imwm.
 
 >^// .jJ/-ytiP,. 
 
 ^- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS, 
 
 POLITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS: 
 
 WEITTEN BY 
 
 MEMBERS OF HIS FAMILY, 
 
 AND 
 
 COLLECTED AND PRINTED 
 
 Foa 
 
 PRIVATE CIRCULATION 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD GIFFARD, Esq. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 1843.
 
 PR 
 
 «vi /C nan 
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 To gratify my own feelings, and, I hope, those 
 of a few surviving friends, and of an extending 
 family, I have made in this little volume a se- 
 lection of verses written on several occasions 
 by my father, Sir Hardinge Gitfard. The most 
 considerable, "Orange," published in Dublin 
 in 1796, anonymously, (but Viot unayowedly) 
 obtained considera'ile popularity, and went 
 rapidly through several editions. Some of the 
 others appeared in periodical papers. A few 
 were privately printed during my father's resi- 
 dence in Ceylon and Lyme Regis ; Courtenay 
 and Carew, and Giffard's Leap, I found in ma- 
 nuscript. 
 
 So fugacious are personal and political allu- 
 sions, that notwithstanding the great vogue 
 and popularity of " Orange, " there are some 
 passages which even those who read it at its 
 publication, and whom I have consulted, have 
 not been able to explain satisfactorily — but
 
 IV. PREFACE. 
 
 these are but few, and the general vigor of the 
 verses, and the obvious pleasantry of the origi- 
 nal notes, will I hope compensate for some 
 occasional obscurities, which, in all such 
 works, the lapse of a very few years must 
 inevitably produce. 
 
 The other poems are chiefly of a local and 
 personal interest — and though they may have 
 little attraction for the general reader, will, I 
 hope, be received and read with interest by 
 those to whom I destine the very few copies 
 which I have had printed : and the rather as 
 I have added to them some verses, by the first 
 known poetess df our family, as well as some 
 by the last. 
 
 E. G. 
 
 London, 
 
 nth March, 1843.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 On the Memory of Lady Joan Wyndham 3 
 
 Orange, Canto 1 5 
 
 » n 17 
 
 » in 35 
 
 Notes . . 53 
 
 The Rats . . . . 59 
 
 Macdermot's Ghost 64 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Lyme Regis . . . . 1 
 
 Courtenay and Carew 29 
 
 GifFard's Leap 41 
 
 To Fame , . . 46 
 
 On visiting Brightley 47 
 
 The Laurestinus, Sweet Tea, and Oak . . 49 
 
 Invasion of Ireland 51 
 
 To Eliza 53 
 
 On being in Kildare 54
 
 VI. CONTENTS. 
 
 The Pilgrim "55 
 
 Catherine 58 
 
 Ode for the Jubilee 59 
 
 On leaving Dundrum 65 
 
 Roncesvalles 67 
 
 St. Michael's Mount . . . . . . . . 70 
 
 Peace 75 
 
 Arthur of Dangan . . 76 
 
 The Andaman Boy 78 
 
 Dundrum, 1817 81 
 
 To Harold . . 83 
 
 St, Helena 88 
 
 Kandi 90 
 
 Home 90 
 
 Wedded love 91 
 
 Bawl Blockheads, bawl . . 93 
 
 Sirmio 94 
 
 To Harriet 95 
 
 July 23rd, 1822 .. 97 
 
 „ ,, 1823 98 
 
 „ „ 1824 .. .... 99 
 
 „ 1825 100 
 
 „ „ 1826 101 
 
 On the illness of George HI 102 
 
 Ode to poverty 104 
 
 On the King's Birthday 105 
 
 Ode to Care 109
 
 CONTENTS. Vll. 
 
 Tsge. 
 
 Morning 109 
 
 Moonlight Ill 
 
 Farewell for ever 1 1 1 
 
 Reflection 112 
 
 Chapter of Kings 113 
 
 Shakespeare 116 
 
 To my Father's Picture 119 
 
 On Anna's Second Birthday 122
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Page 30, Note on line 277, for ingenius read ingenious. 
 „ 52, line 352, for Osbory read Ossory. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Page 19, line 2, for flote read float. 
 
 ,, 19, line 1 1, for shawments read strewments. 
 
 ,, 20, line 8, for hour read power. 
 
 ,, 22, line 2^, for would real could. 
 
 „ 33, line 23, for does read dares. 
 
 ,, 34, line 7, for feet real toot. 
 
 ,, 35, line ':^,for throw read throwTi. 
 
 ,, 37, line 30, for wanderin:; real wondering. 
 
 ,, 38, Note, for tooleaux real torteaux. 
 
 ,, 43, line 17, for spot real sport. 
 
 ,, 77, line 12, for strongest read strong St. Sebastian. 
 
 ,, 102, line 4, for torm read foam. 
 
 ,, 102, line 23, for dispair read despair. 
 
 ,, 122, line 19, for pillow read pillow'd.
 
 POEMS. 
 Part I. 
 
 POLITICAL.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 THE first of the family of Giffard of whose poe- 
 tical talents we have a specimen was Margaret, 
 daughter of Colonel John Giffard, of Brightley, 
 whose verses on the death of her Grandmother 
 Joan, daughter of Sir Henrt Portman, of Or- 
 chard, in Somersetshire, who died in 1633, were 
 written before she was eighteen, and with those 
 of my Father and eldest Sister, form the contents 
 of this little volume. 
 
 ON THE MEMORY OF THE MOST 
 HONOURABLE AND VIRTUOUS 
 
 LADY, 
 THE LADY JOAN WYNDHAM. 
 
 Two orchards* had a several right to thee, 
 A Portman's graft, a Wyndham's fruitful tree. 
 The one gave her hfe and being, but the other. 
 Made her a fruitful wife and happy mother ; 
 She on her Orchard, like a dew distilled. 
 And all her house with a rich plenty filled. 
 Wisdom she made her guide, and Providence 
 The measure of her fair and large expense ; 
 So that the fountain never was drawn dry 
 Of her most constant hospitality. 
 She skilfully putting the same in cure, 
 
 * Sir John Wj'ndham, her husband, resided at Orchard 
 Wyndham, in the county of Somerset, and her father. Sir 
 John Portman's seat was at Orchard, in the same county, 
 a
 
 And hence she made her Knight's dear heart secure. 
 
 The greater is his loss, but that he knew. 
 
 The sun at length exhales the fruitful dew. 
 
 But no less happy in her motherhood. 
 
 She had a numerous issue, and a good. 
 
 For nine brave sons she educated saw 
 
 In arts, in arms, in courtship and in law.* 
 
 Which they assumed not, as is now the fashion. 
 
 Only for refuge, but for recreation : 
 
 They needed not those helps for to increase 
 
 Their private portions, but their country's peace. 
 
 Besides six daughters whom her prudent care. 
 
 And pattern framed as virtuous as fair. 
 
 And all in freshest flower of their age, 
 
 She saw with comfort joined in marriage. 
 
 By whom, to make her happiness the more, 
 
 she saw her childrens' childrens happy store. 
 
 Faithful and happy, fruitfid, full of days, 
 
 God took her hence, with her immortal praise : 
 
 For 'twas not fit an Orchard here below. 
 
 Should keep the tree that should in Eden grow ! 
 
 Margaret Giffard. 
 
 * Sir Hugh Wyndham, the sixth son, was a Judge of 
 the Common Pleas, and Sir Wadham Wyndham, the se- 
 venth son, was one of the Justices of the King's Bench, 
 and father of Thomas "Wyndham, Lord Chancellor of Ire- 
 land.
 
 THE FOLLOWING POEM. 
 
 ENTITLED 
 
 ORANGE; 
 
 A POLITICAL RHAPSODY, 
 
 WHICH PASSED THROUGH SEVERAL EDITIONS, 
 WAS INSCRIBED TO 
 
 JOHN CLAUDIUS BERESFORD, Esq. 
 
