Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck, To you, ye husbands of ten years! whose brows Endearing Waltz ! to thy more melting tune 'My slippery steps are safest in the dark!' Observant travellers of every time ! Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore, ⚫ Dancing girls, Seductive Waltz !--though on thy native shore Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore; Werter-to decent vice though much inclined, Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blindThough gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael, Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball; The fashion hails-from countesses to queens, And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes; Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads, And turns-if nothing else--at least our heads; With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce, And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce. Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts, And rhyme finds partner rhyine in praise of Waltz!' Blest was the time Waltz chose her for début: The court, the Regent, like herself, were new; New face for friends, for foes some new rewards; New ornaments for black and royal guards; New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread; New coins (most new) to follow those that fled; New victories-nor can we prize them less, Though Jenky wonders at his own success; New wars, because the old succeed so well, That most survivors envy those who fell; New mistresses-no, old-and yet 'tis true, Though they be old, the thing is something new; Each new, quite new-(except some ancient tricks). New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new sticks! With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue, New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue; * Jenkinson. We have changed all that,' says the Mock Doctor; 'tis all gone: Asmodeus knows where. After all, it is of no great importance how women's hearts are disposed of; they have Nature's privilege to distribute them as absurdly as possible. But there are also some men with hearts so thoroughly bad, as to remind us of those phenomena often mentioned in natural history, viz. a mass of solid stone-only to be opened by force-and when divided, you find a toad in the centre, lively, and with the reputation of being venomous. The other to the shoulder no less royal, Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow, Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk, O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore, And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will It is to love the lovely beldames still! Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes; In Turkey, a pertinent, here an impertinent and superfluous question-literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, on seeing a waltz in Pera.-Vide Morier's Travels. Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame, But ye-who never felt a single thought, Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme? Will wear as green a bough for him as me)- THE VISION OF JUDGMENT. BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS. SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER.' 'A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. PREFACE. IT hath been wisely said, that 'one fool makes many;' and it hath been poetically observed, That fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'-Pope. If Mr. Southey had not rushed in where he had no business, and where he never was before, and never will be again, the following poem would not have been written. It is not impossible that it may be as good as his own, seeing that it cannot, by any species of stupidity, natural or acquired, be worse. The gross dattery, the dull impudence, the renegado intolerance and impious cant, of the poem by the author of Wat Tyler, are something so stupendous as to form the sublime of himself-containing the quintessence of his swn attributes. Sa much for his poem-a word on his preface. In this preface it has pleased the magnanimous Laureate E to draw the picture of a supposed Satanic School,' the which he doth recommend to the notice of the Legislature; thereby adding to his other laurels the ambition of those of an informer. If there exists any. where, except in his imagination, such a school, is he not sufficiently armed against it by his own intense vanity? The truth is, that there are certain writers whom Mr. S. imagines, like Scrub, to have 'talked of him; for they laughed consumedly.' I think I know enough of most of the writers to whom he is supposed to allude, to assert, that they, in their individual capacities, have done more good, in the charities of life, to their fellow-creatures in any one year, than Mr. Southey has done harm to himself by his absurdities in his whole life; and this is saying a great deal. But I have a few questions to ask. 1stly, Is Mr. Southey the author of Wat Tyler? 2dly, Was he not refused a remedy at law by the highest judge of his beloved England, because it was a blasphemous and seditious publication? 3diy, Was he not entitled by William Smith, in full Parliament, 'a rancorous renegado" 4thly, Is he not Poet Laureate, with his own lines on Martin the regicide staring him in the face? And 5thly, Putting the four preceding items together, with what conscience dare he call the attention of the laws to the publications of others, be they what they may? I say nothing of the cowardice of such a proceeding; its meanness speaks for itself; but I wish to touch upon the motive, which is neither more nor less than that Mr. S. has been laughed at a little in some recent publications, as he was of yore in the Anti-Facobin by his present patrons. Hence all this 'skimblescamble stuff' about 'Satanic,' and so forth. However, it is worthy of him—'qualis ab incepto, If there is anything obnoxious to the poetical opinions of a portion of the public in the following poem, they may thank Mr. Southey. He might have written hexameters, as he has written everything else, for aught that the writer cared-had they been upon another subject. But to attempt to canonize a monarch who, whatever were his household virtues, was neither a successful, nor a