Chapter IV: Introduction: Nov. 20, 1797 (3)

Nothing material occurred during the Dinner, which was allowed to be
excellent of its kind, and where no such dish as Cow-heel (as
maliciously reported in _The True Briton_) made its appearance.

As soon as the cloth was removed, the Duke of NORFOLK took the Chair
amidst repeated plaudits,[108] and addressed the Company in these
words:

“Three virtuous Men, Citizens, have stood up in defence of
Liberty—MAXIMILIAN ROBESPIERRE, COLLOT D’HERBOIS, and CHARLES JAMES
FOX:—The first is guillotined; the second transported to _Cayenne_;
and the third”——Here all eyes were immediately upon Mr. FOX, who now
entered the room, supported by Citizens JOHN GALE JONES and JOHN
HORNE TOOKE—“As the Right Hon. Gentleman (resumed the Duke, a little
peevishly) has mistaken his cue, and appeared sooner than he ought,
I shall spare his modesty the panegyric I was preparing, and shortly
conclude with proposing the health of CHARLES JAMES FOX.”—This was
drank with three times three.

As soon as the clamour had subsided, Mr. FOX arose and said, “That
language, at least any which he could boast, was inadequate to the
exquisite feelings of gratitude which at once delighted and
oppressed him, at the sight of so numerous and so respectable a body
of free and independent Citizens, met for a purpose which would make
this the proudest and the happiest day of his life”. Having dwelt a
little on this idea, Mr. FOX observed, “that he would not interrupt
the conviviality of the day by a long Speech: he knew there were
several present who came to hear him make a long Speech, but he
would not make a long Speech—to what purpose should he do it?—what
could he add to the Speech lately delivered by him, and so
faithfully recorded in the ANTI-JACOBIN, a contemptible Publication,
but one to which the praise of Accuracy could not be denied. The new
and extraordinary circumstances of the times called for new and
extraordinary measures: he would, therefore, if they pleased,
compress what he had to say into a _Song_—(_loud applauses_)—One
word only.—He owed both the _burden_ and the _idea_ of this Song to
the _Morning Chronicle_. He had yesterday, the 23rd, found there A
BEGGING ADDRESS to the Nation, with DATE OBOLUM BELISARIO prefixed
to it as a Motto. This had pleased him much, and this morning at
breakfast he had endeavoured to adapt it, _mutatis mutandis_, to his
own circumstances: he should now have the honour of giving it.”

SONG BY MR. FOX.

_To the Tune of_
“Good People of England, and all who love Ale.”

Good People of England, of every degree,
Lords, Commoners, listen, O! listen to me;
Republicans, Royalists, all—mark my ditty—
You’ll find I’ve a number of claims on your pity—
Date Obolum Belisario.

Ye who heard me assert that Lord NORTH, now so mourn’d,
Was a _beast_ to be shunn’d, was a _fool_ to be scorn’d,
Yet who saw me, with real or fancied alarms,
Take the _fool_ to my councils, the _beast_ to my arms,
Date Obolum Belisario.

Ye who heard me declare the SUBSCRIBERS of REEVES
Were a scoundrel collection of cut-throats and thieves,
Yet who saw me immediately after repair,
And SUBSCRIBE at the Long-Room in Hanover Square,
Date Obolum Belisario.

Ye who heard—when Invasion was close at our door,
And _Parker_ and Liberty rul’d at the _Nore_—
Ye who heard—no; I mean, who DID NOT HEAR me speak,
While SHERIDAN,[109] damn him! affected to squeak,
Date Obolum Belisario.

Ye who heard me repeat that Resistance, at length,
Was reduc’d, by PITT’S Bill, to a question of _Strength_,
And that _prudence_ alone——

We know not how far Mr. FOX might have proceeded, had he not been
interrupted by a jangling of bells from the Side-table which
immediately drew all eyes that way. This proceeded from Capt.
MORRIS, who had fallen asleep during Mr. FOX’S Song, and was now
nodding on his chair, with a large paper Cap on his head, ornamented
with gilt tassels and bells, which one of the company had
dexterously whipped on unperceived. The first motion was that of
indignation; but the stupid stare of the unconscious Captain, who
half opened his eyes at every sound of the bells as his head rose or
fell, and immediately closed them again, _somno vinoque gravatus_,
had such a powerful effect on the risible faculties of the Company,
that they broke, as if by consent, into the most violent and
convulsive fits of laughter; Mr. FOX himself not being exempt from
the general contagion.

As soon as the Captain was made sensible of the cause of this
uproar, he attempted to pull off the Cap, but was prevented by a
Citizen from the _Corresponding Society_, who maintained that the
Company had a right to be amused by the Captain in what manner they
pleased; and that, as he seemed to amuse them more effectually in
_that state_ than in any other, he insisted, for one, on his
continuing to wear the Cap. This was universally agreed to, with the
exception of the Duke of NORFOLK. The Captain was therefore led to
the upper table, with all his “jangling honours loud upon him!”
Here, as soon as he was seated, his Noble Friend called upon him for
a Song.

The Captain sang the “PLENIPO” in his best manner.

This was received with great applause; and then the Duke gave “The
Defenders—of Ireland”—(_three times three_).

Captain MORRIS then began

“And all the Books of Moses”;—

but was interrupted, before he had finished the first line, by Mr.
TIERNEY, who declared he would not sit there and hear anything like
ridicule on the Bible.[110]—(_Much coughing and scraping_.)—Mr.
Erskine took God to witness, that he thought the Captain meant no
harm;—and a gentleman from Cambridge, whose name we could not learn,
said, with great _naïveté_, that it was no more than was done every
day by his acquaintance. Mr. TIERNEY, however, persisted in his
opposition to the Song, and Captain MORRIS was obliged to substitute
“Jenny Sutton” in the place of it.

But the good humour of the company was already broken in upon, and
Mr. TIERNEY soon after left the room (to which he did not return)
with greater marks of displeasure in his face than we ever remember
to have seen there.

The Duke now gave RADICAL REFORM (_three times three, followed by
continued shouts of applause_).

A Counsellor JACKSON attempted to sing “Paddy Whack,” but was soon
silenced, on account of his stupid perversion of the words, and his
bad voice.

