “the noblest pile
“That mortal wisdom e'er devis'd,
“And hail'd Eutopia realiz'd.”
140
But when Aboukir's rescued strand,
Brave Nelson! thy resistless band
Beheld, of seamen bold and staunch,
The thunder of destruction launch
On faithless Gallia's naval host;
Round Egypt's gratulating coast,
While Britain's Cross triumphant wav'd,
Blest ensign of an empire sav'd!—
Proud of the palms his valour won,
While Albion glories in her Son;
And strains of gen'ral joy proclaim
The vast accession to her fame.—
See Faction, sickening at the deed,
From scenes of honest joy seceed,
Enshroud in tavern-haunts aloof
Her clouded brow and cloven hoof,
And prompt her chosen Advocate
Ills to enlarge on and create;
And mingle with adult'rate wine
His stream of eloquence malign:
Brave Nelson! thy resistless band
Beheld, of seamen bold and staunch,
The thunder of destruction launch
On faithless Gallia's naval host;
Round Egypt's gratulating coast,
While Britain's Cross triumphant wav'd,
Blest ensign of an empire sav'd!—
Proud of the palms his valour won,
While Albion glories in her Son;
And strains of gen'ral joy proclaim
The vast accession to her fame.—
141
From scenes of honest joy seceed,
Enshroud in tavern-haunts aloof
Her clouded brow and cloven hoof,
And prompt her chosen Advocate
Ills to enlarge on and create;
And mingle with adult'rate wine
His stream of eloquence malign:
“Friends, whose subscriptions line my fob,
“True subjects of my Liege, the Mob;
“Long since, you know, in sullen spite,
“I bade the Commons' House good night,
“And march'd off, confidently judging
“They'd my secession take in dudgeon;
“And, for the safety of the nation,
“Intreat me to resume my station.—
“For, as old Cato at Rome's shows
“Thought fit to introduce his nose,
“Merely to take it out again,
“And stalk away in high disdain:
“So I, on my secession-hack
“Mounted, in hopes to gallop back,
“Hail'd by the rabble's plausive shout,
“Just as the Roman Churl went out.
“True subjects of my Liege, the Mob;
“Long since, you know, in sullen spite,
“I bade the Commons' House good night,
“And march'd off, confidently judging
“They'd my secession take in dudgeon;
“And, for the safety of the nation,
“Intreat me to resume my station.—
142
“Thought fit to introduce his nose,
“Merely to take it out again,
“And stalk away in high disdain:
“So I, on my secession-hack
“Mounted, in hopes to gallop back,
“Hail'd by the rabble's plausive shout,
“Just as the Roman Churl went out.
“Though such has been my drift, 'tis fit
“That you should know your Chairman's bit.
“Sirs, at my stratagem they laugh,
“(Old birds are n't to be caught with chaff,)
“And jog on merrier than before,
“Since Opposition 's now no more.
“Now this is horribly provoking
“To one who loves to clap a spoke in
“Each wheel of government's machine;
“I thought I should have burst with spleen:
“When opportunely You commanded,
“And straight from apex of St. Anne, did
“Come down your sullen Cincinnatus
“Relinquishing his roast-potatoes,
“Swing-tail and cacklers, syllabub,
“And blooming Bet, to serve the Club.
“So, without invitation given,
“Twice I've revisited St. Stephen:
“First, to devote to execration,
“That most unprincipled invasion
“Of Sovereign People's goods and chattels,
“To fight their Subject-Monarch's battles;
“Which, though some choose to call ‘assessment,’
“Depend upon 't there's nothing less meant
“Than from your pockets to purloin,
“And to their own translate your coin:
“When, so complete was my success,
“You'll never pay one doit the less.
“Proud of encouragement like this,
“I thought it would not be amiss
“To bore the House another day,
“And with desponding phiz pourtray
“The storm that o'er the heads was gathering
“Of our United Irish Brethren,
“Harass'd by Pitt in their vocation
“Of treason and assassination:
“Such tyranny 'twas deem'd you'd kick at;
“So here the Commons clos'd their wicket.
“On mischief they were bent, no doubt,
“When they presum'd to shut You out,
“And keep,—indignant I remark—
“Their own Constituents in the dark.
“Alas! this dark, exclusive dealing,
“Affects me with a fellow-feeling;
“Who, for these fifteen years and more,
“Have been o' the wrong side of the door:
“Shut out o' the Cabinet in spite,
“With partner N**** at twelve at night:
“Scath'd with the blast, abrupt and rude,
“Of th' ill state wind that blows none good:
“Which broke the firm of Coalition;
“Thenceforth the topic of derision:
“Compell'd me poverty to plead,
“A Yellow Patriot run to seed;
“A patriot, useless ev'ry where,
“Save in Conservatorial Chair,
“Where I great Freedom's rites prolong,
“With Howard's toast and Dignum's song;
“Fost'ring, with vinous irrigation,
“The baby-cause of Reformation,
“While all our democratic prigs
“Hail me Wet-Nurse of Sucking-Whigs.
“That you should know your Chairman's bit.
“Sirs, at my stratagem they laugh,
“(Old birds are n't to be caught with chaff,)
“And jog on merrier than before,
“Since Opposition 's now no more.
“Now this is horribly provoking
“To one who loves to clap a spoke in
“Each wheel of government's machine;
“I thought I should have burst with spleen:
“When opportunely You commanded,
“And straight from apex of St. Anne, did
143
“Relinquishing his roast-potatoes,
“Swing-tail and cacklers, syllabub,
“And blooming Bet, to serve the Club.
