Chapter IX: Part II (1)

RECITATIVE _accompanied_.
Enough the parents praise--see of Deceit
The fairer progeny ascends!
_Evasion_, nymph of agile feet,
With half-veil'd face;
_Profession_, whispering accents sweet
And many a kindred _Fraud_ attends;
Mutely dealing courtly wiles,
Fav'ring nods, and hope-fraught smiles,
A fond, amusive, tutelary race,
That guard the home-pledg'd faith of Kings--
Or flitting, light, on paper wings;
Speed Eastern guile across this earthly ball,
And waft it back from _Windsor_ to _Bengal_.
But chiefly thee I woo, of changeful eye,
In courts y'clept _Duplicity!_
Thy fond looks on mine imprinting,
Vulgar mortals call it squinting--
Baby, of Art and Int'rest bred, }
Whom, stealing to the back-stairs head }
in fondling arms--with cautious tread, }
[8]Wrinkle-twinkle _Jenky_ bore,
To the baize-lin'd closet door.

AIR.
Sweet nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within that lov'd recess--
Save when the Closet Councils press,
And junto's speak the thing they mean;
Tell me, ever-busy power,
Where shall I trace thee in that vacant hour?
Art thou content, in the sequester'd grove,
To play with hearts and vows of love!
Or emulous of prouder sway,
Dost thou to list'ning Senates take thy way?
Thy presence let me still enjoy,
With _Rose_, and the lie-loving boy.

AIR.
[9]No rogue that goes
Is like that _Rose_,
Or scatters such deceit:
Come to my breast--
There ever rest
Associate counterfeit!

_PART III._

LOUD SYMPHONY.
But lo! what throngs of rival bards!
More lofty themes! more bright rewards!
See Sal'sbury, a new Apollo sit!
Pattern and arbiter of wit!
The laureate wreathe hangs graceful from his wand;
Begin! he cries, and waves his whiter hand.
'Tis _George_'s natal day--
Parnassian Pegassus away--
Grant me the more glorious steed
Of royal _Brunswick_ breed[10]----
I kneel, I kneel;
And at his snowy heel,
Pindarick homage vow;--
He neighs; he bounds; I mount, I fly--
The air-drawn crosier in my eye,
The visionary mitre on my brow--
Spirit of hierarchy exalt thy rhyme,
And dedicate to George the lie sublime.

AIR _for a Bishop._
[11]Hither, brethren, incense bring,
To the mitre-giving king;
Praise him for his first donations; }
Praise him for his blest translations, }
Benefices, dispensations. }
By the powers of a crown;
By the many made for one;
By a monarch's awful distance,
Rights divine, and non-resistance,
Honour, triumph, glory give--
Praise him in his might!
Praise him in his height!
The mighty, mighty height of his prerogative!

RECITATIVE _by an Archbishop._
Orchestras, of thousands strong,
With Zadoc's zeal each note prolong--
Prepare!
Prepare!
_Bates_ gives the animating nod--
Sudden they strike--unnumber'd strings
Vibrate to the best of Kings--
Eunuchs, Stentors, double basses,
Lab'ring lungs, inflated faces,
Bellows working,
Elbows jerking,
Scraping, beating,
Roaring, Sweating.
Thro' the old Gothic roofs be the chorus rebounded,
'Till Echo is deafen'd, and thunder dumb-founded:
And now another pause--and now another nod
--All proclaim a present God!
[12]_Bishops and Lords of the Bedchamber_,
George submissive Britain sways;
_Heavy_ Hanover obeys.
Proud Ierne's volunteers,
Abject Commons, prostrate Peers--
All proclaim a present God--
(On the necks of all he trod)
A present God!
A present God!
_Hallelujah!_

[1] Hail to the LYAR!] It was suggested to me, that my friend the Doctor had here followed the example of Voltaire, in deviating from common orthography.--_Lyar_, instead of _Lyre_, he conceives to be a reading of peculiar elegance in the present instance, as it puts the reader in suspence between an inanimate and a living instrument. However, for my own part, I am rather of opinion, that this seeming mis-spelling arose from the Doctor's following the same well-known circumspection which he exercised in the case of Mr. Wedgewood, and declining to give his Ode _under his hand_; preferring to repeat it to Mr. Delpini's Amanuensis, who very probably may have committed that, and similar errors in orthography.

[2] Winds its sly way, &c.] A line taken in great part from Milton.
The whole passage (which it may not be unpleasing to recall to
the recollection of the reader) has been closely imitated by
my friend Prettyman, in a former work.
"I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,
And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,
Baited with reasons not unplausible,
_Wind me into the easy-hearted man,_
And hug him into snares." COMUS.

[3] Golden tone, &c.] The epithet may seem at first more proper for the instrument, but it applies here with great propriety to the sound. In the strictest-sense, what is golden sound but the sound of gold? and what could arise more naturally in the writer's mind upon the present occasion?

[4] Phrenzy-rapt, &c.] Auditis? An me ludit amabilis
Insania?----

[5] By thee inspir'd, &c.] In the first manuscript:
"While yet a cradled child, he conquer'd shame,
And lisp'd in fables, for the fables came." See POPE.

[6] Sin from his forehead sprung.]
"A goddess armed
Out of thy head I sprung."
See MILTON's Birth of Sin.

[7] The quick transition of persons must have struck the reader in the first part of this Ode, and it will be observable throughout: Now Poet, now Muse, now Chorus; then Spinner, Blacksmith, &c. &c. The Doctor, skips from point to point over Parnassus, with a nimbleness that no modern imitator of Pindar ever equalled.--Catch him, even under a momentary shape, who can. I was always an admirer of tergiversation (and as my flatterers might say), no bad practitioner; but it remained for my friend to shew the sublimity to which the figure lam alluding to (I do not know the learned name of it) might be carried.

[8] Wrinkle-twinkle, &c.] It must have been already observed by the sagacious reader, that our author can coin an epithet as well as a fable. Wrinkles are as frequently produced by the motion of the part as by the advance of age. The head of the distinguished personage here described, though in the prime of his faculties, he had more exercise in every sense than any head in the world. Whether he means any illusion to the worship of the rising sun, and imitates the Persian priests, whose grand act of devotion is to turn round; or whether he merely thinks that the working of the head in circles will give analogous effect to the species of argument in which he excels, we must remain in the dark; but certain it is, that whenever he reasons in public, the _capital_ and wonderful part of the frame I am alluding to, is continually revolving upon its axis: and his eyes, as if dazzled with rays that dart on him exclusively, twinkle in their orbs at the rate of sixty twinks to one revolution. I trust I have given a rational account, and not far-fetched, both of the wrinkle and twinkle in this ingenious compound.