Citizen GALE JONES then rose and said—that he was no Orator, though
he got his living by oratory, being Chairman of a Debating Society.
He had also written a book—which he was told had some merit. He did
not rise to recommend it, but he thought it right to _hint_, that
those who wished for Constitutional information might be supplied
with it at the Bar; the price was trifling—Eighteen-pence was
nothing to the majority of the Company;—to himself, indeed—(here Mr.
HORNE TOOKE called out Order! Order! with some marks of
impatience)—He begged pardon, he would say no more—there was no one
whom he valued like Mr. TOOKE, there was no one indeed to whom he
was under such obligations; the very shoes he had on were charged by
Citizen HARDY to Mr. TOOKE’S account—Mr. TOOKE was also a great
friend to a Radical Reform—he loved a Radical Reform himself; the
Poor must always love Radical Reforms—he should therefore beg leave
to propose the health of Mr. JOHN HORNE TOOKE.—(_Three times
three._)

Mr. TOOKE rose, and spoke nearly as follows: “You all know,
Citizens, in what detestation I once held the Man whose Birth-day we
are now met to commemorate. You cannot yet have forgot the ‘TWO PAIR
OF PORTRAITS’ I formerly published, nor the glaring light in which I
hung up him and his father to the execration of an indignant
posterity. You must also be apprized of the charges of Corruption,
Insurrection, and Murder (_much hissing and applause, the latter
predominant_) which I brought against him, justly, as I must still
think, at a former Election for Westminster. How happens it then,
you will say, that I now come forward to do him honour? I will tell
you. At the last Election for Westminster, I had still my suspicions
of his sincerity; he appeared too anxious to preserve measures with
the spruce and powdered Aristocrats who usually attended him to the
Hustings; nor was it till the fourth or fifth day before the close
of the Poll, that those suspicions were removed. Aware that he was
losing ground among the People, he determined to make one great
effort to re-establish his popularity. He therefore came forward,
and addressed the free and independent Electors in front of the
Hustings, in a Speech, of which the remembrance yet warms my heart.
From that moment, I marked him as my own! Retractation was
impossible; and the panegyric he lately delivered on a Radical
Reform, in a House which I despise too much to name, was the natural
and inevitable consequence of that day’s declaration. You may
remember, that when I addressed my Friends, I only said, ‘Gentlemen,
Mr. FOX has spoken my sentiments; he has even gone beyond them—but I
thank him’.—What I then said I now repeat, with regard to his Speech
on a late occasion—‘I AM MOST PERFECTLY SATISFIED WITH HIS CONDUCT;
NOR DO I WISH TO ADVANCE ONE STEP IN THE CAUSE OF REFORM, BEYOND
WHAT MR. FOX HAS PLEDGED HIMSELF TO GO!!!’”[111]

Mr. TOOKE then begged leave to propose Mr. FOX’S health for the
second time, and sat down amidst a thunder of applause.[112]

The Duke of NORFOLK observed to the Company, that as they had drunk
the health of a Man dear to the People, he would now call upon them
to drink the health of their Sovereign[113]—here a hiccup
interrupted his Grace, and a most violent cry of “No Sovereign! no
Sovereign!” resounded through the room, and continued for several
minutes, notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of the Duke to be
heard. Order was, however, restored at length, when his Grace gently
chid the Company for taking advantage of a slight infirmity of
nature, to impute a design to him which was wholly foreign from his
heart—(_loud applause_). He augured well, however, of their
patriotism, and would now afford them an opportunity of repairing
the injury they had done him, by giving the Toast as he
intended—“THE HEALTH OF OUR SOVEREIGN—THE MAJESTY OF THE
PEOPLE”.[114]—(_Loud and incessant shouts of applause._)

A disgusting scene of uproar and confusion followed, which we shall
not attempt to detail. The Chairman sank under the table in a state
of stupefaction, and the rest of the Company, maddened alike with
noise and wine, committed a thousand outrages, till they were
literally turned into the streets by the Waiters. As many of them as
could speak were conducted home by the watchmen; others were
conveyed “in silent majesty” to the Round-house; and not a few of
them slept out the remainder of the night upon the steps of the
neighbouring houses. The Reporters of the Jacobin Papers were sought
out, and conveyed home by the pressmen, devils, &c., and one poor
youth, whom we afterwards found to be a Writer in the _Morning
Chronicle_ (hired for the day by _The True Briton_)[115] had his
pockets picked of a clean white Handkerchief and a Notebook, after
being severely beaten for deserting his former Employers.

No. XIV.

Feb. 12, 1798.

It has been our invariable custom to suppress such of our correspondents’ favours as conveyed any compliments to ourselves; and we have deviated from it in the present instance, not so much out of respect to the uncommon excellence of the Poem before us, as because it agrees so intimately with the general design of our paper—to expose the deformity of the French Revolution, to counteract the detestable arts of those who are seeking to introduce it here, and above all, to invigorate the exertions of our countrymen against every Foe, foreign and domestic, by showing them the immense and inexhaustible resources they yet possess in British Courage and British Virtue!

TO
THE AUTHOR OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.

FOE TO THY COUNTRY’S FOES! ’tis THINE to claim
From Britain’s genuine sons a British fame—
Too long French manners our fair isle disgraced;
Too long French fashions shamed our native taste.
Still prone to change, we half-resolved to try
The proffered charms of FRENCH FRATERNITY.

Fair was her form, and FREEDOM’S honour’d name
Conceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:
She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,
Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:
Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,
The long-lost blessings of ASTRÆA’S reign—
But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard face
Betray’d the FURY lurking in the GRACE—
The false attendants that behind her press’d,
In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:
PEACE dropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’d
AMBITION’S mantle reeking fresh with blood;
Presumptuous FOLLY stood in REASON’S form,
Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;
PHILOSOPHY, proud phantom, undismay’d,
With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;
Saw PERSECUTION gnash her iron teeth,
While _Atheists_ preach’d the _eternal sleep of death_;
Saw ANARCHY the social chain unbind,
And DISCORD sour the blood of human kind;
Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;
And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!

Foil’d by our ARMS, where’er in ARMS we met,
With ARTS LIKE THESE the foe assails us yet.
Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,
More secret wiles his envious malice tries;
Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,
Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.

