M' 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 
 * * ^ / * > ;^ ^ y ^ / >^> i *' H'^' / /;/i^ 
 
 
 s 
 
 i 
 
 tsj) 
 
 i 
 
 im 
 
 M 
 
 wmwii. 
 
 J^^KtS. 
 
 
 0] 
 
 r^ 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 ^v<5 
 
 al 
 
>^'^ tVir^ 
 
 
 
 '"^m 
 
 \^ 
 

 ^4. p#e#' 
 
 C<^> 
 
Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fablesforholyallOOmoorrich 
 
FABLES. 
 
 RHYMES ON THE ROAD. 
 
LONDON ; 
 
 I'RIN'TED BY THOWaS DAVISON, V\ HlTF.t RIARS. 
 
FABLES 
 
 FOE 
 
 THE HOLY ALLIANCE, 
 
 RHYMES ON THE ROAD, 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 BY THOMAS BROWN, THE YOUNGER, 
 
 SECRETARY OF THE POCO-CURANTE SOCIETY, 
 
 AXD AUTHOR OF THE FUDGE FAMILY, 
 
 AND THE TWO-PENNY POST-BAG. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REBS, ORME, 
 AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1823. 
 
DEDICATION, ^pdu-^ 
 
 TO THE 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LOED BYRON. 
 
 Dear Loud Byron, 
 
 Though this Volume 
 should possess no other merit in your eyes, than 
 that of recalling the short time we passed together 
 at Venice, when some of the trifles which it con- 
 tains were written, you will, I am sure, receive the 
 dedication of it with pleasure, and believe that I 
 am. 
 
 My dear Lord, 
 
 ever faithfully yours, 
 
 T. B. 
 
 ^1>?^I5«> 
 
 1 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Though it was the wish of the Members of 
 the Poco-curante Society (who have lately done 
 me the honour of electing me their Secretary) 
 that I should prefix my name to the following 
 Miscellany, it is but fair to them and to myself 
 to state, that, except in the " painful pre-emi- 
 nence'''' of being employed to transcribe their lucu- 
 brations, my claim to such a distinction in the 
 title-page is not greater than that of any other 
 gentleman, who has contributed his share to the 
 contents of the volume. 
 
 I had originally intended to take this oppor- 
 tunity of giving some account of the origin and 
 
objects of our Institution, the names and charac- 
 ters of the different members, &c. &c. — but, as I 
 am at present preparing for the press the First 
 Volume of the '' Transactions of the Poco-curante 
 Society,**' I shall reserve for that occasion all fur- 
 ther details upon the subject; and content myself 
 here with referring, for a general insight into our 
 tenets, to a Song which will be found at the end 
 of this work, and which is sung to us on the first 
 day of every month, by one of our oldest members, 
 to the tune of (as far as I can recollect, being no 
 musician) either " Nancy Dawson'''^ or " He stole 
 away the Bacon."*' 
 
 It may be as well also to state, for the informa- 
 tion of those critics, who attack with the hope of 
 being answered, and of being, thereby, brought 
 into notice, that it is the rule of this Society to 
 return no other answer to such assailants, than is- 
 Contained in the three words " Non curat Hippo- 
 
elides/' (meaning, in English, " Hippoclides does 
 not care a fig'') which were spoken two thousand 
 years ago by the first founder of Poco-curantism, 
 and have ever since been adopted as the leading 
 dictum of the sect. 
 
 THOMAS BROWN. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FABLES. 
 
 Fable I. The Dissolution of the Holy Alliance 
 
 Fable II. The Looking-Glasses 
 
 Fable III. The Torch of Liberty . 
 
 Fable IV. The Fly and the BuUock 
 
 Fable V. Church and State . 
 
 Fable VI. The little Grand Lama . 
 
 Fable VII. The Extinguishers 
 
 Fable VIII. Louis Fourteenth's Wig 
 
 Page 
 1 
 
 9 
 
 17 
 23 
 29 
 39 
 49 
 57 
 
 RHYMES ON THE ROAD. 
 
 Introductory Rhymes Different Attitudes in which 
 
 Authors compose. — Bayes, Henry Stephens, Herodotus, 
 &c. — Writing in Bed — in the Fields. — Plato and Sir 
 Richard Blackmore. — Fiddhng with Gloves and Twigs. — 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Madame de Stael. —Rhyming on the Road, in an old 
 Caleche ..,.,.... 71 
 Extract I. View of the Lake of Geneva from the Jura. — 
 Anxious to reach it before the Sun went down. — Obliged to 
 proceed on Foot. — Alps. — Mount Blanc — Effect of the 
 Scene 79 
 
 Extract II. The FaU of Venice not to be lamented. — Former 
 Glory. — Expedition against Constantinople. — Giustinianis. 
 —Republic. — Characteristics of the old Government. — 
 Golden Book. — Brazen Mouths. — Spies. — Dungeons. — 
 Present Desolation 85 
 
 Extract III. L d B 's Memoirs, written by himself. 
 
 — Reflections, when about to read them . . . .93 
 
 Extract IV, The English to be met with every where. — Alps 
 and Threadneedle-street. — The Simplon and the Stocks. — 
 Rage for Travelling. — Blue Stockings among the Wahabees. 
 — Parasols and Pyramids. — Mrs. Hopkins and the Wall 
 of China 99 
 
 Extract V 103 
 
 Extract VI. Reflections on reading De Cerceau^s Account 
 of the Conspiracy of Rienzi, in 1347. — The Meeting of 
 the Conspirators on the Night of the 1 9th of May. — Their 
 Procession in the Morning to the CapitoL — Rienzi*s Speech 1 09 
 
 Extract VII. Mary Magdalen. — Her Story. — Numerous Pic- 
 tures of her. — Correggio. — Guido. — Raphael, etc.— Ca- 
 nova's two exquisite Statues. — The Somariva Magdalen. — 
 Ch — ntr — y's Admiration of Canova's Works , , U7 
 
CONTENTS. xUi 
 
 rage 
 
 Extract VIII. A Visit to the House where Rousseau lived 
 with IMadame de Warrens. — Their Menage.— Its Gross- 
 ness. — Claude Anet. — Reverence with which the Spot is 
 now visited. — Absurdity of this blind Devotion to Fame.— 
 Feelings excited by the Beauty and Seclusion of the Scene. 
 —Disturbed by its Associations with Rousseau*s History. — 
 Impostures of Men of Genius. Their Power of mimicking 
 all the best Feelings, Love, Independence, &c. . .125 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 BY DIFFERENT MEMBERS OF THE POCO-CURANTE SOCIETY. 
 
 The Sylph's Ball 136 
 
 Remonstrance — After a Conversation with L d J 
 
 R , in which he had intimated some Idea of giving up 
 
 all political Pursuits 142 
 
 Epitaph on a Lawyer 145 
 
 My Birth-day 148 
 
 Fancy 161 
 
 Love and Hymen 152 
 
 Translation from Catullus ,164 
 
 To my Mother 166 
 
 Illustration of a Bore 157 
 
 A Speculation . 158 
 
 Lines on the Entry of the Austrians into Naples, 1821 .159 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Scepticism 103 
 
 From the French .166 
 
 Romance .... ..... 167 
 
 A Joke versified 169 
 
 On 170 
 
 Fragment of a Character 171 
 
 Country Dance and Quadrille .174 
 
 Song for the Poco-curante Society . . . . .184 
 Genius and Criticism 188 
 
FABLES 
 
 FOR 
 
 THE HOLY ALLIANCE. 
 
 Tu Regibus alas 
 Eripe. 
 
 Virgil, Georg. Lib. 4. 
 
 " clip the wings 
 
 Of these high-flying, arbitrary Kings. 
 
 Dryden's Translation. 
 
FABLE I. 
 
 THE DISSOLUTION OF THE HOLY ALLIANCE. 
 
 A Dream. 
 
 I *VE had a dream, that bodes no good 
 Unto the Holy Brotherhood. 
 I may be wrong, but I confess — 
 
 As far as it is right or lawful 
 For one, no conjurer, to guess — 
 
 It seems to me extremely awful. 
 
 Methought, upon the Neva's flood 
 A beautiful Ice Palace stood, 
 A dome of frost-work, on the plan 
 Of that once built by Empress Anne*, 
 
 * " It is well known that the Empress Anne built a palace 
 of ice on the Neva, in 1740, which was fifty-two feet in length, 
 and when illuminated had a surprising effect/* — Pinkerton, 
 
2 
 
 Which shone by moonlight — as the tale is — 
 Like an Aurora Borealis. 
 
 In this said Palace, furnish'd all 
 
 And lighted as the best on land are, 
 I dreamt there was a splendid Ball, 
 
 Giv*n by the Emperor Alexander, 
 To entertain, with all due zeal. 
 
 Those holy gentlemen, who 've shown a 
 Regard so kind for Europe's weal. 
 
 At Troppau, Laybach, and Verona. 
 
 The thought was happy — and design'd 
 To hint how thus the human Mind 
 May — like the stream imprison'd there — 
 Be check'd and chill'd, till it can bear 
 The heaviest Kings, that ode or sonnet 
 E'er yet be-prais'd, to dance upon it. 
 
 And all were pleas'd, and cold, and stately. 
 Shivering in grand illumination — 
 
3 
 
 Admir'd the superstructure greatly, 
 
 Nor gave one thought to the foundation. 
 Much too the Czar himself exulted. 
 
 To all plebei^an fears a stranger. 
 As Madame Krudener, when consulted. 
 
 Had pledged her word there was no danger. 
 So, on he caper' d, fearless quite. 
 
 Thinking himself extremely clever. 
 And waltz*d away with all his might. 
 
 As if the Frost would last for ever. 
 
 Just fancy how a bard like me. 
 
 Who reverence monarchs, must have trembled. 
 To see that goodly company. 
 
 At such a ticklish sport assembled. 
 
 Nor were the fears, that thus astounded 
 My loyal soul at all unfounded, — 
 For, lo I ere long, those walls so massy 
 Were seiz'd with an ill-omen' d dripping, 
 
 b2 
 
And o'er the floors, now growing glassy. 
 Their Holinesses took to slipping. 
 
 The Czar, half through a Polonaise, 
 
 Could scarce get on for downright stumbling. 
 
 And Prussia, though to slippery ways 
 So us'd, was cursedly near tumbling. 
 
 Yet still 'twas, ijoho could stamp the floor most, 
 Russia and Austria *mong the foremost. — 
 And now, to an Italian air. 
 
 This precious brace would, hand in hand, go 3 
 Now — while old Louis, from his chair, 
 Intreated them his toes to spare — 
 
 Call'd loudly out for a Fandango. 
 
 And a Fandango, 'faith, they had. 
 
 At which they all set to, like mad — 
 
 Never were Kings (though small th' expense is 
 
 Of wit among their Excellencies) 
 
 So out of all their princely senses. 
 
But, ah, that dance — that Spanish dance — 
 
 Scarce was the luckless strain begun. 
 When, glaring red — as *t were a glance 
 
 Shot from an angry Southern sun — 
 A light through all the chambers ilam'd. 
 
 Astonishing old Father Frost, 
 Who, bursting into tears, exclaim'd, 
 
 " A thaw, by Jove — we 're lost, we 're lost ! 
 " Run, France— a second PFaterloo 
 " Is come to drown you — sauve qui pent T 
 
 Why, why will monarchs caper so 
 
 In palaces without foundations ? — 
 Instantly all was in a flow. 
 
 Crowns, fiddles, sceptres, decorations — 
 Those Royal Arms, that look'd so nice. 
 Cut out in the resplendent ice — 
 Those Eagles, handsomely provided 
 
 With double heads for double dealings — 
 How fast the globes and sceptres glided 
 
 Out of their claws on all the ceilings ! 
 
Proud Prussia's double bird of prey 
 Tame as a spatch cock, slunk away 5 
 While — -just like France herself, when she 
 
 Proclaims how great her naval skill is — 
 Poor Louis' drowning fleurs-de-lys 
 
 Imagin'd themselves tu«^^r-lilies. 
 
 And not alone rooms, ceilings, shelves. 
 
 But, — still more fatal execution — 
 The Great Legitimates themselves 
 
 Seem'd in a state of dissolution. 
 Th' indignant Czar — when just about 
 
 To issue a sublime Ukase, 
 ^' Whereas all light must be kept out" — 
 
 Dissolved to nothing in its blaze. 
 Next Prussia took his turn to melt. 
 And, while his lips illustrious felt 
 The influence of this southern air. 
 
 Some word, like ^^ Constitution," long 
 Congeal'd in frosty silence there. 
 
 Came slowly thawing from his tongue. 
 
While LouiS;, lapsing by degrees. 
 
 And sighing out a faint adieu 
 To truffles, salmis, toasted cheese 
 And smoking Jvndus, quickly grew. 
 
 Himself, into Rjbndu too j — 
 Or like that goodly King they make 
 Of sugar for a Twelfth-night cake. 
 When, in some urchin's mouth, alas. 
 It melts into a ghapeless mass ! 
 
 In short, I scarce could count a minute. 
 Ere the bright dome, and all within it. 
 Kings, Fiddlers, Emperors, all were gone- 
 
 And nothing now was seen or heard 
 But the bright river, rushing on, 
 Happy as an enfranchis*d bird. 
 And prouder of that natural ray. 
 Shining along its chainless way — 
 More proudly happy thus to glide 
 In simple grandeur to the sea. 
 Than when in sparkling fetters tied. 
 
8 
 
 And deck'd with all that Kingly pride 
 Could bring to light its slavery! 
 
 Such is my dream— and, I confess, 
 
 I tremble at its awfulness. 
 
 That Spanish Dance— that southern beam- 
 
 But I say nothing—there's my dream— 
 
 And Madame Krudener, the she-prophet. 
 
 May make just what she pleases of it. 
 
FABLE II. 
 
 THE LOOKING-GLASSES. 
 
 Proem. 
 Where Kings have been by mob-elections 
 
 Rais'd to the throne, 'tis strange to see 
 What different and what odd perfections 
 
 Men have required in Royalty. 
 Some, liking monarchs large and plumpy. 
 
 Have chos'n their Sovereigns by the weight — 
 Some wish'd them tall — some thought your dumpy 
 
 Dutch built the true Legitimate *. 
 
 The Easterns in a Prince, *tis said. 
 
 Prefer what's called a jolter-head — f 
 
 * The Goths had a law to choose always a short, thick man 
 for their King. — Munster, Cosmog. Lib. IH. p. 164. 
 t ** In a Prince a jolter-head is invaluable." 
 
 Oriental Field Sports, 
 
10 
 
 Th' Egyptians wer'n't at all partic'lar. 
 So that their Kings had not red hair — 
 
 This fault not ev'n the greatest stickler 
 For the blood royal well could bear. 
 
 A thousand more such illustrations 
 Might be adduc'd from various nations. 
 But, 'mong the many tales they tell us, 
 
 Touching th' acquir'd or natural right 
 Which some men have to rule their fellows. 
 
 There 's one, which I shall here recite : — 
 
 Fable, 
 
 There was a land — to name the place 
 Is neither now my wish nor duty — 
 
 Where reign' d a certain Royal race. 
 By right of their superior beauty. 
 
11 
 
 ^Miat was the cut legitimate 
 
 Of these great persons' chins and noses. 
 By right of which they ml'd the state. 
 
 No history I have seen discloses. 
 
 But so it was — a settled case — 
 
 Some Act of Parliament, pass'd snugly. 
 
 Had voted them a beauteous race. 
 And all their faithful subjects ugly. 
 
 As rank, indeed, stood high or low. 
 Some change it made in visual organs -, 
 
 Your Peers were decent — Knights, so so — 
 But all your common people, gorgons ! 
 
 Of course, if any knave but hinted 
 
 That the King s nose was turn*d awry. 
 
 Or that the Queen (God save us) squinted- 
 The judges doom'd that knave to die. 
 
12 
 
 But rarely things like this occurr'd. 
 The people to their King were duteous. 
 
 And took it, on his Royal word. 
 
 That they were frights, and he was beauteous. 
 
 The cause whereof, among all classes. 
 Was simply this — these island elves 
 
 Had never yet seen looking-glasses. 
 And, therefore, did not kno'vo themselves. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, their neighbours' faces 
 Might strike them as more full of reason. 
 
 More fresh than those in certain places — 
 But, Lord, the very thought was treason ! 
 
 Besides, howe'er we love our neighbour. 
 And take his face's part, 'tis known 
 
 We never half so earnest labour. 
 
 As when the face attack' d *s our own. 
 
13 
 
 So^ on they went — the crowd believing — 
 (As crowds well govern'd always do) 
 
 Their rulers, too, themselves deceiving — 
 So old the joke, they thought it true. 
 
 But jokes, we know, if they too far go, 
 Must have an end — and so, one day, 
 
 Upon that coast there was a cargo 
 Of looking-glasses cast away. 
 
 'Twas said, some Radicals, somewhere. 
 Had laid their wicked heads together. 
 
 And forced that ship to founder there, — 
 While some believe it was the weather. 
 
 However this might be, the freight 
 Was landed without fees or duties — 
 
 And from that hour historians date 
 The downfal of the Race of Beauties. 
 
.14 
 
 The looking-glasses got about. 
 
 And grew so common through the land. 
 That scarce a tinker could walk out. 
 
 Without a mirror in his hand. 
 
 Comparing faces, morning, noon. 
 
 And night, their constant occupation — f 
 
 By dint of looking-glasses, soon. 
 They grew a most reflecting nation. 
 
 In vain the Court, aware of errors 
 In all the old, establish' d mazards. 
 
 Prohibited the use of mirrors. 
 
 And tried to break them at all hazards — 
 
 In vain — their laws might just as well 
 Have been waste paper on the shelves 3 
 
 That fatal freight had broke the spell -, 
 People had look'd — and knew themselves. 
 