[9] No rogue that goes, &c.] The candid reader will put no improper interpretation on the word rogue. Pretty rogue, dear rogue, &c. are terms of endearment to one sex; pleasant rogue, witty rogue, apply as familiar compliments to the other: Indeed _facetious rogue_ is the common table appellation of this gentleman in Downing-street.

[10] It will be observed by the attentive reader, that the thought of mounting the Hanoverian Horse, as a Pegasus, has been employed by Mr. Dundas, in his Ode preserved in this collection. It is true, the Doctor has taken the reins out of his hands, as it was time somebody should do. But I hereby forewarn the vulgar Critic, from the poor joke of making the Doctor a horse-stealer.

[11] Hither, brethren, &c.] When this Ode is performed in Westminster Abbey (as doubtless it will be) this Air is designed for the Reverend, or rather the Right Reverend Author. The numerous bench (for there will hardly be more than three absentees) who will begin to chaunt the subsequent chorus from their box at the right hand of his most sacred Majesty, will have fine effect both on the ear and eye.

[12] Lords of the bed-chamber, &c.] Candour obliges us to confess, that this designation of the performers, and in truth the following stanza, did not stand in the original copy, delivered into the Lord Chamberlain's Office. Indeed, Signor Delpini had his doubts as to the legality of admitting it, notwithstanding Mr. Rose's testimony, that it was actually and _bona fide_ composed with the rest of the Ode, and had only accidentally fallen into the same drawer of Mr. Pitt's bureau in which he had lately mislaid Mr. Gibbins's note. Mr. Banks's testimony was also solicited to the same effect; but he had left off vouching for the present session. Mr. Pepper Arden, indeed, with the most intrepid liberality, engaged to find authority for it in the statutes at large; on which Signor Delpini, with his usual terseness of repartee, instantly exclaimed, Ha! ha! ha! However, the difficulty was at length obviated by an observation of the noble Lord who presided, that in the case of the King versus Arkinson, the House of Lords had established the right: of judges to amend a record, as Mr. Quarme had informed his Lordship immediately after his having voted for that decision. _Here end Mr. Robinson's notes._ "A present God, Heavy Hanover, Abject Commons," &c. The imitation will be obvious to the classical reader, ------Præsens divus habebitur Augustus, _ab_jectis Britannis, Imperio, _gravibusque_ Persis. HOR. All the editors of Horace have hitherto read _ad_jectis Britannis. Our author, as sound a critic as a divine, _suo periculo_, makes the alteration of a single letter, and thereby gives a new and peculiar force to the application of the passage.----N.B. _Abject_, in the author's understanding of the word, means that precise degree of submission due from a free people to monarchy. It is further worthy remark, that Horace wrote the Ode alluded to; before Britain was subjected to absolute sway; and consequently the passage was meant as a prophetic compliment to Augustus. Those who do not think that Britain is yet sufficiently _abject_, will regard the imitation in the same light. We shall close this subject by observing, how much better GRAVIBUS applies in the imitation than in the original; and how well the untruth of Ierne's volunteers joining in the deification, exemplifies the dedicatory address of the lie SUBLIME!

_NUMBER XVIII._

IRREGULAR ODE,

_By the_ MARQUIS OF GRAHAM.

I.
Help! help! I say, Apollo!
To you I call, to you I hollo;
My Muse would fain bring forth;
God of Midwives come along
Bring into light my little song,
See how its parent labours with the birth;
My brain! my brain!
What horrid pain;
Come, now prithee come, I say: }
Nay, if you won't, then stay away-- }
Without thy help, I've sung full many a lay. }

II.
To lighter themes let other bards resort;
My verse shall tell the glories of the Court.
Behold the Pensioners, a martial band;
Dreadful, with rusty battle-axe in hand--
Quarterly and daily waiters,
A lustier troop, ye brave Beefeaters,
Sweepers, Marshals, Wardrobe brushers,
Patrician, and Plebeian ushers;
Ye too, who watch in inner rooms;
Ye Lords, ye Gentlemen, and Grooms;
Oh! careful guard your royal Master's slumber,
Lest factious flies his sacred face incumber.
But ah! how weak my song!
Crouds still on crouds impetuous rush along,
I see, I see, the motly group appear,
Thurlow in front, and Chandos in the rear;
Each takes the path his various genius guides--
O'er Cabinets _this_, and _that_ o'er Cooks presides!

III.
Hail! too, ye beds, where, when his labour closes,
With ponderous limbs great CINCINNATUS doses!
Oh! say what fate the Arcadian King betides
When playful Mab his wandering fancy guides,
Perhaps he views his HOWARD's wit
Make SHERIDAN submissive sit;
Perhaps o'er foes he conquest reaps:
Perhaps some ditch he dauntless leaps;
Now shears his people, now his mutton;
Now makes a Peer, and now a button.
Now mightier themes demand his care;
HASTINGS for assistance flies;
Bulses glittering skim the air;
Hands unstretch'd would grasp the prize,
But no diamond they find there;
For awak'd, by amorous pat,
Good lack! his gentle CHARLOTTE cries,
What would your Majesty be at?
The endearing question kindles fierce desire,
And all the monarch owns the lover's fire;
The pious King fulfils the heav'nly plan,
And little annual BRUNSWICKS speak the mighty man!

IV.
At Pimlico an ancient structure stands,
Where Sheffield erst, but Brunswick now commands;
Crown'd with a weathercock that points at will,
To every part but Constitution-hill--
Hence Brunswick, peeping at the windows,
Each star-light night,
Looks with delight,
And sees unseen,
And tells the Queen,
What each who passes out or in, does,
Hence too, when eas'd of Faction's dread,
With joys surveys,
The cattle graze,
At half a crown a head--
Views the canal's transparent flood,
Now fill'd with water, now with mud;
Where various seasons, various charms create,
Dogs in the summer swim, and boys in winter skait.

