Behold him (for the maxim's true,
Whate'er we by another do,

We do ourselves; and chaplain paid,
Like slaves, in ev'ry other trade,
Had mutter'd over God knows what,
Something which he by heart had got)
Having, as usual, said his pray'rs,
Go litter totter to the stairs;
Behold him for descent prepare,
With one foot trembling in the air;
He starts, he pauses on the brink,
And, hard to credit, seems to think;
Through his whole train (the chaplain gave
The proper cue to ev'ry slave)
At once, as with infection caught,
Each started, paus'd, and aim'd at thought;
He turns, and they turn; big with care,
He waddles to his elbow-chair,
Squats down, and, silent for a season,
At last with Crape begins to reason:
But first of all he made a sign
That ev'ry soul, but the divine,

Should quit the room; in him, he knows,
He may all confidence repose.

"Crape-though I'm yet not quite awakeBefore this awful step I take,

On which my future all depends,

I ought to know my foes and friends.
By foes and friends, observe me still,
I mean not those who well or ill
Perhaps may wish me, but those who
Have 't in their power to do it too.
Now if, attentive to the state,
In too much hurry to be great,
Or through much zeal, a motive, Crape,
Deserving praise, into a scrape
I, like a fool, am got, no doubt,
I, like a wise man, should get out.
Not that, remark without replies,
I say that to get out is wise,
Or, by the very self-same rule
That to get in was like a fool:
The marrow of this argument
Must wholly rest on the event;
And therefore, which is really hard,
Against events too I must guard.

"Should things continue as they stand,
And Bute prevail through all the land
Without a rival, by his aid,
My fortunes in a trice are made;
Nay, honours on my zeal may smile,
And stamp me earl of some great isle:
But if, a matter of much doubt,
The present minister goes out,
Fain would I know on what pretext
I can stand fairly with the next?

For as my aim at ev'ry hour
Is to be well with those in pow'r,
And my material point of view,
Whoever's in, to be in too,

I should not, like a blockhead, choose
To gain these so as those to lose :
"Tis good in ev'ry case, you know,
To have two strings unto our bow,”

As one in wonder lost, Crape view'd
His lord, who thus his speech pursu❜d.
"This, my good Crape, is my grand point,
And as the times are out of joint,
The greater caution is requir'd

To bring about the point desir'd.

What I would wish to bring about,
Cannot admit a moment's doubt;
The matter in dispute, you know,
Is what we call the quomodo.
That be thy task."-The rev'rend slave,
Becoming in a moment grave,
Fix'd to the ground and rooted stood,
Just like a man cut out of wood;
Such as we see (without the least
Reflection glancing on the priest)
One or more, planted up and down,
Almost in ev'ry church in town:

He stood some minutes; then, like one
Who wish'd the matter might be done,
But could not do it, shook his head,
And thus the man of sorrow said:

"Hard is this task, too hard I swear,
By much too hard for me to bear;
Beyond expression hard my part,
Could mighty Dullman see my heart,
When he, alas! makes known a will,
Which Crape's not able to fulfil.
Was ever my obedience barr'd
By any trifling nice regard

To sense and honour? Could I reach
Thy meaning without help of speech,
At the first motion of thy eye
Did not thy faithful creature fly?
Have I not said, not what I ought,
But what by earthly master taught?
Did I e'er weigh, through duty strong,
In thy great biddings, right and wrong?
Did ever int'rest, to whom thou
Can'st not with more devotion bow,
Warp my sound faith, or will of mine
In contradiction run to thine?
Have I not, at thy table plac'd,
When business call'd aloud for haste,
Torn myself thence, yet never heard
To utter one complaining word,

And had, till thy great work was done,
All appetites as having none?
Hard is it, this great plan pursu'd
Of voluntary servitude;

Pursu'd without or shame or fear,
Through the great circle of the year;
Now to receive, in this grand hour,
Commands which lie beyond my pow'r;
Commands which baffle all my skill,
And leave me nothing but my will:
Be that accepted; let my lord
Indulgence to his slave afford;
This task, for my poor strength unfit,
Will yield to none but Dullman's wit."
With such gross incense gratified,
And turning up the lip of pride,

"Foor Crape"-and shook his empty head-
"Poor puzzled Crape," wise Dullman said,
"Of judgment weak, of sense confin'd,

For things of lower note design'd,
For things within the vulgar reach,

To run of errands, and to preach.