 Representative in Parliament for the 
 
 City of Dublin, 1798, 
 
 A Loyal Protestant Gentleman, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 CANTO L 
 
 WHY am I silent ? — WTiy, in times like these. 
 When Vice and Treason lord it as they please — 
 When G (rattan) every horn- our ears assails. 
 With his mad grand- sire's Jacobitish tales. 
 And with forgotten slanders, seeks to draw 5 
 
 Contempt upon the honours of Nassau — 
 
 Line 4. It is not to be supposed, as some have idly done, 
 that this renowned orator had no grand-father. I remera- 
 ber him very well, a mad Jacobite parson, hanging upon 
 the humours of Dean Swift, and feeding the spleen and 
 weakness of that great genius.— P. R.
 
 When C (urran) blasted, black with every crime — 
 
 The pimp, the cuckold, parasite, and mime. 
 
 Without one claim to worth or honour, tries 
 
 A patriot on the vulgar voice to rise — 10 
 
 When public virtue is not found to soar. 
 
 Beyond such things as F (letcher) T (ighe) and 
 
 H (oare.) 
 When conquering William's long established fame 
 
 Sinks into rivalry with Grattan's name. 
 
 In vain old Boyne beheld his silver flood 15 
 
 Stain'd with commingled streams of kindredt)lood. 
 In vain did Aughrim's wild and barren plains 
 Tremble and groan beneath the heaps of slain — 
 In vain did Limerick's now dismantled wall. 
 See the last hopes of luckless Stuart fall — 20 
 
 Vain were the glories of La Hogue, and vain 
 The countless blessings of three George's reign — 
 Since fell Democracy, of Gallic birth. 
 Roams from her native den to plague the earth ; 
 And brutal Bigotry on Erin's shore, 25 
 
 Hails her with savage yell, and kindred roar. 
 Demands her aid, a fellow fiend to save. 
 And snatch expiring Popery from the grave ; 
 
 Line 7, C . Who this means I am not able to guess ; 
 
 certainly no living character can deserve such attributes. 
 
 Line 12. i? r, T e, H e, The first of these 
 
 blanks is a real name, being intended to disguise a great 
 man, who had a pretty smattering of oratory in the late 
 
 parliament. What T e, means, I am equally ignorant 
 
 of; and as for the last, I am inclined to guess it should 
 rhyme to soar. — George Faulkner, Jun. 
 
 Lines 15, 17, 19,21. Boyne, Aughrim, Limerick, and 
 La Hogue, are the names of rivers in which great victories 
 by land and sea were obtained by King William, of glorious 
 memory ; he having been killed on a sorrel horse on his 
 way to Kensington. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 22. George L IL III. of whose reigns a very im- 
 partial history hath been lately written with great virulence 
 by Dr. Belsham, a Presbyterian Parson ; and to be had at 
 the Printer's hereof. — Ditto. 
 
 Line 25. Erin was the old name of Ireland.-Z*;'. Ledwich
 
 To join, with frantic zeal, tlie mutual cause. 
 And tear down William's church and William's 
 laws. 30 
 
 F. 
 
 But why thus speak in allegoric trope ? 
 ^lean you that France is bringing in the Pope ? 
 If so, speak out ! but oh ! forbear to raise 
 The false alarms of Titus Oates's days. 
 
 P. 
 
 No ! though my soul the bigot race abhor, 35 
 
 " I onlv slav them in the trade of war ;" 
 
 Nor like the Puritan's malignant race. 
 
 Would I their lives with perjured blood hounds 
 
 chase ; 
 For Russel's memory rouses all my hate. 
 While I deplore the gentle Stafford's fate ; 40 
 And scorning Rome's infallible pretence. 
 Can mourn with Pelham an afflicted Prince. 
 
 F. 
 
 Forbear, my friend, to tempt the dangerous theme; 
 Seek not, with puny strength, to check the stream. 
 
 Line 34. Titus Gates was a Jesuit, and turned Clergy- 
 man for a reward, which he got by prosecuting Lord Staf- 
 ford and other Popish Priests. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 36. " Tho' in the trade of War I have slain men, 
 " Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience 
 " To do no contrived murder." Shakespeare. 
 
 Line 39. Lord Russel, an ancestor of the present Duke 
 of Bedford, who was beheaded for high treason with several 
 others of that loyal family. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 40. For the persecution of this innocent nobleman, 
 see Hume's England, vol. viii. p. 112. 
 
 Line 42. See Sir Hercules Langrishe's exultation upon 
 the downfall of the Pope, as a temporal Prince, and Mr. 
 Pelham's spirited rebuke. — bth May, 1795.
 
 8 
 
 Let not your venturous rashness idly dare 45 
 
 The midnight vengeance of the Union Star. 
 And tho' the raging Northern Star be set. 
 Beware the fury of the Cork Gazette ! 
 Mahgnant Gilbert on your life will scowl ; 
 And vulgar Cooney raise the murderous howl. 50 
 Think how unlucky Swift* had cause to rue. 
 At least, as mad a Protestant as you ; 
 Nor hope for help ; will cautious Faulkner dare. 
 For one unknown to wage the wordy war ? 
 
 P. 
 
 Alone, unaided, let me brave the field, 55 
 
 Nor meanly to superior numbers yield. 
 Arm'd with an honest pride, and patriot soul. 
 Who shall my heart's indignant rage controul ? 
 Since no malicious spleen directs the dart, 
 Nor aims, like Swift, to rend a female heart, 60 
 Let the whole tribe their troop of scribblers rally, 
 From plodding Hardy down to Mac Anally ; 
 
 Line 46. Will posterity believe, can our contemporaries 
 believe, that a publication is on foot in the City of Dublin, 
 periodically devoting to the knives of the assassins a certain 
 number of our fellow subjects, obnoxious only for their 
 loyalty ? — Jlde Proclamation. 
 
 Line 47. The Northern Star, during its existence, kept 
 up in Ulster those commotions which ceased on its sup- 
 pression. 
 
 Line 48. The Cork Gazette is also expired. 
 
 Lines 49, 50. The Evening and Morning Post. The 
 former is conducted by a madman, named Magee, contrary 
 to law; whose father-in-law, Mr. Gilbert, hath the trouble 
 of doing all the mischief, and yet getting none of the profit. 
 The latter is very scurrilous, and hatli been in the pillory — 
 G.F.,jun. 
 
 Line 51. This is my journal, and, I hope, conducted 
 with that due decorum for which myself, father, and uncle 
 have been famous long before my birth, which took place 
 on or about June, 1779- — Ditto. 
 
 * Theophilus Swift, then convicted of a libel on Trinity 
 College. 
 
 Line 62. Messrs. Hardy and Mac Anally, two Counsel-
 
 9 
 
 Let coxcomb Burroughs wield his fribble pen. 
 And sulky Fletcher issue from his den, 
 Curran and Hoare their kindred souls combine, 65 
 And doubtful Sheridan their party join ; 
 Tlio' their discordant clamour rend the skies, 
 A Loyal Protestant their rage defies. 
 
 F. 
 
 "Why, this is madness ! Protestant alone 
 Would damn you quite ; — but, to defend the throne, 
 'Tis mere insanity. — Farewell! Fm sure 71 
 
 You're either past, or else not worth a cure. 
 
 P. 
 
 Farewell ! Good Heaven ! and do I see the time 
 
 When Loyaltv is only not a crime ! 
 
 When the deep Orange, and the azure Blue, 75 
 
 Conceal their blended dyes from pubhc view ; 
 
 When Nassau's memory, our great fathers boast. 
 
 Lives only in an half forgotten toast ? — 
 
 But tho' degenerate Irish, lost to shame. 
 
 Should slight their great dehverer's sacred name, 80 
 
 Shall they, whose fathers shed with him their blood. 
 
 By Schomberg led, o'er Boyne's disputed flood — 
 
 lors and wTiters of speeches. Those composed by the for- 
 mer, are spoken by that celebrated orator, Mr. Grattan, 
 who is an original genius. Those made by the latter, are 
 spoken by himself and other defenders, on their trials for 
 High Treason. — Ditto. 
 