V.
Oh! for the pencil of a Claud Lorrain,
Apelles, Austin, Sayer, or Luke the saint--
What glowing scenes;--but ah! the grant were vain,
I know not how to paint----
Hail! Royal Park! what various charms are thine--
Thy patent lamps pale Cynthia's rays outshine--
Thy limes and elms with grace majestic grow,
All in a row;
Thy Mall's smooth walk, and sacred road beside,
Where Treasury Lords by Royal Mandate ride.
Hark! the merry fife and drum:
Hark! of beaus the busy hum;
While in the gloom of evening shade,
Gay wood-nymphs ply their wanton trade;
Ah! nymphs too kind, each vain pursuit give o'er--
If Death should call--you then can walk no more!
See the children rang'd on benches;
See the pretty nursery wenches;
The cows, secur'd by halters, stand,
Courting the ruddy milk-maid's hand.
Ill-fated cows, when all your milk they've ta'en,
At Smithfield sold, you'll fatten'd be and slain.--

VI.
Muse, raise thine eyes and quick behold,
The Treasury-office fill'd with gold;
Where Elliot, Pitt, and I, each day }
The tedious moments pass away, }
In business now, and now in play---- }
The gay Horse-guards, whose clock of mighty fame,
Directs the dinner of each careful dame,
Where soldiers with red coats equipp'd,
Are sometimes march'd, and sometimes whipp'd.
Let them not doubt----
'Twas heav'n's eternal plan
That perfect bliss should ne'er be known to man.
Thus Ministers, are in--are out,
Turn and turn about----
Even Pitt himself may lose his place, }
Or thou, Delpini, sovereign of grimace, }
Thou, too, by some false step, may'st meet disgrace. }

VII.
Ye feather'd choristers, your voices tune,
'Tis now, or near the fourth of June;
All nature smiles--the day of Brunswick's birth
Destroy'd the iron-age, and made an heav'n on earth.
Men and beasts his name repeating,
Courtiers talking, calves a-bleating;
Horses neighing,
Asses braying,
Sheep, hogs, and geese, with tuneful voices sing,
All praise their King,
George the Third, the Great, the Good.
France and Spain his anger rue;
Americans, he conquer'd you,
Or would have done it if he cou'd.
And 'midst the general loyal note,
Shall not his _gosling_ tune his throat;
Then let me join the jocund hand,
Crown'd with laurel let me stand;
My grateful voice shall their's as far exceed,
As the two-legg'd excels the base four-footed breed.

_NUMBER XIX._

LETTER FROM THE RT. HON. LORD VISCOUNT MOUNTMORRES, TO THE EARL OF SALISBURY.

MY LORD, Being informed from undoubted authority, that the learned _Pierot_, whom your Lordship has thought proper to nominate to the dignity of your Assessor, knows no language but his own, it seemed to me probable he might not understand _Irish_.--Now as I recollect my last Ode to have proceeded on the orthography of that kingdom, I thought his entire ignorance of the tongue might perhaps be some hindrance to his judgment, upon its merit. On account of this unhappy ignorance, therefore, on the part of the worthy _Buffo_, of any language but _Italian_, I have taken the liberty to present your Lordship and him with a second Ode, written in _English_; which I hope he will find no difficulty in understanding, and which certainly has the better chance of being perfectly correct in the true English idiom, as it has been very carefully revised and altered by my worthy friend, Mr. _Henry Dundas_. I have the honour to be, My Lord, Your Lordship's devoted servant, MOUNTMORRES.

* * * * *

ODE,

_By the_ RT. HON. HARVEY REDMOND MORRES, LORD VISCOUNT MOUNTMORRES, OF THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND, &c.

I.
Ye gentle Nymphs, who rule the Song,
Who stray _Thessalian_ groves among,
With forms so bright and airy;
Whether you pierce _Pierian_ shades, }
Or, less refin'd, adorn the glades, }
And wanton with the lusty blades }
Of fruitful _Tipperary_;
Whether you sip Aonias' wave,
Or in thy stream, fair _Liffy_, lave;
Whether you taste ambrosial food;
Or think _potatoes_ quite as good,
Oh, listen to an _Irish_ Peer,
Who has woo'd your sex for many a year.

II.
_Gold!_--thou bright benignant pow'r!
Parent of the jocund hour,
Say, how my breast has heav'd with many a storm,
When thee I worship'd in a _female_ form!
Thou, whose high and potent skill,
Turns things and persons at thy will!
Thou, whose omnipotent decree,
Mighty as Fate's eternal rule,
Can make a wise man of a fool,
And grace e'en loath'd deformity:
Can straitness give to her that's crook'd,
And _Grecian_ grace to nose that's hook'd;
Can smooth the mount on _Laura_'s back,
And wit supply to those that lack:
Say, and take pity on my woes,
Record my throbs, recount my throes;
How oft I sigh'd,
How oft I dy'd:
How oft dismiss'd,
How seldom kiss'd;
How oft, fair _Phyllida_, when thee I woo'd
With cautious foresight all thy charms I view'd.
O'er many a sod,
How oft I trod,
To count thy acres o'er;
Or spent my time,
For marle or lime,
With anxious zeal to bore[1]!
How _Cupid_ then all great and powerful sate,
Perch'd on the vantage of a rich estate;
When, for his darts, he us'd fair spreading trees,
Ah! _who_ cou'd fail that shot with shafts like these!

III.
Oh, sad example of capricious Fate!
Sue _Irishmen_ in vain!
Does _Pompey_'s self, the proud, the great,
Fail e'en a maid to gain?
What boots my form so tall and slim,
My legs so stout--my beard so grim?
Why have I _Alexander_'s bend?
Emblem of conquest never gain'd!
A nose so long--a back so strait--
A chairman's mien--a chairman's gait?
Why wasted ink to make orations?
Design'd to teach unlist'ning nations!
Why have I view'd th' ideal clock[2],
Or mourn'd the visionary hour?
Griev'd to behold with well-bred shock,
The fancy'd pointer verge _to four?_
Then with a bow, proceed to beg,
A general pardon on my leg--
"Lament that to an hour so late,"
"'Twas mine to urge the grave debate!"
"Or mourn the rest, untimely broken!"
All this to say--all this to do,
In form so native, neat, and new,
In speech _intended_ to be spoken!--
But fruitless all, for neither here or there,
My _leg_ has yet obtain'd me _place_, or _fair!_

IV.
_Pompeys_ there are of every shape and size:
Some are the Great, y-clep'd, and some the Little,
Some with their deeds that fill the wond'ring skies,
And some on ladies' laps that eat their vittle!
'Tis _Morres_' boast--'tis _Morres_' pride,
To be to both ally'd!
That of all various _Pompeys_, he
Forms one complete _epitome_!
Prepar'd alike fierce Faction's host to fight,
Or, thankful, stoop _official crumbs_ to bite--
No equal to himself on earth to own;
Or watch, with anxious eye, on _Treasury-bone!_
As Rome's fam'd chief, imperious, stiff, and proud;
Fawning as curs, when supplicating food!
In him their several virtues all reside,
The peerless Puppy, and of Peers the pride!