Well hast thou judg'd, that heads like mine
Cannot want help from heads like thine;
Well hast thou judg'd thyself unmeet

Of such high argument to treat;
'Twas but to try thee that I spoke,
And all I said was but a joke.

"Nor think a joke, Crape, a disgrace Or to my person, or my place;

The wisest of the sons of men

Have deign'd to use them now and then:
The only caution, do you see,
Demanded by our dignity,

From common use and men exempt,
Is, that they may not breed contempt.
Great use they have, when in the hands
Of one, like me, who understands;
Who understands the time and place,
The persons, manner, and the grace,
Which fools neglect; so that we find,
If all the requisites are join'd,
From whence a perfect joke must spring,
A joke's a very serious thing.

"But to our business-My design, Which gave so rough a shock to thine, To my capacity is made

As ready as a fraud in trade,
Which like broad-cloth, I can, with ease,
Cut out in any shape I please.

"Some, in my circumstance, some few,
Aye, and those men of genius too,
Good men, who, without love or hate,
Whether they early rise or late,
With names uncrack'd, and credit sound,
Rise worth a hundred thousand pound,
By threadbare ways and means would try
To bear their point; so will not L.
New methods shall my wisdom find
To suit these matters to my mind,
So that the infidels at court,
Who make our city wits their sport,
Shall hail the honours of my reign,
And own that Duilman bears a brain.

"Some, in my place, to gain their ends,
Would give relations up, and friends;
Would lend a wife, who they might swear
Safely, was none the worse for wear;
Would see a daughter, yet a maid,
Into a statesman's arins betray'd;
Nay, should the girl prove coy, nor know
What daughters to a father owe,
Sooner than schemes so nobly plann'd
Should fail, themselves would lend a hand;
Would vote on one side, whilst a brother,
Properly taught, would vote on t' other;
Would ev'ry petty band forget;
The public eye be with one set,
In private with a second herd,
And be by proxy with a third;
Would (like a queen, of whom I read
The other day-her name is fled-
In a book (where, together bound,
Whittington and his cat I found,
A tale most true, and free from art,
Which all lord-mayors should have by heart)
A queen (O might those days begin
Afresh when queens would learn to spin)

Who wrought, and wrought, but for some plot,
The cause of which I've now forgot,

During the absence of the Sun
Undid what she by day had done)
Whilst they a double visage wear,
What's sworn by day, by night unswear.
"Such be their arts, and such perchance
May happily their ends advance:
From a new system mine shall spring,
A locum-tenens is the thing.

That's your true plan.-To obligate
The present ministers of state,

My shadow shall our court approach,

And bear my pow'r, and have my coach;
My fine state coach, superb to view,
A fine state coach, and paid for too;
To curry favour, and the grace
Obtain, of those who 're out of place:
In the mean time I-that's to say--
I proper, I myself-here stay.

"But hold--perhaps unto the nation,
Who hate the Scot's administration,
To lend my coach may seem to be
Declaring for the ministry;
For where the city-coach is, there
Is the true essence of the mayor:
Therefore (for wise men are intent
Evils at distance to prevent,
Whilst fools the evils first endure,
And then are plagu'd to seek a cure)
No coach-a horse-and free from fear
To make our deputy appear,

Fast on his back shall he be tied,
With two grooms marching by his side:
Then for a horse-through all the land,
To head our solemn city-band,
Can any one so fit be found,
As he, who in Artill'ry-ground,
Without a rider, noble sight,

Led on our bravest troops to fight?