 Line 63, et seq. DRAMATIS PERSON.^. 
 
 Bolingbroke Mr. Burroughs, 
 
 Somers Fletcher, 
 
 Themistocles Hoare, 
 
 Sarsfield Curran, 
 
 Kimbolton Ipse, 1 /-, -ci r. 
 
 Mute, &C.&C.I--'- C.F.Sheridan. 
 
 Mem. — None of these shall appear on my boards. — Fred. 
 Jones. 
 
 Lines 82 and 83. Schomberg and Callim!ote, the gene- 
 rals of the French Protestants on the 1st of July, 1690,
 
 10 
 
 Who followed Callimote at Glory's call — 
 And saw then' hated pei'secutors fall ; 
 Saw coward James the raging contest leave, 85 
 While doubtful conquest struggled with the wave — 
 Shall men, whose fathers fiU'd that gallant band, 
 And shared their jjroud reward — the conquered 
 
 land ; 
 Shall they, without hot indignation, hear 
 Their prince the butt of every coxcomb's sneer ?90 
 Or, with a guilty indolence retire. 
 And view Sedition fan the rising fire ? 
 Shame on ye, Hugonots ! Your generous sires 
 Resisted Popery even amidst her fires : 
 Tho' madly loyal, yet renounc'd their king, 95 
 And all the joys their native land could bring. 
 Firm to the pure religion they professed — 
 Retaining that, they freely gave the rest : 
 And shall their sons be meanly now supine. 
 When the two glorious principles combine ? 100 
 When the same hearts that would their faith defend, 
 Find in their sovereign its approved friend. 
 All are not timid : see yon generous band. 
 Whose manly spirit yet may save the land. 
 True to the principles they dare pursue, 105 
 
 Still twine the Orange with the Loyal Blue ; 
 And blend together in one glorious cause. 
 Their King, Rehgion, Liberty, and Laws. 
 In vain shall Popery's malignant yell, 
 In vain Democracy with voice of Hell, 110 
 
 •when they encouraged their troops to victory by such ex- 
 pressions as these : 
 
 " A la gloire, mes enfans — a la gloire ! 
 
 " Voila vos persecuteurs !" Leland. 
 
 Line 93. Hugonots, French Protestants so called, set- 
 tled at Portarlington and other places by the revocation of 
 the edict of Nantz. — G. F.,jun. 
 
 Line 103. The Orange Lodges, which bid fair to sup- 
 port the glorious revolution principles of Religion and 
 Government in spite of the united assaults of Messrs Grat- 
 tan, Byrne, Keogh, and Co. — P. R.
 
 11 
 
 And venal orators — an hateful race — 
 
 Arouse their currish scribblers to the chase. 
 
 Aloof, the coward pack may howl and cry. 
 
 This patriot band shall all their rage defy ; 
 
 And onward urging, with unvarying toil, 115 
 
 Shall save or perish on their native soil. 
 
 Nor these alone the glorious cause support, 
 
 Tho' now abandon'd by a cautious court ; 
 
 That court whose timid policy descends 
 
 To soothe its enemies, and shght its friends; 120 
 
 And seeking in a prudent mean to steer. 
 
 Makes dubious friends — but enemies sincere. 
 
 Manly and firm, tho' Camden guide the state. 
 With honest pride and conscious worth elate, 
 StiU must each bold resolve delay to cool, 125 
 In the chiU pnidence of the Portland school. 
 Tho' Foster's sense combine with vigorous Clare, 
 Treason to daunt, and fell Sedition scare : 
 Yet Popish L(angrishe) or more Popish B(rowne) 
 With insincerity their force shall drown, 130 
 
 And, by divided councils weakly shew 
 The State unable to contend with Keogh. 
 
 But see unshaken Duigenan boldly stand. 
 And face with proud contempt the rebel band. 
 While his strong truth the prudent Senate awes. 
 And forces even from Popery, applause ; 136 
 
 Unawed by di-ead, by interest unrestrained. 
 He only seeks for fame by honour gained ; 
 
 Line 129. L e. This gentleman is an ingenious poet 
 
 and Baronet, being tlie author of " Catholic Emancipation," 
 and several copies of obscene verses, which he handeth 
 about amongst the young ladies of his acquaintance. — G. F. 
 jun. 
 
 B e. This gentleman is not a defender, neither does 
 
 he live in the county of Kildare ; he is a Privy Counsellor; 
 in Parliament for the county of Mayo. — Ditto. 
 
 Line 132. Doctor Duigenan insisteth that this is not 
 rhyme, in as much as shew and lough would not rhyme to- 
 gether : which, saith he, is the true and natural pronunci- 
 ation of the word Keogh,'— Ditto. 
 b
 
 12 
 
 And fixed in principle, in truth sincere. 
 
 Stands unseduced by favour or by fear. 140 
 
 Tired and disgusted with the venal crew, 
 Too soon our Ogle from his post withdrew ; 
 His glowing heart, with patriot zeal inspired. 
 Too soon with honest indignation fired. 
 He turned, contemptuous, from the paltry tribe, 
 Whose soul is interest, and whose God a bribe ! 
 And too unmindful of his country's call, 
 Abandoned them and her to meet their fall. 
 
 On no one man depends our country's fate, 
 Tho' e'er so good, so noble and so great : 150 
 Does not the chartered fortress of our laws, 
 The proud MetropoHs, sustain her cause } 
 Do not her loyal citizens oppose 
 At once their King's, and their rehgion's foes ? 
 Did not their justice spurn the base ingrate 15o 
 Who both insulted and betrayed their state ? 
 Did they not drive the viper to his hole. 
 With his own venom to corrode his soul ? 
 Did they not drive him from the cheerful Ught, 
 An hateful reptile, odious to the sight ? 160 
 
 So did old Tredagh send her faithless swain 
 To seek for seats beyond the western main. 
 
 Line 142. The Right Honourable George Ogle, who ha?, 
 to the unspeakable loss of the Protestant cause, retired froni 
 Parliament. The county which he represented has, howe- 
 ver, as an handsome tribute to his spirit, elected a Protes- 
 tant gentleman to succeed him. — P. R. 
 
 Line 152. The metropolis has from the beginning op- 
 posed the late ill-advised innovations. Thejr representative 
 took the first opportunity in his power to insult and betray 
 them. He privately solicited a re-election, which not be- 
 ing likely to befall him, he, like the fox in the fable, affect- 
 ed to despise the object he could not hope to attain. — P.R. 
 
 Line 161. Tredagh. The ancient name of Drogheda. 
 " Oft on a car Buvindus saw me ride 
 " From Tredagh's Towers along his verdant side." 
 Preston's Poems, vol. I, p. 41. 
 
 Faithless swain. The late J— F— — s, Esq.
 
 13 
 
 So did his Hold ! the dead demand repose : 
 
 There let him rest, forgot by friends and foes. 
 
 Tho' Charlemont, fast dropping from the stage, 
 May trim or tremble, imbecile TN-ith age. 
 His former steadiness our praise demands. 
 When he restrain'd mad Ulster's furious bands. 
 
 When the sly Presbyter his weakness found. 
 And saw how vain his strength the church to 
 wound, 1 70 
 
 With native craft he sought a dear ally, 
 Ev'n in the hated form of Popery ; 
 Long have they laboured with increasing hate 
 Each of the other, both against the state ; 
 Ev'n yet they hope, from mahce well combined, 1 75 
 Tlieir grand reward in anarchy to find. 
 