“So, without invitation given,
“Twice I've revisited St. Stephen:
“First, to devote to execration,
“That most unprincipled invasion
“Of Sovereign People's goods and chattels,
“To fight their Subject-Monarch's battles;
“Which, though some choose to call ‘assessment,’
“Depend upon 't there's nothing less meant
“Than from your pockets to purloin,
“And to their own translate your coin:
“When, so complete was my success,
“You'll never pay one doit the less.
“Proud of encouragement like this,
“I thought it would not be amiss
144
“And with desponding phiz pourtray
“The storm that o'er the heads was gathering
“Of our United Irish Brethren,
“Harass'd by Pitt in their vocation
“Of treason and assassination:
“Such tyranny 'twas deem'd you'd kick at;
“So here the Commons clos'd their wicket.
“On mischief they were bent, no doubt,
“When they presum'd to shut You out,
“And keep,—indignant I remark—
“Their own Constituents in the dark.
“Alas! this dark, exclusive dealing,
“Affects me with a fellow-feeling;
“Who, for these fifteen years and more,
“Have been o' the wrong side of the door:
145
“With partner N**** at twelve at night:
“Scath'd with the blast, abrupt and rude,
“Of th' ill state wind that blows none good:
“Which broke the firm of Coalition;
“Thenceforth the topic of derision:
“Compell'd me poverty to plead,
“A Yellow Patriot run to seed;
“A patriot, useless ev'ry where,
“Save in Conservatorial Chair,
146
“With Howard's toast and Dignum's song;
“Fost'ring, with vinous irrigation,
“The baby-cause of Reformation,
“While all our democratic prigs
“Hail me Wet-Nurse of Sucking-Whigs.
“Last year's events I've scann'd—they shew me
“Some prosp'rous scenes, and others gloomy;
“Together ta'en—they on my mind
“No good impression leave behind.
“Now, you must know, my friends, I like
“That same Philosopher antique,
“(Though be assured, not half so well,
“As those in France that bear the bell)
“Who, with his royal master chattering,
“Requested to dispense with flattering
“His Majesty, would condescend,
“Because he meant to be his friend.—
“And thus, for ev'ry Royal Sir,
“(Elector, viz. of Westminster;
“For other Royalty, you know,
“I've turn'd my back on long ago,)
“Trust me, the high consideration
“I feel precludes all consolation:
“I, your true friend, see nought but evils,
“Enough to give you the Blue Devils.
“You've toasted Nelson in a brimmer:—
“Yet fortune, to my ken, looks grimmer
“By half, Sirs, than she did before he
“Enhanc'd Great Britain's naval glory.
“'Twas, I'll admit, a feat to crack on—
“Yet this White Day 's to me a Black One;
“And since some weep for joy, I'll borrow
“Of Joy a tear or two for Sorrow.
“Te Deum sing who will to cheer ye;
“I choose to chaunt my Miserere;
“And, for the Souls, lament and groan,
“Of those who told us they had none!
“Judge, you who quaff Shaksperian wine,
“How dreadful to be drench'd with brine!
“Ah! what induc'd our gallant fleet,
“With nauseous draught saline to treat
“(Not attic salt like Sheridan's)
“Th' advent'rous citizens of France!
“Heav'ns!—were the Great Republic's founders
“Compell'd to fraternize with flounders!—
“And serve the world's Regenerators
“For sandwiches to alligators!
“Of thrice-renown'd, tri-colour'd flags
“Shall Cophtis make their pudding bags,
“Or sulph'rous explosion toss over,
“To crocodiles, a French philosopher!!—
“Had I a heart of oak or flint,
“'Twould break, or else the devil 's in't,
“To recapitulate—Hei Mihi!—
“Such tragi-conquest with a dry eye!!!
“Some prosp'rous scenes, and others gloomy;
147
“No good impression leave behind.
“Now, you must know, my friends, I like
“That same Philosopher antique,
“(Though be assured, not half so well,
“As those in France that bear the bell)
“Who, with his royal master chattering,
“Requested to dispense with flattering
“His Majesty, would condescend,
“Because he meant to be his friend.—
“And thus, for ev'ry Royal Sir,
“(Elector, viz. of Westminster;
“For other Royalty, you know,
“I've turn'd my back on long ago,)
“Trust me, the high consideration
“I feel precludes all consolation:
“I, your true friend, see nought but evils,
“Enough to give you the Blue Devils.
148
“Yet fortune, to my ken, looks grimmer
“By half, Sirs, than she did before he
“Enhanc'd Great Britain's naval glory.
“'Twas, I'll admit, a feat to crack on—
“Yet this White Day 's to me a Black One;
“And since some weep for joy, I'll borrow
“Of Joy a tear or two for Sorrow.
“Te Deum sing who will to cheer ye;
“I choose to chaunt my Miserere;
“And, for the Souls, lament and groan,
“Of those who told us they had none!
“Judge, you who quaff Shaksperian wine,
“How dreadful to be drench'd with brine!
“Ah! what induc'd our gallant fleet,
“With nauseous draught saline to treat
“(Not attic salt like Sheridan's)
“Th' advent'rous citizens of France!
149
“Compell'd to fraternize with flounders!—
“And serve the world's Regenerators
“For sandwiches to alligators!