"But first, Crape, for my honour's sake, A tender point, inquiry make About that horse, if the dispute

Is ended, or is still in suit.

For whilst a cause (observe this plan

Of justice) whether horse or man
The parties be, remains in doubt,
Till 'tis determin'd out and out,
That pow'r must tyranny appear,
Which should, prejudging, interfore,
And weak faint judges overawe
To bias the free course of law.

"You have my will-now quickly run,
And take care that my will be done.
In public, Crape, you must appear,
Whilst I in privacy sit here;
Here shall great Dullman sit alone,
Making this elbow-chair my throne,
And you, performing what I bid,
Do all, as if I nothing did."

Crape heard, and speeded on his way ;
With him to hear was to obey,
Not without trouble, be assur'd,
A proper proxy was procur'd
To serve such infamous intent,
And such a lord to represent;

Nor could one have been found at all

On t' other side of London Wall.

The trumpet sounds-solemn and slow
Behold the grand procession go,
All moving on, cat after kind,
As if for motion ne'er design'd.

Constables, whom the laws admit
To keep the peace by breaking it;
Beadles, who hold the second place
By virtue of a silver mace,
Which ev'ry Saturday is drawn,
For use of Sunday, out of pawn;
Treasurers, who with empty key
Secure an empty treasury;
Churchwardens, who their course pursue
In the same state, as to their pew

Churchwardens of Saint Margret go,
Since Pierson taught them pride and show,
Who in short transient pomp appear,
Like Almanacs chang'd ev'ry year,
Behind whom, with unbroken locks,
Charity carries the poor's box,
Not knowing that with private keys
They ope and shut it when they please;
Overseers, who by frauds ensure
The heavy curses of the poor;
Unclean came flocking, bulls and bears,
Like beasts into the ark, by pairs.

Portentous flaming in the van
Stalk'd the professor Sheridan;
A man of wire, a mere pantine,
A downright animal machine.
He knows alone in proper mode
How to take vengeance on an Ode,
And how to butcher Ammon's son
And poor Jack Dryden both in one.
On all occasions next the chair
He stands for service of the mayor,
And to instruct him how to use
His a's and b's, and p's and q's.
O'er letters, into tatters worn,
O'er syllables, defac'd and torn,
O'er words disjointed, and o'er sense
Left destitute of all defence,

He strides, and all the way he goes,

Wades, deep in blood, o'er Criss-Cross-Rows.
Before him, ev'ry consonant

In agonies is seen to pant;
Behind, in forms not to be known,
The ghosts of tortur'd vowels groan.

Next Hart and Duke, well worthy grace
And city favour, came in place.
No children can their toils engage,
Their toils are turn'd to rev'rend age.
When a court dame, to grace his brows
Resolv'd, is wed to city spouse,
Their aid with madam's aid must join
The awkward dotard to refine,
And teach, whence truest glory flows,
Grave Sixty to turn out his toes.
Each bore in hand a kit, and each
To show how fit he was to teach

A cit, an alderman, a mayor,
Led in a string a dancing bear.

Since the revival of Fingal,
Custom, and Custom's all in all,
Cominands that we should have regard,
On all high seasons, to the bard.
Great acts like these, by vulgar tongue
Profan'd, should not be said, but sung.
This place to fill, renown'd in fame,
The high and mighty Lockman 19 came;
And, ne'er forgot in Dullman's reign,
With proper order to maintain
The uniformity of pride,

Brought brother Whitehead by his side.
On horse, who proudly paw'd the ground,
And cast his fiery eye-balls round,
Snorting, and champing the rude bit,
As if, for warlike purpose fit,
His high and gen'rous blood disdain'd
To be for sports and pastimes rein'd,

10 John Lockman, secretary to the British Herring Fishery, author of many forgotten poems, and translator of several works from the French.