 To check this league did Charlemont stand forth. 
 Great in his character of Patriot worth. 
 Treason appalled, shrunk from his awful eye. 
 And Faction saw her dearest prospects die, 1 80 
 Until, alas ! th' expiring spark was blown 
 Into fresh fury by the breath of Tone.* 
 
 Shade of Ehza, bending from the skies. 
 Behold a Popish seminary rise ! 
 Behold even those upon your bounty fed, 1 85 
 
 By sordid fear or sordid interest led. 
 Worship the golden Idol of the day. 
 And at his shrine their adoration pay ; 
 And heedless of your glory or their own. 
 By Popish aUens represent the Gown. 190 
 
 Line 177. The answer of this venerable and patriotic 
 Nobleman to the Belfast address, in 1784, delayed for nearly 
 eight years the combined assault of Papists and Presbyte- 
 rians on the established church and constitution. — P.J?. 
 
 * Theo. Wolfe Tone, Secretary of the United Irishmen 
 and Catholic Delegates, taken in the Hoche, in 1798. 
 
 Line 190. The College of Dublin, founded by that Pro- 
 testant Princess Elizabeth, returns two members to Parlia- 
 ment ; one of their own body, who is a firm and loyal Pro- 
 testant, was lately rejected, and a person not even educated
 
 14 
 
 But why on Alma waste an angry thought ? 
 Have not our clergy the infection caught ? 
 Have not the dirty tricks of party trade, 
 Plac'd on the reverend bench a Renegade ? 
 Does not the Cumbrian Priest in strains uncouth. 
 Courting base Popery, slight the cause of Truth ? 
 And do they hope their foes to reconcile, 
 By abject baseness and submission vile ? 
 Liffey as soon his refluent waves shall turn 200 
 Back to the hills to seek their native urn ; 
 Sooner Blaquiere shall scorn to seek a job. 
 Or Duigenan court applauses fi-om a mob — 
 Loftus as soon, a sinking cause support — 
 Or Tommy Burgh declaim against the court — 
 Carhampton sooner fear the assassin's knife, 205 
 Or Curran vindicate his injured wife; 
 As soon shall Y(elverton) dispense the laws. 
 And free from passion fairly hear a cause ; 
 Forbear to whimper at a Rebel's fate. 
 Or crush a soldier with the law's whole weight ; " 
 George become savage — Downs a bribe receive — 
 Or Chamberlaine refuse a short reprieve — 
 Sooner Latouche at misery shall rejoice, 
 Or Toler hate the sound of his own voice ; — 
 Than Popery shall a Protestant forgive, 215 
 
 Or suffer subject heretics to live. — 
 
 Oh ! souls of Butler, Knipe and Hamilton, 
 Where is our pity for your sufferings gone ? 
 Where that proud feeling of indignant rage 
 Which endless war should on your murderers 
 wage ? 220 
 
 therein, but who had the merit of having always supported, 
 and even outran, the wishes of Popery, was returned. Quod 
 testor indignans ! — P. D. 
 
 Line 213. That most excellent woman Mrs. Latouche, 
 whose charities, extensive as they are, are too hmited for 
 her benevolent heart. 
 
 Line 220. It hath of late been much the practice with 
 Protestant Clergymen, to get themselves murdered in order
 
 15 
 
 It sinks and chills to cold and prudent fear, 
 Politeness would not shock a murderer's ear. 
 And pohcy, so gentle, condescends 
 To treat with murderers as our worthy friends. 
 
 But tho' the many by Sedition led, 225 
 
 May turn and tear the hand that gives them bread. 
 Let not our indiscriminating hate. 
 Class the whole sect as hostile to the state ; 
 Where gentle blood or learning's gentler power, 
 Have smiled auspicious on the natal hour, 230 
 Kenmare or Bellew, bold in ancient pride. 
 May stem Sedition in her wildest tide ; 
 Moylan or Troy, with Christian eloquence. 
 May soothe the madding multitude to sense : 
 And tho' Back-lane should wield the threat'ning 
 rod, 235 
 
 Teach the wild herd to love their King and God. 
 
 No ! 'tis the rancour of a bigot mind. 
 With traitorous democracy combined. 
 Such as in Hussey's Pastoral is seen, 
 Offspring of malice, virulence, and spleen; 240 
 Such as the vulgar crew were glad to vent. 
 In their disloyal Back-lane parliament ; 
 Such as while treason last approached the throne. 
 Dropped from the pen of Secretary Tone : 
 
 to obtain a provision for their wives and families. This, a 
 very sensible person, a Roman Catholic, hath assured me 
 was the case with the above three gentlemen, the first of 
 whom was a bachelor. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 239. Dr Hussey, titular Bishop of Waterford, who 
 hath lately written a very pretty Pastoral, in prose, entitled 
 an Address to his Clergy, in which, amongst other things, 
 he clearly proveth, that the Roman Catholic religion is 
 fitter for a republic than a monarchy. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 244. Mr. Tone, Secretary to the Popish Commit- 
 tee, and now supposed to be an exile in America. He was 
 the original mover of sedition in Ireland, under the aus- 
 pices of Napper Tandy. He was engaged in Jackson's trea- 
 son and the Popish affairs, at the same time, and offered to 
 carry information from this country to France, provided
 
 16 
 
 Such as in Francis Street was heard to flow 245 
 From B)rme and Broughall, Lewines, Burke and 
 
 Keogh. 
 'Tis this excites mine anger — this my soul 
 Would lash from earth to hell — from pole to pole. 
 Nor shall unmanly fe.ir my soal dismay — 
 No ! let me 'aa^ the monsters into day ; 250 
 
 My much-loved brethren of their danger warn, 
 And bigot treason hold to public scorn. 
 
 Why fear ? in conscious rectitude secure. 
 Unplaced, yet loyal — tho' not noble, pm'e ; 
 Tho' far from rich, of independent mind, 255 
 
 And tho' not shrewd, not obstinately blind ; 
 Wliy should I fear ? their Union-star may rage. 
 And with malignant guessings fill the page ; 
 Unknowii. lo all my name obscure-snail rest. 
 Locked in the secrets of my single breast. 260 
 
 But if my sacrifice could serve the cause. 
 My king, religion, or my country's laws. 
 The self-devoted Decii's frantic deed. 
 The madman Curtius, or his madder steed, 
 Behind me far in history's page should fall, 265 
 And my prompt sacrifice out do them all ; 
 Popish sedition would I still defy. 
 And as I live — a loyal Orange die, 
 
 he were well paid for his trip to England with the Dele- 
 gates/ An unexampled lenity suffered him to escape jus- 
 tice ; a lenity which there is too much reason to fear may 
 yet prove to have been very mischievous to this kingdom, 
 —P.R. 
 
 END OF CANTO I.
 
 ORANGE. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 TIME was — nor far removed that happy time. 
 When Erin's muse could pour the sportive rhyme. 
 When Twiss or Manly raised the frequent smile. 
 Strutting in borrowed splendor round our isle ; 
 
 Orange. 1 have been informed by the public, and my 
 
 friends in general, that notwithstanding the precision, cir- 
 cumspection, accuracy, and learning of my notes upon this 
 poem, this being the second canto, which, according to the 
 immortal Hudibras, is the second book— I have overlooked 
 and forgotten to explain the signification of the title, which, 
 as I am told, is the principal part of a work : My late uncle 
 having been always remarkable as a writer of titles, which 
 he did to Swift's Works, Pope's Homer, Plutarch's Lives, 
 and other Poets of the last age, in a style of superior learn- 
 ing and elegance, of which the above is a specimen. Orange 
 is the name of a pleasant fruit which groweth in Spain, and 
 is therefore called a China Orange, which are sold on Essex- 
 bridge and the Coal-quay, to the great annoyance of foot- 
 passengers, and others who ride along those streets, by 
 slipping of horses upon the skins or peels thereof — of which 
 the Paving Board, Lord Mayor, Apple-women, SheriflFs and 
 other Magistrates, ought to be particularly careful, as well 
 as accidents which happen by the over drivino- of bullocks 
 and other enormities. Orange is also the name of a colour, 
 a principality in France, and the Stadtholder of Holland, 
 who was formerly King William the III. of glorious and 
 immortal memory. — G. F.jun. 
 