“Of thrice-renown'd, tri-colour'd flags
“Shall Cophtis make their pudding bags,
“Or sulph'rous explosion toss over,
“To crocodiles, a French philosopher!!—
“Had I a heart of oak or flint,
“'Twould break, or else the devil 's in't,
“To recapitulate—Hei Mihi!—
“Such tragi-conquest with a dry eye!!!
“But should your favouring smiles applaud
“Our naval victories abroad;
“Look, Sirs, but on this side the water,
“At Home you'll find no laughing matter:
“But rue with me—since execution
“Is done on England's Constitution.
“Our naval victories abroad;
“Look, Sirs, but on this side the water,
“At Home you'll find no laughing matter:
150
“Is done on England's Constitution.
“I've stated to you once before,
“How your own Senate shut its door,
“And left you all without to wail
“Freedom as dead as a door nail:
“Yet this attempt your rights to stifle
“May be regarded as a trifle,
“When 'tis compar'd with their address in
“Entrenching on your greatest blessing.
“What I'm now driving at you'll guess;—
“The Liberty of England's Press—
“For that of Ireland,—I deplore—
“And its Conductor now no more
“Can elevate Rebellion's flag, or
“Direct Assasination's dagger.
“These prosecutions—Whence do théy come?
“From folks above (the devil take 'em)
“Who Publishers of dang'rous treason
“By durance vile would bring to reason:
“'Tis for true patriots, in terrorem,
“That Ministers the rods hold o'er 'em
“Of scourge, imprisonment, and fine;
“The case, Sirs, may be yours or mine:
“Would it not be confounded hard,
“Perch'd on a Butt in Palace Yard,
“Should I our democratic Hectors
“Call to attend my public lectures,
“And recommend all those that hear 'em,
“To strip their betters, or cashier 'em;
“Tell those good fellows, when they list,
“They're in the right on't to resist
“(So they from hemp can skreen their gullets)
“Their governors with pikes and bullets—
“If, while to such a tune they dance,
“To be laid hold of 'twas my chance.—
“Promulgating such wholesome tenets,
“If rigorous Police between its
“Talents intolerant should gripe your
“Chairman, and make him pay the piper—
“Shut him up close in Bastile barr'd,
“Associate of oppress'd Despard,—
“Should it, for broaching all these fine tales,
“Reward him with a cat o' nine tails—
“Should Justice cripple Whig-exertion
“With flagellation and coertion—
“But soft!—Your eyes the sorrows share
“That stream from this Prophetic Chair:
“So painful is the theme, unmann'd I
“Despair!—Fill up the punch with brandy!
“Give Sheridan a glass of rum too!
“Ah, Dick!—'tis what we all must come to!
“How your own Senate shut its door,
“And left you all without to wail
“Freedom as dead as a door nail:
“Yet this attempt your rights to stifle
“May be regarded as a trifle,
“When 'tis compar'd with their address in
“Entrenching on your greatest blessing.
151
“The Liberty of England's Press—
“For that of Ireland,—I deplore—
“And its Conductor now no more
“Can elevate Rebellion's flag, or
“Direct Assasination's dagger.
“These prosecutions—Whence do théy come?
“From folks above (the devil take 'em)
“Who Publishers of dang'rous treason
“By durance vile would bring to reason:
“'Tis for true patriots, in terrorem,
“That Ministers the rods hold o'er 'em
152
“The case, Sirs, may be yours or mine:
“Would it not be confounded hard,
“Perch'd on a Butt in Palace Yard,
“Should I our democratic Hectors
“Call to attend my public lectures,
“And recommend all those that hear 'em,
“To strip their betters, or cashier 'em;
“Tell those good fellows, when they list,
“They're in the right on't to resist
“(So they from hemp can skreen their gullets)
“Their governors with pikes and bullets—
“If, while to such a tune they dance,
“To be laid hold of 'twas my chance.—
“Promulgating such wholesome tenets,
“If rigorous Police between its
“Talents intolerant should gripe your
“Chairman, and make him pay the piper—
“Shut him up close in Bastile barr'd,
“Associate of oppress'd Despard,—
“Should it, for broaching all these fine tales,
“Reward him with a cat o' nine tails—
“Should Justice cripple Whig-exertion
“With flagellation and coertion—
153
“That stream from this Prophetic Chair:
“So painful is the theme, unmann'd I
“Despair!—Fill up the punch with brandy!
“Give Sheridan a glass of rum too!
“Ah, Dick!—'tis what we all must come to!
“Yet ills on ills I must unfold,
“Tragic as these already told:
“When Ministers assail'd the Press,
“'Twas with mask'd battery and finesse
“They strove the subject's rights to master—
“And, when the Commons' House made fast her
“Doors on the discontented herd,
“'Twas then mum chance, and snug 's the word!