Great Dymock, in his glorious station,
Paraded at the coronation.
Not so our city Dymock came,
Heavy, dispirited, and tame;

No mark of sense, his eyes half-clos'd,
He on a mighty dray-horse doz'd.
Fate never could a horse provide
So fit for such a man to ride;
Nor find a man, with strictest care,
So fit for such a horse to bear.
Hung round with instruments of death,
The sight of him would stop the breath
Of braggart Cowardice, and make
The very court Drawcansir quake.
With dirks, which, in the hands of Spite,
Do their damn'd business in the night,
From Scotland sent, but here display'd
Only to fill up the parade;

With swords, unfesh'd, of maiden hue,
Which rage or valour never drew;
With blunderbusses, taught to ride,
Like pocket-pistols, by his side,
In girdle stuck, he seem'd to be
A little moving armory.

One thing much wanting to complete
The sight, and make a perfect treat,
Was, that the horse (a courtesy
In horses found of high degree)
Instead of going forward on,

All the way backward should have gone.
Horses, unless they breeding lack,
Some scruple make to turn their back,
Though riders, which plain truth declares,
No scruple make of turning theirs.

Far, far apart from all the rest,
Fit only for a standing jest,
The independent (can you get
A better suited epithet)
The independent Amyand came,
All burning with the sacred flame
Of Liberty, which well he knows
On the great stock of Slav'ry grows.
Like sparrow, who, depriv'd of mate
Snatch'd by the cruel hand of Fate,
From spray to spray no more will hop,
But sits alone on the house-top,
Or like himself, when all alone
At Croyden, he was heard to groan,
Lifting both hands in the defence
Of interest and common sense;
Both hands, for as no other man
Adopted and pursu'd his plan,
The left-hand had been lonesome quite,
If he had not held up the right.
Apart he came, and fix'd his eyes
With rapture on a distant prize,
On which in letters worthy note,

There "twenty thousand pounds" was wrote:
False trap, for credit sapp'd is found
By getting twenty thousand pound.
Nay, look not thus on me, and stare,
Doubting the certainty.-To swear
In such a case I should be loth-
But Perry Cust" may take his oath.
In plain and decent garb array'd,
With the prim quaker, Fraud, came Trade;
Connivance, to improve the plan,
Habited like a juryman,

"See North Briton, vol. iii.

In garments of the priesthood clad,
So well disguis'd, that you might swear,
Deceiv'd, a very priest was there;
Bankruptcy, full of ease and health,
And wallowing in well-sav'd wealth,
Came sneering through a ruin'd band,
And bringing B- in her hand;

Victory hanging down her head,
Was by a Highland stallion led;
Peace, cloth'd in sabies, with a face
Which witness'd sense of huge disgrace,
Which spake a deep and rooted shame
Both of herself and of her name,
Mourning creeps on, and blushing feels
War, grim War treading on her heels;
Pale Credit, shaken by the arts

Of men with bad heads and worse hearts,
Taking no notice of a band

Which near her were ordain'd to stand,
Well righ destroy'd by sickly fit,
Look'd wistful all around for Pitt;
Freedom-at that most hallow'd name
My spirits mount into a flame,

Each pulse beats high, and each nerve strains
E'en to the cracking; through my veins
The tides of life more rapid run,
And tell me I am Freedom's son-
Freedom came next, but scarce was seen,
When the sky, which appear'd serene
And gay before, was overcast;
Horrour bestrode a foreign blast,
And from the prison of the North,
To Freedom deadly, storms burst forth.
A car like those, in which, we're told,
Our wild forefathers warr'd of old,
Loaded with death, six horses bear
Through the blank region of the air.
Too fierce for time or art to tame,
They pour'd forth mingled smoke and flame
From their wide nostrils; ev'ry steed
Was of that ancient savage breed
Which fell Geryon nurs'd; their food
The flesh of man, their drink his blood.

On the first horses, ill-match'd pair,
This fat and sleek, that lean and bare,
Came ill-match'd riders side by side,
And Poverty was yok'd with Pride.
Union most strange it must appear,
Till other unions make it clear.