 Line 3. Richard Twiss, Esq. F. R. S. &c. &c. &c. a no- 
 torious traveller into foreign parts, in particular Swadlin- 
 bar, Waterford, Spain, and the Obelisk in Stillorgan-park : 
 He hath a very lively genius, having been several times 
 kicked and tweaked by the nose, for his brilliant sallies in 
 derogation of this country, while he was hospitably enter- 
 tained therein. He declined travelling into Connaught and
 
 18 
 
 When at a coxcomb, proud in self-conceit, 5 
 
 Satire could laugh, while wisdom did not hate : 
 Then no dark politics our days disgrace. 
 Mantled the brow or gloomed the surly face — 
 Tlien social ease relaxed our cares to rest. 
 Nor feared a dagger in each neighbour's breast :10 
 Thoughtless of harm the peaceful rustic slept. 
 And women at old tales of murder wept. 
 Oft as the Sabbath closed the weekly toil. 
 The cheerful village brightened with a smile. 
 The ruddy damsel met her sun-burnt swain, 15 
 To lead the dancers on the neighbouring plain — 
 The scenes of Auburn rose confesg'd to view. 
 And our sweet bard his glowing picture drew. 
 How chang'd the scene ! — distrust and scowling 
 gloom. 
 Flag with murk influence through the social room ; 
 The joke, the pun, the sprightly song, no more 
 Set all the thoughtless table in a roar- 
 Affrighted Comus flies the madding scene. 
 And leaves mankind to politics and spleen. 
 No more the sportive muse of Murcia's plains, 25 
 Inspires her Pi'eston's wit and attic strains — 
 
 the barony of Forth, those provinces being remarkable for 
 hospitality and other savage customs ; but was roughly 
 handled, clawed, and bitten, by une of those barbarians in 
 a coffee-house in London. Mr. Twiss hath, however, out- 
 lived the ingratitude of his enemies, whom he had so grossly 
 injured, and his resemblance placed in a certain utensil, for 
 ■wlaich he went in the most public spirited manner to Paris, 
 to see the execution of the late King Louis XVL with 
 ■which, and a new species of thistle, he returned safe to his 
 native country, to the great embellishment of the arts and 
 sciences. 
 
 Manly. Vide Preston's epistle. 
 
 Line 26. Preston. This gentleman hath written several 
 works and poems, which he hath most patriotically printed 
 by subscription, on the best Dutch paper and type, for the 
 public benefit — the same being enriched with sundry en- 
 gravings and other embellishments, which are of great ser- 
 vice towards the understanding thereof.
 
 19 
 
 No more do Jephson's sneer, or Courtenay's jibe 
 
 Relax the muscles of the festive tribe — 
 
 No more Fitzgerald's academic muse, 
 
 Unbends from toil to brush the mountain dews :30 
 
 Even he, whose talents sway th' admiring bar. 
 
 Or in the senate wield resistless war ; 
 
 Whose daring muse to glory might aspire. 
 
 Restrains her soaring flight and ardent fire — 
 
 And anxious only gainful pleas to draw, 35 
 
 Plods the dull round of politics and law. 
 
 While classic Preston seeks a living tomb, 
 
 Th' inglorious idol of a news-clubroom — 
 
 Listless of fame, or quite content to gain. 
 
 The vapid incense of Jos. Edkin's brain : 40 
 
 Line 27. Mr. Jephson hath written many humorous 
 pieces, particularly the Count of Narbonne, Braganza, and 
 other tragedies : He hath of late turned Plutarch's lives 
 into verse, from the Greek, which he calleth Roman por- 
 traits, together with the history of Cleopatra — and is now 
 engaged in writing a comedy upon the sad events which 
 have happened in France — from which the Lord of his in- 
 finite mercy, preserve us. 
 
 Mr. Courtenay is also a descendant of the late Emperor 
 of Constantinople, and author of many smart and biting 
 sarcasms, parliamentary speeches and other poetic pieces. 
 
 Line 29. Fitzgerald. The Rev. Gerald Fitzgerald, F.T. 
 CD. and D.D. author of the Academic Sportsman, a pas- 
 toral, in verse; in which there is a poetical description of 
 the Black Mountain, the River Dodder, and other artificial 
 curiosities near Dublin — and a treatise on the Hebrew lan- 
 guage, in support of the Revelations. 
 
 Line 31. This gentleman, as 1 am told, means Coun- 
 sellor Charles Bushe, M.P. for the borough of Callan, and 
 pupil of Mr. Samuel Whyte, at the English Grammar 
 School, No. 75, Grafton Street. 
 
 Line 40. Jos. Edkins. Keeper of the Dublin Library 
 Society, Boydell's Shakespeare, Capt. Thomas Cunning- 
 ham, and other curiosities. This gentleman is an author 
 of good reputation, having with laudable industry and fla- 
 grant zeal made a collection of poems, by Mr. Charles Fox, 
 Mr. Sheridan, Dr. Gilbourne, Mr. Tickell, Mrs. Battiere 
 and other celebrated geniuses. 
 C
 
 20 
 
 While Alma's muse, through learning's thorny- 
 road, 
 Leads the meek champion of the Christian God. 
 Even Courtenay prostitutes a noble name. 
 In the rank stews of democratic shame ; 
 And Jephson grown of sober dulness vain, 45 
 Plods in the drowsy biographic train. 
 No more are rural peace and comfort found. 
 But ruin, rage, and riot stalk around ; 
 The wakeful village, scorning honest toil, 49 
 
 Sends forth the murderous band to nightly spoil — 
 With Drennan's hes and maudlin whiskey warm. 
 To rob and slaughter, to procure reform. 
 Alike green youth and unresisting age. 
 Yield up their lives to their infuriate rage ; 
 Not sacred robes their impious hands restrain, 55 
 And shrieking beauty pleads for life in vain. 
 With idiot apathy we hear their cries. 
 Hear their deep groans in sad succession rise ; 
 Like the blood-boltered Banquo's train they come. 
 And stalk in grim procession to the tomb — 60 
 With wonder crazed, with fear and doubt per- 
 plexed. 
 We hardly rouse to ask — " Who falls the next ?" 
 'Tis fell democracy, whose furious hand 
 
 The Captain is an ornament to his Majesty's navy, hav- 
 ing lost several of his Majesty's cruisers with great credit, 
 against Jack the Batchelor, the town of Rush, the Black 
 Joke, and other notorious pirates — from which he has now 
 retired upon his pension, and enjoys his otium cum digni- 
 tate (as my Lord Cloncurry saith) in an arm chair in said 
 room, which he useth for the purpose of censuring his Ma'- 
 jesty's person and government, with great spirit and loy- 
 alty, as he is in duty bound, having all his support frorti 
 the bounty thereof. 
 
 Line.51. A very loyal Doctor of Physic, he having been 
 acquitted and turned out of court, for publishing a treason- 
 able libel ; in which being a little man and of weak sta- 
 ture, he calleih upon the volunteers to help him in over- 
 turning his Majesty's person and government.
 
 21 
 
 Stabs at the vital honour of our land, 
 Tears every infant virtue from the soil, 65 
 
 And fills our fields with turbulence and broil ; 
 Bids man, unthinking of life's puny span. 
 Raise his mad arm to murder fellow man. 
 
 Alas ! how short our little lease at best. 
 How soon the busiest sink to endless rest ; 70 
 
 Even while we speak, while Satire pours her strain, 
 "\^ho sees not life and life's enjoyments vain P-^-r- 
 Sees not young Beresford in fortune's bloom. 
 Leave all his happiness to seek the tomb ? 
 Prudent, yet bold, in all the fire of youth 75 
 
 The soul of honour, loyalty, and truth. 
 Dear to an honour 'd father as his life. 
 The doating husband of a lovely wife ; 
 A beauteous: offspring rising to his view, • . 
 