15 
 
 If chance a Duke, of birth sublime, 
 
 Presum'd upon his antient face, 
 (Some calf-head^ ugly from all time) 
 
 They popp'd a mirror to his Grace — 
 
 Just hinting, by that gentle sign. 
 
 How little Nature holds it true. 
 That what is call'd an antient line. 
 
 Must be the line of Beauty too. 
 
 From Dukes' they pass'd to regal phyzzes, 
 Compar'd them proudly with their own. 
 
 And cried, '' how could such monstrous quizzes 
 In Beauty's name usurp the throne!" — 
 
 They then wrote essays, pamphlets, books. 
 
 Upon Cosmetical (Economy, 
 Which made the King try various looks. 
 
 But none improv'd his physiognomy. 
 
16 
 
 And satires at the Court they leveiri 
 And small lampoons, so full of slynesses. 
 
 That soon, in short, they quite be-devil'd 
 Their Majesties and Royal Highnesses. 
 
 At length — but here I drop the veil. 
 
 To spare some loyal folks' sensations 3 — 
 
 Besides, what follows is the tale 
 Of all such late-enlighten'd nations j 
 
 Of all to whom old Time discloses 
 
 A truth they should have sooner known — 
 
 That Kings have neither rights nor noses 
 A whit diviner than their own. 
 
FABLE III. 
 
 THE TORCH OF LIBERTY. 
 
 I SAW it all in Fancy's glass — 
 
 Herself, the fair, the wild magician. 
 
 That bid this splendid day-dream pass. 
 And nam'd each gliding apparition. 
 
 'Twas like a torch -race — such as they 
 Of Greece perform 'd, in ages gone. 
 
 When the fleet youths, in long array, 
 Pass'd the bright torch triumphant on. 
 
 I saw th' expectant nations stand. 
 To catch the coming flame in turn — 
 
 I saw, from ready hand to hand. 
 
 The clear, but struggling glory burn. 
 
18 
 
 And^ oh, their joy, as it came near, 
 'Twas, in itself, a joy to see — 
 
 While Fancy whisper' d in my ear, 
 '' That torch they pass is Liberty t" 
 
 And, each, as she receiv'd the flame. 
 Lighted her altar with its ray. 
 
 Then, smiling, to the next who came. 
 Speeded it on its sparkling way. 
 
 From Albion first, whose antient shrine 
 Was furnish'd with the fire already, 
 
 Columbia caught the spark divine> 
 And lit a flame, like Albion's, steady. 
 
 The splendid gift then Gallia took. 
 And, like a wild Bacchante, raising 
 
 The brand aloft, its sparkles shook. 
 As she would set the world a-blazing I 
 
19 
 
 And, when she fir'd her altar, high 
 It flash'd into the redd'ning air 
 
 So fierce, that Albion, who stood nigh. 
 Shrunk, almost blinded by the glare ! 
 
 Next, Spain, so new was light to her, 
 Leap'd at the torch — but, ere the spark 
 
 She flung upon her shrine could stir, 
 
 'Twas quenched — and all again was dark. 
 
 Yet, no — not quench'd — a treasure, worth 
 So much to mortals, rarely dies— 
 
 Again her living light look*d forth. 
 And shone, a beacon, in all eyes \ 
 
 ^lio next received the flame ? alas. 
 Unworthy Naples — shame of shames. 
 
 That ever through such hands should pass 
 That brightest of all earthly flames ! 
 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 Scarce had her fingers touched the torch. 
 When, frighted by the sparks it shed. 
 
 Nor waiting ev'n to feel the scorch. 
 She dropp'd it to the earth— and fled. 
 
 And fall'n it might have long remain' d. 
 But Greece, who saw her moment now. 
 
 Caught up the prize, though prostrate, stain'd. 
 And wav'd it round her beauteous brow. 
 
 And Fancy bid me mark where, o'er 
 
 Her altar, as its flame ascended. 
 Fair, laurell'd spirits seem'd to soar. 
 
 Who thus in song their voices blended :— 
 
 '^ Shine, shine for ever, glorious Flame, 
 
 '' Divinest gift of Gods to men ! 
 '^ From Greece thy earliest splendour came, 
 
 '' To Greece thy ray returns again. 
 
21 
 
 " Take^ Freedom^ take thy radiant round, 
 '' When dimm*d^ revive, vi^hen lost, return, 
 
 '' Till not a shrine through earth be found, 
 '' On which thy glories shall not burn I" 
 
FABLE IV. 
 
 THE FLY AND THE BULLOCK. 
 
 Proem, - 
 
 Of all that, to the sage's survey. 
 This world presents of topsy-turvey. 
 There's nought so much disturbs his patience. 
 As little minds in lofty stations. 
 'Tis like that sort of painful wonder, 
 Which slight and pigmy columns, under 
 
 Enormous arches, give beholders-— 
 Or those poor Caryatides, 
 Condemn' d to smile and stand at ease. 
 
 With a whole house upon their shoulders. 
 
 If, as in some few royal cases. 
 
 Small minds are horn into such places — 
 
If they are there^ by Right DivinC;, 
 Or any such sufficient reason. 
 
 Why — Heav'n forbid we should repine! — 
 To wish it otherwise were treason 3 
 
 Nay, ev'n to see it in a vision. 
 
 Would be what la^vyers call misprision. 
 
 Sir Robert Filmer says — and he, 
 
 Of course, knew all about the matter — 
 '^ Both men and beasts love Monarchy 5'* 
 
 Which proves how rational — the latter. 
 Sidney, indeed, we know, had quite 
 A different notion from the Knight. 
 Nay, hints a King may lose his head. 
 
 By slipping awkwardly his bridle — 
 But this is Jacobin, ill-bred. 
 And (now-a-days, when Kings are led 
 
 In patent snaffles) downright idle. 
 
 No, no — it is n't foolish Kings, 
 (Those fix'd, inevitable things — 
 
25 
 
 Bores paramount, by right of birth) 
 
 That move my wrath, but your pretenders. 
 Your mushroom rulers, sons of earth. 
 
 Who, not like t' others, crown" d offenders, 
 (Regular, gratia Dei blockheads. 
 Born with three kingdoms in their pockets) 
 Nor leaving, on the scale of mind. 
 These Royal Zeros far behind. 
 Yet, with a brass that nothing stops. 
 
 Push up into the loftiest stations. 
 And, though too dull to manage shops. 
 
 Presume, the dolts, to manage nations ! 
 
 This class it is, that moves my gall. 
 And stirs up spleen, and bile, and all. 
 While other senseless things appear 
 To know the limits of their sphere — 
 While not a cow on earth romances 
 So much as to conceit she dances — 
 While the most jumping frog we know of. 
 Would scarce at Astley's hope to show off — 
 
26 
 
 Your — — S;, your s dare. 
 
 Pigmy as are their minds, to set them 
 To any business, any where. 
 
 At any time that fools will let them. 
 
 But leave we here these upstart things—- 
 My business is, just now, with Kings 5 
 To whom, and to their right-line glory, 
 I dedicate the following story. 
 
 Fahle. 
 
 The wise men of Egypt were secret as dummies 5 
 And, ev'n when they most condescended to teach. 
 
 They pack'd up their meaning, as they did their 
 mummies. 
 In so many wrappers, 'twas out of one's reach. 
 
27 
 
 They were also^ good people^ much given to Kings — 
 Fond of monarchs and crocodiles^ monkeys and 
 mystery. 
 
 Bats, hierophants, blue-bottle flies, and such things — 
 As will partly appear in this very short history. 
 
 A Scythian philosopher (nephew, they say. 
 
 To that other great traveller, young Anacharsis) 
 
 Stept into a temple at Memphis one day. 
 
 To have a short peep at their mystical farces. 
 
 He saw* a brisk blue-bottle Fly on an altar. 
 
 Made much of, andworshipp'd,as something divine^ 
 
 While a large, handsome Bullock, led there in a halter. 
 Before it lay stabb'd at the foot of the shrine. 
 
 Surpris'd at such doings, he whisper' d his teacher — 
 '^ If 'tisn't impertinent, may I ask why 
 
 * According to iElian, it was in the island of Leucadia they 
 practised this ceremony— -S^ui/v ^om raig firjmg, — De Animal, 
 lib. ii. cap. 8. 
 
28 
 
 '' Should a Bullock, that useful and powerful creature, 
 '' Be thus ofFer'd up to a blue-bottle Fly?" 
 
 '' No wonder" — said t'other — ^' you stare at the sight, 
 " But >we as a Symbol of Monarchy view it — 
 
 '' That Fly on the shrine is Legitimate Right, 
 
 " And that Bullock the People, that's sacrificed 
 to it." 
 
FABLE V. 
 
 CHUECH AND STATE. 
 
 Proem, 
 
 " The moment any religion becomes national, or established, 
 its purity must certainly be lost, because it is then impos- 
 sible to keep it unconnected with men's interests ; and, if 
 connected, it must inevitably be perverted by them.*' — 
 
 SOAME JeNYNS. 
 
 Thus did Soame Jenyns, — though a Tory, 
 A Lord of Trade and the Plantations — 
 
 Feel how Religion's simple glory 
 Is stain*d by State associations. 
 
 When Catherine, after murdering Poles, 
 
 Appeal'd to the benign Divinity — 
 Then cut them up, in protocols. 
 Made fractions of their very souls * — 
 
 All in the name of the bless'd Trinity; 
 
 * Ames^ demi-ames, ^c. 
 
30 
 
 Or when her grandson^ Alexander, 
 That mighty Northern salamander^ 
 Whose icy touch, felt all about. 
 Puts every fire of Freedom out — 
 When he, too, winds up his Ukases 
 With God and the Panagia's praises — 
 When he, of royal Saints the type. 
 
 In holy water dips the spunge. 
 With which, at one imperial wipe. 
 
 He would all human rights expunge ! 
 When Louis (whom as King, and eater. 
 Some name Dix-huit, and some Des-huitres) 
 Calls down ^' St. Louis* God" to witness 
 The right, humanity, and fitness 
 Of sending eighty thousand Solons, 
 
 Sages, with muskets and lac*d coats. 
 To cram instruction, nolens volens, 
 
 Down the poor struggling Spaniards' throats- 
 I can't help thinking (though to Kings 
 
 I must, of course, like other men, bow) 
 
31 
 
 That when a Christian monarch brings 
 Religion's name to gloss these things — 
 Such blasphemy out-Benbows Benbow 1 
 
 Or — not so far for facts to roam;, 
 
 Having a few much nearer home — 
 
 When we see Churchmen, who, if ask'd, 
 
 '' Must Ireland's slaves be tith*d, and task'd, 
 
 ^' And driv'n, like Negros or Croats, 
 
 " That you may roll in wealth and bliss l" 
 Look from beneath their shovel hats 
 
 With all due pomp, and answer '' Yes !'* 
 But then, if question'd '* shall the brand 
 '^ Intolerance flings throughout that land, 
 ^^ Betwixt her palaces and hovels, 
 
 '^ Suffring nor peace nor love to grow, 
 ^' Be ever quench'd?" — from the same shovels 
 
 Look grandly forth, and answer '* No."— 
 Alas, alas ! have these a claim 
 To merciful Religion's name ? 
 
32 
 
 If more you want, go, see a bevy 
 Of bowing parsons at a levee — 
 (Choosing your time, when straw's before 
 Some apoplectic bishop's door) 
 There, if thou can'st, with life, escape 
 That sweep of lawn, that press of crape. 
 Just watch their rev'rences and graces. 
 
 Should' ring their way on, at all risks. 
 And say — if those round, ample faces 
 
 To heav'n or earth most turn their disks ? 
 
 This, this it is — Religion, made, 
 
 'Twixt Church and State, a truck, a trade — 
 
 This most ill-match'd, unholy Co,, 
 
 From whence the ills we witness flow — 
 
 The war of many creeds with one — 
 
 Th' extremes of too much faith, and none — 
 
 The qualms, the fumes of sect and sceptic. 
 
 And all that Reason, grown dyspeptic 
 
 By swallowing forc'd or noxious creeds. 
 
 From downright indigestion breeds; 
 
33 
 
 Till^ 'twixt old bigotry and new, 
 'Twixt Blasphemy and Cant — the two 
 Rank ills with which this age is curst — 
 We can no more tell tvhich is worst. 
 Than erst could Egypt, when so rich 
 In various plagues, determine which 
 She thought most pestilent and vile. 
 Her frogs, like Benbow and Carlisle, 
 Croaking their native mud-notes loud. 
 Or her fat locusts, like a cloud 
 Of pluralists, obesely lowering, 
 At once benighting and devouring !-— 
 
 This — this it is— and here I pray 
 Those sapient wits of the Reviews, 
 
 Who make us poor, dull authors say. 
 Not what we mean, but what they chusej 
 
 Who to our most abundant shares 
 
 Of nonsense add still more of theirs, 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 And are to poets just such evils 
 
 As caterpillars find those flies*. 
 That, not content to sting like devils. 
 
 Lay eggs upon their backs likewise — 
 To guard against such foul deposits 
 
 Of other's meaning in my rhymes, 
 (A thing more needful here, because it 's 
 
 A subject, ticklish in these times) — 
 I, here, to all such vrits make known. 
 
 Monthly and Weekly, Whig and Tory, 
 'Tis this Religion — this alone — 
 
 I aim at in the following story. 
 
 * ** The greatest number of the ichneumon tribe are .seen 
 settling upon the back of the caterpillar, and darting at different 
 intervals their stings into its body — at every dart they depose 
 an egg." — Goldsmith. 
 
35 
 
 Fable. 
 
 When Royalty was young and bold. 
 
 Ere, touched by Time, he had become— 
 
 If 'tis not civil to say oid — 
 
 At least, a gi-devant jeune homme. 
 
 One evening, on some wild pursuit. 
 Driving along, he chanc'd to see 
 
 Religion, passing by on foot. 
 And took him in his vis-a-vis. 
 
 This said Religion was a Friar, 
 The humblest and the best of men. 
 
 Who ne'er had notion or desire 
 Of riding in a coach till then. 
 
 " I say" — quoth Royalty, who rather 
 Enjoy'd a masquerading joke — 
 
 '' I say, suppose, my good old father, 
 '^ You lend me, for a while, your cloak.' 
 
36 
 
 The friar consented — little knew 
 
 What tricks the youth had in his head ; 
 
 Besides^ was rather tempted too 
 By a lac'd coat he got in stead. 
 
 Away ran Royalty, slap-dash^ 
 
 Scampering like mad about the town^ 
 
 Broke windows — shiver'd lamps to smash. 
 And knock'd whole scores of watchmen down. 
 
 While nought could they, whose heads were broke. 
 Learn of the '^ why" or the '^ wherefore," 
 
 Except that 'twas Religion's cloak 
 
 The gentleman, who crack' d them, wore. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Friar, whose head was turn'd 
 By the lac'd coat, grew frisky too — 
 
 Look'd big — his former habits spurn' d — 
 And storm' d about as great men do — 
 
37 
 
 Dealt much in pompous oaths and curses — 
 
 Said '^ damn you" often, or as bad- 
 Laid claim to other people's purses — 
 In short, grew either knave, or mad. 
 
 As work like this was unbefitting. 
 And flesh and blood no longer bore it. 
 
 The Court of Common Sense, then sitting. 
 Summoned the culprits both before it. 
 
 Where, after hours in wrangling spent, 
 (As Courts must wrangle to decide well) 
 
 Religion to St. Luke*s was sent. 
 
 And Royalty pack'd off to Bridewell. 
 
 With this proviso — should they be 
 Restored, in due time, to their senses. 
 
 They both must give security. 
 In future, against such offences— 
 
38 
 
 Religion ne'er to lend his cloak , 
 
 Seeing what dreadful work it leads to ; 
 
 And Royalty to crack his joke 
 
 But not to crack poor people's heads too. 
 
FABLE VI. 
 
 THE LITTLE GRAND LAMA. 
 
 Proem, 
 
 Novella, a young Bolognese, 
 
 The daughter of a learn'd Law Doctor*, 
 Who had with all the subtleties 
 
 Of old and modern jurists stock'd her. 
 Was so exceeding fair, 'tis said. 
 
 And over hearts held such dominion. 
 That when her father, sick in bed> 
 Or busy, sent her, in his stead. 
 
 To lecture on the Code Justinian, 
 She had a curtain drawn before her. 
 
 Lest, if her charms were seen, the students 
 
 * Andreas. 
 
40 
 
 Should let their young eyes wander o'er her. 
 And quite forget their jurisprudence*. 
 
 Just so it is with Truth — when seen, 
 Too fair and bright — 'tis from behind 
 
 A light, thin allegoric screen. 
 
 She thus tan safest teach mankind. 
 
 Fable. 
 
 In Thibet once there reign*d, we *re told, 
 A little Lama, one year old— 
 Rais*(f to the throne, that realm to bless. 
 Just when his little Holiness 
 
 * Quand il ^toit occupe d'aucuiie essoine, il envoyoit No- 
 velle, sa fiUe, en son lieu lire aux escholes en charge, et, afin 
 que la biaiitd d'elle n'emp^chat la pensee des oyants, elle avoit 
 une petite courtine devant elle. — Christ, de Pise, Cite des 
 Dames, p. 11. cap. 36. 
 
41 
 
 Had cut— as near as can be reckoned — 
 Some say his /irst toothy some his second, 
 Chronologers and Nurses vary, 
 ^VTiich proves historians should be wary. 
 We only know th* important truth. 
 His Majesty had cut a tooth*. 
 
 And much his subjects were enchanted. 
 
 As well all Lamas' subjects may be. 
 And would have giv'n their heads, if wanted. 
 
 To make tee-totums for the baby. 
 As he was there by Right Divine — 
 
 (What Lawyers call Jure Dlvino, 
 Meaning a right to yours, and mine. 
 