While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,
Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,
’Tis THINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;
An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.
In vain had POMPEY crush’d the PONTIC HOST,
And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;
The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;
The base confederates of a GALLIC[116] foe;
Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eye
Track’d through the windings of conspiracy,
Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,
The “JACOBIN REFORMER[117] of his day”.

’Tis THINE a subtler mischief to pursue,
And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;
Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,
Detect its malice, or resist its rage;
Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,
In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]
Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,
And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:
Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,
By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;
Traitors absolved, and libellers released,
The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]
The _Sovereign-people’s_ cringing, crafty slave,
The dashing fool, and instigating knave,
Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—
VERMIN HAVE SUNK THE SHIP THAT RULED THE MAIN.

’Tis THINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,
And turn the weapon back upon the foe:
To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,
That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;
To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,
Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;
To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,
And shew the cautious all they have to save.

Erect that standard ALFRED first unfurl’d,
Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;
Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d field
Beams with the CHRISTIAN CROSS, the REGAL SHIELD;
That standard which the PATRIOT BARONS bore,
Restored, from RUNIMEDE’S resounding shore;
Which since consign’d to WILLIAM’S guardian hand,
Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;
Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,
Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.

Yes! the BRIGHT SUN OF BRITAIN yet shall shine—
The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;
That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,
Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;
While the red Meteor, whose portentous glare
Shot plagues infectious through the troubled air;
Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,
Lost in the radiance of HIS BRIGHTER DAY!

LINES.
_Written under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor._

I’ll not sell Uncle NOLL, Charles Surface cries;—
I’ll not sell CHARLEY FOX, John Bull replies:
Sell him, indeed! who’ll find me such another?—
Fox is above all price; so hold your pother.
_Morning Post, Feb. 6._

To make our readers some amends for this miserable doggrel, we will present them, in our turn, with some lines written _under a bust_, NOT _at the Crown and Anchor_, by an ENGLISH TRAVELLER just returned from Petersburgh. We believe they are more just; we are certain they are more poetical.

LINES.
_Written by a Traveller at Czarco-zelo under the Bust of a certain
Orator, once placed between those of Demosthenes and Cicero._

I.

THE GRECIAN Orator of old,
With scorn rejected PHILIP’S laws,
Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,
And triumph’d in his country’s cause.

II.

A foe to every wild extreme,
’Mid civil storms, the Roman Sage
Repress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,
And check’d the madding people’s rage.

III.

Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,
With patriot zeal their labours sought,
And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured name
Inspired and govern’d every thought.

IV.

Who now, in this presumptuous hour,
Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?
—The advocate of foreign power,
The Æschines of later days.

V.

What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,
Is thus announced to distant climes?
—Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,
The _Catiline_ of modern times![120]

No. XV.

Feb. 19, 1798.

THE PROGRESS OF MAN.[121]

=A Didactic Poem,=

IN FORTY CANTOS, WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY: CHIEFLY OF A
PHILOSOPHICAL TENDENCY.

DEDICATED TO R. P. KNIGHT, ESQ.

CANTO FIRST.

CONTENTS.—The Subject proposed.—Doubts and Waverings.—Queries not to
be answered.—Formation of the stupendous Whole.—Cosmogony; or the
Creation of the World:—the Devil—Man—Various Classes of
Being:—ANIMATED BEINGS—Birds—Fish—Beasts—the Influence of the Sexual
Appetite—on Tigers—on Whales—On Crimpt Cod—on Perch—on
Shrimps—on Oysters.—Various Stations assigned to different
Animals:—Birds—Bears—Mackerel.—Bears remarkable for their
fur—Mackerel cried on a Sunday—Birds do not graze—nor Fishes fly—nor
Beasts live in the Water.—Plants equally contented with their
lot:—Potatoes—Cabbage—Lettuce—Leeks—Cucumbers.—MAN only
discontented—born a Savage; not choosing to continue so, becomes
polished—resigns his Liberty—Priest-craft—King-craft—Tyranny of Laws
and Institutions.—Savage Life—description thereof:—The Savage
free—roaming Woods—feeds on Hips and Haws—Animal Food—first notion
of it from seeing a Tiger tearing his prey—wonders if it is
good—resolves to try—makes a Bow and Arrow—kills a Pig—resolves to
roast a part of it—lights a fire—APOSTROPHE to fires—Spits and Jacks
not yet invented.—Digression.—CORINTH—SHEFFIELD.—Love, the most
natural desire after Food.—Savage Courtship.—Concubinage
recommended.—Satirical Reflections on Parents and Children—Husbands
and Wives—against collateral Consanguinity.—FREEDOM the only
Morality, &c. &c. &c.

Whether some great, supreme o’er-ruling Power Stretch’d forth its arm at Nature’s natal hour, Composed this mighty whole with plastic skill,[122] Wielding the jarring elements at will? Or whether, sprung from Chaos’ mingling storm, 5 The mass of matter started into form? Or Chance o’er earth’s green lap spontaneous fling The fruits of autumn and the flowers of spring? Whether material substance unrefined, Owns the strong impulse of instructive mind, 10 Which to one centre points diverging lines, Confounds, refracts, invig’rates, and combines?[123] Whether the joys of earth, the hopes of heaven, By man to God, or God to man, were given?[124] If virtue leads to bliss, or vice to woe? 15 Who rules above, or who reside below?[125] Vain questions all—shall man presume to know? On all these points, and points obscure as these, Think they who will,—and think whate’er they please!

Let us a plainer, steadier theme pursue— 20 Mark the grim savage scoop his light canoe; Mark the dark rook, on pendent branches hung, With anxious fondness feed her cawing young.— Mark the fell leopard through the desert prowl, Fish prey on fish, and fowl regale on fowl;— 25 How Lybian tigers’ chawdrons[126] love assails, And warms, ’midst seas of ice, the melting whales;—[127] Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts, Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts;—[128] Then say, how all these things together tend 30 To one great truth, prime object, and good end?