“(If still I harp on “Shutting Door”—
“Forgive me—on that point I'm sore)
“Yet once they borrow'd Candour's vest,
“And boldly, what they thought express'd.—
“When late the Foe, resolv'd t' invade us,
“Plann'd their invincible Armadas
“Of windmill-raft and air-balloon,
“Like Bedlamites at full o' the moon;
“Hector'd, and vow'd they'd give no quarter
“To British Pudding, Beef, and Porter,
“And shew'd their nose in Bay of Bantry;—
“Then every guardian of his pantry
“To our State-chiefs his service tender'd:
“For apprehension keen engender'd
“A military influenza:—
“Marshall'd on ev'ry side you thén saw
“Heroes that Mars himself might brag on;
“(Not Cadmus, dentist to the dragon,
“With grinders from the monster's chops
“Extracted, rais'd more valiant crops,)
“Saw Pleaders, in contempt of Courts,
“Quit law—for gunpowder—reports;
“Saw Clerks their sable stole and beaver
“Discarding, catch the scarlet fever;
“Zeal militant Dissenters seize,
“And make starch Quakers “stand at Ease;”
“Then Cooks took leave of roast and fried,
“And clapp'd their spits upon their side,
“Forswore their gridironic toils,
“And sigh'd for none but hostile broils:
“Then Chimney Sweeps and Printers' Imps,
“From black turn'd red, like scalded shrimps;
“Butchers their slaught'ring blades on steel
“Whetted for foes instead of veal,
“While sound of spirit-stirring drum
“Struck marrow-bones and cleavers dumb:
“No leaven froth'd in Bakers' bowls,
“Who thought of none but muster-rolls:
“No Tailor clapp'd his goose the fire on,
“But hot relinquish'd for cold iron,
“And of nine Snips brought up the rear,
“Who clubb'd to make one Grenadier;
“Courageous Coblers left their stalls,
“And chang'd for bayonets their awls;
“Tanners their trade no longer plied,
“Each swore he'd tan a Frenchman's hide;
“Then Squib-makers their art renounc'd,
“And of feats martial crack'd and bounc'd;
“Barbers, for Britain's weal alarm'd,
“Turn'd out, with barb'rous weapons arm'd,
“Suspending on their poles, 'till then signs
“Of peaceful shavery, warlike ensigns;
“Blacksmiths recoiling from their labours,
“Hammer'd their horse-shoes into sabres;
“Pork-wives left sausages and souse,
“To stuff ball-cartridges for spouse;
“Nay, chitterlings to sword-belts twisted:
“While e'en the Hangman's self inlisted,
“Threat'ning with steel, instead of rope,
“To give destruction ampler scope.
“Tragic as these already told:
“When Ministers assail'd the Press,
“'Twas with mask'd battery and finesse
“They strove the subject's rights to master—
“And, when the Commons' House made fast her
“Doors on the discontented herd,
“'Twas then mum chance, and snug 's the word!
“(If still I harp on “Shutting Door”—
“Forgive me—on that point I'm sore)
154
“And boldly, what they thought express'd.—
“When late the Foe, resolv'd t' invade us,
“Plann'd their invincible Armadas
“Of windmill-raft and air-balloon,
“Like Bedlamites at full o' the moon;
“Hector'd, and vow'd they'd give no quarter
“To British Pudding, Beef, and Porter,
“And shew'd their nose in Bay of Bantry;—
“Then every guardian of his pantry
“To our State-chiefs his service tender'd:
“For apprehension keen engender'd
“A military influenza:—
“Marshall'd on ev'ry side you thén saw
“Heroes that Mars himself might brag on;
“(Not Cadmus, dentist to the dragon,
“With grinders from the monster's chops
“Extracted, rais'd more valiant crops,)
“Saw Pleaders, in contempt of Courts,
“Quit law—for gunpowder—reports;
155
“Discarding, catch the scarlet fever;
“Zeal militant Dissenters seize,
“And make starch Quakers “stand at Ease;”
“Then Cooks took leave of roast and fried,
“And clapp'd their spits upon their side,
“Forswore their gridironic toils,
“And sigh'd for none but hostile broils:
“Then Chimney Sweeps and Printers' Imps,
“From black turn'd red, like scalded shrimps;
“Butchers their slaught'ring blades on steel
“Whetted for foes instead of veal,
“While sound of spirit-stirring drum
“Struck marrow-bones and cleavers dumb:
“No leaven froth'd in Bakers' bowls,
“Who thought of none but muster-rolls:
“No Tailor clapp'd his goose the fire on,
“But hot relinquish'd for cold iron,
“And of nine Snips brought up the rear,
“Who clubb'd to make one Grenadier;
“Courageous Coblers left their stalls,
“And chang'd for bayonets their awls;
“Tanners their trade no longer plied,
“Each swore he'd tan a Frenchman's hide;
156
“And of feats martial crack'd and bounc'd;
“Barbers, for Britain's weal alarm'd,
“Turn'd out, with barb'rous weapons arm'd,
“Suspending on their poles, 'till then signs
“Of peaceful shavery, warlike ensigns;
“Blacksmiths recoiling from their labours,
“Hammer'd their horse-shoes into sabres;
“Pork-wives left sausages and souse,
“To stuff ball-cartridges for spouse;
“Nay, chitterlings to sword-belts twisted:
“While e'en the Hangman's self inlisted,
“Threat'ning with steel, instead of rope,
“To give destruction ampler scope.
157
“Amidst this military bustle,
“Summon'd his merry men brave Russel,
“And took his station at their head:
“Not those in livery white and red,
“But those same five-and-twenty Jacks
“For whom to pay that scurvy tax
“On serving-men a just aversion
“Brought a surcharge his ducal purse on.
“('Tis thus Administration greedy,
“Grinds, unconcern'd, the poor and needy,)
“While the main body of these blades
“Bestrode sev'nteen forgotten jades,
“Eight trudg'd behind, through wet and dry,
“A doughty corps of infantry;
“Who sported spatterdash or pumps,
“Or charg'd without 'em on their stumps.