 And every body's goods and rhino) 
 
 * See Turner's Embassy to Thibet for an account of liis in- 
 terview with the Lama. — *' Teshoo Lama (he says) was at this 
 time eighteen months old. Though he was unable to speak a 
 word, he made the most expressive signs, and conducted him- 
 self with astonishing dignity and decorum." 
 
42 
 
 Of course, his faithful subjects' purses 
 
 Were ready with their aids and succours- 
 Nothing was seen but pension'd Nurses, 
 And the land groan*d with bibs and tuckers. 
 
 Oh ! had there been a Hume or Bennet, 
 Then sitting in the Thibet Senate, 
 Ye Gods, what room for long debates 
 Upon the Nursery Estimates ! 
 What cutting down of swaddling-clothes 
 
 And pin-a-fores, in nightly battles ! 
 What calls for papers to expose 
 
 The waste of sugar-plums and rattles ! 
 But no— if Thibet had M. P/s, 
 They were far better bred than these ; 
 Nor gave the slightest opposition. 
 During the Monarch's whole dentition. 
 
 But short this calm — for, just when he 
 Had reach'd th' alarming age of three. 
 
43 
 
 When royal natures — and^ no doubt> 
 Those of all noble beasts break out — 
 The Lama, who till then was quiet, 
 Shovv'd symptoms of a taste for riot j 
 And, ripe for mischief, early, late. 
 Without regard for Church or State, 
 Made free with whosoe'er came nigh — 
 
 Tweak'd the Lord Chancellor by the nose, 
 Turn'd all the Judges* wigs awry. 
 
 And trod on the old Generals' toes — 
 Pelted the Bishops with hot buns. 
 
 Rode cock-horse on the City maces. 
 And shot, from little devilish guns. 
 
 Hard peas into his subjects' faces. 
 In short, such wicked pranks he play'd. 
 
 And grew so mischievous, God bless him ! 
 That his chief Nurse — though with the aid 
 Of an Archbishop — was afraid. 
 
 When in these moods, to comb or dress him. 
 
44 
 
 And ev'n the persons, most inclin*d 
 
 For Kings, through thick and thin, to stickle, 
 llionght him (if they'd but speak their mind. 
 
 Which they did not) an odious pickle. 
 
 At length some patriot Lords — a breed 
 
 Of animals they have in Thibet, 
 Extremely rare, and fit, indeed. 
 
 For folks like Pidcock, to exhibit — 
 Some patriot lords, seeing the length 
 To which things went, combin'd their strength. 
 And penn'd a manly, plain and free 
 Remonstrance to the Nursery 5 
 In which, protesting that they yielded 
 
 To none, that ever went before 'em. 
 In loyalty to him who wielded 
 
 Th' hereditary pap-spoon o'er 'em — 
 That, as for treason, 'twas a thing 
 
 That made them almost sick to think of — 
 
45 
 
 That they and theirs stood by the King, 
 
 Throughout his measles and his chin-cough. 
 When others, thinking him consumptive. 
 Had ratted to the Heir Presumptive! — 
 But, still — though much admiring Kings^ 
 (And chiefly those in leading-strings) 
 They saw, with shame and grief of soul. 
 
 There was no longer now the wise 
 And constitutional control 
 
 Of birch before their ruler's eyes 3 
 But that, of late, such pranks, and tricks. 
 
 And freaks occur' d the whole day long. 
 As all, but men with bishopricks. 
 
 Allow' d, in ev'n a King, were wrong — 
 Wherefore it was they humbly pray'd 
 
 That Honourable Nursery, 
 That such reforms be henceforth made. 
 
 As all good men desir'd to see; — 
 In other words (lesjt they might seem 
 Too tedious) as the gentlest scheme 
 
 t 
 
46 
 
 For putting all such pranks to rest. 
 And in its bud the mischief nipping — 
 
 They ventur'd humbly to suggest 
 
 His Majesty should have a whipping! 
 
 When this was read — no Congreve rocket, 
 
 Discharg d into the Gallic trenches. 
 E'er equall'd the tremendous shock it 
 
 Produc'd upon the Nursery benches. 
 The Bishops, who of course had votes. 
 By right of age and petticoats. 
 Were first and foremost in the fuss — 
 
 '' What, whip a Lama ! suffer birch 
 
 '' To touch his sacred infamous I 
 
 '' Deistical! — assailing thus 
 
 *' The fundamentals of the Church ! — 
 '' No — no — such patriot plans as these, 
 '' (So help them Heaven — and their Sees!) 
 '* They held to be rank blasphemies." 
 
47 
 
 The alarm thus giv'n^ by these and other 
 
 Grave ladies of the Nursery side^ 
 Spread through the laud, till, such a pother. 
 
 Such party squabbles, far and wide. 
 Never in history's page had been 
 Recorded, as were then between 
 The Whippers and Non-whippers seen. 
 Till, things arriving at a state. 
 
 Which gave some fears of revolution. 
 The patriot Lords' advice, though late. 
 
 Was put, at last in execution. 
 The Parliament of Thibet met — 
 
 The little Lama, call'd before it. 
 Did, then and there, his whipping get. 
 And (as the Nursery Gazette 
 
 Assures us) like a hero bore it. 
 
 And though, 'mong Thibet Tories, some 
 Lament that Royal Martyrc/om, 
 
48 
 
 (Please to observe^ the letter D 
 
 In this last word 's pronounc'd like B) 
 
 Yet to th' example of that Prince 
 
 So much is Thibet's land a debtor^ 
 'Tis saidj her little Lamas, since. 
 
 Have all behav'd themselves much better. 
 
FABLE VII. 
 
 THE EXTINGUISHERS. 
 
 Proem. 
 Though soldiers are the true supports, 
 Tlie natural allies of Courts, 
 Woe to the Monarch, who depends 
 Too much on his red-coated friends ; 
 For even soldiers sometimes think — 
 
 Nay, Colonels have been known to reason,- 
 And reasoners, whether clad in pink. 
 Or red, or blue, are on the brink 
 
 (Nine cases out of ten) of treason. 
 
 Not many soldiers, I believe, are 
 
 As fond of liberty as Mina j 
 Else — woe to Kings, when Freedom's fever 
 
 Once turns into a Scarletina ! 
 
50 
 
 For then — but hold — *tis best to veil 
 My meaning in the following Tale : 
 
 Fable. 
 
 A Lord of Persia, rich and great. 
 
 Just come into a large estate. 
 
 Was shock' d to find he had, for neighbours. 
 
 Close to his gate, some rascal Ghebers, 
 
 Whose fires, beneath his very nose. 
 
 In heretic combustion rose. 
 
 But Lords of Persia can, no doubt. 
 
 Do what they will — so, one fine morning. 
 He turn'd the rascal Ghebers out. 
 
 First giving a few kicks for warning. 
 Then, thanking heaven most piously. 
 
 He knock' d their Temple to the ground. 
 Blessing himself for joy to see 
 
 Such Pagan ruins strew' d around. 
 
51 
 
 But much it vex*d my Lord to find. 
 
 That, while all else obey*d his will. 
 The Fire these Ghebers left behind, — 
 
 Do what he would — kept burning still. 
 Fiercely he storm*d, as if his frown 
 Could scare the bright insurgent down 5 
 But, no — such fires are head-strong things. 
 And care not much for Lords or Kings. 
 Scarce could his Lordship well contrive 
 
 The flashes in one place to smother. 
 Before — hey, presto— all alive. 
 
 They sprung up freshly in another. 
 
 At length when, spite of prayers and damns, 
 
 'Twas found the sturdy flame defied him. 
 His stewards came> with low salmns, 
 
 Ofi*ering, by contract, to provide him 
 Some large Extinguishers (a plan. 
 Much us'd, they said, at Ispahan, 
 Vienna, Petersburgh — in short. 
 Wherever Light 's forbid at court) 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 Machines no Lord should be without. 
 Which would, at once, put promptly out 
 Fires of all kinds, — from staring, stark 
 Volcanos to the tiniest spark, — 
 Till all things slept as dull and dark. 
 As, in a great Lord's neighbourhood, 
 'Twas right and fitting all things should. 
 
 Accordingly, some large supplies 
 
 Of these Extinguishers were furnish'd, 
 
 (All of the true Imperial size,) 
 And there, in rows, stood black and burnished. 
 
 Ready, where'er a gleam but shone 
 
 Of light or fire, to be clapp'd on. 
 
 But, ah ! how lordly wisdom errs. 
 In trusting to extinguishers ! 
 One day, when he had left all sure, 
 (At least, helievd so) dark, secure-— 
 The flame, at all its exits, entries. 
 Obstructed to his heart's content. 
 
53 
 
 And black extinguishers, like sentries, 
 
 Plac'd upon every dangerous vent — 
 Ye Gods, imagine his amaze. 
 
 His wrath, his rage, when, on returning. 
 He found not only the old blaze. 
 
 Brisk as before, crackling and burning, — 
 Not only new, young conflagrations. 
 Popping up round in various stations — 
 But, still more awful, strange, and dire, 
 Th' Extinguishers themselves on fire ! ! * 
 They, they — those trusty, blind machines 
 
 His Lordship had so long been praising. 
 As, under Providence, the means 
 
 Of keeping down all lawless blazing. 
 
 * The idea of this Fable was caught from one of those 
 brilliant mots, which abound in the conversation of my friend, 
 the author of the ** Letters to Julia,'* — a production, which 
 contains some of the happiest specimens of playful poetry that 
 have appeared in this, or any age. 
 
54 
 
 Were now, themselves,— -alas, too true 
 The shameful fact— turn'd blazers too. 
 And, by a change as odd as cruel. 
 Instead of dampers, serv'd for fuel ! 
 
 Thus, of his only hope bereft, 
 
 '"What," said thegreat man, ^^must be done?' 
 All that, in scrapes like this, is left 
 
 To great men is— to cut and run. 
 So run he did 5 while to their grounds. 
 
 The banish'd Ghebers blest return'd^ 
 And, though their Fire had broke its bounds. 
 
 And all abroad now wildly burn'd. 
 Yet well could they, who lov'd the flame. 
 Its wand'ring, its excess reclaim 3 
 And soon another, fairer Dome 
 Arose to be its sacred home. 
 Where, cherished, guarded, not confin'd. 
 The living glory dwelt inshrin'd. 
 
55 
 
 And, shedding lustre strong, but even. 
 Though born of earth, grew worthy heav'n. 
 
 Moral, 
 
 The moral hence my Muse infers 
 
 Is — that such Lords are simple elves. 
 
 In trusting to Extinguishers, 
 
 That are combustible themselves. 
 
FABLE VIII. 
 
 LOUIS FOURTEENTHS WIG. 
 
 The money rais'd — the army ready — 
 Drums beating, and the Royal Neddy 
 Valiantly braying in the van. 
 To the old tune '' eh, eh. Sire Ane'^ T — 
 Nought wanting, but some coup dramatic. 
 
 To make French sentiment explode. 
 Bring in, at once, the gout fanatic. 
 
 And make the war " la derniere mode'* — 
 Instantly, at the Pav*llon Marsan, 
 
 Is held an Ultra consultation — 
 
 * They celebrated in the dark ages at many churches, par- 
 ticularly at Rouen, what was called the Feast of the Ass. On 
 this occasion the ass, finely drest, was brought before the 
 altar, and they sung before him this elegant anthem "eh, eh, 
 ch. Sire Ane, eh, eh, eh, Sire Ane."— rWarton's Essay on Pope. 
 
58 
 
 What's to be done, to help the farce on? 
 
 What stage-effect, what decoration. 
 To make this beauteous France forget. 
 In one, grand, glorious pirouette, 
 All that she swore to but last week. 
 And, with a cry of '' Magmfiquer 
 Rush forth to this, or any war. 
 Without inquiring once — ^^ what for?" 
 
 After some plans propos*d by each. 
 Lord Chateaubriand made a speech, 
 (Quoting, to show what men's rights are. 
 
 Or rather what men's rights should be. 
 From Hobbes, Lord Castlereagh, the Czar, 
 
 And other friends to Liberty) 
 Wherein he — having first protested 
 'Gainst humouring the mob — suggested 
 (As the most high-bred plan he saw 
 For giving the new War eclat) 
 A grand. Baptismal Melo-drame, 
 To be got up at Notre Dame, 
 
59 
 
 In which the Duke (who, bless his Highness ! 
 
 Had by his hilt acquired such fame, 
 *Twas hop'd that he as little shyness 
 
 Would show, when to the point he came) 
 Should, for his deeds so lion-hearted. 
 Be christen'd Heroy ere he started 5 
 With power, by Royal Ordonnance, 
 To bear that name — at least in France. 
 Himself — ^the Viscount Chateaubriand — 
 (To help th' affair with more espnt on) 
 Offering, for this baptismal rite. 
 
 Some of his own fam'd Jordan water * — 
 (Marie Louise not having quite 
 
 IJs'd all that for young Nap he brought her) 
 The baptism, in this case, to be 
 Applied to that extremity, 
 
 * Brought from the river Jordan by M. Chateaubriand, and 
 presented to the French Empress for the christening of young 
 Napoleon. 
 
60 
 
 Which Bourbon heroes most expose. 
 And which — as well all Europe knows — 
 Happens to be, in this Defender 
 Of the true Faith, extremely tender*. 
 
 Or if (the Viscount said) this scheme 
 Too rash and premature should seem — 
 If thus discounting heroes, on tick — 
 
 This glory, by anticipation. 
 Was too much in the genre romantique 
 
 For such a highly classic nation. 
 He begg*d to say, the Abyssinians 
 A practice had in their dominions, 
 Which, if at Paris got up well, 
 , In full costume, was sure to tell. 
 At all great epochs, good or ill, 
 
 Theyhave, says Bruce, (and Bruce ne*er budges 
 
 * See the Duke's celebrated letter to Madame, written 
 during his campaign in 1815, in which he says ** j'ai le pos- 
 terieur l^gerement endommag^.** 
 
61 
 
 From the'strict truth) a Grand Quadrille 
 
 In public danc'd by the Twelve Judges — * 
 And, he assures us, the grimaces. 
 The entre-chats, the airs and graces 
 Of persons, so profound and stately. 
 Divert the Abyssinians greatly. 
 *^ Now, (said the Viscount) though there 's few 
 '' Great Empires, where this plan would do— 
 " For instance, England — let them take 
 
 ^^ What pains they would — 'twere vain to strive — 
 
 " The twelve stiff Judges there would make 
 *' The worst Quadrille-set now alive 1 
 
 '' One must have seen them, ere one could 
 
 *^ Imagine properly Judge Wood, 
 
 '^ Performing, in his wig, so gaily, 
 
 *' A queue-de-chat with Justice Bailey ! 
 
 '* French Judges, though, are, by no means, 
 
 '^ This sort of stiff, be-wigg'd machines ; 
 
 * **0n certain great occasions, the twelve Judges (who are 
 generally between sixty and seventy years of age) sing the song 
 and dance the figure dance, &c.'* Book 5. 
 
62 
 
 '' And we, who've seen them at Saumur, 
 '^ And Poitiers lately, may be sure 
 " They 'd dance quadrilles, or any thing, 
 " That would be pleasing to the King — 
 *' Nay, stand upon their heads, and more do, 
 *^ To please the little Duke de Bordeaux I" 
 
 After these wise proposals came 
 Some others — needless now to name. 
 Since that, which Monsieur made, himself, 
 Soon doom'd all others to the shelf, 
 And was received, par acclamation, 
 As tnily worthy the Grande Nation, 
 
 It seems (as Monsieur told the stoiy) 
 That Louis the Fourteenth, — that glory. 
 That Coryphee of all crown'd pates, 
 That pink of the Legitimates — 
 Had, when, with many a pious pray'r, he 
 Bequeath*d unto the Virgin Mary 
 
68 
 
 His marriage deeds, and cordon bleu*, 
 Bequeath'd to her his State Wig too — 
 (An offering which, at Court 'tis thought. 
 The Virgin values as she ought) — 
 That Wig, the wonder of all eyes, 
 The Cynosure of Gallia's skies. 
 To watch and tend whose curls ador*d. 
 
 Re-build the towering roof, when flat. 
 And round the rumpled base, a Board 
 
 Of sixty Barbers daily sat t, 
 
 * ** Louis 14 fit present a la Vierge de son cordon bleu, que 
 Ton conserve soigneusement, et lui envoya ensuite, son Con- 
 trat de Mariage et le Traite des Pyrenees, magnifiquement 
 relie." — JM ^moires. Anecdotes pour ser^dr, &c. 
 
 t The learned Author of Recherches Historiques sur les 
 Perruques says that the Board consisted but of Forty — the 
 same number as the Academy. " Le plus beau terns des 
 perruques fut celui oil Louis 14 commen^a a porter, lui- 
 
 meme, perruque ; On ignore Tepoque ou se fit cette 
 
 revolution; mais on sait qu*elle engagea Louis le Grand a y 
 donner ses soins paternels, en errant, en 1656, quarante charges 
 de perruquiers, suivant la cour ; et en 1673, il forma un corps 
 de deux cents perruquiers pour la VlUe de Paris." — p. 111. 
 
64 
 
 With SubS;, on State-Days, to assist, 
 
 AVell pension' d from the Civil List — 
 
 That wondrous Wig, array' d in which. 
 
 And strong alike to awe or witch. 
 
 He beat all other heirs of crowns. 
 
 In taking mistresses and towns. 
 
 Requiring but a shot at one, 
 
 A smile at t'other, and 'twas done ! — 
 
 *' That Wig, (said Monsieur, while his brow 
 
 Rose proudly,) '' is existing now — 
 
 '' That Grand Perruque, amid the fall 
 
 " Of every other Royal glory, 
 '' With curls erect survives them all, 
 
 '' And tells in every hair their story. 
 ^' Think, think, how welcome at this time 
 '* A relic, so belov'd, sublime ! 
 '' What worthier standard of the Cause 
 
 '^ Of Kingly Right can France demand ? 
 *' Or who among our ranks can pause 
 
 " To guard it, while a curl shall stand ? 
 