First—to each living thing, whate’er its kind, Some lot, some part, some station is assign’d. The feather’d race with pinions skim the _air_—[129] Not so the mackerel, and still less the bear;[130] 35 _This_ roams the _wood_, carniv’rous for his prey![131] _That_ with soft roe pursues his _watery_ way:[132] _This_, slain by hunters, yields his shaggy hide;[133] _That_, caught by fishers, is on _Sundays_ cried.—[134]

But each contented with his humble sphere, 40 Moves unambitious through the circling year; Nor e’er forgets the fortune of his race, Nor pines to quit, or strives to change his place. Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise, Clap her broad wings, and soaring claim the skies?[135] 45 When did the owl, descending from her bow’r, Crop, ’midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flow’r; Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb, In the salt wave,[136] and fish-like strive to swim?

The same with plants[137]—potatoes ’tatoes breed—[138] 50 Uncostly cabbage springs from cabbage seed; Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed; Nor e’er did cooling cucumbers presume To flow’r like myrtle, or like violets bloom. —Man, only,—rash, refined, presumptuous man, 55 Starts from his rank, and mars creation’s plan. Born the free heir of nature’s wide domain, To art’s strict limits bounds his narrow’d reign; Resigns his native rights for meaner things, For faith and fetters—laws, and priests, and kings. 60

(_To be continued._)

We are sorry to be obliged to break off here. The remainder of this admirable and instructive Poem is in the press, and will be continued the first opportunity.

THE EDITOR.

[The following is the commencement of Knight’s poem:—

Whether primordial motion sprang to life
From the wild war of elemental strife;
In central chains the mass inert confined,
And sublimated matter into mind:
Or, whether one great all-pervading soul
Moves in each part and animates the whole;
Unnumbered worlds to one great centre draws,
And governs all by pre-established laws:
Whether in fates’ eternal fetters bound,
Mechanic nature goes her endless round:
Or ever varying, acts but to fulfil
The sovereign mandates of Almighty will;—
Let learned folly seek, or foolish pride,
Rash in presumptuous ignorance, decide.—ED.]

[Eminent as Richard Payne Knight was as a classical scholar and
archæologist, his poetical powers were not highly appreciated by his
literary contemporaries, as is amusingly shown in a letter from
Horace Walpole, dated 22nd March, 1796, to the Rev. W. Mason, in
which he declares how much he is “offended and disgusted by Mr.
Knight’s new, insolent, and self-conceited poem”. He winds up thus:
“I send you a parody on two lines of Mr. Knight, which will show you
that his poem is seen in its true light by a young man of allowed
parts, MR. CANNING, whom I never saw. The originals are the two
first lines at the top of page 5:”—

“Some fainter irritations seem to feel,
Which o’er its languid fibres gently steal”.—KNIGHT.

“Cools the crimp’d cod, to pond-perch pangs imparts,
Thrills the shelled shrimps, and opens oysters’ hearts.”—CANNING.

It is evident from this that Canning had thought of parodying the
poem immediately after its publication, and that Walpole had seen a
specimen in manuscript, nearly two years before its publication in
the _Anti-Jacobin_, in which the two lines (28, 29) are thus
altered:—

“Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts”.

By an oversight, Peter Cunningham, in his edition of Walpole’s
Letters, attributes the latter’s attack to a previous production of
Knight’s, published in 1794, entitled _The Landscape: a didactic
Poem in three Books_, a work which had excited Walpole’s high
indignation by expressing opinions opposed to his own.—ED.]

No. XVI.

Feb. 26, 1798.

The specimen of the poem on the “Progress of Man,” with which we favoured our Readers in our last Number, has occasioned a variety of letters, which we confess have not a little surprised us, from the unfounded, and even contradictory charges they contain. In one, we are accused of Malevolence, in bringing back to notice a work that had been quietly consigned to oblivion;—in another, of Plagiarism, in copying its most beautiful passages;—in a third, of Vanity, in striving to imitate what was in itself inimitable, &c., &c. But why this alarm? has the author of the “_Progress of Civil Society_” an exclusive patent for fabricating _Didactic_ poems? or can we not write against Order and Government without incurring the guilt of Imitation? We trust we were not so ignorant of the nature of a didactic poem (so called from _didaskein_, to teach, and _poema_, a poem; because it teaches nothing, and is not poetical) even before the _“Progress of Civil Society”_ appeared, but that we were capable of such an undertaking.

We shall only say further, that we do not intend to proceed regularly with our Poem; but having the remaining thirty-nine Cantos by us, shall content ourselves with giving, from time to time, such extracts as may happen to suit our purpose.

The following passage, which, as the reader will see by turning to the Contents prefixed to the head of the Poem, is part of the First Canto, contains so happy a deduction of MAN’S present state of Depravity, from the first slips and failings of his Original State, and inculcates so forcibly the mischievous consequences of _social_ or _civilized_, as opposed to _natural_ society, that no dread of imputed imitation can prevent us from giving it to our readers.

PROGRESS OF MAN.

Lo! the rude savage, free from civil strife,[139] Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life; Restrain’d by none, save Nature’s lenient laws, Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws. Light to his daily sports behold him rise! 65 The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies.[140] Bloodless not long—one morn he haps to stray[141] Through the lone wood—and close beside the way Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey; Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds, 70 Or pig—such pig as fertile China breeds.[142]

Struck with the sight, the wondering savage stands, Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands! Then restless roams—and loaths his wonted food; Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood. 75

By thought matured, and quicken’d by desire,[143] New arts, new arms, his wayward wants require. From the tough yew a slender branch he tears, With self-taught skill the twisted grass[144] prepares; Th’ unfashioned bow, with labouring efforts bends 80 In circling form, and joins th’ unwilling ends. Next some tall reed he seeks—with sharp-edg’d stone Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten’d bone.[145]

Then forth he fares. Around in careless play, Kids, pigs, and lambkins unsuspecting stray; 85 With grim delight he views the sportive band, Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand. Twangs the bent bow—resounds the fateful dart, Swift-wing’d, and trembles in a porker’s heart.

Ah, hapless porker! what can now avail[146] 90 Thy back’s stiff bristles, or thy curly tail? Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round, Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground?[147]

Not unreveng’d thou diest!—in after times[148] From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber’d crimes. 95 Soon shall the slaught’rous arms that wrought thy woe, Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow;[149] When _social_ man shall pant for nobler game, And ’gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim.