“George Tierney too around him rallied,
“His Borough-mongrel Squadron squalid;
“Resolv'd on working Reformation
“With Southwark leaven's fermentation,
“Who've done things great, renown'd and rare,
“The dev'l and George know what they are:
“If you'll believe him, They and He
“Are just what patriots ought to be,
“He their whig herd-man and his flocks
“And herds constituent whig-blocks.
“Summon'd his merry men brave Russel,
“And took his station at their head:
“Not those in livery white and red,
“But those same five-and-twenty Jacks
“For whom to pay that scurvy tax
“On serving-men a just aversion
“Brought a surcharge his ducal purse on.
“('Tis thus Administration greedy,
“Grinds, unconcern'd, the poor and needy,)
158
“Bestrode sev'nteen forgotten jades,
“Eight trudg'd behind, through wet and dry,
“A doughty corps of infantry;
“Who sported spatterdash or pumps,
“Or charg'd without 'em on their stumps.
“George Tierney too around him rallied,
“His Borough-mongrel Squadron squalid;
“Resolv'd on working Reformation
“With Southwark leaven's fermentation,
“Who've done things great, renown'd and rare,
“The dev'l and George know what they are:
159
“Are just what patriots ought to be,
“He their whig herd-man and his flocks
“And herds constituent whig-blocks.
“Sirs, 'twas a most outrageous wrong
“That varlets, five-and-twenty strong,
“Who, all of them, not worth a groat are,
“Besides a Duke of the first water,
“To Government so well affected,
“Should have their services rejected!!—
“Sure 'tis high time, when thus they scout 'em,
“For Citizens to look about 'em!
“And, since the Country values not 'em,
“To trade upon their own Whig-bottom.
“Since Lord-Lieutenants treat like aliens
“George T**r**y's Tag-rag-and-bobtailians;
“Halberds withhold, and swords and guns
“From Southwark's patriotic sons,
“Contemn the myrmidons of Freedom,
“Just as the vict'ling knaves who feed 'em
“In lofts, or culinary caverns,
“And cellars of their sheep's-head taverns
“Are wont t' impound 'em 'till they pay bill;
“And chain their knives and forks to th' table:
“As if, to Rogues, they would denote,
“Give but a knife, they'll cut your throat;
“And, to compensate drawing corks,
“Pocket your spoons and knives and forks.—
“That varlets, five-and-twenty strong,
“Who, all of them, not worth a groat are,
“Besides a Duke of the first water,
“To Government so well affected,
“Should have their services rejected!!—
“Sure 'tis high time, when thus they scout 'em,
“For Citizens to look about 'em!
“And, since the Country values not 'em,
“To trade upon their own Whig-bottom.
“Since Lord-Lieutenants treat like aliens
“George T**r**y's Tag-rag-and-bobtailians;
“Halberds withhold, and swords and guns
“From Southwark's patriotic sons,
“Contemn the myrmidons of Freedom,
“Just as the vict'ling knaves who feed 'em
“In lofts, or culinary caverns,
“And cellars of their sheep's-head taverns
160
“And chain their knives and forks to th' table:
“As if, to Rogues, they would denote,
“Give but a knife, they'll cut your throat;
“And, to compensate drawing corks,
“Pocket your spoons and knives and forks.—
“Perhaps what course 'twere best to steer,
“You'll ask, but on this point I fear
“I cannot give you satisfaction;
“Because my system is inaction:
“So where Saint Anne's hill rears its head,
“For my part, I'll retire—to bed
“When I've toss'd down another cup:
“Come dear Bet A******d, tuck me up!
“And, as for you, Sirs, Law obey;
“Or you'll be tuck'd up t'other way:
“Not better counsel nine in ten
“Could give you—for I know my men.
“If Pitt you combat, you'll be worsted;
“By him you're better known than trusted:
“So hence I draw conclusion plain,
“Howe'er it goes against the grain;
“That quietly submit you must,
“Till time serves to kick up a dust.
“You'll ask, but on this point I fear
“I cannot give you satisfaction;
“Because my system is inaction:
“So where Saint Anne's hill rears its head,
“For my part, I'll retire—to bed
“When I've toss'd down another cup:
“Come dear Bet A******d, tuck me up!
161
“Or you'll be tuck'd up t'other way:
“Not better counsel nine in ten
“Could give you—for I know my men.
“If Pitt you combat, you'll be worsted;
“By him you're better known than trusted:
“So hence I draw conclusion plain,
“Howe'er it goes against the grain;
“That quietly submit you must,
“Till time serves to kick up a dust.
162
“It may be said: ‘if you restreat,
“Good Mister Fox give up your seat
“To some one else.’—Soft, Sirs, I trow
“Two words to such a bargain go:
“In seasons of distrust and danger
“Is't fit the dog should quit the manger?
“Sure, if I can't eat hay or oats,
“They're not design'd for other's throats!