65 
 
 '^ Behold, my friends — (while thus he cried, 
 A curtain, which conceal'd this pride 
 Of Princely Wigs was drawn aside) 
 '^ See that august Perruque — how big 
 
 '^ With recollections for the world — 
 '^ For France — for us — Great Louis' Wig, 
 
 '' By HippOLYTE* new frizz'd and curl'd — 
 '' Newjrizz'd! alas, 'tis but too true, 
 '* Well may you start at that word netv — 
 ^^ But such the sacrifice, my friends, 
 '' Th' Imperial Cossack recommends, 
 '^ Thinking such small. concessions sage, 
 '' To meet the spirit of the age, 
 '^ And do what best that spirit flatters, 
 *' In Wigs — if not in weightier matters. 
 ^^ Wherefore, to please the Czar, and show 
 *' That we too, much-wrong*d Bourbons, know 
 '' What liberalism in Monarchs is, 
 *' We have conceded the New Friz ! 
 
 * A celebrated Coiffeur of the present day. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 '^ Thus arm'd, ye gallant Ultras, say, 
 
 '^ Can men, can Frenchmen fear the fray? 
 
 *' With this proud relic in our van, 
 
 ^' And D*Angouleme our worthy leader, 
 '^ Let rebel Spain do all she can, 
 
 '* Let recreant England arm and feed her, 
 ^' Urg'd by that pupil of Hunt's school, 
 '* That Radical, Lord Liverpool — 
 '' France can have nought to fear — far from it- 
 
 " When once astounded Europe sees 
 '' The Wig of Louis, like a Comet, 
 
 '^ Streaming above the Pyrenees, 
 *' All's o'er with Spain — then on, my sons, 
 
 '^ On^ my incomparable Duke, 
 *' And, shouting for the Holy Ones, 
 
 ^* Cry Vive la Guerre — et la PerruqueT 
 
RHYMES ON THE ROAD, 
 
 EXTRACTED FROM THE JOURNAL 
 OF A 
 
 TRAVELLING MEMBER OF THE POCO- 
 CURANTE SOCIETY, 1819. 
 
 p 2 
 
The Gentleman^ from whose Journal the following 
 extracts are taken, was obliged to leave England some 
 years ago (in consequence of an unfortunate attach- 
 ment, which might have ended in bringing him into 
 Doctor's Commons), and has but very recently been 
 able to return to England. The greater part of 
 these poems were, as he himself mentions in his 
 Introduction, written or composed in an old caleche, 
 for the purpose of beguiling the ennui of solitary 
 travelling; and as verses, made by a gentleman in his 
 sleep, have lately been called " a psychological cu- 
 riosity," it is to be hoped that verses, made by a 
 gentleman to keep himself awake, may be honoured 
 with some appellation equally Greek. 
 
INTRODUCTORY RHYMES. 
 
 Differ e7it Attitudes in which Authors compose, — Bayes, 
 Henry Stephens, Herodotus, 8^c, — Writing in Bed 
 — in the Fields, — Plato and Sir Richard Blackmore . 
 — Fiddling toith Gloves and Twigs, — Madame de 
 StaeL — Rhyming on the Road, in an old Caleche. 
 
 What various attitudes^ and ways. 
 
 And tricks, we authors have in writing ! 
 
 While some write sitting, some, like Bayes, 
 Usually stand, while they 're inditing. 
 
 Poets there are, who wear the floor out. 
 Measuring a line at every stride; 
 
72 
 
 While some, like Ht^NRv Stephens, pour out 
 Rhymes by the dozen, while they ride*. 
 
 Herodotus wrote most in bed; 
 
 And Richer AND, a French physician. 
 Declares the clock-work of the head 
 
 Goes best in that reclined position. 
 If you consult Montaigne f and Pliny on 
 The subject, 'tis their joint opinion 
 That Thought its richest harvest yields 
 Abroad, among the woods and fields; 
 That bards, who deal in small retail. 
 
 At home may, at their counters, stop. 
 But that the grove, the hill, the vale. 
 
 Are Poesy's true wholesale shop. 
 
 * Pleraque sua carmina equitans composuit. — Paravicm» 
 Singular. 
 
 t " Mes pensees dorment, si je les assis.'* — Mantaigne. 
 * Animus eorum qui in aperto aere ambulant, attollitur.— 
 Pliny, 
 
73 
 
 And truly I suspect tliey 're right — 
 
 For^ many a time^ on summer eves^ 
 Just at that closing- hour of light, 
 
 When^ like an Eastern Prince, who leaves 
 For distant war his Flaram bowers. 
 The Sun bids farewel to the flowers. 
 Whose heads are sunk, whose tears are flowing* 
 Mid all the glory of his going — 
 Ev'n / have felt, beneath those beams. 
 
 When wandering through the fields alone. 
 Thoughts, fancies, intellectual gleams. 
 
 That, far too bright to be my own, 
 Seem'd lent me by the Sunny Power, 
 That was abroad at that still hour. 
 
 If thus I Ve felt, how must they feel. 
 The few, whom genuine Genius warms. 
 
 And stamps upon their soul his seal. 
 
 Graven with Beauty's countless forms; — 
 
74 
 
 The few upon this earth, who seem 
 Born to give truth to Plato's dream, 
 Since in their souls, as in a glass. 
 
 Shadows of things divine appear — 
 Reflections of bright forms that pass 
 
 Through fairer worlds, beyond our sphere ! 
 
 But this reminds me I digress; — 
 
 For Plato, too, produc'd, 'tis said, 
 (As one, indeed, might almost guess) 
 
 His glorious visions all in bed*. 
 
 *Twas in his carriage the sublime 
 
 Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme; 
 
 * The only authority I know for imputing this practice to 
 Plato and Herodotus, is a Latin poem by M. de Valois on his 
 Bed, in which he says : 
 
 Lucifer Herodotum vidit Vesperque cubantcm, 
 Desedit totos heic Plato ssepe dies. 
 
75 
 
 And (if the wits don't do him wrong) 
 'Twixt death and epics pass'd his time. 
 
 Scribbling and killing all day long — 
 Like Phoebus in his car, at ease. 
 
 Now warbling forth a lofty song. 
 Now murdering the young Niobes. 
 
 There was a hero 'mong the Danes, 
 Who wrote, we 're told, 'mid all the pains 
 
 And horrors of exenteration. 
 Nine charming odes, which, if you '11 look. 
 
 You '11 find preserv'd, with a translation. 
 By Bartholinus in his book*. 
 
 In short, 'twere endless to recite 
 
 The various modes in which men write. 
 
 * Eadem cura nee minores inter cruciatus animam infeliceni 
 agenti fuit Asbiorno Prudae Danico heroi, cum Bruso ipsum, 
 intestina extrahens, immaniter torqueret, tunc enim novem 
 c^rmina cecinit, etc. — Bartholin, de causis contempt, mort. 
 
76 
 
 Some wits are only in the mind. 
 
 When beaus and belles are round them prating; 
 Some, when they dress for dinner, find 
 
 Their muse and valet both in waiting. 
 And manage, at the self-same time. 
 To' adjust a neck-cloth and a rhyme. 
 
 Some bards there are who cannot scribble 
 Without a glove, to tear or nibble. 
 Or a small twig to whisk about — 
 
 As if the hidden founts of Fancy, 
 Like those of water, were found out 
 
 By mystic tricks of rhabdomancy. 
 Such was the little feathery wand*;. 
 That, held for ever in the hand 
 Of her, who won and wore the crown 
 
 Of female genius in this age, 
 Seem'd the conductor, that drew down 
 
 Those words of lightning on her page^ 
 
 * Made of paper, twisted up like a fan or feather. 
 
77 
 
 As for myself — to come, at last. 
 
 To the odd way in wliich / write — 
 Having employed these few months past 
 
 Chiefly in travelling, day and night, 
 I Ve got into the easy mode. 
 You see, of rhyming on the road — 
 Making a way-bill of my pages. 
 Counting my stanzas by my stages — 
 'Twixt lays and re-lays no time lost — 
 In short, in two words, writing post. 
 My verses, I suspect, not ill 
 Resembling the craz'd vehicle 
 (An old caleche, for which a villain 
 Charged me some twenty Naps at Milan) 
 In which I wrote them — patch'd-up things. 
 On weak, but rather easy, springs. 
 Jingling along, with little in 'em. 
 
 And (where the road is not so rough. 
 Or deep, or lofty, as to spin 'em 
 
 Down precipices) safe enough.— 
 
78 
 
 Too ready to take fire, I own. 
 
 And then, too, nearest a break-down ; 
 
 But, for my comfort, hung so low, 
 
 I haven't, in falling, far to go. — 
 
 With all this, light, and swift, and airy. 
 
 And carrying (which is best of all) 
 But little for the Doganieri * 
 
 Of the Reviews to overhaul. 
 
 * Custom-house Officers. 
 
EXTRACT I. 
 
 Geneva. 
 
 Vietjo of the Lake of Geneva from the Jura *. — 
 Anxious to reach it before the Sun went down, — 
 Obliged to proceed on Foot, — Alps, — Mont Blanc. 
 — Effect of the Scene, 
 
 *TwAS late — the sun had almost shone 
 His last and best, when I ran on. 
 Anxious to reach that splendid view. 
 Before the day-beams quite withdrew; 
 
 * Between Vattay and Gex. 
 
80 
 
 And feeling as all feel, on first 
 
 Approaching scenes, where, they are told. 
 Such glories on their eyes shall burst. 
 
 As youthful bards in dreams behold. 
 
 'Twas distant yet, and, as I ran, 
 
 Full often was my wistful gaze 
 Turn*d to the sun, who now began 
 
 To call in all his out-post rays, 
 And form a denser march of light. 
 Such as beseems a hero's flight. 
 Oh, how I wish'd for Joshua's power. 
 To stay the brightness of that hour ! 
 But no — the sun still less became. 
 
 Diminished to a speck, as splendid 
 And small as were those tongues of flame, 
 
 That on th' Apostles' heads descended ! 
 
 'Twas at this instant — while there glow'd 
 This last, intensest gleam of light — 
 
81 
 
 Suddenly, through the opening road. 
 The valley burst upon my sight ! 
 
 That glorious valley, with its Lake, 
 And Alps on Alps in clusters swelling. 
 
 Mighty, and pure, and fit to make 
 
 The ramparts of a Godhead's dwelling. 
 
 I stood entranced and mute — as they 
 
 Of Israel think th* assembled world 
 Will stand, upon that awful day. 
 
 When the Ark's Light, aloft unfurl'd 
 Among the opening clouds shall shine. 
 Divinity's own radiant sign ! 
 Mighty Mont Blanc, thou wert to me. 
 
 That minute, with thy brow in heaven. 
 As sure a sign of Deity 
 
 As e'er to mortal gaze was given. 
 Nor ever, were I destin'd yet 
 
 To live my life twice o'er again. 
 
82 
 
 Can I the deep-felt awe forget. 
 The ecstasy that thrill'd me then I 
 
 'Twas all that consciousness of power 
 
 And life, beyond this mortal hour ; — 
 
 Those mounting's of the soul within 
 
 At thoughts of Heav'n — as birds begin 
 
 By instinct in the cage to rise. 
 
 When near their time for change of skies — 
 
 That proud assurance of our claim 
 
 To rank among the Sons of Light, 
 Mingled with shame — oh bitter shame !— 
 
 At having risk'd that splendid right. 
 For aught that earth, through all its range 
 Of glories, offers in exchange ! 
 'Twas all this, at the instant brought. 
 Like breaking sunshine, o'er my thought — 
 'Twas all this, kindled to a glow 
 
 Of sacred zeal, which, could it shine 
 
8S 
 
 Thus purely ever — man might grow, 
 
 Ev'n upon earth a thing divine. 
 And be, once more, the creature made 
 To walk unstain'd th' Elysian shade ! 
 
 No, never shall I lose the trace 
 
 Of what I Ve felt in this bright place. 
 
 And, should my spirit's hope grow weak. 
 
 Should I, oh God, e'er doubt thy power. 
 This mighty scene again I '11 seek. 
 
 At the same calm and glowing hour. 
 And here, at the sublimest shrine 
 
 That Nature ever rear'd to Thee, 
 Rekindle all that hope divine. 
 
 And feel my immortality ! 
 
 g2 
 
EXTRACT II. 
 
 Venice. 
 
 The Fall of Venice not to he lamented ,— former Glory, 
 — Fwpedition against Constantinople, — Giustinianis. 
 — Republic. — Characteristics of the old Govern" 
 ment. — Golden Book. — Brazen Mouths, — Spies, — 
 Dungeons. — Present Desolation. 
 
 Mourn not for Venice — let her rest 
 In ruin, 'mong those States unblest. 
 Beneath whose gilded hoofs of pride. 
 Where'er they trampled, Freedom died. 
 
86 
 
 No — let us keep our tears for them^ 
 
 Where'er they pine, whose fall hath been 
 Not from a blood-stain'd diadem, 
 
 Like that which deck'd this ocean-queen. 
 But from high daring in the cause 
 
 Of human Rights — the only good 
 And blessed strife, in which man draws 
 
 His powerful sword on land or flood. 
 
 Mourn not for Venice — though her fall 
 
 Be awful, as if Ocean's wave 
 Swept o'er her — she deserves it all. 
 
 And Justice triumphs o'er her grave. 
 Thus perish ev'ry King and State, 
 
 That run the guilty race she ran. 
 Strong but in fear, and only great 
 
 By outrage against God and man ! 
 
 True, her high spirit is at rest. 
 And all those days of glory gone. 
 
87 
 
 When the world*s waters^ east and west. 
 Beneath her white- wing'd commerce shone ; 
 
 When, with her countless barks she went 
 To meet the Orient Empire's might*. 
 
 And the Giustinianis sent 
 
 Their hundred heroes to that %htt« 
 
 Vanished are all her pomps, 'tis true. 
 But mourn them not — for vanished, too, 
 (Thanks to that Power, who, soon or late. 
 Hurls to the dust the guilty Great) 
 Are all the outrage, falsehood, fraud. 
 
 The chains, the rapine, and the blood, 
 That fiird each spot, at home, abroad. 
 
 Where the Republic's standard stood 1 
 
 * TJBder the Doge Michaeli, in 1171. 
 
 t " La famille entiere des Justiniani, I'une des plus illustres 
 de Venise, voulut marcher toute entiere dans cette expedition ; 
 elle foumit cent combattans ; c'etait renouveler Texemple 
 d'une illustre famille de Rome ; le meme malheur les at- 
 teiidait." — Histoire de Venise par Daru, 
 
88 
 
 Desolate Venice ! when I track 
 
 Thy haughty course through centuries back ; 
 
 Thy ruthless power, obey'd but curst — 
 
 The stern machinery of thy State, 
 Which hatred would, like steam, have burst. 
 
 Had stronger fear not chilFd ev'n hate. 
 Thy perfidy, still worse than aught 
 Thy own unblushing Sarpi* taught; — 
 Thy friendship, which, o'er all beneath 
 Its shadow, rain'd down dews of death t ; — 
 Thy Oligarchy's Book of Gold, 
 
 Shut against humble Virtue's name J, 
 
 * The celebrated Fra Paolo. Tlie collection of maxuiis 
 which this bold monk drew up at the request of the Venetian 
 Government, for the guidance of the Secret Inquisition of 
 State, are so atrocious as to seem rather an over-charged satire 
 upon despotism, than a system of policy, seriously inculcated, 
 and but too readily and constantly pursued. 
 
 f Conduct of Venice towards her allies and dependencies, 
 particularly to unfortunate Padua. — Fate of Francesco Carrara, 
 for which see Daru^ vol. H. p. 141. 
 
 J ** A I'exception des Irente citadins admis au grand conseil 
 
89 
 
 But open'd wide for slaves who sold 
 
 Their native land to thee and shame *;— 
 Thy all-pervading host of spies^ 
 
 Watching o'er every glance and breath. 
 Till men look'd in each others' eyes. 
 
 To read their chance of life or death ;— 
 Thy laws, that made a mart of blood. 
 
 And legalized th' assassin's knife f ; — 
 
 pendant la guerre de Chiozzi, il n*est pas arriv^ une seule 
 fois que les talens ou les services aieut paru a cette no- 
 blesse orgueilleuse des titres suffisans pour s'asseoir avec 
 elle." — Daru. 
 
 * Among those admitted to the honour of being inscribed in 
 the Libro (Toro were some families of Brescia, Treviso, and 
 other places, whose only claim to that distinction was the zeal 
 with which they prostrated themselves and their country at the 
 feet of the republic. 
 
 t By the infamous statutes of the State Inquisition, not only 
 was assassination recognized as a regular mode of punishment, 
 but this secret power over life was delegated to their minions 
 at a distance, with nearly as much facility as a licence is given 
 under the game laws of England. The only restriction seems 
 
90 
 
 Thy sunless cells beneath the flood. 
 
 And racks, and Leads*, that burnt out life;- 
 
 When I review all this, and see 
 
 What thou art sunk and crush 'd to now; 
 Each harpy maxim, hatch'd by thee. 
 
 Returned to roost on thy own brow — 
 Thy Nobles, towering once aloft. 
 
 Now sunk in chains — in chains, that have 
 Not ev'n that borrowed grace, which oft 
 
 The master's fame sheds o'er the slave. 
 But are as mean as e'er were given 
 To stiff-neck'd Pride by angry Heaven-— 
 I feel the moral vengeance sweet. 
 And, smiling o'er the wreck, repeat 
 
 to have been the necessity of applying for a new certificate, 
 after every individual exercise of the power. 
 