As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires,[150] 100 As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires, Urged by the statesman’s craft, the tyrant’s rage, Embattled nations endless wars shall wage, Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain, And millions perish—that a _king_ may reign! 105

For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise;[151] Each rising want invention quick supplies. To roast his victuals is man’s next desire, So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire. Hail fire, &c. &c.

No. XVII.

March 5, 1798.

We are obliged to a learned correspondent for the following ingenious imitation of BION.—We will not shock the eyes of our fair readers with the original Greek, but the following _Argument_ will give them some idea of the nature of the Poem here imitated.

ARGUMENT.

Venus is represented as bringing to the Poet, while sleeping, her son
Cupid, with a request that he would teach him Pastoral Poetry—Bion
complies, and endeavours to teach him the rise and progress of that
art:—Cupid laughs at his instructions, and in his turn teaches his
master the Loves of Men and Gods, the Wiles of his Mother,
&c.—“Pleased with his lessons,” says BION, “I forgot what I lately
taught Cupid and recollect in its stead only what Cupid taught me.”

IMITATION, &c.[152]

WRITTEN AT ST. ANNE’S HILL.

Scarce had sleep my eyes o’erspread,
Ere Alecto sought my bed;
In her left hand a torch she shook,
And in her right led JOHN HORNE TOOKE.
O thou! who well deserv’st the bays,
Teach him, she cried, Sedition’s lays—
She said, and left us; I, poor fool,
Began the wily priest to school;
Taught him how MOIRA sung of lights,
Blown out by troops o’ stormy nights;[153]
How ERSKINE, borne on rapture’s wings,
At clubs and taverns sweetly sings
Of _self_—while yawning Whigs attend—
_Self_ first, last, midst, and without end;[154]
How BEDFORD piped, ill-fated Bard;[155]
Half-drown’d, in empty Palace-yard;
How LANSDOWNE, nature’s simple child,
At BOWOOD trills his wood-notes wild—[156]
How these and more (a phrenzied choir)
Sweep with bold hand Confusion’s lyre,
Till madding crowds around them storm
“FOR ONE GRAND RADICAL REFORM!”

TOOKE stood silent for a while,
Listening with sarcastic smile;
Then in verse of calmest flow,
Sung of treasons, deep and low,
Of rapine, prisons, scaffolds, blood,
Of war against the great and good;
Of Venice, and of Genoa’s doom,
And fall of unoffending Rome;
Of monarchs from their station hurl’d,
And one waste desolated world.

Charm’d by the magic of his tongue,
I lost the strains I lately sung,
While those he taught, remain impress’d
For ever on my faithful breast.
DORUS.

[BION. IDYLLIUM III. THE TEACHER TAUGHT.

TRANSLATED BY FAWKES.

As late I slumbering lay, before my sight
Bright VENUS rose in visions of the night:
She led young Cupid; as in thought profound
His modest eyes were fixed upon the ground;
And thus she spoke: “To thee, dear swain, I bring
My little son; instruct the boy to sing”.
No more she said; but vanished into air,
And left the wily pupil to my care:
I,—(sure I was an idiot for my pains),
Began to teach him old bucolic strains;
How PAN the pipe, how PALLAS formed the flute,
PHŒBUS the lyre, and MERCURY the lute:
LOVE, to my lessons quite regardless grown,
Sang lighter lays, and sonnets of his own,
Th’ amours of men below, and gods above,
And all the triumphs of the queen of love.
I, sure the simplest of all shepherd swains,
Full soon forgot my old bucolic strains;
The lighter lays of LOVE my fancy caught,
And I remembered all that Cupid taught.—ED.]

* * * * *

Something like the same idea seems to have dictated the following Stanzas, which appear to be a loose imitation of the beautiful Dialogue of Horace and Lydia, and for which, though confessedly in a lower style of poetry, and conceived rather in the _slang_, or _Brentford_ dialect, than in the classical Doric of the foregoing Poem, we have many thanks to return to an ingenious academical correspondent.

THE NEW COALITION.[157]

I.

FOX.—When erst I coalesced with North
And brought my _Indian bantling_ forth[158]
In place—I smiled at faction’s storm,
Nor dreamt of _radical reform_.

II.

TOOKE.—While yet no patriot project pushing,
Content I thump’d old Brentford’s cushion,
I pass’d my life so free and gaily;
Not dreaming of that d——d _Old Bailey_.

III.

FOX.—Well! now my favourite preacher’s _Nickle_,[159]
He keeps for PITT a rod in pickle;
His gestures fright th’ astonish’d gazers,
His sarcasms cut like Packwood’s razors.

IV.

TOOKE.—_Thelwall’s_[160] my man for state alarm;
I love the rebels of _Chalk Farm_;
Rogues that no statutes can subdue,
Who’d bring the French, and head them too.

V.

FOX.—A whisper in your ear, JOHN HORNE,[161]
For _one great end_ we both were born,
Alike we roar, and rant, and bellow—
Give us your hand, my honest fellow.

VI.

TOOKE.—Charles, for a shuffler long I’ve known thee:
But come—for once, I’ll not disown thee;
And since with patriot zeal thou burnest,
With thee I’ll live—or hang _in earnest_.

[HORACE. BOOK III., ODE IX.

HORACE.—Whilst I was fond, and you were kind,
Nor any dearer youth, reclined
On your soft bosom, sought to rest,
Not Persia’s monarch was so blest.

LYDIA.—Whilst you adored no other face,
Nor loved me in the second place,
Your Lydia’s celebrated fame
Outshone the Roman Ilia’s name.

HORACE.—Me _Chloe_ now possesses whole;
Her voice and lyre command my soul:
Nor would I death itself decline,
Could I redeem her life with mine.

LYDIA.—For me young lovely _Calaïs_ burns,
And warmth for warmth my heart returns.
Twice would I life for him resign,
Could _his_ be ransomed thus with _mine_.

HORACE.—What if the God, whose bands we broke,
Again should tame us to the yoke!
What if my _Chloe_ cease to reign,
And _Lydia_ her lost power regain!

LYDIA.—Though Phosphor be less fair than _he_;
_Thou_ wilder than the raging sea;
Lighter than down; yet gladly I
With _thee_ would live, with _thee_ would die.—ED.]