V.
Say, Critic _Buffo_, will not powers like these,
E'en thy refin'd fastidious judgment please?
A common _butt_ to all mankind,
'Tis my hard lot to be;
O let me then some justice find,
And give the BUTT to me!
Then dearest DE'L,
Thy praise I'll tell,
And with _unprostituted_ pen.
In _Warton_'s pure and modest strain,
Unwarp'd by Hope--unmov'd by Gain,
I'll call the "best of husbands," and "most chaste of men!"
Then from my pristine labours I'll relax:
_Then will I lay the Tree unto the [3]Axe!_
Of all my former grief--
Resign the bus'ness of the anxious chace,
And for past failures, and for past disgrace,
Here find a snug relief!
The vain pursuit of female game give o'er,
And, hound of _Fortune_, scour the town no more!

[1] When Lord Mountmorres went down into the country, some years ago; to pay his addresses to a lady of large fortune, whose name we forbear to mention, his Lordship took up his abode for several days in a small public-house in the neighbourhood of her residence, and employed his time in making all proper enquiries, and prudent observation upon the nature, extent, and value of her property:--he was seen measuring the trees with his eye, and was at last found in the act of boring for marle; when being roughly interrogated by one of the ladie's servants, to avoid chastisement he confessed his name, and delivered his amorous credentials. The amour terminated as ten thousand others of the noble Lord's have done!

[2] An allusion is here made to a speech published by the noble Lord, which, as the title-page imports, was _intended_ to have been spoken; in which his Lordship, towards the conclusion, gravely remarks:--"Having, Sir, so long encroached upon the patience of the House, and observing by the clock that the hour has become so excessively late, nothing remains for me but to return my sincere thanks to you, Sir, and the other gentlemen of this House, for the particular civility; and extreme attention, with which I have been heard:--the interesting nature of the occasion has betrayed me into a much greater length than I had any idea originally of running into; and if the casual warmth _of the moment_ has led me into the least personal indelicacy towards any man alive, I am very ready to beg pardon of him and this House, Sir, for having so done."

[3] This line is literally transcribed from a speech of Lord _Mountmorre_'s, when Candidate some years ago for the Representation of the City of Westminster.

_NUMBER XX._

IRREGULAR ODE, FOR THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY, _By_ SIR GEORGE HOWARD, K. B.

CHORUS.
Re mi fa sol,
Tol de rol lol.

I.
My Muse, for George prepare the splendid song,
Oh may it float on Schwellenburgen's voice!
Let Maids of Honour sing it all day long,
That Hoggaden's fair ears may hear it, and rejoice.

II.
What subject first shall claim thy courtly strains?
Wilt thou begin from Windsor's sacred brow,
Where erst, with pride and pow'r elate,
The Tudors sate in sullen state,
While Rebel Freedom, forc'd at length to bow,
Retir'd reluctant from her fav'rite plains?
Ah! while in each insulting tower you trace
The features of that tyrant race,
How wilt thou joy to view the alter'd scene!
The Giant Castle quits his threat'ning mien;
The levell'd ditch no more its jaws discloses, }
But o'er its mouth, to feast our eyes and noses, }
Brunswick hath planted pinks and roses; }
Hath spread smooth gravel walks, and a small bowling green!

III.
Mighty Sov'reign! Mighty Master!
George is content with lath and plaister!
At his own palace-gate,
In a poor porter's lodge, by Chambers plann'd,
See him with Jenky, hand in hand,
In serious mood,
Talking! talking! talking! talking!
Talking of affairs of state,
All for his country's good!
Oh! Europe's pride! Britannia's hope!
To view his turnips and potatoes,
Down his fair Kitchen-garden's slope
The victor monarch walks like Cincinnatus.
See, heavenly Muse! I vow to God
'Twas thus the laurel'd hero trod--
Sweet rural joys! delights without compare!
Pleasure shines in his eyes, }
While George with surprize, }
Sees his cabbages rise, }
And his 'sparagus wave in the air!

IV.
But hark! I hear the sound of coaches,
The Levee's hour approaches--
Haste, ye Postillions! o'er the turnpike road;
Back to St. James's bear your royal load!
'Tis done--his smoaking wheels scarce touch'd the ground--
By the Old Magpye and the New, }
By Colnbrook, Hounslow, Brentford, Kew, }
Half choak'd with dust the monarch flew, }
And now, behold, he's landed safe and sound.--
Hail to the blest who tread this hallow'd ground!
Ye firm, invincible beefeaters, }
Warriors, who love their fellow-creatures, }
I hail your military features! }
Ye gentle, maids of honour, in stiff hoops,
Buried alive up to your necks,
Who chaste as Phoenixes in coops,
Know not the danger that await your sex!
Ye Lords, empower'd by fortune or desert,
Each in his turn to change your sovereign's shirt!
Ye Country Gentlemen, ye City May'rs,
Ye Pages of the King's back-stairs,
Who in these precincts joy to wait--
Ye courtly wands, so white and small,
And you, great pillars of the State,
Who at Stephen's slumber, or debate,
Hail to you all!!!

CHORUS.
Hail to you all!!!

V.
Now, heavenly Muse, thy choicest song prepare:
Let loftier strains the glorious subject suit:
Lo! hand in hand, advance th' enamour'd pair,
This Chatham's son, and that the drudge of Bute;
Proud of their mutual love,
Like Nisus and Euryalus they move,
To Glory's steepest heights together tend,
Each careless for himself, each anxious for his friend!
Hail! associate Politicians!
Hail! sublime Arithmeticians!
Hail! vast exhaustless source of Irish Propositions!
Sooner our gracious King
From heel to heel shall cease to swing;
Sooner that brilliant eye shall leave its socket;
Sooner that hand desert the breeches pocket,
Than constant George consent his friends to quit,
And break his plighted faith to Jenkinson and Pitt!

