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There Paddy brogued By Jasus 1'—'What's your! The rest,' quoth Michael: Who may be so graced wull ?
As to speak first? there's choice enough-who The temperate Scot exclaim'd: the French ghost
It be? Then Satan answer'd, “There are many; In certain terms I shan't translate in full,
But you inay choose Jack Wilkes as well as any." As the first coachman will; and 'midst the war, The voice of Jonathan was heard to express,
LXVI. Our President is going to war, I guess.'
A merry, cock-eyed, curious-looking sprite
Upon the instant started from the throng.
Dress'd in a fashion now forgotten quite;
By people in the next world; where unite From Otaheite's isle to Salisbury Plain,
All the costumes since Adam's, right or wrong,
Assembled, and exclaim'd, 'My friends of all
The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst these When Michael saw this host, he first grew pale,
clouds; As angels can; next, like Italian twilight,
So let's to business: why this general call ? He turn d all colours-as a peacock's tail,
If those are freeholders I see in shrouds, Or sunset streaming through a Gothic skylight And 'tis for an election that they bawl, In some old abbey, or a trout not stale,
Behold a candidate with unturn'd coat! Or distant lightning on the horizon by night,
Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote!" Or a fresh rainbow, or a grand review of thirty regiments in red, green, and blue.
Sir,' replied Michael, you mistake; these things LXII.
Are of a former life, and what we do Then he address'd himself to Satan : Why,
Above is more august; to judge of kings My good old friend--for such I deem you, though
Is the tribunal met: so now you know.' Our different parties make us fight so shy,
• Then I presume those gentlemen with wings, I ne'cr mistake you for a personal foe :
Said Wilkes, are cherubs; and that soul below Our difference is political, and I
Looks much like George the Third, but to my mind Trust that, whatever may occur below,
A good deal older-Bless me! is he blind ?'
He is what you behold him, and his doom
Depends upon his deeds,'the Angel said.
If you have aught to arraign in him, the tomb My call for witnesses! I did not mean
Gives licence to the humblest beggar's head That you should half of earth and hell produce;
To lift itself against the loftiest. Some, 'Tis even superfluous, since two honest, clean,
Said Wilkes, don't wait to see them laid in lead True testimonies are enough : we lose
For such a liberty; and I, for one, Our time, nay, our eternity, between
Have told them what I thought beneath the sun.' The accusation and defence: if we Hear both, 'twill stretch our immortality.'
Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast
To urge against him,' said the Archangel. Why.' Satan replied, 'To me the matter is
Replied the spirit, since old scores are past, Indifferent, in a personal point of view :
Must I turn evidence! In faith, not I. I can have fifty better souls than this
Besides, I beat him hollow at the last, With far less trouble than we have gone tlırough
With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky Already; and I merely argued his
I don't like ripping up old stories, since Late Majesty of Britain's case with you
His conduct was but natural in a prince. Upon a point of form: you may dispose
Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress
A poor unlucky devil without a shilling;
But then I blame the man himself much less By multo-scribbling Southey). "Then we'll call
Than Bute and Grafton;" and shall be unwilling One or two persons of the myriads placed Around our congress, and dispense with all
• George III.'s Ministers.
To see him punish d here for their excess,
LXXVIIT. Since they were both damn'd long ago, and still in!
The moment that you had pronounced hiin one, Their place below: for me, I have forgiven,
Presto! his face changed, and he was another ; And vote his habeas corpus into heaven.
And when that change was hardly well put on,
It varied, till I don't think his own mother
(If that he had a mother) would her son Wilkes,' said the devil, I understand all this;
Have known, he shifted so from one to t'other ; You turn'd to half a courtier ere you died,
Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task,
At this epistolary Iron Mask.'
For sometimes he like Cerberus would seemHe won't be sovereign more: you've lost your : •Three gentlemen at once' (as sagely says bour,
Good Mrs. Malaprop): then you might decin For at the best he will but be your neighbour.
That he was not even one. Now many rays
Were Aashing round him; and now a thick steam LXXIII
Hid him from sight-like fogs on London days : However, I knew what to think of it,
Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's When I beheld you in your jesting way,
fancies, Flitting and whispering round about the spit And certes often like Sir Philip Francis.
Where Belial, upon duty for the day, With Fox's lard was basting William Pitt,
LXXX. His pupil; I knew what to think, I say:
I've an hypothesis-'tis quite my own; That fellow cven in hell breeds further ills;
I never let it out till now, for fear I'l! lave him gagg'd-'twas one of his own bills.
Of doing people harm about the throne,
And injuring some minister or peer,
On whom the stigma might perhaps be blown: Call Junius! From the crowd a shadow stalk'd,
It is--my gentle public, lend thine ear! And at the name there was a general squeeze,
'Tis that what Junius we are wont to call So that the very ghosts no longer walk'd
Was really, truly, nobody at all.