* * * * *

[Another version of this Ode published in the _Anti-Jacobin Review_,
vol. 1, pp. 597–8 (the successor to the _Anti-Jacobin_), may perhaps
not be considered out of place here. It was written by the Rev. C.
E. Stewart, a constant contributor to the former journal.

THE HONEY-MOON OF FOX AND TOOKE.

_Donec gratus eram tibi._

FOX.—Since Fox of his Tooke is possest,
No sorrows my bosom can harass;
What Director was ever so blest?
I’m greater, far greater than Barras.

TOOKE.—If Fox to his consort is true,
And this blest Coalition sincere,
I’ll engage as a private with you,
Nor envy thy fame, Robespierre.

FOX.—You once were the worst of my foes,
E’en Pitt I detested not more,
When you dar’d my Election oppose,
And eternal antipathy swore.

TOOKE.—Not to you was my hatred confin’d,
Your father I styled “The Defaulter,”
Drew a portrait of both, and consign’d
Both father and son to the halter.

FOX.—Drive these hated reflections away;
For you I would gladly resign.
Jockey Norfolk, big Bedford, and Grey;
But they answer your purpose and mine.

TOOKE.—Whate’er you attempt or intend,
I am yours, and will bring at your call,
Binns, Gurney, Scott, Ferguson, Frend,
Corresponding Society—all.

BOTH.—Thus reconcil’d, fond, and delighted,
Together we’ll ride in the storm,
While Jacobin Clubs, all united,
Make a radical, perfect Reform.—ED.]

No. XVIII.

March 12, 1798.

We are indebted for the following exquisite imitation of one of the most beautiful Odes of Horace, to an unknown hand. All that we can say is, that it came to us in a blank cover sealed with a ducal coronet, and that it appears evidently to be the production of a mind not more classical than convivial.

ODE.

Whither, O Bacchus, in thy train,[162]
Dost thou transport thy votary’s brain
With sudden inspiration?
Where dost thou bid me quaff my wine,
And toast new measures to combine
The _Great_ and _Little Nation_?

Say, in what tavern I shall raise[163]
My mighty voice in Charley’s praise,
And dream of future glories,
When FOX, with salutary sway
(Terror the Order of the Day),
Shall reign o’er King and Tories?

My mighty feelings must have way![164]
A toast I’ll give—a thing I’ll say,
As yet unsaid by any,—
“OUR SOV’REIGN LORD!”—let those who doubt
My honest meaning, hear me out—
“HIS MAJESTY—THE MANY!”

Plain folks may be surprised, and stare,[165]
As much surprised as BOB ADAIR
At Russia’s wooden houses;
And Russian snows, that lie so thick;[166]
And Russian boors[167] that daily kick,
With barbarous foot, their spouses.

What joy, when drunk, at midnight’s hour,[168]
To stroll through Covent Garden’s bow’r,
Its various charms exploring;
And, ’midst its shrubs and vacant stalls,
And proud Piazza’s crumbling walls,
Hear trulls and watchmen snoring!

Parent of wine, and gin, and beer,[169]
The nymphs of Billingsgate you cheer;
Naiads robust and hearty;
As Brookes’s chairmen fit to wield
Their stout oak bludgeons in the field,
To aid our virtuous party.

Mortals! no common voice you hear;[170]
_Militia Colonel, Premier Peer,
Lieutenant of a County_!
I speak high things! yet, god of wine,
For thee, I fear not to resign
These gifts of royal bounty.

[HORACE. BOOK III., ODE XXV. TO BACCHUS.

TRANSLATED BY FRANCIS.

Whither in sacred ecstasy,
BACCHUS, when full of thy divinity,
Dost thou transport me? To what glades?
What gloomy caverns, unfrequented shades?
In what recesses shall I raise
My voice to sacred Cæsar’s deathless praise,
Amid the stars to bid him shine,
Ranked in the councils of the powers divine?
Some bolder song shall wake the lyre,
And sounds unknown its trembling strings inspire.
Thus o’er the steepy mountains’ height,
Starting from sleep, thy priestess takes her flight:
Amazed, behold the Thracian snows,
With languid streams where icy Heber flows
Or Rhodopé’s high-towering head,
Where frantic choirs barbarian measures tread.
O’er pathless rocks, through lonely groves,
With what delight my raptured spirit roves!
O thou, who rul’st the Naiad’s breast;
By whom the Bacchanalian maids, possessed
With sacred rage inspired by thee,
Tear from the bursting glebe th’ uprooted tree;
Nothing or low, or mean, I sing,
No mortal sound shall shake the swelling string.
The venturous theme my soul alarms;
But warmed by thee the thought of danger charms.
When vine-crowned Bacchus leads the way,
What can his daring votaries dismay?—ED.]

[The preceding Ode, written in the character of Charles Howard,
eleventh DUKE OF NORFOLK, refers to the famous toast, “Our
Sovereign’s health—THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” proposed by his Grace
at a Banquet at the “Crown and Anchor Tavern,” Strand, on the 24th
January, 1798, given to celebrate the birth-day of C. J. FOX. For
this toast and other sentiments promulgated at the meeting, his
Grace a few days after received notice of his dismissal from the
Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of Yorkshire and his Colonelcy
in the Militia, and on the 6th of February Earl Fitzwilliam was
gazetted to the former office, vice the Duke of Norfolk, _resigned_.
But sixteen years earlier, this _Toast_ was not considered
seditious; for in the _General Advertiser_ of the 13th of April,
1782, then edited by Perry (afterwards the eminent proprietor of the
_Morning Chronicle_), we find an account of a dinner of the electors
of Westminster held the preceding day at the Shakespeare Tavern,
_Earl Fitzwilliam_ in the chair. The first toast given by his
Lordship was, “THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”. It was drunk by the Earl
of Effingham, the Earl of Surrey (afterwards Duke of Norfolk, and
the subject of the present remarks), Mr. Secretary Fox, Burke,
Windham, Dean Jebb, J. Churchill, Brand Hollis, Dr. Brocklesby, &c.
Thus the identical toast was proposed and drunk by the Earl of
Fitzwilliam, to whom the Lord-Lieutenancy now taken from the Duke of
Norfolk was given. It is not a little remarkable that Lord
Fitzwilliam himself was dismissed by his new Tory allies, Oct. 23,
1819, from the same Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of
Yorkshire, having signed the requisition for the York meeting, at
which resolutions were passed condemning the measures of Ministers
(Lords Liverpool, Eldon, Bathurst, Castlereagh, Palmerston, &c.),
respecting the Manchester Reform Meeting, called by Henry Hunt, on
16th August, at which occurred what is known as the “Peterloo
Massacre”.—ED.]