Next, in the gall of bitterness,
With rage, which words can ill express,
With unforgiving rage, which springs
From a false zeal for holy things,
Wearing such robes as prophets wear,
False prophets plac'd in Peter's chair;
On which, in characters of fire,
Shapes antic, horrible and dire,
Inwoven flam'd; where, to the view,
In groups appear'd a rabble crew

Of sainted devils, where all round
Vile relics of vile men were found,
Who, worse than devils, from the birth
Perform'd the work of Hell on Earth,
Jugglers, inquisitors, and popes,
Pointing at axes, wheels, and ropes,
And engines, fram'd on horrid plan,
Which one but the destroyer man
Could, to promote his selfish views,
Have heads to make, or hearts to use;
Bearing, to consecrate her tricks,
In her left-hand a crucifix,
Remembrance of our dying Lord,
And in her right a two-cdg'd sword;
Having her brows, in impious sport,
Adorn'd with words of high import,
On earth peace, amongst men, good-will,
Love bearing, and forbearing still,
All wrote in the heart's-blond of those
Who rather death than falsehood chose;
On her breast (where, in days of yore,
When God lov'd Jews, the high-priest wore
Those oracles, which were decreed
T' instruct and guide the chosen seed)
Having with glory clad and strength,
The Virgin pictur'd at full length,
Whilst at her feet, in small portray'd,
As scarce worth notice, Christ was laid;
Came Superstition, fierce and fell,
An imp detested, e'en in Hell;
Her eye inflam'd, her face all o'er
Foully besmear'd with human gore,
O'er heaps of mangled saints she rode;
Fast at her heels Death proudly strode,
And grimly smil'd, well-pleas'd to see
Such havoc of mortality.

Close by her side, on mischief bent,
And urging on each bad intent
To its full bearing, savage, wild,
The mother fit of such a child,

Striving the empire to advance
Of sin and death, came Ignorance.

With looks, where dread command was plac'd,
And sov'reign pow'r by pride disgrac'd,
Where loudly witnessing a mind

Of savage more than human kind,
Not choosing to be lov'd, but fear'd,
Mocking at right, Misrule appear'd.

With eyeballs glaring fiery red
Enough to strike beholders dead,
Gnashing his teeth, and in a flood
Pouring corruption forth and blood
From his chaf'd jaws; without remorse
Whipping, and spurring on his horse,
Whose sides, in their own blood embay'd,
E'en to the bone were open laid,
Came Tyranny; disdaining Awe,
And trampling over Sense and Law.
One thing and only one he knew,
One object only would pursue,
Though less (so low doth passion bring)
Than man, he would be more than king.

With ev'ry argument and art

Which might corrupt the head and heart,
Soothing the frenzy of his mind,
Companion meet, was Flatt'ry join'd.
Winning his carriage, ev'ry look
Employ'd, whilst it conceal'd a hook;
When simple most, most to be fear'd;
Most crafty when no craft appear'd;

His tales no man like him could tell;
His words, which melted as they fell,
Might e'en a hypocrite deceive,
And make an infidel believe,
Wantonly cheating o'er and o'er

Those who had cheated been before:
Such Flatt'ry came in evil hour,
Pois'ning the royal ear of Pow'r,
And, grown by prostitution great,
Would be first minister of state.

Within the chariot, all alone,
High seated on a kind of throne,
With pebbles grac'd, a figure came,
Whom Justice would, but dare not, name.
Hard times when Justice, without fear,
Dare not bring forth to public ear
The names of those, who dare offend
'Gainst Justice, and pervert her end:
But, if the Muse afford me grace,
Description shall supply the place.
In foreign garments he was clad:
Sage ermine o'er the glossy plaid
Cast rev'rend honour; on his heart,
Wrought by the curious hand of Art,
In silver wrought, and brighter far
Than heav'nly or than earthly star,
Shone a white rose, the emblem dear
Of him he ever must revere;
Of that dread lord, who with his host
Of faithful native rebels lost,

Like those black spirits doom'd to Hell,
At once from pow'r and virtue fell;
Around his clouded brows was plac'd
A bonnet, most superbly grac'd
With mighty thistles, nor forgot
The sacred motto, Touch me not.