“I'll stay to guard your geese and fowl,
“'Twill do you good to hear me growl;
“And then consider, Sirs, beside,
“How it must mortify my pride
“If every Westminster pot-boiler,
“Pimp, scriv'ner, scavenger, and tyler,
“Should silently toss off his can,
“And toast no more ‘The People's Man!’—
“Then, Sirs, to mine is near allied
“Your spirit, highly rectified;
“For when those Pitt and Grenville Bills,
“To Whigs confounded bitter pills,
“Made Corresponding Curs hang tail;
“We both oppos'd them tooth and nail:
“And—had the country briskly wagg'd as
“Did you and I,—Will ne'er had gagg'd us;
“We'd blown up his despotic system,
“And George, at your request, dismiss'd him.—
“Good Mister Fox give up your seat
“To some one else.’—Soft, Sirs, I trow
“Two words to such a bargain go:
“In seasons of distrust and danger
“Is't fit the dog should quit the manger?
“Sure, if I can't eat hay or oats,
“They're not design'd for other's throats!
“I'll stay to guard your geese and fowl,
“'Twill do you good to hear me growl;
“And then consider, Sirs, beside,
“How it must mortify my pride
163
“Pimp, scriv'ner, scavenger, and tyler,
“Should silently toss off his can,
“And toast no more ‘The People's Man!’—
“Then, Sirs, to mine is near allied
“Your spirit, highly rectified;
“For when those Pitt and Grenville Bills,
“To Whigs confounded bitter pills,
“Made Corresponding Curs hang tail;
“We both oppos'd them tooth and nail:
“And—had the country briskly wagg'd as
“Did you and I,—Will ne'er had gagg'd us;
164
“And George, at your request, dismiss'd him.—
“Well, Sirs, though twice I have attended
“The House, you'll not find matters mended.
“And therefore, give me leave to say,
“I'll now, in earnest, keep away—
“For, though I fain would play the deuce,
“I cannot be of any use
“Where pow'r with honesty conjoin'd
“In Britain's cause enlist mankind.
“Such Coalition to advance
“I'll never lend my countenance;
“Although ('twere bootless to deny it)
“I must knock under to the fiat
“Of Pitt, who rules omnipotent
“The Jove of Britain's Parliament.
“The House, you'll not find matters mended.
“And therefore, give me leave to say,
“I'll now, in earnest, keep away—
“For, though I fain would play the deuce,
“I cannot be of any use
“Where pow'r with honesty conjoin'd
“In Britain's cause enlist mankind.
“Such Coalition to advance
“I'll never lend my countenance;
“Although ('twere bootless to deny it)
“I must knock under to the fiat
165
“The Jove of Britain's Parliament.
“Ah Sirs, though Fox is my cognomen,
“I'm an old Bird of evil omen!—
“And, while I croak, could you survey
“My soul, 'tis lin'd with raven grey:
“Th' woes imagination broaches
“Drive through my brain like mourning coaches.
“Our Club-room looks like Pluto's hall,
“And Whigs like Undertakers all!!
“This domineering Treasury Lad
“Will drive me melancholy mad;
“And yet, Sirs, I'm no pining fellow
“Whose melancholy 's green and yellow,
“Mine 's made of Opposition stuff,
“Right melancholy Blue and Buff.
“Upon a monumental pile
“Patience at Grief may sit and smile,
“But I'm content with seat more humble,
“Upon this chair I'll sit and grumble:
“Nor shall concealment wear my soul,
“Nor feed on my brown-damask jowl:
“Nor me shall scare restrictive laws
“From toasting Freedom's desp'rate cause,
“Exil'd France, Switzerland, and Poland,
“Asylum she can find in no land!
“Here, should the Red Cap grace her crown,
“Pitt o'er her visage pulls it down,
“And ties her up in her own garters,
“As he has down her Irish Martyrs.
“Sure, to make traitors bite the dust is
“The very climax of injustice!
“Our honest Whigs, he'll ne'er enlist 'em
“To militate for such a system,
“To white-wash—who so roundly swore—
“Erin's Apostate Blackamoor.
“I'm an old Bird of evil omen!—
“And, while I croak, could you survey
“My soul, 'tis lin'd with raven grey:
“Th' woes imagination broaches
“Drive through my brain like mourning coaches.
“Our Club-room looks like Pluto's hall,
“And Whigs like Undertakers all!!
“This domineering Treasury Lad
“Will drive me melancholy mad;
“And yet, Sirs, I'm no pining fellow
“Whose melancholy 's green and yellow,
“Mine 's made of Opposition stuff,
“Right melancholy Blue and Buff.
“Upon a monumental pile
“Patience at Grief may sit and smile,
166
“Upon this chair I'll sit and grumble:
“Nor shall concealment wear my soul,
“Nor feed on my brown-damask jowl:
“Nor me shall scare restrictive laws
“From toasting Freedom's desp'rate cause,
“Exil'd France, Switzerland, and Poland,
“Asylum she can find in no land!
“Here, should the Red Cap grace her crown,
“Pitt o'er her visage pulls it down,
“And ties her up in her own garters,
“As he has down her Irish Martyrs.
“Sure, to make traitors bite the dust is
“The very climax of injustice!
167
“To militate for such a system,
“To white-wash—who so roundly swore—
“Erin's Apostate Blackamoor.
“Your true-bred Whig, by right of nature
“Is guardian, trustee, legislator
“T' himself; nor law, nor reason's voice
“Direct him, but his own Free Choice.
“All Sov'reigns made to be cashier'd
“He thinks, except the Sov'reign Herd:
“On principle he 's still at variance
“With all but Multitudinarians,
“Who deem the Hydra-crested Brute
“Infallible and absolute,
“O'er all authorities supreme,
“Whig-eulogy's exhaustless theme.