CHORUS.
Hail! most prudent Politicians!
Hail! correct Arithmeticians!
Hail! vast exhaustless source of Irish propositions!

VI.
Oh! deep unfathomable Pitt!
To thee Ierne owes her happiest days!
Wait a bit,
And all her sons shall loudly sing thy praise!
Ierne, happy, happy Maid!
Mistress of the Poplin trade!
Old Europa's fav'rite daughter,
Whom first emerging from the water,
In days of yore,
Europa bore,
To the celestial Bull!
Behold thy vows are heard, behold thy joys are full!
Thy fav'rite Resolutions greet,
They're not much changed, there's no deceit!
Pray be convinc'd, they're still the true ones,
Though sprung from thy prolific head,
Each resolution hath begotten new ones,
And like their sires, all Irish born and bred!
Then haste, Ierne, haste to sing,
God save great George! God save the King!
May thy sons' sons to him their voices tune,
And each revolving year bring back the fourth of June!

_NUMBER XXI._

ADDRESS.

Agreeably to the request of the Right Reverend Author, the following Ode is admitted into this collection; and I think it but justice to declare, that I have diligently scanned it on my fingers; and, after repeated trials, to the best of my knowledge, believe the Metre to be of the Iambic kind, containing three, four, five, and six feet in one line, with the occasional addition of the hypercatalectic syllable at stated periods. I am, therefore, of opinion, that the composition is certainly verse; though I would not wish to pronounce too confidently. For further information I shall print his Grace's letter.

TO SIR JOHN HAWKINS, BART.

SIR JOHN, As I understand you are publishing an authentic Edition of the Probationary Odes. I call upon you to do me the justice of inserting the enclosed. It was rejected on the Scrutiny by Signor Delpini, for reasons which must have been suggested by the malevolence of some rival. The reasons were, 1st, That the Ode was nothing but prose, written in an odd manner; and, 2dly, That the Metre, if there be any, as well as many of the thoughts, are stolen from a little Poem, in a Collection called the UNION. To a man, blest with an ear so delicate as your's, Sir John, I think it unnecessary to say any thing on the first charge; and as to the second, (would you believe it?) the Poem from which I am accused of stealing is my own! Surely an Author has a right to make free with his own ideas, especially when, if they were ever known, they have long since been forgotten by his readers. You are not to learn, Sir John, that _de non apparentibus & non existentibus eadem est ratio:_ and nothing but the active spirit of literary jealousy, could have dragged forth my former Ode from the obscurity, in which it has long slept, to the disgrace of all good taste in the present age. However, that you and the public may see, how little I have really taken, and how much I have opened the thoughts, and improved the language of that little, I send you _my imitations of myself_, as well as some few explanatory notes, necessary to elucidate my classical and historical allusions.

I am, SIR JOHN,
With every wish for your success,
Your most obedient humble servant,
WILLIAM YORK.

* * * * *

PINDARIC ODE,

By DR. W. MARKHAM, Lord Archbishop of York, Primate of England, and Lord High Almoner to his Majesty, formerly Preceptor to the Princes, Head Master of Westminster School, &c. &c. &c.

STROPHE I.
The priestly mind what virtue so approves,
And testifies the pure prelatic spirit,
As loyal gratitude?
More to my King, than to my God, I owe;
God and my father made me man,
Yet not without my mother's added aid;
But George, without, or God, or man,
With grace endow', and hallow'd me Archbishop.

ANTISTROPHE I.
In Trojan PRIAM's court a laurel grew;
So VIRGIL sings. But I will sing the laurel,
Which at St. JAMES's blooms.
O may I bend my brows from that blest tree,
Not flourishing in native green,
Refreshed with dews from AGANIPPE's spring:
But, [1]like the precious plant of DIS,
Glitt'ring with gold, with royal sack irriguous.

EPODE I.
So shall my aukward gratitude,
With fond presumption to the Laureat's duty
Attune my rugged numbers blank.
Little I reck the meed of such a song;
Yet will I stretch aloof,
And tell of Tory principles,
The right Divine of Kings;
And Power Supreme that brooks not bold contention:
Till all the zeal monarchial
That fired the Preacher, in the Bard shall blaze,
And what my Sermons were, my Odes once more shall be.

STROPHE II.
[2]Good PRICE, to Kings and me a foe no more,
By LANSDOWN won, shall pay with friendly censure
His past hostility.
Nor shall not He assist, my pupil once,
Of stature small, but doughty tongue,
Bold ABINGDON, whose rhetoric unrestrain'd,
Rashes, more lyrically wild,
[3]Than GREENE's mad lays, when he out-pindar'd PINDAR.

ANTISTROPHE II.
With him too, EFFINGHAM his aid shall join,
[4] Who, erst by GORDON led, with bonfires usher'd
His Sov'reign's natal month.
Secure in such allies, to princely themes,
To HENRY's and to EDWARD's young.
Dear names, I'll meditate the faithful song;
How oft beneath my birch severe,
Like EFFINGHAM and ABINGDON, they tingled:

EPODE II.
Or to the YOUTH IMMACULATE
Ascending thence, I'll sing the strain celestial,
By PITT, to bless our isle restor'd.
_Trim_ plenty, _not luxuriant_ as of old,
Peace, laurel-crown'd no more;
[5] Justice, that smites by scores, unmov'd;
And her of verdant locks,
Commerce, like Harlequin, in motley vesture,
[6]Whose magic sword with sudden sleight,
Wav'd o'er the HIBERNIAN treaty, turns to bonds,
The dreams of airy wealth, that play'd round PATRICK's[7] eyes.

STROPHE III.
But lo! yon bark, that rich with India spoils,
O'er the wide-swilling ocean rides triumphant,
Oh! to BRITANNIA's shore
In safety waft, ye winds, the precious freight!
'Tis HASTINGS; of the prostrate EAST
Despotic arbiter; whose [8] bounty gave
My MARKHAM's delegated rule
To riot in the plunder of BENARES.