 His worth to learn and his fair course pursile. 80 
 Who does not grieve to see him rudely torn. 
 From his young honours won, but scarcelv worn ? 
 One day to see him loyal, proud, and brave. 
 The next the tenant of an early grave ; 
 Even democrats bestow the unwilling tear, 85 
 And satire weeps o'er his untimely bier — 
 
 But ill with Satire suits th' elegaic strain. 
 And worth, like his, alas ! is mourn'd in vain. 
 No ! let me cry against the coming storm, 
 Rais'd by rebellion's talisman Reform — 90 
 
 Line 69. The shortness of our lives hath employed the 
 ablest divines, mathematicians, philosophers, and notaries 
 public. My ever honoured uncle who lived to a good old 
 age, used often to deplore that accident ; and it is accords 
 ingly engraved on his tomb-stone in the cabbage-garden. 
 The French republic, considering this circumstance, very 
 properly endeavoured to check the progress of this alarm- 
 ing evil, by a decree, that death is eternal sleep, which giv- 
 eth universal satisfaction to the late Crosbie Morgell, Lord 
 Mountmorres, and others who expect to die a violent death. 
 
 Line 90. Talisman. For the nature and use of this in- 
 strument see the Arabian Nights Entertainment ; a book 
 of much sound morality and magictil knowledge — it is much
 
 22 
 
 With Satire's rod conduct the electric fire. 
 And guide destruction to its native mire : 
 To seek out Ti'eason in his dark retreat. 
 While on the bolt detection rides with fate. 
 
 Oh! blind to truth, by factious rage misled, 95 
 Regardless of the dreadful path ye tread — 
 Who fierce and turbulent are borne along. 
 The loudest furies of the clamorous throng. 
 Why join this drunken democratic rage ? 
 Wliy on yourselves relentless warfare wage ? 100 
 Why trample thus into the swinish mire. 
 All that ambitious avarice can desire ? 
 Birth, fortune, honour, influence to command, 
 And talents to sustain your native land. 
 
 There was a time when peevish spleen might 
 dare 105 
 
 To spurn a Viceroy or resign a chair. 
 Then, whether Pery ruled the wild debate. 
 Or the proud Ponsonbies controuled the state. 
 
 used in the Court of Exchequer, and other places, to sig- 
 nify a necromancer's wand — a brass plate, with strange 
 figures engraved thereon — together with a person wlio at- 
 tends for the public good, to be sworn on juries, for which 
 he receiveth the sum of one shilling sterling. 
 
 Line 99. Democracy signifieth the Liberty mob, and 
 other rioters for the cause of patriotism, which is usually 
 intoxicated with whiskey and other unwholesome bever- 
 age.s, to the great detriment of the revenue and the Post- 
 office in College- green, where several nefarious drunkards 
 daily are assembled, to the annoyance of the Lord Mayor, 
 the ParHament-house, King William on horseback, and 
 other valuable members of society, in their perambulations 
 through this city. 
 
 Line 101. The state of filth and nastiness in which the 
 streets of Dublin remain, in spite of the observations of my 
 Journal upon the Lighting Commissioners, is a matter of 
 national reproach to all foreigners and other noblemen who 
 visit the same : In particular. Father O'Leary used to re- 
 mark in his facetious manner, that the Irish were like 
 swine, who loved to roll themselves in the mire— with di- 
 vers witty speeches thereon.
 
 23 
 
 The nation smiled upon the paltry broil, 
 
 And throve beneath their emulating toil. 1 10 
 
 But now, when Treason lifts her form on high. 
 
 Her feet in hell, her head amidst the sky — 
 
 When the same fury which assails your king. 
 
 Must on your heads the same destruction bring — 
 
 When the same tide that sweeps o'er all the realm, 
 
 The coronet of Bessborough must o'erwhelm. 
 
 Why w'iil you Ponsonbies, your name degrade, . 
 
 The mean retailers of a party trade ? 
 
 Must vou in mischief seek malignant joy. 
 
 And, where you cannot rule, must you destroy ? 
 
 Or do you hope to shun the evil hour. 
 
 And be the last whom faction shall devour ? 
 
 Vain, empty hope ! — that Popery shall forget 
 
 To pay her foes the long recorded debt. 
 
 Can she forget the wish which could debase 125 
 
 To hopeless toil, her superstitious race ? 
 
 Can she forget the sad oppressive hour. 
 
 Line 108. The family of Ponsonby is very ancient, 
 having been in good repute before the invention of ivory 
 combs, as appeareth from their coat of arms, the same be- 
 ing three rack combs. This invention having been of great 
 service to the people of this unhappy country, they being 
 obliged to wear shirts and mantles dyed in saffron, to des- 
 troy said vermin — this family became of great rank and 
 consequence accordingly, and did therefore strive to pre- 
 vent his Excellency, Lord Viscount Tovvnshend, to be Vice- 
 roy thereof, who is now made a Marquis, by resigning the 
 office of Speaker of the House of Commons, in order to vex 
 said nobleman ; and failing therein, and being desirous to 
 advance the public good did retire from the administrationj 
 and enter into opposition, from which they have made di- 
 vers ineffectual attempts to escape, proving that bad com- 
 pany leadeth men into ill accidents and misadventures. — ■ 
 The hopes of this family are the said Speaker, who is dead, 
 — the Right Hon. V/. P. — Denis Bowes Daly and George 
 Ponsonby, Esq. of which several facetious stories are told, 
 in particular their wishing that they might leave this 
 country as soon as it should be infested with their Roman 
 Catholic brethren, and other odd and laughable relations.
 
 24 
 
 Which saw ye rule with all but regal power ? 
 
 Can she forget the pride which spumed the land. 
 
 In which a Papist could obtain command ? 1 30 
 
 Or is Democracy become so tame, 
 
 To bend with reverence to an ancient name ? 
 
 Will she forgive, in humble gratitude, 
 
 The inborn guiltiness of noble blood ? 
 
 (See wretched Orleans die unwept, unloved, 135 
 
 The victim of the power himself had moved.) 
 
 Think ye that hour their cherished hatred ends. 
 
 In which your policy has made you friends ? 
 
 If so, rush on, pursue your wild career, 
 
 And never stop until ye must despair. 1 40 
 
 While thus at random strays the adventurous 
 muse. 
 And now a feather, now a shade pursues— 
 High through the vast expanse of aether borne, 
 A flaming brand from Discord's altar torn ; 
 By the mad hand of Mendax hurled on high, 145 
 Glares with terrific omen through the sky : — 
 Avert, good heaven, the parricidal fire, 
 And ere they reach us bid the flames expire. 
 
 And is the sun of noble Hastings set. 
 And fail the honours of Plahtageuet, 150 
 
 Line 145. This nobleman is one of tlie rich inhabitants 
 of Ireland, who reside constantly abroad. My honoured 
 uncle, George Faulkner, after whom I am baptized by the 
 name of George, used to observe — "That between the ab- 
 sentee landlords, and the resident nobility spending their 
 estates before they came of age, in travels on tlie Continent, 
 no manufacturer could get bread in this country, unless he. 
 were an attorney." 
 