In the right hand a sword he bore
Harder than adamant, and more
Fatal than winds, which from the mouth
Of the rough North invade the South:
The recking blade to view presents
The blood of helpless innocents;
And on the hilt, as meek become
As lambs before the shearers dumb,
With downcast eye, and solemn show
Of deep unutterable woe,

Mourning the time when Freedom reign'd, Fast to a rock was Justice chain'd.

In his left hand, in wax imprest,
With bells and gewgaws idly drest,
An image, cast in baby mould,

He held, and seem'd o'erjoy'd to hold.
On this he fix'd his eyes, to this
Bowing he gave the loyal kiss,
And, for rebellion fully ripe,
Seem'd to desire the antitype.
What if to that Pretender's foes
His greatness, nay, his life he owes,
Shall common obligations bind,
And shake his constancy of mind?
Scoring such weak and petty chains,
Faithful to James he still remains,
Though he the friend of George appear:
Dissimulation's virtue here.

Jealous and mean, he with a frown
Would awe, and keep all merit down,
Nor would to Truth and Justice bend,
Unless out-bullied by his friend:
Brave with the coward, with the brave
He is himself a coward slave;

Aw'd by his fears, he has no heart
To take a great and open part;
Mines in a subtle train he springs,
And, secret, saps the ears of kings;
But not e'en there continues firm
'Gainst the resistance of a worm:
Born in a country, where the will
Of one is law to all, he still
Retain'd th' infection, with full aim
To spread it wheresoe'er he came;
Freedom he hated, Law defied,
The prostitute of Pow'r and Pride:
Law he with ease explains away,
And leads bewilder'd Sense astray;
Much to the credit of his brain
Puzzles the cause he can't maintain,
Proceeds on most familiar grounds,
And, where he can't convince, confounds;
Talents of rarest stamp and size,
To Nature false, he misapplies,
And turns to poison what was sent
For purposes of nourishment.
Paleness, not such as on his wings
The messenger of sickness brings,
But such as takes its coward rise
From conscious baseness, conscious vice,
O'erspread his cheeks; Disdain and Pride,
To upstart fortunes ever tied,
Scowl'd on his brow; within his eye,
Insidious, lurking like a spy
To Caution principled by Fear,
Not daring open to appear,

Lodg'd covert Mischief; Passion hung
On his lip quiv'ring; on his tongue
Fraud dwelt at large; within his breast
All that makes villain found a nest,
All that, on Hell's completest plan,
E'er join'd to damn the heart of man.

Soon as the car reach'd land, he rose,
And with a look which might have froze
The heart's best blood, which was enough,
Had hearts been made of sterner stuff
In cities than elsewhere, to make
The very stoutest quail and quake,
He cast his baleful eyes around.
Fix'd without motion to the ground,
Fear waiting on surprise, all stood,
And horrour chill'd their curdled blood:
No more they thought of pomp, no more
(For they had seen his face before) *
Of Law they thought; the cause forgot,
Whether it was or ghost, or plot,
Which drew them there. They all stood more
Like statues than they were before.

What could be done? Could art, could force, Or both, direct a proper course

To make this savage monster tame,
Or send him back the way he came?
What neither art, nor force, nor both
Could do, a lord of foreign growth,
A lord to that base wretch allied
In country, not in vice and pride,
Effected: from the seif-same land,
(Bad news for our blasphemning band
Of scribblers, but deserving note)
The poison came, and antidote.
Abash'd the monster hung his head;
And like an empty vision fled;
His train, like virgin snows which run,
Kiss'd by the burning bawdy Sun,