ANTISTROPHE III.
How yet affrighted GANGES, oft distain'd
With GENTOO carnage, quakes thro' all his branches!
Soon may I greet the morn,
When, HASTINGS screen'd, DUNDAS and GEORGE's name.
Thro' BISHOPTHORP's[9] glad roofs shall sound,
Familiar in domestic merriment;
Or in thy chosen PLACE, ST. JAMES,
Be carol'd loud amid th' applauding IMHOFFS!

EPODE III.
When wealthy Innocence, pursued
By Factious Envy, courts a Monarch's succour,
Mean gifts of vulgar cost, alike
Dishonour him, who gives, and him, who takes.
Not thus shall HASTINGS sav'd,
Thee, BRUNSWICK, and himself disgrace.
[10]O may thy blooming Heir,
In virtues equal, be like thee prolific!
Till a new race of little GUELPS,
Beneath the rod of future MARKHAMS train'd,
Lisp on their Grandsire's knee his mitred Laureat's lays.

[1] See Virgil's Æneid, b. vi.

[2] During the Administration of Lord SHELBURNE, I was told by a friend of mine, that Dr. PRICE took occasion, in his presence, to declare the most lively abhorrence of the damnable heresies, which he had formerly advanced against the _Jure divino_ doctrines, contained in some of my Sermons.

[3] See a translation of PINDAR, by EDWARD BURNABY GKEENE.

[4] This alludes wholly to a private anecdote, and in no degree to certain malicious reports of the noble Earl's conduct during the riots of June, 1780.

[5] The present Ministry have twice gratified the public, with the awfully sublime spectacle of twenty hanged at one time.

[6] These three lines, I must confess, have been interpolated since the introduction of the fourth Proposition in the new _Irish_ Resolutions. They arose, however, quite naturally out of my preceding personification of commerce.

[7] I have taken the liberty of employing _Patrick_ in the same sense as _Paddy_, to personify the people of _Ireland_. The latter name was too colloquial for the dignity of my blank verse.

[8] One of the many frivolous charges brought against Mr. Hastings by factious men, is the removal of a Mr. FOWKE, contrary to the orders of the Directors, that he might make room for his own appointment of my so to the Residentship of BENARES. I have ever thought it my duty to support the late Governor-General, both at Leadenhall and in the House of Peers, against all such vexatious accusations.

[9] As many of my Competitors have complained of Signer Delpini's ignorance, I cannot help remarking here, that he did not know BISHOPTHORP to be the name of my palace, in Yorkshire; he did not know Mr. Hastings's house to be in St. James's-place; he did not know Mrs. Hastings to have two sons by Mynheer _Imhoff_, her former husband, still living. And what is more shameful than all in a Critical Assessor, he had never heard of the poetical figure, by which I elegantly say, _thy place, St. James's,_ instead of _St. James's-place_.

[10] Signor Delpini wanted to strike out all that follows, because truly it had no connection with the rest. The transition, like some others in this and my former Ode to Arthur Onslow, Esq. may be too fine for vulgar apprehensions, but it is therefore the more Pindaric.

IMITATIONS OF MYSELF.

_Strophe_ I.
This goodly frame what virtue so approves,
And testifies the pure ætherial spirit,
As mild benevolence?
_My Ode to Arthur Onslow, Esq._

_Epode_ I.
How shall my aukward gratitude,
And the presumption of untutor'd duty
Attune thy numbers all too rude?
Little he recks the meed of such a song;
Yet will I stretch aloof, &c.
_Ibid_.

_Antistrophe_ II.
To HENRYS and to EDWARDS old,
Dread names, I'll meditate the faithful song, &c.
_Ibid_.

_Epode_ II. Justice with steady brow, _Trim_ plenty, _Laureat_ peace, and _green-hair'd_ commerce, In flowing robe of _thousand hues_, &c. On this imitation of myself, I cannot help remarking, how happily I have now applied some of these epithets, which, it must be confessed, had not half the propriety before.

_Strophe_ III.
Or trace her navy, where in towering pride
O'er the wide-swelling waste it rolls avengeful.
_Ibid_.

_Antistrophe_ III.
How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain'd
With Moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her branches!
Soon shall I greet the morn,
When, Europe saved, BRITAIN and GEORGE's name
Shall soon o'er FLANDRIA's level field,
Familiar in domestic merriment;
Or by the jolly mariner
Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.
_Ibid_.

_Epode_ III.
O may your rising hope,
Well-principled in every virtue, bloom,
'Till a fresh-springing flock implore,
With infant hands, a Grandsire's powerful prayer,
Or round your honour'd couch their pratling sports pursue.

_NUMBER XXII._

ODE,

_By the_ REV. THOMAS WARTON, B.D.

Fellow of the Trinity College, in Oxford, late Professor of Poetry in that University, and now Poet Laureat to his Majesty.

I.
Amid the thunder of the war,
True glory guides no echoing car;
Nor bids the sword her bays bequeath;
Nor stains with blood her brightest wreath:
No plumed host her tranquil triumphs own:
Nor spoils of murder'd multitudes she brings,
To swell the state of her distinguish'd, kings,
And deck her chosen throne.
On that fair throne, to Britain dear,
With the flowering olive twin'd,
High she hangs the hero's spear;
And there, with all the palms of peace combin'd,
Her unpolluted hands the milder trophy rear.
To kings like these, her genuine theme,
The Muse a blameless homage pays;
To GEORGE, of kings like these supreme,
She wishes honour'd length of days,
Nor prostitutes the tribute of her lays.

II.
'Tis his to bid neglected genius glow,
And teach the regal bounty how to flow;
His tutelary sceptre's sway
The vindicated Arts obey,
And hail their patron King:
'Tis his to judgment's steady line
Their flights fantastic to confine,
And yet expand their wing:
The fleeting forms of Fashion to restrain,
And bind capricious Taste in Truth's eternal chain.
Sculpture, licentious now no more,
From Greece her great example takes,
With Nature's warmth the marble wakes,
And spurns the toys of modern lore:
In native beauty, simply plann'd,
Corinth, thy tufted shafts ascend;
The Graces guide the painter's hand,
His magic mimicry to blend.