I don't see wherefore letters should not be Like wind compress'd and pent within a bladder,
Written without hands, since we daily view Or like a human colic, which is sadder.
Them written without heads; and books, we see,
Are filled as well without the latter too:
And really till we fix on somebody
For certain sure to claim them as his due, That look'd as it had been a shade on earth;
Their author, like the Niger's mouth, will bother Quick in its motions, with an air of vigour,
The world to say if there be mouth or author
And who and what art thou l' the Archangel said, But as you gazed upon its features, they
For that you may consult my title-page,' Changed every instant-to what, none could say.
Replied this mighty shadow of a shade: 1.XXVI.
If I have kept my secret half an age, The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less
I scarce shall tell it now.' 'Canst thou upbraid, Could they distinguish whose the features were ;
Continued Michael, George Rex, or allege The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to guess;
Aught further? Junius answer'd, “You had better They varied like a dream-now here, now there;
First ask him for his answer to my letter:
My charges upon record will outlast
The brass of both his epitaph and tomb.'
Repent'st thou not,' said Michael, of some past LXXVII.
Exaggeration? Something which may doom Another, that he was a duke, or knight,
Thyself if false, as him if true? Thou wast An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,
Too bitter-is it not so ?-in thy gloom A nabob, a man-midwife ; but the wight
Of passion Passion !' cried the phantom dim, Mysterious changed his countenance at least • I loved my country, and I hated him, As oft as they their minds: though in full sight He stood, the puzzle only was increased :
LXXXIV. The man was a phantasmagoria in
• What I have written, I have written: let Himself-he was so volatile and thin
The rest be on his head or mine!' So spoke
Old Nominis L'mbra ; and while speaking yet, To all unhappy hearers within reach
Of poets when the tide of rhyme's in flow;
But stuck fast with his first hexameter,
Into recitative, in great dismay,
Both cherubim and seraphin were heard
To murmur loudly through their long array: Of cherubim appointed to that post,
And Michael rose ere he could get a word The devil Asmodeus to the circle made
Of all his founder'd verses under way, His way, and look'd as if his journey cost
And cried, For God's sake stop, my friend; 'twere Some trouble. When his burden down he laid,
bestWhat's this?' cried Michael; why, 'tis not al
Non Di, non homines-you know the rest.' ghost!'
XCIT. I know it,' quoth the incubus; but he
A general bustle spread throughout the throng, Shall be one, ii you leave the affair to me.
Which seem'd to hold all verse in detestation : LXXXVI.!
The angels had of course enough of song
When upon service; and the generation 'Confound the renegado! I have sprain il
Of ghosts had heard too much in life, not long My left wing, he's so heavy; one would think
Before, to profit by a new occasion: Some of his works about his neck were chain'd.
The monarch, mute till then, exclaiin'd, 'What! But to the point: while hovering o'er the brink
what! or Skiddaw (where as usual it still rain'd),
Pye* come again? No more--no more of that!' I saw a taper, far below me, wink, And stooping, caught this fellow at a libel
XCIII. No less on history than the Holy Bible.
The tumult grew; an universal cough
Convulsed the skies, as during a debate,
When Castlereagh has been up long enough * The former is the devil's scripture, and
(Before he was First Minister of State, The latter yours, good Michael; so the affair
I mean-the slaves kear now); some cried, 'Off, Belongs to all of us, you understand.
offi' I snatch'd him up just as you see him there,
As at a farce; till, grown quite desperate,
(Himself an author) only for his prose.
The varlet was not an ill-favour'd knave;
A good deal like a vulture in the face,
With a hook nose and a hawk's eye, which gave And have expected him for some time here;
A smart and sharper-looking sort of grace A sillier fellow you will scarce behold,
To his whole aspect, which, though rather grave, Or more conceited in his petty sphere :
Was by no means so ugly as his case ;
But that indeed was hopeless as can be,
Then Michael blew his trump, and still'd the noise LXXXIX.
With one still greater, as is yet the mode But since he's here, let's see what he has done.' On earth besides : except some grumbling voice Done!' cried Asmodeus; "he anticipates
Which now and then will make a slight inroad The very business you are now upon,
Upon decorous silence, few will twice And scribbles as if head clerk to the Fates.
Lift up their lungs when fairly overcrow'd; Who knows to what his ribaldry may run,
And now the bard could plead his own bad cause, When such an ass as this, like Balaam's prates!"
With all the attitudes of self-applause. 'Let's hear,' quoth Michael, 'what he has to say;
XCVI. You know we're bound to that in every way.'
He said--(I only give the heads)--he said,
He meant no harm in scribbling; 'twas his way
Upon all topics; 'twas, besides, his bread, Now the bard, glad to get an audience, which
of which he butter'd both sides : 'twould delay'. By no means often was his case below, Began to cough, and hawk, and hem, and pitch His voice into that awful note of woe
* George II1.'s Poet Laureate
Too long the assembly (he was pleasd to dread).
