Quid leges sine moribus
Vanæ proficiunt?
Væ ! misero mihi, mea nunc facinora
Apperiuhtur, clam quæ speravi fore.
Frades and professions of every kind to be found in the Borough. -Its seamen and soldiers.-Law, the danger of the subject. -Coddrington's offence.-Attornies increased; their splendid appearance, how supported. Some worthy exceptions.Spirit of litigation, how stirred up. A boy articled as a clerk; his ideas.-How this profession perverts the judgment. -Actions appear through this medium in a false light.—Success from honest application.-Archer a worthy characterSwallow a character of different kind.- His origin, progress, and success, &c.
TRADES and professions"-these are themes the Muse,
Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose;
But to our Borough they in truth belong,
And we, perforce, must take them in our song,
Be it then known that we can boast of these
In all denominations, ranks, degrees;
All who our numerous wants through life supply,
Who sooth us sick, attend us when we die,
Or for the dead their various talents try.
Then have we those who live by secret arts.
By hunting fortunes, and by stealing hearts;
Or who by nobler means themselves advance;
Or who subsist by Charity and Chance.
Say, of our native heroes shall I boast,
Born in our street, to thunder on our coast,
Our borough seamen? Could the timid Muse
More patriot-ardour in their breasts infuse;
Or could she paint their merit or their skill,
She wants not love, alacrity, or will;
But needless all, that ardour is their own,
And for their deeds, themselves have made them known.
Soldiers in arms! Defenders of our soil!
Who from Destruction save us; who from Spoil
Protect the sons of Peace, who traffic, or who toil,
Would I could duly praise you; that each deed
Your foes might honour, and your friends might read:
This too is needless! you've imprinted well
Your powers, and told what I should feebly tell;
Beside, a Muse like mine, to satire prone,
Would fail in themes where there is praise alone.
-Laws shall I sing, or what to law belongs?
Alas! there may be danger in such songs;
A foolish rhyme, 'tis said, a trifling thing,
The law found treason, for it touch'd the king.
But kings have mercy, in these happy times,
Or surely one had suffer'd for his rhymes;
Our glorious Edwards and our Henrys bold,
So touch'd, had kept the reprobate in hold;
But he escap'd,-nor fear, thank Heav'n, have I,
Who love my king, for such offence to die.
But I am taught the danger would be much,
If these poor lines should one attorney touch-
(One of those limbs of law who 're always here;
The heads come down to guide them twice a year.)
I might not swing indeed, but he in sport
Would whip a rhymer on from court to court;
Stop him in each, and make him pay for all
The long proceedings in that dreaded hall:-
Then let my numbers flow discreetly on,
Warn'd by the fate of luckless Coddrington, *
Lest some Attorney (pardon me the name)
Should wound a poor Solicitor for fame.
One man of law in George the second's reign,
Was all our frugal fathers would maintain ;
* The account of Coddrington occurs, in “The Mirror for Magistrates:" he suffered in the reign of Richard III.
kept for forms! a man of peace,
To frame a contract, or to draw a lease :
He had a clerk, with whom he us'd to write
All the day long, with whom he drank at night;
Spare was his visage, moderate his bill,
And he so kind, men doubted of his skill.
Who thinks of this, with some amazement sees, For man so poor, three flourishing at ease; Nay, one in splendour !-see that mansion tall, That lofty door, that far resounding hall; Well-furnish'd rooms, plate shining on the board, Gay liveried lads, and cellar proudly stor❜d?
Then say
how comes it that such fortunes crown
These sons of Strife, these terrors of the town?
Lo! that small office! there th' incautious guest
Goes blindfold in, and that maintains the rest;
There in his web, th' observant spider lies,
And peers about for fat intruding flies;
Doubtful at first, he hears the distant hum,
And feels them flutt'ring as they nearer come;
They buz and blink, and doubtfully they tread
On the strong bird-lime of the utmost thread;
But when they're once entangled by the gin,
With what an eager clasp he draws them in ;
Nor shall they 'scape, till after long delay,
And all that sweetens life is drawn away.
"Nay, this," you cry, "is common-place, the tale "Of petty tradesmen o'er their evening-ale; "There are who, living by the legal pen, "Are held in honour, honourable men.
Doubtless there are who hold manorial courts, Or whom the trust of powerful friends supports;
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