[“THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” AS GIVEN ON FOX’S BIRTH-DAY.

The company was a very large one, but the estimated number of 2000
diners is surely an error. The Duke of Norfolk presided, supported
by the Duke of Bedford, the Earls of Lauderdale and Oxford,
Sheridan, Tierney, Erskine, Capt. Morris (who produced three new
songs for the occasion), and Horne Tooke; the latter became
reconciled to Fox by the explanation the latter gave of his
sentiments on parliamentary reform. On the cloth being removed, he
rose and said, “We are met in a moment of most serious difficulty to
celebrate the birth of a man dear to the friend of freedom. I shall
only recall to your memory that not twenty years ago, the
illustrious GEORGE WASHINGTON had not more than two thousand men to
rally round him when his country was attacked. America is now free.
This day full two thousand men are assembled in this place. I leave
the application to you. I propose to you the health of CHARLES JAMES
FOX.”

In the course of the evening the Duke’s health was drunk with great
enthusiasm. He returned thanks, and concluded his speech with these
words, “Give me leave to call on you to drink, Our Sovereign’s
health,

“THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”.

After this toast had been drunk and warmly applauded, the Duke gave
successively, “The Rights of the People,” “Constitutional Redress of
the Wrongs of the People,” “A speedy and effectual Reform in the
Representation of the People in Parliament,” “The genuine Principles
of the British Constitution,” “The People of Ireland, and may they
be speedily restored to the Blessings of Law and Liberty”.

On the 6th of February, the next monthly meeting of the _Whig Club_
was held at the London Tavern, Ludgate Hill. The DUKE OF NORFOLK
presided. He gave as a toast, “The Man who dares be honest in the
worst of times—

“CHARLES JAMES FOX”.

FOX returned thanks, and then toasted

“THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE”.

He subsequently proposed the health of the Duke of Norfolk in a most
powerful speech. He adverted to the dismissal of the DUKE. “No
reason had been officially assigned; it was, however, generally
understood that it had arisen from the eulogium pronounced on
GENERAL WASHINGTON. Was it to be wondered at, that the noble Duke,
who had uniformly opposed the American war, should have done so?
What Englishman, what man of any country, whose heart was animated
with a love of freedom, did not venerate the name of that
illustrious patriot? It seems also “a toast” has given offence—the
Majesty of the People. I do not know upon what times we are fallen,
but the sovereignty of the people of Great Britain is surely a thing
not new to the language, to the feelings, nor the hearts of
Englishmen. It is the basis of the whole system of our Government.
It is an opinion, which if it be not true, King William was an
usurper. By what right did the glorious and immortal King William
the Third, whose portrait is placed on our chair, come to the throne
of these realms, if not by that of the sovereignty of the people?...
The King holds his title by an Act of Parliament. Who called that
Parliament? King William the Third. By what right did he obtain it?
By a Convention representing the sovereignty of the people. The
Convention of Representatives in fact did the thing. It is whimsical
enough to deprive the noble Duke of his appointments for an offence
which, if he had not committed during the reigns of George I. and
George II., would have subjected him to the charge of being a
Jacobite, and an adherent of the exiled family.... Of the persons of
his Majesty’s Ministers I will not say a word. There are several of
them to whom I may fairly say this sentiment is not new. One member
of the Cabinet (the Duke of Portland) is still a member of this
club; another (Mr. Windham) was a member; and a third (Earl Spencer)
long gloried in holding the same tenets. How often with the two
first have we drunk the sentiment in this room! What did they mean
when they drank the Sovereignty of the People? What, but that they
recognised by this approved and customary method a truth which
belongs to all people in reality, but is the avowed basis of the
Government of England, that the people of every country are its
legitimate Sovereign, and that all authority is delegated from and
for them? I should be ashamed, on account of my old respect for
those persons, if they did not honestly avow this to be their sense
of the sentiment.”

While adverting, on this occasion, to the dismissal of the DUKE OF
NORFOLK from his Lord-Lieutenancy and Colonelcy of Militia, FOX
remarked, “I have nothing the Ministers can take from me. I am still
indeed a Privy Councillor, at least I know nothing to the contrary;
and if this sentiment entitles the Noble Duke to this animadversion,
I shall certainly feel that I am equally entitled to this mark of
his Majesty’s displeasure.” This anticipation was verified shortly
afterwards.

On the 1st of May following, at the Freemasons’ Tavern, another
dinner of the _Whig Club_ took place. FOX was in the chair, and
gave, as the first toast—

“THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE OF GREAT BRITAIN”.

The Duke of Norfolk proposed “The Health of the Man who dares be
Honest in the worst of Times—

“CHARLES JAMES FOX”.

FOX responded in a most impressive speech. He said: “On any other
occasion, he should have contented himself with returning thanks,
but in the very peculiar embarrassments in which the country was now
plunged, he thought it necessary to say a few words in the only
place in which he thought it might be useful for him to deliver his
sentiments. The circumstances and events of public affairs of late
had induced him and many of his friends to abstain from their usual
assiduous attendance in Parliament. Their exertions for the
preservation of the Constitution had been of no avail; two years ago
they had seen the repeal of the Bill of Rights carried by a
triumphant majority; they had seen the functions of the
Constitutional Law suspended, on alarm created by the Ministers
themselves; and however well-founded the alarm might now be, he
scorned the idea that it was necessary for him to attend in his
place in the House of Commons, for the purpose only of vindicating
himself from the vulgar calumny that he was not an enemy to a
foreign invasion. It would be an insult on his whole life if such a
declaration could be expected from him. He believed there was not a
voice in the assembly he addressed which was not in unison with his
own—namely, that every man who heard him was both ready and willing
to stand forth in defence of his country, with the spirit that
belongs to Englishmen. He found no fault with those who thought it
necessary to make these professions elsewhere. Thus much only would
he say in this place for himself. _The present Government of the
country, he had no hesitation in saying, was a Government of
Tyranny. They had adopted the principles of Robespierre, and their
object was to establish tyranny in England._ Look at the situation
of the Sister Kingdom; our own will soon be the same. He had no
remedy to recommend but that the friends of freedom should be united
and firm, and wait for better times. Tyranny was now the order of
the day in every country in Europe. Notwithstanding the arbitrary
proceedings of our own Ministers, he was persuaded the unanimous
feeling of the country, the universal determination of every man in
it was to be ready to take the field against a foreign foe; and,
indeed, they had a powerful motive to do so, for if they were
united, they had a better chance to get rid of the tyranny of their
own Ministers than they could possibly have by the success of a
foreign invasion. Even in his present retirement he should be ready
to come forward, in every constitutional effort, to regain our lost
liberties; and he should be in the foremost of the ranks to repel
the invasion of a daring enemy.”