And take up rather more time than a day, To name his works-he would but cite a few• Wat Tyler,' Rhymes on Blenheim," Waterloo.'
He had written praises of all kings whatever ;
And then against them bitterer than ever. For pantisocracy he once had cried
Aloud a scheme less moral than 'twas clever; Then grew a hearty anti-Jacobin-lad turn'd his coat-and would have turnd his skin.
In their high praise and glory; he had call'd
Become as base a critic as e'er crawlidFed, paid, and pamper'd by the very men
By whom his muse and morals had been maul'd: He had written inuch blank verse, and blanker
prose, And more of both than anybody knows.
Those grand heroics acted as a spell ;
pinions : The devils ran howling, deafend, down to hell ; The ghosts fled, gibbering, for their own do
minions (For 'tis not yet decided where they dwell,
And I leave every man to his own opinions): Michael took refuge in his trump; but, lo, His teeth were set on edge, he could not blow !
XCIX. He had written Wesley's life ;--here turning round
To Satan, Sir, I'm ready to write yours, In two octavo volumes, nicely bound,
With notes and preface, all that most allures The pious purchaser; and there's no ground
For fear. for I can choose my own reviewers; So let ine hare the proper documents, That I may add you to my other saints.'
* See Life of Henry Kirke IVhite.
• See Aubrey's account of the apparition which dis. + Alfonso, speaking of the Ptolemean system, saill appeared with a curious perfume and a most melothat had he been consulted at the creation of the dious trang :' or see the Antiqnary, vol. I, p. 225. world, he would have spared the Maker some ab. A drowned body lies at the bottoni till rotten; it surdities.'
then floats, as most people know,
'Impar Congressus Achilli.'
| The new Sesostris, whose unharness'd kings, The good old times'-all times when old are good- Freed from the bit, believe themselves with wings, Are gone; the present might be if they would ;
And spurn the dust o'er which they crawld of late, Great things have been, and are, and greater still Chain'd to the chariot of the chieftain's state ? Want little of mere mortals but their will :
Yes! where is he, the champion and the child A wider space, a greener field, is given
Of all that's great or little, wise or will, To those who play their tricks before high heaven.' Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were I know not if the angels weep, but men
thrones; Have wept enough--for what ?-to weep again! Whose table earth-whose dice were human bones i
Behold the grand result in yon lone isle,
And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile. All is exploded-be it good or bad.
Sigh to behold the eagle's lofty rage Reader! remember when thou wert a lad,
Reduced to nibble at his narrow cage ; Then Pitt was all; or, if not all, so much,
Smile to survey the queller of the nations His very rival almost deem d him such.
Now daily squabbling o'er disputed rations ;
Weep to perceive him mourning, as he dines,
O'er curtail'd dishes and o'er stinted wines;
O'er petty quarrels upon petty things.
Is this the man who scourged or feasted kings! Of eloquence between, which flow'd all free,
Behold the scales in which his fortune hangs,
A surgeon's statement, and an earl's harangues !
A bust delayed, a book refused, can shake
The sleep of him who kept the world awake.
Is this indeed the tamer of the great, Which hushes all! a calm, unstormy wave,
Now slave of all could tease or irritateWhich oversweeps the world. The theme is old
The paltry gaoler and the prying spy, Of dust to dust;' but half its tale untold :
The staring stranger with his note-book nigh?
Plunged in a dungeon he had still been great ; Time tempers not its terrors-still the worm
How low, how little was this middle state, Winds its cold folds, the tomb preserves its form,
Between a prison and a palace, where Varied above, but still alike below;
How few could feel for what he had to bear! The urn may shine, the ashes will not glow,
Vain his complaint,- my lord presents his bill, Though Cleopatra's mummy cross the sea
His food and wine were doled out duly still; O'er which from empire she lured Anthony;
Vain was his sickness, never was a clime Though Alexander's urn a show be grown
So free from homicide-to doubt's a crime; On shores he wept to conquer, though unknown
And the stiff surgeon, who maintain d his cause, How vain, how worse than vain, at length appear
Hath lost his place, and gaind the world's applause, The madman's wish, the Macedonian's tear!
But smile-though all the pangs of brain and heart He wept for worlds to conquer--half the earth knows not his name, or but his death, and birth,
Disdain, defy, the tardy aid of art; And desolation ; while his native Greece
Though, save the few fond friends and imaged face
Of that fair boy his sire shall ne'er embrace,
None stand by his low bed-though even the mind Conceived the globe, he panted not to spare!
Be wavering, which long awed and awes mankind :
Smile-for the fetter'd eagle breaks his chain, With even the busy Northern Isle unknown,
And higher worlds than this are his again. Which holds his urn, and never knew his throne.
111. But where is he, the modern, mightier far, Who, horn no king, made monarchs draw his car
How, if that soaring spirit still retain