III.
While such the gifts his reign bestows,
Amid the proud display,
Those gems around the throne he throws
That shed a softer ray:
While from the summits of sublime Renown
He wafts his favour's universal gale,
With those sweet flowers he binds a crown
That bloom in Virtue's humble vale.
With rich munificence, the nuptial tye,
Unbroken he combines:----
Conspicuous in a nation's eye,
The sacred pattern shines!
Fair Science to reform, reward, and raise,
To spread the lustre of domestic praise;
To foster Emulation's holy flame,
To build Society's majestic frame:
Mankind to polish and to teach,
Be this the monarch's aim;
Above Ambition's giant-reach
The monarch's meed to claim.

The illustrious _Arbiters_, of whom we may with great truth describe the noble Earl as the very _alter-ipse_ of _Mæcenas_, and the worthy _Pierot_, as the most correct counterpart of _Petronius_, had carefully revised the whole of the preceding productions, and had indulged the defeated ambition of restless and aspiring Poetry, with a most impartial and elaborate _Scrutiny_ (the whole account of which, faithfully translated from the Italian of _Signor Delpini_, and the English of the _Earl of Salisbury_, will, in due time, be submitted to the inspection of the curious), were preparing to make a legal return, when an event happened that put a final period to their proceedings.--The following is a correct account of this interesting occurrence:

On Sunday the 17th of the present month, to wit, July, Anno Domini, 1785, just as his Majesty was ascending the stairs of his gallery, to attend divine worship at WINDSOR, he was surprized by the appearance of a little, thick, squat, red-faced man, who, in a very odd dress, and kneeling upon one knee, presented a piece of paper for the Royal acceptation. His Majesty, amazed at the sight of such a figure in such a place, had already given orders to one of the attendant beef-eaters to dismiss him from his presence, when, by a certain hasty spasmodic mumbling, together with two or three prompt quotations from Virgil, the person was discovered to be no other than the Rev. Mr. _Thomas Warton_ himself, dressed in the official vesture of his professorship, and the paper which he held in his hand being nothing else but a fair-written petition, designed for the inspection of his Majesty, our gracious Sovereign, made up for the seeming rudeness of the first reception, by a hearty embrace on recognition; and the contents of the petition being forthwith examined, were found to be pretty nearly as follows.----We omit the common-place compliments generally introduced in the exordia of these applications, as "relying upon your Majesty's well-known clemency;" "convinced of your Royal regard for the real interest of your subjects;" "penetrated with the fullest conviction of your wisdom and justice," &c. &c. which, though undoubtedly very true, when considered as addressed to George the Third, _might_, perhaps, as matters of mere form, be applied to a Sovereign, who neither had proved wisdom nor regard for his subjects in one act of his reign, and proceed to the substance and matter of the complaint itself. It sets forth, "That the Petitioner, Mr. _Thomas_, had been many years a maker of Poetry, as his friend Mr. _Sadler_, the pastry-cook, of Oxford, and some other creditable witnesses, could well evince: that many of his works of fancy, and more particularly that one, which is known by the name of his _Criticisms upon Milton_, had been well received by the learned; that thus encouraged, he had entered the list, together with many other great and respectable candidates, for the honour of a succession to the vacant _Laureatship_; that a decided return had been made in his favour by the officers best calculated to judge, namely, the Right Hon. the Earl of Salisbury, and the learned _Signor Delpini_, his Lordship's worthy coadjutor; that the Signor's delicacy, unhappily for the Petitioner, like that of Mr. _Corbett_, in the instance of the Westminster election, had inclined him to the grant of a SCRUTINY; that in consequence of the vexatious and pertinacious perseverance on the part of several gentlemen in this illegal and oppressive measure, the Petitioner had been severely injured in his spirits, his comforts, and his interest: that he had been for many years engaged in a most laborious and expensive undertaking, in which he had been honoured with the most liberal communications from all the universities in Europe, to wit, a splendid and most correct edition of the _Poemata Minora_, of the immortal Mr. _Stephen Duck_; that he was also under positive articles of literary partnership with his brother, the learned and well-known Dr. _Joseph_, to supply two pages per day in his new work, now in the press, entitled his Essay _on the Life and Writings_ of Mr. THOMAS HICKATHRIFT; in both of which great undertakings, the progress had been most essentially interrupted by the great anxiety and distress of mind, under which the Petitioner has for some time laboured, on account of this inequitable scrutiny; that the Petitioner is bound by his honour and his engagement to prepare a new Ode for the birth-day of her most gracious Majesty, which he is very desirous of executing with as much poetry, perspicuity, and originality, as are universally allowed to have characterised his last effusion, in honour of the Natal Anniversary of his Royal Master's sacred self; that there are but six months to come for such a preparation, and that the Petitioner has got no farther yet than 'Hail Muse!' in the first stanza, which very much inclines him to fear he shall not be able to finish the whole in the short period above-mentioned, unless his Majesty should be graciously pleased to order some of his Lords of the Bed-chamber to assist him, or should command a termination to the vexatious enquiry now pending. In humble hopes that these several considerations would have their due influence with his Majesty, the Petitioner concludes with the usual prayer, and signed himself as underneath, &c. &c. &c. THO. WARTON, B.D. &c. &c."

Such was the influence of the above admirable appeal on the sympathetic feelings of Majesty, that the sermon, which we understand was founded upon the text, "_Let him keep his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no untruth_," and which was _not_ preached by Dr. _Prettyman_, was entirely neglected, and a message instantly written, honoured by the Sign Manual, and directed to the office of the Right Hon. Lord _Sydney_, Secretary for the Home Department, enjoining an immediate redress for Mr. _Thomas_, and a total suspension of any further proceedings in a measure which (as the energy of Royal eloquence expressed it) was of such unexampled injustice, illegality, and oppression, as that of a _scrutiny after a fair poll, and a decided superiority of admitted suffrages_. This message, conveyed, as its solemnity well required, by no other Person than the Honourable young _Tommy_ himself, Secretary to his amazing father, had its due influence with the Court; the Noble Lord broke his wand; Mr. _Delpini_ executed a _chacone_, and tried at a _somerset_; he grinned a grim obedience to the mandate, and calling for pen, ink, and paper, wrote the following letter to the Printer of that favourite diurnal vehicle through whose medium these effusions had been heretofore submitted to the public:

"_Monsieur_, On vous requis, you are hereby commandie not to pooblish any more of de _Ode Probationare--mon cher ami, Monsieur George le Roi_, says it be ver bad to vex Monsieur le petit homme avec le grand paunch--_Monsieur Wharton_, any more vid scrutinée; je vous commande derefore to finis--Que le Roi soit loué!--God save de King! mind vat I say--ou le grand George and le bon Dieu damn votre ame & bodie, vos jambes, & vos pies, for ever and ever--pour jamais. (Signed) DELPINI."