This speech led to a most important consequence—the erasing from the
Privy Council Book the name of one of the most illustrious statesmen
which had ever adorned it. FOX’S name was struck out by the King on
the 9th of May.

On the 6th of June, after the dinner at the _Whig Club_, the DUKE OF
BEDFORD proposed “THE HEALTH OF CHARLES FOX,” and remarked in severe
terms on Ministers having caused the King to strike his name out of
the list of the Privy Council. FOX said: “It would be most unfit for
him to say a word respecting the Noble Duke’s allusion to a
circumstance personal to himself. Would to God the time of the
Ministers had been always employed in such _frivolous fooleries_ as
settling who should be _Honourable_ and who _Right Honourable_, and
deliberating on the titles most befitting their friends and
supporters.” FOX, with some of his supporters, seceded from
Parliament in 1797, and returned to the House of Commons in 1802 to
defend the Peace of Amiens, and he was persuaded to continue his
parliamentary attendance by the urgent request of friends, with
whose wishes he felt himself bound to comply.—ED.]

No. XIX.

March 19, 1798.

For the authenticity of the enclosed Ballad we refer our readers to a volume of MS. Poems discovered upon the removal of some papers, during the late alterations which have taken place at the Tax-office, in consequence of the Reports of the Finance Committee.

It has been communicated to our printer by an ingenious friend of his, who occasionally acts for the Deputy Collector of the Parish of St. Martin in the Fields; but without date, or any other mark, by which we are enabled to guess at the particular subject of the composition.

CHEVY CHASE.[171]

God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all:
A woeful story late there did
In Britain’s Isle befall.

DUKE SMITHSON, of NORTHUMBERLAND,
A vow to God did make,
The choicest gifts in fair England,
For him and his to take.

“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,
“By MOIRA’S Earl and me,
And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,
As arm’d neutrality.

“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,
I’ve begg’d from _Master_ ROSE;
The Garter too—but still _the Blues_
I’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”

“Now God be with him,” quoth the KING,
“Sith ’twill no better be;
I trust we have within our realm
Five hundred good as he.”

The DUKE then join’d with Charley FOX,
A leader ware and tried,
And ERSKINE, SHERIDAN, and GREY
Fought stoutly by his side.

Throughout the English Parliament,
They dealt full many a wound;
But in his king’s and country’s cause,
PITT firmly stood his ground.

And soon a law like arrow keen,
Or spear, or curtal-axe,
Struck poor DUKE SMITHSON to the heart,
In shape of _Powder-tax_.[172]

Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,
“Crop, crop, my merry men all;
No guinea for your head I’ll pay,
Though Church and State should fall.”

Again the taxing-man appear’d—
No deadlier foe could be;
A schedule of a cloth-yard long,
Within his hand bore he.

“Yield thee, DUKE SMITHSON, and behold
The assessment thou must pay;
Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,
And servants in array.”

“Nay,” quoth the DUKE, “in thy black scroll
Deductions I espye—
For those who, poor, and mean, and low,
With children burthen’d lie.

“And though full sixty thousand pounds
My vassals pay to me,
From Cornwall to _Northumberland_,
Through many a fair countée;

“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,
Its cause, I value not,
Compar’d with this, my constant text,
_A penny sav’d, is got_.

“No drop of princely _Percy’s_ blood
Through these cold veins doth run;
With _Hotspur’s_ castles, blazon, name,
I still am _poor_ SMITHSON.

“Let England’s youth unite in arms,
And every liberal hand,
With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,
To save their native land:

“I at _St. Martin’s_ Vestry Board,
To swear shall be content,
That I have children eight, and claim
_Deductions ten per cent._”

God bless us all from factious foes,
And French fraternal kiss;
And grant the king may never make
Another _Duke_ like this.[173]

No. XX.

ODE TO JACOBINISM.

March 26, 1798.

I.

Daughter of Hell, insatiate power,
Destroyer of the human race,
Whose iron scourge and madd’ning hour
Exalt the bad, the good debase;
Thy mystic force, despotic sway,
Courage and innocence dismay,
And patriot monarchs vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone!

II.

When first to scourge the sons of earth,
Thy sire his darling child design’d,
Gallia receiv’d the monstrous birth—
VOLTAIRE inform’d thy infant mind;
Well-chosen nurse! his sophist lore
He bade thee many a year explore!
He mark’d thy progress, firm though slow,
And statesmen, princes, leagued with their invet’rate foe.

III.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
The morals (antiquated brood);
Domestic Virtue, social Joy,
And Faith that has for ages stood:
Swift they disperse, and with them go
The friend sincere, the gen’rous foe.—
Traitors to God and man avow’d,
By thee now rais’d aloft, now crush’d beneath the crowd.

IV.

Revenge, in blood-stain’d robe arrayed,
Immersed in gloomy joy profound;
Ingratitude, by guilt dismay’d,
With anxious eye wild glancing round,
Still on thy frantic steps attend:
With Death, thy victim’s only friend,
Injustice, to the truth severe,
And Anguish, dropping still the life-consuming tear.

V.

Oh swiftly on my country’s head,
Destroyer, lay thy ruthless hand;
Nor yet in Gallic terrors clad,
Nor circled by the _Marseilles band_,
(As by th’ initiate thou art seen),
With thund’ring cannon, _guillotine_,
With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
Fire, Rapine, sword, and chains, and ghastly Poverty.

VI.