 * " Les prisons des plombs; c'est-a-dire ces fournaises ar- 
 dentes qu'on avait distribuees en petites cellules sous les ter- 
 rasses qui couvrent le palais." 
 
91 
 
 ' Thus perish every King and State, 
 " That tread the steps which Venice trod, 
 
 ' Strong but in fear, and only great 
 "By outrage against man and God!" 
 
EXTRACT III. 
 
 Venice. 
 
 L d B *s Memoirs, ivritten hy himself, — i?^- 
 
 Jiections, when about to read them. 
 
 Let me, a moment, — ere with fear and hope 
 Of gloomy, glorious things, these leaves I ope — 
 As one, in fairy tale, to whom the key 
 
 Of some enchanter's secret halls is given. 
 Doubts, while he enters, slowly, tremblingly. 
 
 If he shall meet with shapes from hell or heaven — 
 
94. 
 
 Let me, a moment, think what thousands lire 
 
 O'er the wide earth this instant, who would give. 
 
 Gladly, whole sleepless nights to bend the brow 
 
 Over these precious leaves, as I do now. 
 
 How all who know — and where is he unknown ? 
 
 To what far region have his songs not flown. 
 
 Like Psaphon's birds*, speaking their master's name,. 
 
 In ev*ry language, syllabled by Fame ?-— 
 
 How all, who Ve felt the various spells combined 
 
 Within the circle of that splendid mind. 
 
 Like pow'rs, derived from many a star, and met 
 
 Together in some wond'rous amulet. 
 
 Would burn to know when first the Light awoke 
 
 In his young soul, — and if the gleams that broke 
 
 From that Aurora of his genius, rais'd 
 
 More bliss or pain in those on whom they blaz'd-— 
 
 * Psaphon, in order to attract the attention of the world,, 
 taught multitudes of birds to speak his name, and then let them 
 fly away in various directions; whence the proverb, ** Fsa- 
 phonis aves.'^ 
 
95 
 
 Would love to trace th' unfolding of that power. 
 Which hath grown ampler, grander, every hour; 
 And feel, in watching o'er its first advance. 
 
 As did th' Egyptian traveller*, when he stood 
 By the young Nile, and fathom'd with his lance 
 
 The first small fountains of that mighty flood. 
 
 They, too, who, mid the scornful thoughts that 
 dwell 
 
 In his rich fancy, tinging all its streams. 
 As if the Star of Bitterness, which felt 
 
 On earth of old, had touch'd them with its beams. 
 Can track a spirit, which, though driv'n to hate. 
 From Nature's hands came kind, aflfectionatej 
 And which, ev*n now, struck as it is with blight. 
 Comes out, at times, in love's own native light—* 
 How gladly all, who Ve watch'd these struggling rays 
 Of a bright, ruin'd spirit through his lays, 
 
 * Bruce. 
 
96 
 
 Would here inquire^ as from his own frank lips. 
 
 What desolating grief, what wrongs had driven 
 That noble nature into cold eclipse- 
 Like some fair orb that, once a sun in heaven. 
 And born, not only to surprise, but cheer 
 With warmth and lustre all within its sphere. 
 Is now so quenched, that of its grandeur lasts 
 Nought, but the wide, cold shadow which it casts! 
 
 Eventful volume! whatsoe'er the change 
 
 Of scene and clime — th' adventures, bold and 
 
 strange — 
 The griefs — the frailties, but too frankly told— 
 The loves, the feuds thy pages may unfold. 
 If Truth with half so prompt a hand unlocks 
 
 His virtues as his failings — we shall find 
 The record there of friendships, held like rocks. 
 
 And enmities, like sun-touch*d snow, resigned — 
 Of fealty, cherish'd without change or chill. 
 In those who serv'd him, young, and serve him still— 
 
 t- 
 
97 
 
 Of generous aid, giv*n with that noiseless art 
 Which wakes not pride, to many a wounded heart — 
 Of acts — but, no — not from himself must aught 
 Of the bright features of his life be sought. 
 While they, who court the world, like Milton's 
 
 cloud*, 
 ^^ Turn forth their silver lining*' on the crowd. 
 This gifted Being wraps himself in night. 
 
 And, keeping all that softens, and adorns. 
 And gilds his social nature hid from sight. 
 
 Turns but its darkness on a world he scorns. 
 
 * " Did a sable cloud 
 ** Turn forth her silver lining on the night ?'* 
 
 Comus, 
 
EXTRACT IV. 
 
 Venice. 
 
 The English to be met toitk every Viiihere. — Alps and 
 Threadneedle-street. — The Simplon and the Stocks, 
 — Rage for travelling, — Blue Stockifigs among the 
 Wahabees, — Parasols and Pyramids, — Mrs, Hop- 
 kins and the Wall of China, 
 
 And is there then no earthly place. 
 Where we can rest, in dream Elysian, 
 
 Without some curst, round English face. 
 Popping up near, to break the vision ? 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 'Mid northern lakes^ 'mid southern vines. 
 Unholy cits we *re doom'd to meet ; 
 
 Nor highest Alps nor Apennines — 
 Are sacred from Threadneedle-street ! 
 
 If up the Simplon's path we wind. 
 Fancying we leave this world behind. 
 Such pleasant sounds salute one's ear 
 As^— ^' Baddish news from 'Change, my dear — 
 " The Funds — (phew, curse this ugly hill) — 
 '^ Are lowering fast — (what, higher still ?) — 
 '^ And — (zooks, we 're mounting up to heaven !)- 
 '' Will soon be down to sixty-seven." 
 
 Go where we may — rest where we will. 
 Eternal London haunts us still. 
 The trash of Almack's or Fleet Ditch — 
 And scarce a pin's head difference which — 
 Mixes, though ev'n to Greece we run. 
 With every rill from Helicon ! 
 
101 
 
 And^ if this rage for travelling lasts. 
 If Cockneys, of all sects and castes. 
 Old maidens, aldermen and squires. 
 Will leave their puddings and coal fires. 
 To gape at things in foreign lands. 
 No soul among them understands — 
 If Blues desert their coteries. 
 To show off 'mong the Wahabees — 
 If neither sex nor age controls. 
 
 Nor fear of Mamelukes forbids 
 Young ladies, with pink parasols. 
 
 To glide among the Pyramids — ^, 
 Why, then, farewel all hope to find 
 A spot, that 's free from London-kind ! 
 Who knows, if to the West we roam, 
 But we may find some Blue " at home" 
 
 * It was pink spencers, I believe, that the imagination of 
 the French traveller conjured up. 
 
102 
 
 Among the Blacks of Carolina— 
 Or, flying to the Eastward, see 
 Some Mrs. Hopkins, taking tea 
 
 And toast upon the Wall of China! 
 
EXTRACT V. 
 
 Florence. 
 
 No— 'tis not the region where Love *s to be found — 
 They have bosoms that sigh, they have glances 
 that rove. 
 They have language a Sappho's own lip might re- 
 sound. 
 When she warbled her best, but they 've nothing 
 like Love. 
 
 Nor is it that sentiment only they want. 
 
 Which Heav'n for the pure and the tranquil hath 
 made— 
 
104 
 
 Calm, wedded affection, that home-rooted plant. 
 Which sweetens seclusion, and smiles in the 
 shade; 
 
 That feeling, which, after long years are gone by. 
 Remains, like a portrait we Ve sat for in youth. 
 
 Where, ev*n though the flush of the colours may fly. 
 The features still live, in their first smiling truth ; 
 
 That union, where all that in Woman is kind. 
 With all that in Man most ennoblingly towers. 
 
 Grow wreathed into one — like the column, combined 
 Of the strength of the shaft and the capital's 
 • jUmers, 
 
 Of this — ^bear ye witness, ye wives, every where, 
 By the Arno, the Po, by all Italy*s streams — 
 
 Of this heart-wedded love, so delicious to share. 
 Not a husband hath even one glimpse in his 
 dreams. 
 
105 
 
 But it is not this, only — ^born^ full of the light 
 
 Of a sun, from whose fount the luxuriant festoons 
 
 Of these beautiful valleys drink lustre so bright. 
 That, beside him, our suns of the north are but 
 moons ! 
 
 We might fancy, at least, like their climate they 
 burn'd. 
 And that Love, though unus'd, in this region of 
 spring. 
 To be thus to a tame Household Deity turn'd. 
 Would yet be all soul, when abroad on the wing. 
 
 And there mai/ be, there are those explosions of heart. 
 Which burst, when the senses have first caught the 
 flame; 
 Such fits of the blood as those climates impart. 
 Where Love is a sun-stroke, that maddens the 
 frame, 
 
106 
 
 But that Passion, which springs in the depth of the 
 soul. 
 
 Whose beginnings are virginly pure as the source 
 Of some mountainous rivulet, destin'd to roll 
 
 As a torrent, ere long, losing peace in its course — 
 
 A course, to which Modesty's struggle but lends 
 A more head-long descent, without chance of recal ; 
 
 But which Modesty ev'n to the last edge attends. 
 And, at length, throws a halo of tears round its 
 fall! 
 
 This exquisite Passion — ay, exquisite, even 
 In the ruin its madness too often hath made, 
 
 As it keeps, even then, a bright trace of the heaven. 
 The heaven of Virtue from which it has stray'd— i 
 
 This entireness of love, which can only be found. 
 Where Woman, like something that 's holy, watch'd 
 over. 
 
107 
 
 And fenc'd^ from her childhood, with purity round. 
 Comes, body and soul, fresh as Spring", to a lover ! 
 
 Where not an eye answers, where not a hand presses. 
 Till spirit with spirit in sympathy move; • 
 
 And the Senses, asleep in their sacred recesses. 
 Can only be reached through the Temple of Love ! 
 
 This perfection of Passion — how can it be found. 
 
 Where the mysteries nature hath hung round the 
 tie 
 By which souls are together attracted and bound. 
 
 Are laid open, for ever, to heart, ear and eye- 
 Where nought of those innocent doubts can exist. 
 
 That ignorance, even than knowledge more bright. 
 Which circles the young, like the morn's sunny mist. 
 
 And curtains them round in their own, native 
 light— 
 
108 
 
 Wfiere Experience leaves nothing for Love to reveal. 
 Or for Fancy, in visions, to gleam o'er the thought. 
 
 But the truths which, alone, we would die to conceal 
 From the maiden's young heart, are the only ones 
 taught — 
 
 Oh no — 'tis not here, howsoever we 're given, - 
 Whether purely to Hymen's one planet we pray. 
 
 Or adore, like Sabseans, each light of Love's heaven. 
 Here is not the region, to fix or to stray. 
 
 For faithless in wedlock, in gallantry gross. 
 
 Without honour to guard, or reserve to restrain. 
 
 What have they, a husband can mourn as a loss. 
 What have they, a lover can prize as a gain ? 
 
EXTRACT VI. 
 
 Rome. 
 
 Reflections on reading De ^Cerceau's Account of the 
 Conspiracy of Rienzi, in 1347. — The Meeting' of 
 the Conspirators on the Night of the 19 th of May. — 
 Their Procession in the Morning to the Capitol, — 
 Rienzi*s Speech. 
 
 'TwAS a proud moment — ev*n to hear the words 
 Of Truth and Freedom *mid these temples breath 'd. 
 
 And see, once more, the Forum shine with swords. 
 In the Republic's sacred name unsheath'd — 
 
 •f 
 
110 
 
 That glimpse, that vision of a brighter day 
 For his dear Rome, must to a Roman be — 
 
 Short as it was — worth ages past away 
 In the dull lapse of hopeless slavery. 
 
 Twas on a night of May, beneath that moon. 
 Which had, through many an age, seen Time untune 
 The strings of this Great Empire, till it fell 
 From his rude hands, a broken, silent shell — 
 The sound of the church clock ^, near Adeian's 
 
 Tomb, 
 Summoned the warriors, who had ris*n for Rome, 
 To meet unarm'd, with nought to watch them there. 
 But God's own eye, and pass the night in prayer. 
 
 * It is not easy to discover what church is meant by Dii 
 Cerceau here : — ** II fit crier dans les rues de Rome, a son de 
 trompe, que chacun eut a se trouver, sans armes, la nuit du 
 lendemain, dix neuvieme, dans I'eglise du chateau de Saint- 
 Ange, au son de la cloche, afin de pourvoir au Bon Etat." 
 
Ill 
 
 Holy beginnning of a holy cause. 
 When heroes, girt for Freedom's combat, pause 
 Before high Heav'n, and, humble in their might. 
 Call down its blessing on that awful fight. 
 
 At dawn, in arms, went forth the patriot band. 
 And, as the breeze, fresh from the Tiber, fann'd 
 Their gilded gonfalons, all eyes could see 
 
 The palm-tree there, the sword, the keys of 
 heaven *— 
 Types of the justice, peace, and liberty. 
 
 That were to bless them, when their chains were 
 riven. 
 On to the Capitol the pageant mov'd. 
 
 While many a Shade of other times, that still 
 Around that grave of grandeur sighing rov'd. 
 
 Hung o*er their footsteps up the Sacred Hill, 
 And heard its mournful echoes, as the last 
 High-minded heirs of the Republic passed. 
 
 * For a description of these banners, See Notes. 
 
112 
 
 'Twas then that thou, their Tribune, (name, which 
 
 brought 
 Dreams of lost glory to each patriot's thought) 
 Didst, from a spirit Rome in vain shall seek 
 To call up in her sons again, thus speak : — 
 
 " Romans, look round you — on this sacred place 
 
 '^ There once stood shrines, and gods, and godlike 
 men — 
 ^' What see you now ? what solitary trace 
 
 " Is left of all, that made Rome's glory then ? 
 ^' The shrines are sunk, the Sacred Mount bereft 
 
 " Ev'n of its name — and nothing now remains 
 '' But the deep memory of that glory, left 
 
 '^ To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains ! 
 '^ But shall this be ? — our sun and sky the same, 
 
 ^' Treading the very soil our fathers trode, 
 '^ What withering curse hath fall'n on soul and 
 frame, 
 
 '' What visitation hath there come from God, 
 
113 
 
 ^' To blast our strength, and rot us into slaves, 
 ^' Here, on our great forefathers' glorious graves ? 
 " It cannot be — rise up, ye Mighty Dead, 
 
 ^^ If we, the living, are too weak to crush 
 '^ These tyrant priests, that o*er your empire tread, 
 
 '^ Till all but Romans, at Rome's tameness blush ! 
 
 " Happy Palmyra in thy desert domes, 
 
 '' Where only date-trees sigh and serpents hiss ; 
 ^' And thou, whose pillars are but silent homes 
 
 ^^ For the stork's brood, superb Persepolis ! 
 ^' Thrice happy both, that your extinguished race 
 ^^ Have left no embers — no half-living trace— 
 ^' No slaves, to crawl around the once proud spot, 
 ^^ Till past renown in present shame 's forgot. 
 " While Rome, the Queen of all, whose very wrecks, 
 
 ^^ If lone and lifeless through a desert hurPd, 
 " Would wear more true magnificence than decks 
 
 " Th* assembled thrones of all th' existing world — 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 " RoME^ Rome alone, is haunted, stain'd and curst, 
 
 '^ Through every spot her princely Tiber laves, 
 '^ By living human things — the deadliest, worst, 
 
 *' This earth engenders — tyrants and their slaves ! 
 '' And we* — oh shame ! — we, who have ponder'd o'ef 
 
 " The patriot's lesson and the poet's lay ; 
 ^^ Have mounted up the streams of antient lore, 
 
 " Tracking our country's glories all the way— 
 " Ev'n we have tamely, basely kiss'd the ground 
 
 " Before that Papal Power, that Ghost of Her^ 
 
 * The fine Canzone of Petrarch, beginning ** Spirto gentil,'* 
 is supposed, by Voltaire and others, to have been addressed to 
 Rienzi ; but there is much more evidence of its having been 
 written, as Ginguene asserts, to the young Stephen Colonna, 
 on his being created a Senator of Rome. ITiat Petrarch, how* 
 ever, was filled with high and patriotic hopes by the first 
 measures of this extraordinary man, appears from one of his 
 letters, quoted by Du Cerceau, where he says : *' Pour tout 
 dire, en un mot, j'atteste, non comme lecteur, mais comm(? 
 temoin oculmre, qu*il nous a ramen^ le justice, la paix, la 
 bonne foi, la s^curit^, et tous les autres vestiges de P^ge d'or." 
 
115 
 
 *^ The World's Imperial Mistress — sitting, crown'd 
 " And ghastly, on her mouldering sepulchre*! 
 
 *' But this is past — too long have lordly priests 
 
 ^' And priestly lords led us, with all our pride 
 ^' Withering about us — like devoted beasts, 
 
 " Dragged to the shrine, with faded garlands tied. 
 '^ 'Tis o'er — the dawn of our deliverance breaks ! 
 '' Up from his sleep of centuries awakes 
 '' The Genius of the Old Republic, free 
 '' As first he stood, in chainless majesty, 
 *^ And sends his voice through ages yet to come, 
 ^' Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Eternal Rome !" 
 
 » See Note. 
 
 I 2 
 
EXTRACT VII. 
 
 Rome. 
 
 Mary Magdalen. — Her Story, — Numerous Pictures of 
 her, — Correggio, — Guido. — Raphael, etc. — Cano^ 
 vas two eA'quisite Statues, — The Somarwa Magda^ 
 len, — Ch — ntr — y's Admiration ofCanovas Works . 
 
 No wonder, Mary, that thy story 
 
 Touches all hearts — ^for there we see 
 The souFs corruption, and its glory, 
 t . Its death and life, combined in thee. 
 
 From the first moment, when we find 
 Thy spirit, haunted by a swarm 
 
118 
 
 Of dark desires, which had inshrin'd 
 
 Themselves, like daemons, in thy form. 
 Till when, by touch of Heav*n set free. 
 