“And 'tis, no doubt, his wisest course
“Thus to extol his Stalking Horse:
“On whose broad flanks he's wont to vault,
“When he directs his mask'd assault
“'Gainst our State Fortress; for Whig Nob
“Is Primum Mob-ile of Mob;
“Which, as Scotch Bagpiper his drone,
“Whig first inflates, then plays upon:
“First claps o' the back Seditious Cur,
“Then of his growl 's Interpreter:
“Christ'ning Swill'd Insolence and Noise,
“‘The Sov'reign People's sacred voice.’
“Is guardian, trustee, legislator
“T' himself; nor law, nor reason's voice
“Direct him, but his own Free Choice.
“All Sov'reigns made to be cashier'd
“He thinks, except the Sov'reign Herd:
“On principle he 's still at variance
“With all but Multitudinarians,
“Who deem the Hydra-crested Brute
“Infallible and absolute,
168
“Whig-eulogy's exhaustless theme.
“And 'tis, no doubt, his wisest course
“Thus to extol his Stalking Horse:
“On whose broad flanks he's wont to vault,
“When he directs his mask'd assault
“'Gainst our State Fortress; for Whig Nob
“Is Primum Mob-ile of Mob;
“Which, as Scotch Bagpiper his drone,
“Whig first inflates, then plays upon:
“First claps o' the back Seditious Cur,
“Then of his growl 's Interpreter:
“Christ'ning Swill'd Insolence and Noise,
“‘The Sov'reign People's sacred voice.’
“They who to Cæsar render Cæsar's
“Dues have no thanks from you and me, Sirs.
“We adulation's tribute-penny
“Pay only to Our Liege—The Many,
“Who reigns by voluntary suffrage
“Of all who feel the Blue and Buff rage.
“'Twas Britons' voluntary spunk
“That gave Dutch Will, with nose adunque,
“Three Crowns—but old Whigs, I suppose,
“Could not see far beyond their nose,
“Or they had ne'er impos'd the weight
“Of Three Crowns on One single Pate;
“But laid Mynheer upon the shelf,
“And ev'ry Whig enthron'd himself.
“This sounds to loyal ears uncouth,
“Yet 'tis an everlasting truth:
“And these opinions, as I state 'em,
“Form, of Whig Club, the grand Substratum.
“Dues have no thanks from you and me, Sirs.
“We adulation's tribute-penny
“Pay only to Our Liege—The Many,
“Who reigns by voluntary suffrage
“Of all who feel the Blue and Buff rage.
“'Twas Britons' voluntary spunk
“That gave Dutch Will, with nose adunque,
169
“Could not see far beyond their nose,
“Or they had ne'er impos'd the weight
“Of Three Crowns on One single Pate;
“But laid Mynheer upon the shelf,
“And ev'ry Whig enthron'd himself.
“This sounds to loyal ears uncouth,
“Yet 'tis an everlasting truth:
“And these opinions, as I state 'em,
“Form, of Whig Club, the grand Substratum.
“But Tories, Whig-antipodes,
“Broach dogmas, the reverse of these:
“And Tories we denominate
“All those who steer the helm of State;
“A set of arbitrary fellows,
“Who have the confidence to tell us
“That Whigs, to law's imperious yoke,
“Must bend as well as other folk.
“Rebellious Irishmen they hold,
“By martial force should be controll'd:
“And, though Free Will in ev'ry case is,
“Of Government the solid basis,
“They grudge Hibernian Whigs Free Will,
“To outrage, plunder, burn, and kill,—
“Tyrannically stretch their necks
“To cure 'em of such harmless freaks;
“Nay, 'though they should but exercise
“Their most undoubted Right to rise,
“An hempen bandage to the weason
“Apply, as remedy for treason;
“And, by despotic windpipe-crushing,
“Annihilate all free discussion.
“Broach dogmas, the reverse of these:
“And Tories we denominate
“All those who steer the helm of State;
“A set of arbitrary fellows,
“Who have the confidence to tell us
“That Whigs, to law's imperious yoke,
“Must bend as well as other folk.
170
“By martial force should be controll'd:
“And, though Free Will in ev'ry case is,
“Of Government the solid basis,
“They grudge Hibernian Whigs Free Will,
“To outrage, plunder, burn, and kill,—
“Tyrannically stretch their necks
“To cure 'em of such harmless freaks;
“Nay, 'though they should but exercise
“Their most undoubted Right to rise,
“An hempen bandage to the weason
“Apply, as remedy for treason;
“And, by despotic windpipe-crushing,
“Annihilate all free discussion.
“Here was this Principle applied,
“Who knows what fate might Whigs betide;
“Ah, were we not of hemp afraid,
“'Twere fit exertions should be made!
“For I do feel our state disastrous
“While these confounded Tories master us.—
“Though Michael struts, though N**f**k's drinking,
“I feel the Constitution sinking:
“Nor, without Radical Reform,
“Can Opposition brave the storm.
“Sore has her Squadron felt the shocks
“Of Westminster and Maidstone Rocks,
“Th***t 's in Banco Regis moor'd,
“And S******'s sense gone over-board;
“B*rd**t's brave Crew in Cold Bath bound,
“C***tn*y's flat-bottom'd wit aground;
“J**yl, on grave consideration,
“Hangs out his flag of recantation;
“And Wh******* 'neath the table roll'd,
“Pumps up the Porter from his hold.—
“Who knows what fate might Whigs betide;
171
“'Twere fit exertions should be made!