Nothing now remained, but for the Judges to make their return, which having done in favour of Mr. _Thomas Warton_, the original object of their preference, whom they now pronounced duly elected, the following Imperial notice was published in the succeeding Saturday's _Gazette_, confirming the Nomination, and giving legal Sanction to the Appointment.

PROCLAMATION.

To all CHRISTIAN PEOPLE to whom these presents shall come, greeting,

Know Ye, That by and with the advice, consent, concurrence, and approbation of our right trusty and well-beloved cousins, James Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, and Antonio Franciso Ignicio Delpini, Esq. Aur. and Pierot to the Theatre-royal, Hay-market, WE, for divers good causes and considerations, us thereunto especially moving, have made, ordained, nominated, constituted, and appointed, and by these presents do make, ordain, nominate, constitute, and appoint, the Rev. Thomas Warton, B.D. to be our true and only legal Laureat, Poet, and Poetaster; that is to say, to pen, write, compose, transpose, select, dictate, compile, indite, edite, invent, design, steal, put together, transcribe, frame, fabricate, manufacture, make, join, build, scrape, grub, collect, vamp, find, discover, catch, smuggle, pick-up, beg, borrow, or buy, in the same manner and with the same privileges as have been usually practised, and heretofore enjoyed by every other Laureat, whether by our Sacred Self appointed, or by our Royal predecessors, who now dwell with their fathers: and for this purpose, to produce, deliver, chaunt, or sing, as in our wisdom aforesaid we shall judge proper, at the least three good and substantial Odes, in the best English or German verse, in every year, that is to say, one due and proper Ode on the Nativity of our blessed Self; one due and proper Ode on the Nativity of our dearest and best beloved Royal Consort, for the time being; and also one due and proper Ode on the day of the Nativity of every future Year, of which God grant We may see many. And we do hereby most strictly command and enjoin, that no Scholar, Critic, Wit, Orthographer, or Scribbler, shall, by gibes, sneers, jests, judgments, quibbles, or criticisms, molest, interrupt, incommode, disturb, or confound the said Thomas Warton, or break the peace of his orderly, quiet, pains-taking, and inoffensive Muse, in the said exercise of his said duty. And we do hereby will and direct, that if any of the person or persons aforesaid, notwithstanding our absolute and positive command, shall be found offending against this our Royal Proclamation, that he, she, or they being duly convicted, shall, for every such crime and misdemeanor, be punished in the manner and form following; to wit--For the first offence he shall be drawn on a sledge to the most conspicuous and notorious part of our ever faithful city of London, and shall then and there, with an audible voice, pronounce, read, and deliver three several printed speeches of our right, trusty, and approved MAJOR JOHN SCOTT.--For the second offence, that he be required to translate into good and lawful English one whole unspoken speech of our right trusty and well-beloved cousin and councellor, Lord Viscount MOUNTMORRES, of the kingdom of _Ireland_;--and for the third offence, that he be condemned to read one whole page of the Poems, Essays, or Criticisms of our said Laureat, Mr. Thomas Warton.----And whereas the said office of Laureat is a place of the last importance, inasmuch as the person holding it has confided to him the care of making the Royal virtues known to the world; and we being minded and desirous that the said T. Warton should execute and perform the duties of his said office with the utmost dignity and decorum, NOW KNOW YE, That we have thought it meet to draw up a due and proper Table of Instructions, hereunto annexed, for the use of the said Thomas Warton, in his said poetical exercise and employment, which we do hereby most strictly will and enjoin the said Thomas Warton to abide by and follow, under pain of incurring our most high displeasure.

Given at our Court at St. James's, this
30th day of May, one thousand seven
hundred and eighty-five.
_Vivant Rex & Regina._

TABLE OF INSTRUCTIONS

FOR THE REV. THOMAS WARTON, B.D. AND P.L. &c. &c. _Chamberlain's Office, May 30th, 1785._

1st, That in fabricating the catalogue of Regal Virtues (in which task the Poet may much assist his invention by perusing the Odes of his several predecessors) you be particularly careful not to omit his Chastity, his skill in Mechanics, and his Royal Talent of Child-getting.--

2dly, It is expected that you should be very liberally endowed with the gift of Prophecy; but be very careful not to predict any event but what may be perfectly acceptable to your Sovereign, such as the subjugation of America, the destruction of the Whigs, long-life, &c. &c.

3dly, That you be always provided with a due assortment of true, good-looking, and legitimate words; and that you do take all necessary care not to apply them but on their proper occasions; as for example, not to talk of dove-eyed peace, nor the gentle olive, in time of war; nor of trumpets, drums, fifes, nor [1]ECHOING CARS, in times of peace--as, for the sake of poetical conveniency, several of your predecessors have been known to do.

4thly, That as the Sovereign for the time being must always be the best, the greatest, and the wisest, that ever existed; so the year also, for the time being, must be the happiest, the mildest, the fairest, and the most prolific that ever occurred.--What reflections upon the year past you think proper.

5thly, That Music being a much higher and diviner science than Poetry, your Ode must always be adapted to the Music, and not the Music to your Ode.--The omission of a line or two cannot be supposed to make any material difference either in the poetry or in sense.

6thly, That as these sort of invitations have of late years been considered by the Muses as mere cards of compliment, and of course have been but rarely accepted, you must not waste more than twenty lines in invoking the Nine, nor repeat the word "Hail!" more than fifteen times at farthest.

7thly, And finally, That it may not be amiss to be a little intelligible[2].

[1] It is evident from this expression, that these instructions had not been delivered to Mr. Warton at the time of his writing his last famous Ode on the Birth-day of his Majesty: a circumstance which makes that amazing composition still more extraordinary.

[2] This is an additional proof that Mr. Warton had not received, the Instructions at the time he composed his said Ode.

POLITICAL MISCELLANIES;

BY THE AUTHORS OF _THE ROLLIAD_ AND PROBATIONARY ODES.

* * * * *

-- LONGÆVO DICTA PARENTI
HAUD DUBITANDA REFER. VIRGIL.

TO THE PUBLIC.