 Thou earnest, with those bright locks of gold, 
 (So oft the gaze of Bethany), 
 
 And, covering in their precious fold 
 Thy Saviour's feet, didst shed such tears 
 As paid, each drop, the sins of years ! — 
 Thence on, through all thy course of love 
 
 To Him, thy Heavenly Master, — Him^ 
 Whose bitter death-cup from above 
 
 Had yet this sweetening round the brim. 
 That woman's faith and love stood fast 
 And fearless by him to the last ! 
 Till — blest reward for truth like thine ! — 
 
 Thou wert, of all, the chosen one. 
 Before whose eyes that Face Divine, 
 
 When risen from the dead, first shone. 
 That thou might'st see how, like a cloud. 
 Had pass'd away its mortal shroud. 
 
119 
 
 And make that bright revealment known 
 To hearts^ less trusting than thy own — 
 All is aiFecting, cheering^ grand ; 
 
 The kindliest record ever given, 
 Ev'n under God's own kindly hand. 
 
 Of what Repentance wins from Heaven ! 
 
 No wonder^ Mary, that thy face. 
 
 In all its touching light of tears. 
 Should meet us in each holy place. 
 
 Where Man before his God appears, 
 Hopeless — were he not taught to see 
 All hope in Him, who pardon'd thee ! 
 No wonder that the painter s skill 
 
 Should oft have triumph'd in the power 
 Of keeping thee most lovely still 
 
 Throughout thy sorrow's bitterest hour — 
 That soft CoRREGGio should diffuse 
 
 His melting shadows round thy form ; 
 
120 
 
 That GuiDo's pale^ unearthly hues 
 
 Should, in pourtraying thee, grow warm ; 
 That all — ^from the ideal, grand. 
 Inimitable Roman hand, 
 Down to the small, enamelling touch 
 
 Of smooth Carlino— should delight 
 In picturing her, who '' loy'd so much," 
 And was, in spite of sin, so bright ! 
 
 But, Mary, 'mong the best essays 
 
 Of Genius and of Art to raise 
 
 A semblance of those weeping eyes 
 
 A vision, worthy of the sphere 
 Thy faith has given thee in the skies. 
 
 And in the hearts of all men here; 
 Not one hath equalled, hath come nigh 
 
 Canova's fancy — oh, not one 
 Hath made thee feel, and live, and die 
 
 In tears away, as he hath done. 
 
121 
 
 In those bright images, more bright 
 With true expression's breathing light. 
 Than ever yet, beneath the stroke 
 Of chisel, into life awoke ! 
 The one *, pourtraying what thou wert 
 
 In thy first grief, while yet the flower 
 Of those young beauties was unhurt 
 
 By sorrow's slow, consuming power. 
 And mingling earth's luxurious grace 
 
 With heav'n's subliming thoughts so well. 
 We gaze, and know not in ijohich place 
 
 Such beauty most was form'd to dwell !— 
 The other, as thou look'dst, when years 
 Of fasting, penitence, and tears 
 
 * This statue is one of the last works of Canova, and was 
 not yet in marble when I left Rome. The other, which seems 
 to prove, in contradiction to very high authority, that expres- 
 sion, of the intensest kind, is fully within the sphere of sculp- 
 ture, was executed many years ago, and is in the possession of 
 the Count Somariva, at Paris. 
 
122 
 
 Had worn thee down — and ne'er did Art 
 
 With half such mental power express 
 The ruin which a breaking heart 
 
 Spreads, by degrees, o'er loveliness ? 
 Those wasted arms, that keep the trace, 
 Ev'n now, of all their youthful grace— 
 Those tresses, of thy charms the last 
 Whose pride forsook thee, wildly cast— • 
 Those features, ev*n in fading worth 
 
 The freshest smiles to others given. 
 And those sunk eyes, that see not earth. 
 
 But whose last looks are full of heaven ! 
 
 Wonderful artist! praise, like mine— • 
 Though springing from a soul, that feels 
 
 Deep worship of those works divine. 
 Where Genius all his light reveals-— 
 
 Is little to the words that came 
 
 From him, thy peer in art and fame. 
 
123 
 
 Whom I have known, by day, by night. 
 Hang o'er thy marble with delight. 
 And, while his lingering hand would steal 
 
 O'er every grace the taper's rays*. 
 Give thee, with all the generous zeal 
 Such master spirits only feel. 
 
 That best of fame, a rival's praise ! 
 
 * Canova always shows his fine statue, the Veiiere Vinci- 
 trice, by the light of a small candle. 
 
EXTRACT VIIL 
 
 Les Charmettes. 
 
 A Visit to the Housewhere Rousseau lived with Madame 
 de Warrens. — Their Minage, — Its Grossness. — 
 Claude Anet. — Reverence with which the Spot is now 
 visited, — Absurdity/ of this blind Devotion to Fame,'-^ 
 Feelings excited by the Beauty and Seclusion of the 
 Scene, — Disturbed by its Associations 'with Rous- 
 seau's History. — Impostures of Men of Genius. 
 — Their Poiver of mimicking all the best Feelings, 
 Love, Independence, S^c» 
 
 Strange power of Genius^ that can throw 
 O'er all that 's vicious^ weak, and low. 
 Such magic lights, such rainbow dyes 
 As dazzle ev'n the steadiest eyes! 
 
 X 
 
126 
 
 About a century since, or near, 
 A niiddle-ag*d Madame liv*d here. 
 With character, ev*n worse than most 
 Such middle-ag"*d Madames can boast. 
 Her footman was — to gloss it over 
 With the most gentle term — her lover; 
 Nor yet so jealous of the truth 
 
 And charms of this impartial fair. 
 As to deny a pauper youth. 
 
 Who join'd their snug menage, his share. 
 And there they liv'd, this precious three. 
 
 With just as little sense or notion 
 Of what the world calls decency. 
 
 As hath the sea-calf in the ocean. 
 And, doubtless, 'mong the grave, and good. 
 And gentle of their neighbourhood. 
 If known at all, they were but known 
 
 As strange, low people, low and bad — 
 Madame, herself, to footmen prone. 
 
 And her young pauper, all but mad. 
 
127 
 
 Who could have th oughts this very spot 
 
 Would, one day, be a sort of shrine. 
 Where — all its grosser taints forgot 
 
 Or gilt by Fancy, till they shine- 
 Pilgrims would meet, from many a shore. 
 To trace each mouldering chamber o'er; 
 Young bards, to dream of virtuous fame. 
 Young maids, to lisp De Warrens* name. 
 And mellower spinsters— -of an age. 
 Licensed to read Jean Jaques's page — 
 To picture all the blissful hours 
 He pass'd in these sequestered bowers. 
 With his dear Maman and his flowers ! 
 Spinsters, who— if, from glowing heart 
 
 Or erring head, some living maid 
 Had wandered ev'n the thousandth part 
 
 Of what this worthy Maman stray'd— 
 Would bridle up their virtuous chins 
 In horror at her sin of sins. 
 
128 
 
 And — could their chaste eyes kill with flashes- 
 Frown the fair culprit into ashes! 
 
 'Tis too absurd — 'tis weakness, shame. 
 This low prostration before Fame — 
 This casting down, beneath the car 
 Of Idols, whatsoe'er they are. 
 Life's purest, holiest decencies. 
 To be career'd o'er, as they please. 
 No — let triumphant Genius have 
 All that his loftiest wish can crave. 
 If he be worshipp*d, let it be 
 
 For attributes, his noblest, first — 
 Not with that base idolatry. 
 
 Which sanctifies his last and worst. 
 
 I may be cold — may want that glow 
 
 Of high romance, which bards should know; 
 
 That holy homage, which is felt 
 
 In treading where the great have dwelt — 
 
129 
 
 This reverence, whatsoe'er it be, 
 
 I fear, I feel, I have it not. 
 For here, at this still hour, to me 
 
 The charms of this delightful spot — 
 Its calm seclusion from the throng. 
 
 From all the heart would fain forget — 
 This narrow valley, and the song 
 
 Of its small murmuring rivulet — 
 The flitting, to and fro, of birds. 
 
 Tranquil and tame as they were once 
 In Eden, ere the startling words 
 
 Of Man disturbed their orisons ! — 
 Those little, shadowy paths, that wind 
 Up the hill side, with fruit-trees lin'd. 
 And lighted only by the breaks 
 The gay wind in the foliage makes. 
 Or vistas, here and there, that ope 
 
 Through weeping willows, like the snatches 
 Of far-off scenes of light, which Hope 
 
 Ev*n through the shade of sadness catches ! — 
 
130 
 
 All this, which— could I once but lose 
 
 The memory of those vulgar ties. 
 Whose grossness all the heavenliest hues 
 
 Of Genius can no more disguise. 
 Than the sun's beams can do away 
 The filth of fens o'er which they play — 
 This scene, which would have filFd my heart 
 
 With thoughts of all that happiest is — 
 Of I.ove, where self hath only part. 
 
 As echoing back another's bliss-— 
 Of solitude, secure and sweet. 
 Beneath whose shade the Virtues meet ; 
 Which, while it shelters, never chills 
 
 Our sympathies with human woe, 
 But keeps them, like sequester'd rills. 
 
 Purer and fresher in their flow — 
 Of happy days, that share their beams 
 
 'Twixt quiet mirth and wise employ — 
 Of tranquil nights, that give, in dreams. 
 
 The moonlight of the morning's joy ! — 
 
131 
 
 All this my heart could dwell on here. 
 
 But for those hateful memories near. 
 
 Those sordid truths, that cross the track 
 
 Of each sweet thought, and drive them back 
 
 Full into all the mire, and strife. 
 
 And vanities of that man*s life. 
 
 Who, more than all that e'er have glow'd 
 
 With Fancy's flame (and it was hi&, 
 If ever giv'n to mortal) show'd 
 
 What an impostor Genius is—* 
 How, with that strong, mimetic art. 
 
 Which is its Hfe and soul, it takes 
 All shapes of thought, all hues of heart. 
 
 Nor feels, itself, one throb it wakes — 
 How like a gem its light may smile 
 
 0*er the dark path, by mortals trod> 
 Itself as mean a worm, the while. 
 
 As crawls along the sullying sod — 
 What sensibility may fall 
 
 From its false lip, what plans to bless. 
 
 Kg 
 
132 
 
 While home, friends, kindred, country, all. 
 
 Lie waste beneath its selfishness- 
 How, with the pencil hardly dry 
 
 From colouring up such scenes of love 
 And beauty, as make young hearts sigh. 
 
 And dream, and think through heaven they rove. 
 They, who can thus describe and move. 
 
 The very workers of these charms. 
 Nor seek, nor ask a heaven, above 
 Some Maman*s or Theresa's arms ! 
 
 How all, in short, that makes the boast 
 Of their false tongues, they want the most ; 
 And, while with Freedom on their lips 
 
 Sounding her timbrels, to set free 
 This bright world, labouring in th' eclipse 
 
 Of priestcraft and of slavery. 
 They may, themselves, be slaves as low 
 
 As ever Lord or Patron made. 
 To blossom in his smile, or grow. 
 
 Like stunted brushwood, in his shade ! 
 
133 
 
 Out on the craft — I 'd rather be 
 
 One of those hinds, that round me tread. 
 With just enough of sense to see 
 
 The noon-day sun that 's o'er my head. 
 Than thus, with high-built genius curst. 
 
 That hath no heart for its foundation. 
 Be all, at once, that 's brightest — worst — 
 
 Sublimest — ^meanest in creation ! 
 
THE SYLPH'S BALL. 
 
 A Sylph, as bright as ever sported 
 Her figure through the fields of air. 
 
 By an old swarthy Gnome was courted, 
 And, strange to say, he won the fair. 
 
 The annals of the oldest witch 
 A pair so sorted could not show — 
 
 But how refuse ? — the Gnome was rich. 
 The Rothschild of the world below ; 
 
 And Sylphs, like other pretty creatures. 
 Learn from their Mammas to consider 
 
 Love as an auctioneer of features. 
 
 Who knocks them down to the best bidder. 
 
136 
 
 Home she was taken to his Mine — 
 A Palace, pav'd with diamonds all — 
 
 And, proud as Lady Gnome to shine. 
 Sent out her tickets for a Ball. 
 
 The lower world, of course, was there. 
 And all the best — but of the upper 
 
 The sprinkling was but shy and rare, 
 A few old Sylph ids, who lov'd supper. 
 
 As none yet knew the wondrous Lamp 
 Of Davy, that renown'd Aladdin, 
 
 And the Gnome's Halls exhal'd a damp. 
 Which accidents from fire were bad in ; 
 
 The chambers were supplied with light 
 By many strange but safe devices — 
 
 Large lire-flies, such as shine at night 
 Among the Orient's flowers and spices;- 
 
137 
 
 Musical flint-mills — swiftly play'd 
 By elfin hands — that^ flashing round, 
 
 Like certain tire-eyed minstrel maids. 
 Gave out, at once, both light and sound. 
 
 Bologna stones, that drink the sun ; 
 
 And water from that Indian sea. 
 Whose waves at night like wild-fire run, — 
 
 Cork'd up in crystal carefully. 
 
 Glow-worms, that round the tiny dishes. 
 Like little light-houses, were set up ; 
 
 And pretty phosphorescent fishes. 
 
 That by their own gay light were eat up. 
 
 'Mong the few guests from Ether, came 
 That wicked Sylph, whom Love we call — 
 
 My Lady knew him but by name. 
 My Lord, her husband, not at all. 
 
188 
 
 Some prudent Gnomes^ 'tis said, apprized 
 That he was coming, and, no doubt, 
 
 Alarm'd about his torch, advis'd 
 
 He should, by all means, be kept out. 
 
 But others disapprov'd this plan. 
 
 And, by his flame though somewhat frighted. 
 Thought Love too much a gentleman. 
 
 In such a dangerous place to light it. 
 
 However, there he was — and dancing 
 With the fair Sylph, light as a feather ; 
 
 They look'd like two young sunbeams, glancing, 
 At daybreak, down to earth together. 
 
 And all had gone off safe and well. 
 
 But for that plaguy torch — whose light. 
 
 Though not yet kindled, who could tell 
 How soon, how devilishly it might ? 
 
139 
 
 And so it chanc'd — which^, in those dark 
 And fireless halls was quite amazing— 
 
 Did we not know how small a spark 
 Can set the torch of Love a-blazing. 
 
 Whether it came, when close entangled 
 In th« gay waltz, from her bright eyes. 
 
 Or from the lucciole, that spangled 
 Her locks of jet — is all surmise. 
 
 Certain it is th* ethereal girl 
 
 Did drop a spark, at some odd turning. 
 Which by the waltz's windy whirl 
 
 Was fanned up into actual burning. 
 
 Oh for that Lamp's metallic gauze. 
 That curtain of protecting wire. 
 
 Which Davy delicately draws 
 Around illicit, dangerous fire. — 
 
140 
 
 The wall he sets *twixt Flame and Air, 
 
 (Like that, which barr'd young Thisbe's bliss) 
 
 Through whose small holes this dangerous pair 
 May see each other, but not kiss *. 
 
 At first the torch looked rather bluely, — 
 A sign, they say, that no good boded — 
 
 Then quick the gas became unruly. 
 
 And, crack ! the ball-room all exploded. 
 
 Sylphs, gnomes and fiddlers mix'd together. 
 With all their aunts, sons, cousins, nieces. 
 
 Like butterflies in stormy weather. 
 
 Were blown — ^legs, wings and tails — to pieces ! 
 
 While, 'mid these victims of the torch. 
 The Sylph, alas, too, bore her part — 
 
 ■ Partique dedere 
 
 Oscula quisque suae, non pervenientia contra. Ovie 
 
141 
 
 Found lying, with a livid scorch. 
 As if from lightning, o'er her heart ! 
 
 Well done" — a laughing Goblin said- 
 Escaping from this gaseous strife — 
 ' *Tis not the^r*^ time Love has made 
 '• A hlorv-'up in connubial life V* 
 
142 
 
 REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 After a conversation ivith L — d J R ;, in 
 
 which he had intimated some idea of giving up all 
 political pursuits. 
 
 What ! thou, with thy genius, thy youth, and thy 
 name— 
 
 Thou, born of a Russell — ^whose instinct to run 
 The accustom'd career of thy sires, is the same 
 
 As the eaglet's, to soar with his eyes on the sun ! 
 
 Whose nobility comes to thee, stamp'd with a seal. 
 Far, far more ennobling than monarch e'er set ; 
 
 With the blood of thy race, ofFer'd up for the weal 
 Of a nation, that swears by that martyrdom yet I 
 
143 
 
 Shalt thou be faint-hearted and turn from the strife. 
 From the mighty arena, where all that is grand 
 
 And devoted, and pure, and adorning in life. 
 
 Is for high-thoughted spirits like thine to com- 
 mand. 
 
 Oh no, never dream it — while good men despair 
 Between tyrants and traitors, and timid men bow. 
 
 Never think, for an instant, thy country can spare 
 Such a light from her darkening horizon as thou ! 
 
 With a spirit, as meek as the gentlest of those 
 Who in life's sunny valley lie shelter'd and warm ; 
 
 Yet bold and heroic as ever yet rose 
 
 To the top cliffs of Fortune, and breasted her 
 storm ; 
 
 With an ardour for liberty, fresh as, in youth. 
 It first kindles the bard and gives life to his lyre ; 
 
 Yet mellow'd, ev'n now, by that mildness of truth. 
 Which tempers, but chills not, the patriot fire ; 
 
144 
 
 With an eloquence — not like those rills from a 
 height. 
 Which sparkle, and foam, and in vapour are o'er ; 
 But a current, that works out its way into light 
 Through the filtering recesses of thought and of 
 lore. 
 