“For I do feel our state disastrous
“While these confounded Tories master us.—
“Though Michael struts, though N**f**k's drinking,
“I feel the Constitution sinking:
“Nor, without Radical Reform,
“Can Opposition brave the storm.
“Sore has her Squadron felt the shocks
“Of Westminster and Maidstone Rocks,
“Th***t 's in Banco Regis moor'd,
“And S******'s sense gone over-board;
“B*rd**t's brave Crew in Cold Bath bound,
“C***tn*y's flat-bottom'd wit aground;
“J**yl, on grave consideration,
“Hangs out his flag of recantation;
172
“Pumps up the Porter from his hold.—
“Freely my sentiments I've utter'd;
“For on which side my bread is butter'd,
“And who they are will serve my turn,
“Thank God, I am not now to learn.
“The sapient and enlighten'd Few
“Give me their cash, I them their cue,
“Who, while in common cause we join,
“Pay sterling Worth with current Coin:
“An honour 'tis to be connected
“With patriots all as well affected
“To Liberty's Whig honour'd Saplin
“As I am, or their Brentford Chaplain;
“And there's no need for me to say
“He's a great Patriot in his way.
“And, for myself, in ninety-seven,
“Erskine, first Counsel under Heaven,
“Told you that, for my good behaviour,
“I, as my Shipwreck'd Country's Saviour,
“Was mark'd, by Providence divine:
“(I never heard a speech so fine!
“Nor do I think such beauties lurk
“In his inestimable Work.)
“Nay, what is more, Charles Grey, esquire,
“Whose splendid talents Whigs admire,
“For fear it should escape unheard,
“Retail'd his flummery word for word.
“For on which side my bread is butter'd,
“And who they are will serve my turn,
“Thank God, I am not now to learn.
“The sapient and enlighten'd Few
“Give me their cash, I them their cue,
“Who, while in common cause we join,
“Pay sterling Worth with current Coin:
“An honour 'tis to be connected
“With patriots all as well affected
“To Liberty's Whig honour'd Saplin
“As I am, or their Brentford Chaplain;
“And there's no need for me to say
“He's a great Patriot in his way.
173
“Erskine, first Counsel under Heaven,
“Told you that, for my good behaviour,
“I, as my Shipwreck'd Country's Saviour,
“Was mark'd, by Providence divine:
“(I never heard a speech so fine!
“Nor do I think such beauties lurk
“In his inestimable Work.)
“Nay, what is more, Charles Grey, esquire,
“Whose splendid talents Whigs admire,
“For fear it should escape unheard,
“Retail'd his flummery word for word.
174
“Your eleemosynary pence
“Have giv'n me ease and affluence,
“And, fatt'ning on your kind subscription,
“Though Government in base Egyptian
“Bondage should make you all bow down,
“Against the grain, to George's Crown;
“Tho' Pitt your purses squeeze and shrink 'em
“With this confounded Tax on Income,
“Account me still your doughty knight,
“Ready, whether you're wrong or right,
“(With Wine and Rhetoric charg'd like Falstaff,)
“To rant, and brandish at your call staff,
“And fight your battles o'er again
“'Gainst Ministerial Buckram Men.
“Mob-majesty, still at his levee,
“Shall see me and my hopeful Nephew.
“I'll in his Sov'reign cause enlist all
“My knaves: Nym-F**st, and E**k**e-Pistol,
“Poins-R****l too, and Sh***y-Bardolph:
“We'll from your sides State-cudgel ward off.
“Dauntless myself shall trace before ye
“The road of Democratic glory;
“Ne'er shall you be by me forsook,
“Or dropp'd at Hounslow as by Tooke,
“Who, 'though my friend, 's a scurvy shepherd,
“That led his lambkins to be pepper'd;
“Just staid his dang'rous theme to broach,
“Then stepp'd out of Sedition's Coach:
“Still, staunch and loyal to the gang,
“With you I'll drink, for you harangue,
“'Till safe I land you, from the Alehouse,
“At Insurrection's Goal—The Gallows.
“Have giv'n me ease and affluence,
“And, fatt'ning on your kind subscription,
“Though Government in base Egyptian
“Bondage should make you all bow down,
“Against the grain, to George's Crown;
175
“With this confounded Tax on Income,
“Account me still your doughty knight,
“Ready, whether you're wrong or right,
“(With Wine and Rhetoric charg'd like Falstaff,)
“To rant, and brandish at your call staff,
“And fight your battles o'er again
“'Gainst Ministerial Buckram Men.
“Mob-majesty, still at his levee,
“Shall see me and my hopeful Nephew.
“I'll in his Sov'reign cause enlist all
“My knaves: Nym-F**st, and E**k**e-Pistol,
“Poins-R****l too, and Sh***y-Bardolph:
“We'll from your sides State-cudgel ward off.
“Dauntless myself shall trace before ye
“The road of Democratic glory;
“Ne'er shall you be by me forsook,
“Or dropp'd at Hounslow as by Tooke,
“Who, 'though my friend, 's a scurvy shepherd,
“That led his lambkins to be pepper'd;
“Just staid his dang'rous theme to broach,
“Then stepp'd out of Sedition's Coach:
176
“With you I'll drink, for you harangue,
“'Till safe I land you, from the Alehouse,
“At Insurrection's Goal—The Gallows.
THE END.
| The poems of George Huddesford | |