 Line 150. There were several gentlemen of this name 
 Kings and Queens of England, from the time of King Henry 
 IL to that of Queen Elizabeth and King James, when the 
 Stuarts came in, from whom the late Earl of Moira was 
 lineally descended, in as much as his wife was great, great, 
 great, great grand-daughter of a natural son of the Duke of 
 Clarence, who was drowned in a butt of Malmsey Madeira 
 — being fond of that liquor, which, next after claret, is in
 
 25 
 
 That thus a mean adventurer's doubtful race. 
 Their Une can sully and their fame deface ? — 
 No ! their proud shades this mountebank disclaim. 
 This poor pretender to their ancient name — 
 This shrivelled, stalking, parchment pedigree, 155 
 This barren, boastful genealogic tree — 
 This learned professor of the puffing art. 
 This very Packw^ood of his own desert — 
 This talking General, this vaunting Peer, 
 In words tremendous and in frown severe — 160 
 This state quack Doctor, whose eternal theme. 
 Like modest Brodum, is his own great name — 
 Whose first attention for his country's health. 
 Is to withdraw her too abundant wealth — 
 And when the burning fever rages high, 1 65 
 
 When most his skill is wanted — then to fly ; 
 No ! these proud shades reject the dire disgrace. 
 And spurn his banner from their gallant race — 
 While on the fields of sad Columbia's shore. 
 Still red with undiscriminating gore, 170 
 
 A thousand wailing ghosts his savage hand de- 
 plore : 
 All gracious heaven ! from this unhappy land. 
 Avert the influence of that savage hand. 
 If, than all others, any one be worse. 
 Perverted talents are the greatest curse. 175 
 
 See that pure wit, which virtue might adorn. 
 By so depraved a wretch as Curran borne — 
 See lettered Eunomus forsake the bar, 
 
 great esteem, and therefore desirable to be drowned there- 
 in, as a warning to all drunkards and other debauchees, who 
 ruin themselves by drinking ale, whiskey and ardent spirits, 
 distilled from the wholesome fruits of the earth, which be- 
 ing ground, might be turned into barley bread, an excellent 
 food for working people. This Duke of Clarence was bro- 
 ther of Edward the IVth, King of Great Britam, France, 
 and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. God save the 
 King! 
 Line 178. This is a Greek noun, used to signify a bar-
 
 26 
 
 To plot In dark debate, domestic war — 
 See half mankind the bonds of reason break, 1 SO 
 They all are orators, they all must speak; 
 Learned and unlearned alike, the stammering fool. 
 The grave Archbishop, and the child at school. 
 All loud, all dull, all eloquent by rule. 
 
 'Tis to this passion of our doating age 1 85 
 
 We owe the sweets of democratic rage. 
 The grocer's bov in rhetoric retail's. 
 And trope and figure trim the butcher's scales ; 
 While words oft heard, but never understood. 
 Sail proudly down the oratorial flood. 190 
 
 Emancipation — word of magic sound. 
 Swims with Reform, in mystery profound ; 
 Th' astonished hearer, wrapt in wonder, stands. 
 And most admires, when least he understands. 
 
 When Parsons, of a little leai'ning vain, 1 95 
 
 rister in the Four Courts of Areopagus, a city of Attica ; 
 and, according to tliis veise, quarrelletli with his servants, 
 wife, &c. at home, to whicli he is much addicted — instead 
 of minding his briefs in the King's Bench, Westminster 
 Hall, the Tholsel Court, &c. &c. 
 
 Line 191. Emancipation is a Latin word, used by the 
 ancient Romans, to signify the giving a discharge to a foot- 
 man, butler, maid of all work, groom, or other servant, 
 ■which was done by a blow on the head ; for the false giv- 
 ing whereof an act of parliament hath been lately made, it 
 being a public grievance and great trouble, that persons 
 who were drunken, idle and saucy, were discharged with 
 good characters, of which the legislature hath taken notice. 
 
 Line 192. Reform — a French word, signifying the re- 
 storing of a thing to its true sense; and is therefore applied 
 in all political debates, when it cannot be known what is 
 the true sense thereof. 
 
 Line 195. Sir Laurence Parsons, Bart, hath lately writ- 
 ten a book, proving that the Argonauts and other cy-cum- 
 navigators, under the command of Jason, did navigate into 
 Ireland, to obtain the golden fleece, the Giant's Causeway, 
 St. Patrick's Purgatory, and other natural curiosities, 
 wherewith said island abounds ; and being fatigued rowing, 
 did take the Ship Argo upon their shoulders, over the hills 
 of Transilvania, to the port of Riga, from whence this country
 
 27 
 
 To Erin leads his Argonautic tram, 
 
 And many a page of learned nonsense fills. 
 
 Their ship to drag o'er steep Sarmatian hills ; 
 
 His harmless folly raises but a smile. 
 
 And kind good nature might applaud his toil ; 200 
 
 But when he proses most profoundly deep. 
 
 And o'er the senate waves the wand of sleep, 
 
 Himself to perfect apathy refined. 
 
 Freezing the ardour of each generous mind ; 
 
 And while he drawls in one continuous hum, 205 
 
 Who does not wish all Baronets were dumb ? 
 
 In vain for food our orators would crj^. 
 Did not the Press a daily fund supply — 
 Did not new grievances, and doubts and fears. 
 With every post, assail their raptured ears— 210 
 Did not incessant falsehood swell the page. 
 With blood and slaughter, perfidy and rage ; 
 An atheist lecture, or a simple plan. 
 To rob aud murder for the Rights of Man — 
 With many a barbed fang and venomed dart, 215 
 To plunge and rankle in the guiltless heart. 
 
 Could worth or fortitude protect Clonmell, 
 When on his head the shafts of slander fell ? 
 Though scattered by a madman's hand they came, 
 Did they not settle with too certain aim, 220 
 
 And to the centre shake his honest fame ? 
 
 When Westmoreland, with too unthrift}' hand. 
 Diffused his Sovereign's favors thi-ough the land ; 
 'Till his beneficence outran desire, 
 And importunity began to tire — 225 
 
 Did not fell Popery and her bigot brood, 
 With slander pay the debt of gratitude ? 
 
 Who can be scife, while Slander thus can roam. 
 
 doth annually import large quantities of hemp, balk, deer's 
 tongues, pitch, furs and other commodities, which would 
 grow in this island under proper encouragement : He is 
 also heir apparent to the barony of Oxmantown, near the 
 Blue Coat Hospital. 
 d
 
 28 
 
 And stab her victim in his peaceful home ? 
 And while he shuns the rankling wound in vain. 
 Smiles with malignant pleasure on his pain. 231 
 Is there one vice or weakness which jj'our mind 
 Abhors the most, to which 'tis least incHned ? — 
 That vice or weakness on your name is hurled, 
 And brands your honour to a slanderous world. 
 Does spotless birth support your honest pride? 236 
 Your mother in a brothel shall have died. 
 Does conscious courage swell your ardent breast ? 
 A thousand lies your cowardice attest. 
 Have you drank deep of learning's sacred spring ? 
 The name of dunce in everv ear shall rins:. 241 
 Thus Cooke is ignorant and raw from school. 
 And Cuffe a generous unsuspecting fool — 
 An horsewhipped coward, Barrington appears, 
 And perjured Ogle loses both his ears — 545 
 
 Dishonesty assails Latouche's fame, 
 And insolence is joined with Enniskillen's name. 
 
 But at the shrine of Faction bend the knee. 
 Adore the fiend of hell — Democracy : 
 Obscene as Griffith, blasphemous as Dodd, 250 
 Renounce your Saviour and abjure your God, 
 
 Line 241. A dunce is a blockhead, of which there be 
 several kinds, in particular the late Mr. Pope handleth them 
 with great severity, in his excellent poem called after them 
 The Dunciad — in which several of the greatest wits of his 
 time are accordingly reviled, under the type of diving into 
 Fleet ditch, and other scandalous libels. 
 
 Line 250. Amyas Griffith, an author well known for his 
 patriotism and crooked legs — also of several tracts written 
 upon himself, with great taste and modesty — also Inspector 
 General of Ulster, which he lost by employing the influence 
 of corruption, in the cause of independence, as appeareth 
 upon the glass windows of all the inns in Ireland — also 
 Mrs. Leeson's Memoirs, written by herself, alias Peg Plun- 
 ket, after her death, in which are introduced many divert- 
 ing jokes upon said Griffith's legs, the christian religion, 
 the holy state of matrimony, and other curious subjects. 
 
 Same line. Dr. James Solas Dodd, a person of great
 
 29 
 
 la guilt impartial, friends and foes betray. 
 
 And let your vices blaze in open day ; 
 
 Then eveiy Journal with your praise shall ring. 
 
 The Press your endless eulogies shall sing — 255 
 
 Your glorious name in every page shall stand. 
 
 The pui'est patriot of a suffering land — 
 
 And should your crimes the sleeping laws provoke. 
 
 You shaU have speeches which you never spoke — 
 
 Shall have this cordial comfort while you swing. 
 
 That countless traitors from your blood shall spring 
 
 Eternal elegies shall sing your name. 
 