patriot king-inasmuch as several years of his reign passed in war with America and Ireland, to say nothing of the aggression upon Francelike all other exaggeration, necessarily begets opposition. In whatever manner he may be spoken of in this new Vision, his public career will not be more favourably transmitted by history. Of his private virtues (although a little expensive to the nation) there can be no doubt. With regard to the supernatural personages treated of, I can only say that I know as much about them, and (as an honest man) have a better right to talk of them, than Robert Southey. I have also treated them more tolerantly. The way in which that poor insane creature, the Laureate, deals about his judgments in the next world, is like his own judgments in this. If it was not completely ludicrous, it would be something worse. I don't think that there is much more to say at present. QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS. P.S.-It is possible that some readers may object, in these objectionable times, to the freedom with which saints, angels, and spiritual persons discourse in this Vision. But, for precedents upon such points, I must refer him to Fielding's Journey from this World to the next, and to the Visions of myself, the said Quevedo, in Spanish or translated. The reader is also requested to observe, that no doctrinal tenets are insisted upon or discussed; that the person of the Deity is carefully withheld from sight, which is more than can be said for the Laureate, who hath thought proper to make Him talk, not like a school divine,' but like the unscholar-like Mr. Southey. The whole action passes on the outside of heaven; and Chaucer's Wife of Bath, Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, Swift's Tale of a Tub, and the other works above referred to, are cases in point of the freedom with which saints, etc., may be permitted to converse in works not intended to be serious.-Q. R. ** Mr. Southey being, as he says, a good Christian and vindictive, threatens, I understand, a reply to this our answer. It is to be hoped that his visionary faculties will in the meantime have acquired a little more judgment, properly so called: otherwise he will get himself into new dilemmas. These apostate Jacobins furnish rich rejoinders. Let him take a specimen. Mr. Southey laudeth grievously one Mr. Landor,' who cultivates much private renown in the shape of Latin verses; and not long ago, the Poet Laureate dedicated to him, it appeareth, one of his fugitive lyrics upon the strength of a poem called Gebir. Who could suppose that in this same Gebir the aforesaid Savage Landor (for such is his grim cognomen) putteth into the infernal regions no less a person than the hero of his friend Mr. Southey's heaven,-yea, even George the Third! See also how personal Savage becometh, when he hath a mind. The following is his portrait of our late gracious sovereign: (Prince Gebir having descended into the infernal regions, the shades of his royal ancestors are, at his request, called up to his view; and he exclaims to his ghostly guide)— 'Aroar, what wretch that nearest us? what wretch Is that with eyebrows white and slanting brow? Listen! him yonder, who, bound down supine, The despot, but the dastard I despise. I omit noticing some edifying Ithyphallics of Savagius, wishing to keep the proper veil over them, if his grave but somewhat indiscreet worshipper will suffer it; but certainly these teachers of great moral lessons' are apt to be found in strange company. I. SAINT PETER sat by the celestial gate: His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, Not that the place by any means was full, II. The angels all were singing out of tune, The guardian seraphs had retired on high, With such rapidity of vice and woe, IV. His business so augmented of late years, To aid him ere he should be quite worn out, Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks. V. This was a handsome board-at least for heaven; They threw their pens down in divine disgust, VI. This by the way: 'tis not mine to record What angels shrink from: even the very devil On this occasion his own work abhorr'd, So surfeited with the infernal revel: Though he himself had sharpen'd every sword, It almost quench d his innate thirst of evil. (Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertion'Tis, that he has both generals in reversion.) VII. Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont, And heaven none-they form the tyrant's lease, With nothing but new names subscribed upon't: 'Twill one day finish: meantime they increase, 'With seven heads and ten horns,' and all in front, Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours are born Less formidable in the head than horn. VIII. In the first year of freedom's second dawn Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawn, IX. He died his death made no great stir on earth; Of aught but tears-save those shed by collusion. X. Form'd a sepulchral melodrame. Of all The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show, Who cared about the corpse? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woo. 'He was, if I remember, king of France; That head of his, which could not keep a crown On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance A claim to those of martyrs-like my own: If I had had my sword, as I had once When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; But having but my keys, and not my brand, I only knock'd his head from out his hand. XX. 'And then he set up such a headless how, That all the saints came out and took him in; And there he sits by St. Paul, cheek by jowl; That fellow Paul-the parvenu! The skin In heaven, and upon earth redeem'd his sin, XXI. 'But had it come up here upon its shoulders, There would have been a different tale to tell; The fellow-feeling in the saint's beholders Seems to have acted on them like a spell; And so this very foolish head heaven solders Back on its trunk: it may be very well, And seems the custom here to overthrow Whatever has been wisely done below.' XXII. The angel answer'd, 'Peter! do not pout: He did as doth the puppet-by its wire, My business and your own is not to inquire Into such matters, but to mind our cueWhich is to act as we are bid to do.' |