 Thus gifted, thou never canst sleep in the shade ; 
 
 If the stirrings of Genius, the music of fame. 
 And the charms of thy cause have not power to per- 
 suade. 
 Yet think how to freedom thou 'rt pledged by thy 
 Name. 
 
 Like the boughs of that laurel, by Delphi's decree. 
 Set apart for the Fane and its service divine. 
 
 All the branches, that spring from the old Russell 
 tree. 
 Are by Liberty claimed for the use of her Shrine. 
 
145 
 
 EPITAPH ON A LAWYER. 
 
 Here lies a Lawyer — one, whose mind 
 (Like that of all the Lawyer kind) 
 Resembled, though so grave and stately. 
 The pupil of a cat*s eye greatly, — 
 Which for the mousing deeds transacted 
 
 In holes and corners is well fitted. 
 But which, in sunshine, grows contracted. 
 
 As if 'twould — rather not admit it. 
 As if, in short, a man would quite 
 
 Throw time away, who tried to let in a 
 Decent portion of God's light 
 
 On lawyer's mind or pussy's retina. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 Hence, when he took to politics. 
 
 As a refreshing change of evil. 
 Unfit with grand affairs to mix 
 His little Nisi-Prius tricks. 
 
 Like imps at bo-peep, play'd the devil ^ 
 And prov'd that when a small Law Wit 
 
 Of statesmanship attempts the trial, 
 'Tis like a player on the kit. 
 
 Put all at once to a bass viol. 
 
 Nay, ev'n when honest (which he could 
 Be, now and then) still quibbling daily. 
 
 He serv*d his country, as he would 
 A client thief at the Old Bailey. 
 
 But — do him justice — short and rare. 
 
 His wish through honest paths to roam> 
 Born with a taste for the unfair. 
 Where falsehood call'd, he still was there. 
 And when least honest most at home. 
 
 m 
 
147 
 
 Thus shuffling, bullying, lying, creeping. 
 He work'd his way up near the Throne, 
 
 And, long before he took the keeping 
 Of the King's conscience, lost his own. 
 
 l2 
 
148 
 
 MY BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 " My birth-day" — what a diiFerent sound 
 That word had in my youthful ears ! 
 
 And how, each time the day comes round. 
 Less and less white its mark appears ! 
 
 When first our scanty years are told. 
 It seems like pastime to grow old ; 
 And, as Youth counts the shining links> 
 
 That Time around him binds so fast. 
 Pleased with the task, he little thinks 
 
 How hard that chain will press at last. 
 
 t 
 
149 
 
 Vain was the man, and false as vain. 
 
 Who said * — ^^ were he ordain'd to run 
 '^ His long career of life again, 
 
 ^' He would do all that he had done." — • 
 Ah, 'tis not thus the voice, that dwells 
 
 In sober birth-days, speaks to me ; 
 Far otherwise — of time it tells. 
 
 Lavished unwisely, carelessly — 
 Of counsel mocFd — of talents, made 
 Haply for high and pure designs. 
 But oft, like Israel's incense, laid 
 Upon unholy, earthly shrines — 
 Of nursing many a wrong desire— 
 Of wandering after Love too far. 
 And taking every meteor fire. 
 
 That cross'd my path-way, for his star ! 
 
 * Fontenelle, — " Si je recommen^ais ma carriere, je ferai 
 tout ce que j'jii fait.'* 
 
150 
 
 All this it tells, and, could I trace 
 
 Th' imperfect picture o'er again, 
 With pow'r to add, retouch, efface 
 
 The lights and shades, the joy and pain. 
 How little of the past would stay ! 
 How quickly all should melt away- 
 All— but that Freedom of the Mind, 
 
 Which hath been more than wealth to me ; 
 Those friendships, in my boy-hood twin'd. 
 
 And kept till now unchangingly ; 
 And that dear home, that saving ark. 
 
 Where Love's true light at last I Ve found. 
 Cheering within, when all grows dark. 
 
 And comfortless, and stormy round ! 
 
151 
 
 FANCY. 
 
 The more I Ve view'd this worlds the more I 've 
 found. 
 
 That, fiird as 'tis with scenes and creatures rare. 
 Fancy commands, within her own bright round, 
 
 A world of scenes and creatures far more fair. 
 Nor is it. that her power can call up there 
 
 A single charm, that 's not from Nature won. 
 No more than rainbows, in their pride, can wear 
 
 A single tint unborrowed from the sun- 
 But 'tis the mental medium it shines through. 
 That lends to Beauty all its charm and hue ; 
 As the same light, that o'er the level lake 
 
 One dull monotony of lustre flings, 
 W ill, entering in the rounded rain-drop, make 
 
 Colours as gay as those on angels' wings ! 
 
152 
 
 LOVE AND HYMEN. 
 
 Love had a fever — ne'er could close 
 His little eyes till day was breaking ; 
 
 And whimsical enough, heav'n knows. 
 The things he rav'd about, while waking. 
 
 To let him pine so were a sin — 
 
 One, to whom all the world 's a debtor — 
 So Doctor Hymen was call'd in. 
 
 And Love that night slept rather better. 
 
 Next day the case gave further hope yet. 
 Though still some ugly fever latent ; — 
 
 " Dose, as before" — a gentle opiate, 
 For which old Hymen has a patent. 
 
153 
 
 After a month of daily call. 
 
 So fast the dose went on restoring. 
 
 That Love, who first ne'er slept at all, 
 
 Now took, the rogue I to downright snoring. 
 
154 
 
 TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. 
 
 Sweet Sirmio ! thou, the very eye 
 
 Of all peninsulas and isles. 
 That in our lakes of silver lie, 
 
 Or sleep, enwreath'd by Neptune's smiles. 
 
 How gladly back to thee I fly ! 
 
 Still doubting, asking — can it be 
 That I have left Bithynia's sky. 
 
 And gaze in safety upon thee ? 
 
 Oh ! what is happier than to find 
 Our hearts at ease, our perils past; 
 
 When, anxious long, the lighten'd mind 
 Lays down its load of care at last : 
 
155 
 
 When, tir'd with toil on land and deep, 
 Again we tread the welcome floor 
 
 Of our own home, and sink to sleep 
 On the long- wish'd- for bed once more. 
 
 This, this it is, that pays alone 
 The ills of all life's former track — 
 
 Shine out, my beautiful, my own 
 
 Sweet Sirmio — greet thy master back. 
 
 And thou, fair Lake, whose water quaffs 
 The light of heav'n like Lydia's sea. 
 
 Rejoice, rejoice — ^let all that laughs 
 Abroad, at home, laugh out for me ! 
 
156 
 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 fVtitten in a Pocket Book, 1822. 
 
 They tell us of an Indian tree. 
 
 Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky- 
 May tempt its boughs to wander free. 
 
 And shoot, and blossom, wide and high. 
 Far better loves to bend its arms 
 
 Downward again to that dear earth. 
 From which the life, that fills and warms 
 
 Its grateful being, first had birth. 
 
 'Tis thus, though woo'd by flattering friends. 
 And fed with fame (i/'fame it be) 
 
 This heart, my own dear mother, bends. 
 With love's true instinct, back to thee ! 
 
157 
 
 ILLUSTRATION OF A BORE. 
 
 ir erer you Ve seen a gay party, 
 
 Reliev'd from the pressure of Ned- 
 How instantly joyous and hearty 
 
 They Ve grown, when the damper was fled- 
 You may guess what a gay piece of work. 
 
 What delight to Champagne it must be. 
 To get rid of its bore of a cork. 
 
 And come sparkling to you, lore, and me ! 
 
158 
 
 A SPECULATION. 
 
 Of all speculations the market holds forth, 
 The best that I know for a lover of pelf. 
 
 Is to buy * * * * * * up, at the price he is worth. 
 And then sell him at that which he sets on himself. 
 
159 
 
 LINES ON THE ENTRY OF THE AU- 
 STRIANS INTO NAPLES, 1821. 
 
 Carbone notaii. 
 
 Ay — down to the dust with them, slaves as they are. 
 From this hour, let the blood in their dastardly 
 veins. 
 
 That shrunk at the first touch of Liberty's war. 
 Be suck'd out by tyrants, or stagnate in chains. 
 
 On, on like a cloud, through their beautiful vales, 
 Ye locusts of tyranny, blasting them o'er — 
 
 Fill, fill up their wide sunny waters, ye sails 
 
 From each slave-mart of Europe, and poison their 
 shore ! 
 
160 
 
 Let their fate be a mock-word — let men of all lands 
 Laugh out, with a scorn that shall ring to the poles. 
 
 When each sword, that the cowards let fall from their 
 hands, 
 Shall be forg*d into fetters to enter their souls. 
 
 And deep, and more deep, as the iron is driven. 
 Base slaves ! may the whet of their agony be. 
 
 To think — as the Damn'd haply think of that heav'n 
 They had once in their reach — that they might 
 have been free. 
 
 Shame, shame — when there was not a bosom, whose 
 heat 
 
 Ever rose o'er the zero of *s heart. 
 
 That did not, like echo, your war-hymn repeat. 
 
 And send all its prayers with your Liberty's start — 
 
 When the world stood in hope — when a spirit, that 
 breath'd 
 The fresh air of the olden time, whisper'd about; 
 
IGI 
 
 And the swords of all Italy, half-way unsheath'd. 
 But waited one conquering* cry^ to flash out ! 
 
 When around you the shades of your Mighty in fame^ 
 FiLic AJAS and Petrarchs, seem'd bursting to view. 
 
 And their words, and their warnings — like tongues of 
 bright flame 
 Over Freedom's apostles — fell kindJing on you ! 
 
 Good God, that, in such a proud moment of life. 
 Worth the hist'ry of ages — when, had you but hurl'd 
 
 One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife 
 
 Between freemen and tyrants had spread through 
 the world — 
 
 That then — oh ! disgrace upon manhood — ev'n then. 
 You should falter, should cling to your pitiful breath; 
 
 Cow'r down into beasts^ when you might have stood, 
 men. 
 And prefer the slave's life of damnation to death. 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 It is stran^ie, it is dreadful — shout. Tyranny, shout 
 Throug-h your dungeons and palaces, '' Freedom is 
 o'er" — 
 
 If there lingers one spark of her light, tread it out. 
 And return to your empire of darkness once more. 
 
 For, if such ar^e the brag-g-arts, that claim to be free. 
 Come, Despot of Russia, thy feet let me kiss — 
 
 Far nobler to live the brute bond-man of thee. 
 Than to sully ev'n chains by a struggle like this ! 
 
163 
 
 SCEPTICISM. 
 
 Ere Psyche drank the cup, that shed 
 
 Immortal Life into her soul. 
 Some evil spirit pour'd, 'tis said, 
 
 One drop of Doubt into the bowl— 
 
 Which, mingling darkly with the stream^ 
 To Psyche's lips — she knew not why — 
 
 Made ev'n that blessed nectar seem 
 As though its sweetness soon would die. 
 
 Oft, in the very arms of Love, 
 
 A chill came o'er her heart — a fear 
 
 That Death would, even yet, remove 
 Her spirit from that happy sphere. 
 
 M 2 
 
" Those sunny ringlets/* she exclaimed, 
 Twining them round her snowy fingers— 
 
 " That forehead, where a light, unnani'd, 
 " Unknown on earth, for ever lingers — 
 
 *^ Those lips, through which I feel the breath 
 " Of Heav'n itself, whene'er they sever—. 
 
 " Oh J are they mine, beyond all death, 
 '' My own, hereafter, and for ever ? 
 
 *^ Smile not — T know that starry brow, 
 " Those ringlets, and bright lips of thine, 
 
 '' Will always shine, as they do now — 
 '' But shall / live to see them shine ?" 
 
 In vain did Love say " Turn thine eyes 
 " On all that sparkles round thee here — 
 
 " Thou 'rt now in heav*n, where nothing dies, 
 '* And in these arms — what canst thou fear?" 
 
165 
 
 In vain — the fatal drop, that stole 
 Into that cup's immortal treasure. 
 
 Had lodg'd its bitter near her soul. 
 And gave a tinge to every pleasure. 
 
 And, though there ne'er was rapture given 
 Like Psyche's with that radiant boy. 
 
 Hers is the only face in heaven, 
 That wears a cloud amid its joy. 
 
m 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 Of all the men one meets about. 
 
 There's none like Jack — he's every wbere- 
 At church — park — auction — dinner — rout — 
 
 Go where and when you will, he 's there. 
 Try the West End, he 's at your back — 
 
 Meets you, like Eurus, in the East — 
 You 're calFd upon for '' How do. Jack ?" 
 
 One hundred times a day at least. 
 A friend of his one evening said. 
 
 As home he took his pensire way, ^ 
 ^^ Upon my soul, I fear Jack 's dead, 
 
 '' I 've seen him but three times to-day." 
 
167 
 
 ROMANCE. 
 
 I HAVE a story of two lovers^ filled 
 
 With all the pure romance, 'the blissful sadness. 
 And the sad, doubtful bliss, that ever thrilVd 
 
 Two young and longing- hearts in that sweet 
 madness. 
 But where to choose the locale of my vision 
 
 In this Made, vulgar world — what real spot 
 Can be found out, sufficiently Elysian 
 
 For two such perfect lovers, I know not. 
 Oh for some fair Formosa, such as he. 
 The young Jew*, fabled of, in the' Indian Sea, 
 By nothing, but its name of Beauty, known. 
 And which Queen Fancy might make all her own, 
 
 * Psalmanazar. 
 
168 
 
 Her fairy king-dom— take its people, lands. 
 And tenements into her own bright hands. 
 And make, at least, one earthly corner fit 
 For Love to live in, pure and exquisite ! 
 
169 
 
 A JOKE VERSIFIED. 
 
 " Come, come/' said Tom*s father, '' at your time of 
 
 life, 
 
 " There 's no longer excuse for thus playing the 
 
 rake — 
 
 ^' It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife" — 
 
 " Why, so it is, father, — whose wife shall I take?" 
 
170 
 
 ON 
 
 Like a snuffers^ this loving old dame. 
 By a destiny, grievous enough. 
 
 Though so oft she has snapp'd at the flame. 
 Hath never caught more than the snufF. 
 
171 
 
 FRAGMENT OF A CHARACTER. 
 
 Here lies Factotum Ned at last — 
 Long as he breath'd the vital air. 
 
 Nothing- throughout all Europe passed. 
 In which he had n't some small share. 
 
 Whoe'er was in, whoe'er was out, 
 Whatever statesmen did or said. 
 
 If not exactly brought about. 
 
 Was all, at least, contriv'd by Ned. 
 
 W^ith Nap if Russia went to war, 
 *Twas owing, under Providence, 
 
 To certain hints Ned gave the Czar — 
 (Vide his pamphlet — price, sixpence.) 
 
172 
 
 If France was beat at Waterloo — 
 
 As all, but Frenchinen, think she was — 
 
 To Nedj as Wellington well knew. 
 Was owing- half that day's applause. 
 
 Then, for his news — no envoy's bag 
 
 E'er pass'd so many secrets through it—- 
 
 Scarcely a telegraph could wag 
 
 Its wooden finger, but Ned knew it. 
 
 Such tales he had of foreign plots. 
 
 With foreign names, one's ear to buzz in— 
 
 Froni Russia, chefs and ofs in lots. 
 From Poland, oivshis by the dozen. 
 
 When George, alarm'd for England's creed, 
 Turn'd out the last Whig ministry. 
 
 And men ask'd — who advis'd the deed.^^ 
 Ned modestly confess'd 'twas he. 
 
173 
 
 Por though, by some unlucky miss. 
 He had not downright seen the King, 
 
 He sent such hints through Viscount This, 
 To Marquis That, as clench'd the thing. 
 
 The same it was in science, arts. 
 
 The Drama, Books, MS. and printed— 
 
 Kean learu'd from Ned his cleverest parts. 
 And Scott's last work by him was hinted. 
 
 Childe Harold in the proofs he read. 
 
 And, here and there, infused some soul in *t- 
 
 Nay, Davy's Lamp, till seen by Ned, 
 
 Had — odd enough — a dangerous hole in 't. 
 
 Twas thus, all-doing and all-knowing. 
 Wit, statesman, boxer, chymist, singer. 
 
 Whatever was the best pye going. 
 
 In thai Ned — trust him — ^had his finger. 
 
174 
 
 COUNTRY DANCE AND QUADRILLE. 
 
 One night the nymph caird Country-Dance,— 
 Whom folks, of late, have us*d so ill. 
 
 Preferring a coquette from France, 
 A thing, Mamselle Quadrille — 
 
 Having been chas'd from London down 
 
 To that last, humblest haunt of all. 
 She us*d to grace — a Country Town — 
 
 Went smiling to the New- Year's Ball. 
 
 " Here, here, at least," she cried, " though driv'n 
 " From London's gay and shining tracks — 
 
 " Though, like a Peri cast from heaven, 
 ^' I Ve lost, for ever lost Almack's — 
 
175 
 
 ^' Though not a London Miss alive 
 
 " Would now for her acquaintance own me ; 
 
 " And spinsters, ev'n, of forty- five, 
 
 " Upon their honours ne'er have known me. 
 
 " Here, here, at least, I triumph still, 
 
 " And — spite of some few dandy Lancers, 
 
 " Who vainly try to preach Quadrille — 
 
 '^ See nought but true-blue Country-dancers, 
 
 " Here still I reign, and, fresh in charms, 
 " My throne, like Magna Charta, raise 
 
 " 'Mong sturdy, free-born legs and arms, 
 
 " That scorn the threatened chaine Jnglaise.' 
 
 'Twas thus she said, as, 'mid the din 
 Of footmen, and the town sedan. 
 
 She lighted at the King's Head Inn, 
 And up the stairs triumphant ran. 
 
176 
 
 The Squire's and their Squiresses all. 
 With young Squirinas, just come out, 
 
 And my Lord's daughters from the Hall, 
 (Quadrillers, in their hearts, no doubt). 
 
 Already, as she tripp'd up stairs, 
 
 She in the cloak-room saw assembling — 
 
 When, hark! some new, outlandish airs. 
 From the First Fiddle, set her trembling. 
 
 She stops — she listens — can it be? 
 
 Alas, in vain her ears would 'scape it — 
 It is " Di tanti palpiti" 
 
 As plain as English bow can scrape it. 
 
 ^^ Courage !" however — in she goes. 
 
 With her best, sweeping country grace ; 
 
 When, ah too true, her worst of foes, 
 
 QuADEiLLE, there meets her, face to face. 
 
177 
 
 Oh for the lyre, or violin. 
 
 Or kit of that gay Muse, Terpsichore, 
 To sing the rage these nymphs were in. 
 
 Their looks and language, airs and trickery. 
 
 There stood Quadeille, with cat-like face 
 (The beau-ideal of French beauty) 
 
 A band-box thing, all art and lace 
 
 Down from her nose-tip to her shoe-tye. 
 
 Her flounces, fresh from Fictorine — 
 From Hippolyte, her rouge and hair— 
 
 Her poetry, from Lamartine-^ 
 
 Her morals, from — the Lord knows where. 
 
 And, when she danc*d — so slidingly. 
 So near the ground she plied her art. 
 
 You *d swear her mother-earth and she 
 Had made a compact ne'er to part. 
 
178 
 
 Her face the while, too, prim, sedate. 
 No sig-ns of life or motion showing-. 
 
 Like a bright peiidules' dial-plate 
 
 So still, you'd hardly think 'twas goirig. 
 
 Full fronting her stood Country Dance— 
 
 A fresh, frank nymph, whom you would know 
 
 For Eng-lish, at a single glance 
 
 English all o'er, from top to toe. 
 
 A little gauche, 'tis fair to own. 
 
 And rather giv'n to skips and bounces; 
 
 Endangering thereby many a gown. 
 
 And playing, oft, the dev'l with flounces. 
 
 Unlike Mamselle — who would prefer 
 
 (As morally a lesser ill) 
 A thousand flaws of character. 
 
 To one vile rumple of a frill. 
 
179 
 
 No rouge did she of Albion wear ; 
 
 Let her but run that two-heat race 
 She calls a Set — not Dian e'er 
 
 Came rosier from the woodland chace. 
 
 Such was the nymph, whose soul had in 't 
 Such anger now — whose eyes of blue 
 
 (Eyes of that bright, victorious tint. 
 
 Which English maids call ^^ Waterloo'*)-^ 
 
 Like summer lightnings, in the dusk 
 Of a warm evening, flashing broke. 
 
 While — to the tune of ^' Money Musk *," 
 Which struck up now — she proudly spoke. 
 
 " Heard you that strain — that joyous strain ? 
 " 'Twas such as England lov'd to hear, 
 
 * An old English Country-Dance. 
 
 n2 
 
180 
 
 *^ Ere thou, and all thy frippery train, 
 " Corrupted both her foot and ear — 
 
 " Ere Waltz, that rake from foreign lands, 
 ^' Presumed, in sight of all beholders, 
 
 " To lay his rude, licentious hands 
 
 '^ On virtuous English backs and shoulders — 
 
 ^^ Ere times and morals both grew bad, 
 
 ^' And, yet unpawn'd from bankers' dockets, 
 
 ^' Happy John Bull not only had, 
 
 '^ But danc*d to, ' Money in both pockets/ 
 
 ■ Alas, the change ! — oh 
 
 *' Where is the land could 'scape disasters, 
 ' With suck a Foreign Secretary, 
 
 ^' Aided by Foreign Dancing-masters ? 
 
 Woe to ye, men of ships and shops, 
 ^' Rulers of day-books and of waves ! 
 
181 
 
 " Quadriird^ on one side, into fops, 
 '^ And driird, on t' other, into slaves ! 
 
 ^^ Ye, too, ye lovelj^ victims, seen, 
 '^ Like pigfeons, truss'd for exhibition, 
 
 ^* With elbows, a la crapaudine, 
 
 ^^ And feet, in God knows what position. 
 
 " Hemm*d in by watchful chaperons, 
 '^ Inspectors of your airs and graces, 
 
 " Who intercept all whispered tones. 
 And read your telegraphic faces. 
 
 " Unable with the youth ador'd, 
 ^' In that grim cordon of Mammas, 
 
 " To interchange one tender word, 
 
 " Though whisper'd but in queue-de^chats, 
 
 " Ah did you know how blest we rang*d, 
 '' Ere vile Quadrille usurp'd the fiddle — 
 
182 
 
 " What looks in setting were exchang'd, 
 ^' What tender words in down the middle! 
 
 '' How many a couple, like the wind, 
 " Which nothing in its course controuls, 
 
 '' Left time and chaperons far behind, 
 ^'^ And gave a loose to legs and souls. 
 
 "How matrimony throve — ere stopped 
 " By this cold, silent, foot-coquetting — 
 
 ^^ How charmingly one's partner popped 
 *' Th' important question in poussette-ing, 
 
 " While now, alas, — no sly advances — 
 '^ No marriage hints — all goes on badly — 
 
 '^ *Twixt Parson Mai thus and French Dancers, 
 " We, girls, are at a discount sadly. 
 
 '' Sir William Scott (now Baron Stowell) 
 " Declares not half so much is made 
 
183 
 
 ^' By Licences — and he must know well— 
 '^ Since vile Quadrilling spoiFd the trade." 
 
 She ceas'd — tears fell from every Miss — 
 She now had touch'd the true pathetic : — 
 
 One such authentic fact as this. 
 Is worth whole volumes theoretic. 
 
 Instant the cry was '^ Country Dance !" 
 And the maid saw, with brightening face. 
 
 The Steward of the night advance. 
 And lead her to her birth-right place. 
 
 The fiddles, which awhile had ceas'd. 
 Now tun'd again their summons sweet. 
 
 And, for one happy night, at least. 
 Old England's triumph was complete. 
 
184 
 
 SONG FOR THE POCO-CURANTE 
 SOCIETY*. 
 
 To those we love we Ve drank to-night ; 
 
 But now attend^ and stare not. 
 While I the ampler list recite 
 
 Of those, for whom we care not. 
 
 For royal men, howe'er they frown. 
 If on their fronts they bear not 
 
 That noblest g-em that decks a crown. 
 The People's Love — we care not. 
 
 * This song has been made a present of, by the Society, to 
 Mr. Power, 34, Strand. 
 
185 
 
 For slavish men^ who bend beneath 
 A despot yoke, and dare not 
 
 Pronounce the will, whose very breath 
 Would rends its links — we care noU 
 
 For priestly men who covet sway 
 
 And wealth, though they declare not ; 
 
 Who point, like finger-posts, the way 
 They never go — we care not. 
 
 For martial men, who on their sword, 
 Howe'er it conquers, wear not 
 
 The pledges of a soldier's word. 
 Redeemed and pure — we care not. 
 
 For legal men, who plead for wrong, 
 ♦ And though to lies they swear not. 
 Are not more honest than the throng 
 Of those, who do — we care not. 
 
186 
 
 For courtly men^ who feed upon 
 The land like grubs, and spare not 
 
 The smallest leaf, where they can sun 
 Their reptile limbs — we care not. 
 
 For wealthy men, who keep their mines 
 In darkness hid, and share not 
 
 The paltry ore with him who pines 
 In honest want — we care not. 
 
 For prudent men, who keep the power 
 
 Of Love aloof, and bare not 
 Their hearts in any guardless hour 
 
 To beauty's shaft — we care not. 
 
 For secret men, who, round the bowl 
 In friendship's circle, tear not 
 
 The cloudy curtain from their soul. 
 But draw it close — we care not, - 
 
187 
 
 For all, in shorty on land and sea. 
 In court and camp, who are not. 
 
 Who never were, nor e*er will be 
 Good men and true — we care not^ 
 
188 
 
 GENIUS AND CRITICISM. 
 
 Scripsit quidem fata, sed sequitur. 
 
 Seneca. 
 Of old, the Sultan Genius reign'd. 
 
 As Nature meant, supreme, alone ; 
 
 With mind unchecked, and hands unchain'd. 
 
 His views, his conquests were his own. 
 
 But power like his, that digs its grave 
 With its own sceptre, could not last — 
 
 So Genius' self became the slave 
 Of laws that Genius' self had passed. 
 
 As Jove, who forg'd the chain of Fate, 
 Was, ever after, doom'd to wear it ; 
 
 His nods, his struggles all too late— 
 '^ Qui semel jussit, semper paret" 
 
189 
 
 To check young Genius* proud career. 
 The slaves, who now his throne invaded, 
 
 Made Criticism his Prime Vizir, 
 
 And from that hour his glories faded. 
 
 Tied down in Legislation's school. 
 Afraid of ev*n his own ambition. 
 
 His very victories were by rule. 
 
 And he was great but by permission. 
 
 His most heroic deeds — the same. 
 That dazzled, when spontaneous actions— 
 
 Now, done by law, seem*d cold and tame. 
 And shorn of all their first attractions. 
 
 If he but stirr'd to take the air. 
 Instant, the Vizir's Council sat — 
 
 ^' Good Lord, your Highness can't go there — 
 ^^ Bless us, your Highness can't do that." 
 
190 
 
 If, loving pomp, he chose to buy 
 
 Rich jewels for his diadem — 
 '' The taste was bad — the price was high — 
 
 " A flower were simpler than a gem/' 
 
 To please them if he took to flowers — 
 " What trifling, what unmeaning things ! 
 
 " Fit for a woman's toilette hours, 
 " But not at all the style for Kings." 
 
 If, fond of his domestic sphere, 
 
 He play'd no more the rambling comet — 
 " A dull, good sort of man, 'twas clear, 
 
 " But, as for great, or brave — far from it." 
 
 Did he then look o'er distant oceans. 
 
 For realms more worthy to enthrone him?- 
 
 *' Saint Aristotle, what wild notions ! 
 " Serve a " ne exeat regno" on him." 
 
191 
 
 At length — their last and worst to do — 
 
 They round him plac'd a guard of watchmen. 
 
 Reviewers, knaves in brown, or blue 
 
 Turned up with yellow — chiefly Scotchmen. 
 
 To dog his footsteps all about. 
 
 Like those in Longwood's prison grounds. 
 Who at Napoleon's heels rode out. 
 
 For fear the Conqueror should break bounds. 
 
 Oh for some Champion of his power. 
 
 Some Ultra spirit, to set free. 
 As erst in Shakspeare's sovereign hour. 
 
 The thunders of his Royalty !— 
 
 To vindicate his ancient line. 
 
 The first, the true, the only one 
 Of Right eternal and divine 
 
 That rules beneath the blessed sun— 
 
192 
 
 To crush the rebels, that would cloud 
 His triumphs with restraint or blame. 
 
 And, honouring ev*n his faults, aloud 
 Re-echo Vive le Roij quafid mime — / 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1.— Page 88, lines 7, 8. 
 
 Thy perfidy^ evn tvorse than aught 
 Thy own unblushing Sarpi taught. 
 
 The spirit, in which these maxims of Father 
 Paul are written, may be sufficiently judged from 
 the instructions which he gives for the manage-* 
 ment of the Venetian colonies and provinces. Of 
 the former he says : — " II faut les traiter comme 
 des animaux feroces, les rogner les dents, et les 
 grifFes, les humilier souvent, surtout leur oter les 
 occasions de s'aguerrir. Du pain et le baton, 
 voila ce qu'il leur faut ; gardons Thumanite pour 
 une meilleure occasion/* 
 
 For the treatment of the provinces he advises 
 thus : — '' Tendre a depouiller les villes de leurs 
 
194 
 
 privileges, faire que les habitans s'appauvrissent, 
 et que leurs biens soient achetes par les Venitiens. 
 Ceux qui, dans les conseils municipaux, se mon- 
 treront ou plus audacieux ou plus devoues aux 
 interets de la population, il faut les perdre ou les 
 gagner a quelque prix que ce soit: enfirii s'il se 
 trouve dans les provinces quelques chefs de partly il 
 faut les exterminer sous un 'pretexte quelconque, 
 mats en evkant de recourir a la justice ordinaire. 
 Que le poison fasse V office de bourreau, cela est 
 moins odieux et heaucoup plus profitable*' 
 
 Note 2.— Page 89, line 18. 
 
 By the infamous statutes of the State Inquisition, Sfc. 
 
 M. Daru has given an abstract of these Statutes, 
 from a manuscript in the Bibliotheque du Roi, 
 and it is hardly credible that such a system of 
 treachery and cruelty should ever have been 
 established by any government, or submitted to, 
 for an instant, by any people. Among various 
 precautions against the intrigues of their own 
 Nobles, we find the following : — " Pour persuader 
 
195 
 
 aux etrangers qu'il etait difficile et dangereux 
 d'entretenir quelqu'intrique secrete avec les nobles 
 Venitiens, on imagina de faire avertir mysterieuse- 
 ment le Nonce du Pape (afin que les autres 
 ministres en fussent inform^s) que I'lnquisition 
 avait autorisc les patriciens a poignarder quicon- 
 que essaierait de tenter leur fidelite. Mais 
 craignant que les ambassadeurs ne pretassent foi 
 difficilement a une deliberation, qui en eftet 
 n'existait pas, I'lnquisition voulait prouver qu'elle 
 en etait capable. Elle ordonna des recherches 
 pour decouvrir s*il n'y avait pas dans Venise 
 quelque exile au-dessus du commun, qui eut 
 rompu son ban; ensuite un des patriciens qui 
 etaient aux gages du tribunal, re^ut la mission 
 d'assassiner ce malheureux, et Tordre de s'en 
 vanter, en disant qu'il s'etait porte a cet acte, 
 parce que ce banni etait Tagent d'un ministre 
 etranger, et avait cherche a le corrompre." — 
 " Remarquons," adds M. Daru, '' que ceci n*est 
 pas une simple anecdote ; c'est une mission pro- 
 jetee, deliberee, ecrite d'avance; une regie de 
 conduite tracee par des hommes graves a leurs 
 successeurs, et consignee dans des statuts." 
 
196 
 
 The cases, in which assassination is ordered by 
 these Statutes, are as follow : — 
 
 " Un ouvrier de Tarsenal, un chef de ce qu'on 
 appelle parmi les marins le menstrance, passait-il 
 au service d'une puissance etrangere : il fallait le 
 faire assassiner, surtout si c'etait un homme repute 
 brave et habile dans sa profession." — {Art 3, des 
 Statuts.) 
 
 '' Avait-il commis quelque action qu'on ne 
 jugeait pas a propos de punir juridiquement^ on 
 devait le faire empoisonner." — {Art. 14.) 
 
 " Un artisan passait-il a Tetranger en y ex- 
 portant quelque procede de I'industrie nationale : 
 c'etait encore un crime capital, que la loi in- 
 connue ordonnait de punir par un assassinat.*' — 
 {Art. 26.) 
 
 The facility with which they got rid of their 
 Duke of Bedfords, Lord Fitzwilliams, etc. was 
 admirable ; it was thus : — 
 
 " Le patricien qui se permettait le moindre 
 propos centre le gouvernement, etait admonete 
 deux fois, et a la troisieme noye comme incor- 
 rigible.*'-^{Art, 39.) 
 
197 
 
 Note S.—Page 109, line I. 
 
 Re/lections on readings Sfc, 
 
 The " Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, dit de 
 Rienzi/' by the Jesuit de Cerceau, is chiefly taken 
 from the much more authentic work of Fortifiocca 
 on the same subject. Rienzi was the son of a 
 laundress. 
 
 Note 4. — Page 111, line 7. 
 
 Their gilded gonfalons, 
 
 " Les gentilshommes conjures portaient devant 
 lui trois etendarts. Nicolas Guallato, surnomme 
 le bon diseur, portait le premier, qui etait de cou- 
 leur rouge, et plus grand que les autres. On y 
 voyait des caracteres d'or avec une femme assise 
 sur deux lions, tenant d*une main le globe du 
 monde, et de Fautre une Palme pour representer 
 la ville de Rome. C'etait le Gonfalon de la 
 Liberie. Le second, a fonds blanc, avec un St. 
 Paul tenant de la droite une Epee nue et de la 
 gauche la couronne de Justice, etait porte par 
 
198 
 
 Etienne Magnacuccia, notaire apostolique. Dans 
 le troisieme, St. Pierre avait en main les clefs de . 
 la Concorde et de la Paix. Tout cela insinuait 
 le dessein de Rienzi, qui etait de retablir la liberte 
 la justice et la paix." — Du Cerceau^ Hv, 2. 
 
 Note 5.— Page 114, line 10. 
 
 That Ghost of Her, 
 The world's Imperial Mistress. 
 
 This image is borrowed from Hobbes, whose 
 words are, as near as I can recollect: — '' For 
 what is the Papacy, but the Ghost of the old 
 Roman Empire, sitting crowned on the grave 
 thereof?" 
 
LONDON: 
 
 TRINTED BY IHOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS* 
 
L-iH^ 
 
T- ■■-K^'i 
 
 'i*. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 
 
 
 i . • •; 
 
 
 1 
 
 WSG^ ip^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 riyy ^|3fij 
 
 
 
 '•■3-t2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Aiiiidyajuu 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 «%Vi3,,^ 
 
 r>v 1 
 
 LD 21A-50m-ll,'62 
 (D3279sl0)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
 
^m Fables tor 
 
 the Holy 
 
 laD 1 
 
 ^H- alliance 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 ^^1 
 
 
 ♦ 
 
 mrr — ^ — ' — 
 
 y^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ivi275821 
 
 CD5flD13H7S 
 
 vg,<-| 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY 
 
 '^. 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 ,^ 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 LfJ 
 
 - .1