 Eternal affidavits shall enflame. 
 
 Shall fix your sterhng guilt and prove your well 
 
 earned fame. 
 Thus, to inglorious industiy resigned, 265 
 
 Too paltry for his high aspiring mind. 
 Might farmer Orr have run his humble race. 
 And never changed, or wished to change his place 
 
 learning, he never having been hanged at Tyburn, but his 
 name-sake. Dr. William Dodd, for forgery, in 1775; he 
 not having left a portrait of himself. Dr. J. S. Dodd very 
 obligingly sat for his picture, in order to gratify and im- 
 prove the public, for which pui-pose he hath lately trans- 
 lated the Pilgrim's Progress into blank verse, to the great 
 advancement of religion and piety. 
 
 Line 267. William Orr, of Farranshane, County of An- 
 trim, farmer, who, to the great astonishment of himself 
 and the public, was found guilty and hanged by a jury of 
 said county, which was to be particularly lamented, in as 
 much as heretofore an honest and independent humour had 
 prevented them from convicting any person being a De- 
 fender or concerned in high treason — well knowing that if 
 they did so, their haggards would be consumed, their own 
 throats cut, their houses set on fire, and their poultry put 
 to an ignominious death — which said considerations should 
 have justly prevented their finding Mr. Orr guilty of the 
 crime he had committed, he being a man of comely stature, 
 considerable influence in the country, and six feet high in 
 bis stockings — of which an extensive manufactory is car- 
 ried on at Connemara, in the County of Clare, equally 
 wholesome, soft and delightful a.s Spanish-wool, or any 
 other skina imported by the furriers.
 
 30 
 
 But strong persuasion flowed from Grattan's tongue 
 And Orr believed — grew indiscreet — and hung : 
 Had not fierce Calvin steeled his stubboni soul. 
 Had he acknowledged holy Rome's controul, 
 Rome might have canonized his sacred name, 
 And given a rival to St. Sheehy's fame. 274 
 
 Nor is this all — but to your wondering eyes. 
 Your coward vices into virtue rise. 
 Has, like 0'(Connor')s, your unshrinking back. 
 With patience borne an horsewhip's fierce attack ? 
 
 Line 274. Dr. Nicholas Sheehy, parish priest? of Clog- 
 heen, a reputable Village in the County of Tij)perary, in 
 the diocese of Dr. Hussey, titular Bishop of Waterford, 
 "who was hanged about the year of our Lord A. D. 1769, 
 for obeying the first law of nature, self-defence, in the wil- 
 ful murder of John Bridge, being suspected of intending to 
 inform against the White-boys of said parish — for which 
 said Sheehy was canonized by the Pope, and his bones are 
 prayed unto accordingly, to the edification of devout per- 
 sons, who are thereby excited unto a noble patriotism 
 against informers, and a proper hatred of all governments. 
 
 Line 277. An ingenius friend, also a General Officer, 
 and a Member of the Royal Irish Academy, hath favoured 
 me with the following observation hereon : 
 
 " In my last work, whi^;h makes the four hundred and 
 seventy-fifth volume of my writings upon Irish-Indico- 
 Phoenician Antiquities, I have proved decisively, that the 
 Latin and Hindoo names for Ireland are exactly the same : 
 The words Suvarna dwip in the latter, requiring very little 
 flection to render it into Hibernia insula, as is apparent 
 by reflecting, that five letters in eleven syllables is no com- 
 mon degree of coincidence. 
 
 The word which is deficient in the verse above, is only to 
 be discovered by the initial and final letters 0*****r. O is a 
 very usual prefixture of Irish surnames; the name is, there- 
 fore, necessarily Irish ; — but what name further remains to 
 be discovered — Zoroaster, King of Bactria, was an Indian or 
 Persian legislator of great renown (vide Orosium, Plinium, 
 Justinum, Clementem in Itiner : & Antonin, tom 1, tit. 2, 
 cap. 1 2,) : the letter Z is not to be found in the Irish al- 
 phabet ; taking it away, we have the word Oroaster per- 
 fectly suiting the initial and final letters in this instance ; 
 but here another consideration arises, that of metrical ac^"
 
 31 
 
 Have you, like him, obeyed your captive nose ? 
 To manly fortitude your meanness grows — 280 
 Have you renounced the robes you would disgrace 
 And stripped the sordid idcers of your race ? 
 Unbounded praise shall fill your fated ear, 
 And natuie's nobles hail their brother peer — 
 Even Democrats, thro' this distorted eye, 285 
 Can wisdom in an idiot Duke descry — 
 Or heedless of the book-learned critic's sneer. 
 Can see a second Sappho in Battiere, 
 Devoting to the sacred rights of men, 
 A nauseous person and a ribald pen— 290 
 
 While her pure sympathetic love adorns, 
 \yith many a wreathe obscene, her Curran's homa. 
 There was a time when Innocence could dare, 
 
 curacy. To be candid, Oroaster cannot be read in the line 
 as it stands, and though the proverbial mildness of the Hin- 
 doos might well accord with the character here described, 
 it would be difficult to reconcile this incongruity, had I not 
 in my last journey to Kilmacumpskaugh discovered a most 
 valuable and venerable tradition by which Roderic O'Con- 
 nor, King of Connaught, is said, "to have come to Ireland 
 from the rising sun;" obviously the East, Oriens: — now it is 
 plain that the words Oroaster and Oconnor begin and ter- 
 minate with the same letters, it is only requisite to turn 
 Oro into Ocon and aster into nor and the names become 
 exactly the same. Thus we see that Zoroaster, the Magi- 
 cian, Wizard, Conjurer, Warlock, Sorcerer, and Sooth- 
 sayer, was no other than Roderic O'Connor, King of Con- 
 naught — It is remarkable too that the sect of Guebres or 
 ■worshippers of fire, which he founded, is yet extant in the 
 province of Connaught, insomuch that the inhabitants are 
 called fire eaters, from an idle supposition of the unin- 
 formed, that as they worship, so they must eat fire. 
 
 Thus is my favorite doctrine of an ancient oriental con- 
 nection finely supported, and an useful hint thrown out for 
 future antiquarians. 
 
 I cannot take leave of my reader without mentioning, 
 that in my next work I hope to prove with equal clearness, 
 that Porus, King of India, was a first cousin, if not half 
 brother, to Eogain Ceansealach More, King of Leinster, and 
 Prince of Brefi'any. E. V.
 
 32 
 
 The wildest ravings of the Press to hear ; 
 
 Calm in a spotless heart, could chearly smile, 295 
 
 And hear a madman or a fool revile : 
 
 Sure, when revolving years had rolled away. 
 
 To see the falsehood stand exposed to day— 
 
 The lie refuted, cleared her injured fame. 
 
 As precious metals purify by flame. 300 
 
 But in these times, when leagued with murder foul. 
 
 Democracy and maniac slander prowl — 
 
 "When greedy lor the hapless victim's life. 
 
 Malignant falsehood whets th' assassin's knife — 
 
 Enjoys the victim writhing in his smart, 305 
 
 And tears, with bloody fangs his quivering heart- 
 
 The wise may tremble, and the brave may feai-. 
 
 And even the honest dare not be sincere. 
 
 True! we have laws, but in these wayward times 
 To seek their shelter is the worst of crimes — 310 
 Direct their thunder, lay one ruffian low. 
 And at his heels a thousand ruffians grow ; 
 Instructed mobs shall hoot and hiss by rote. 
 And screaming slander strain a ten-fold throat — 
 Then vulgar cbloqiiy shall hunt you down, 315 
 And chase your name through all the envious town. 
 Your hollow friends support the general league. 
 And lukewarm prudence dreads you as the plague- 
 You walk in solitude the crowded street. 
 And cautious wealth avoids you when you meet. 
 
 But, bounteous heaven, to our enraptured eyes. 
 Bids better hopes and brighter prospects rise — 
 The polar star in purest glory streams. 
 The Blue and Orange blended in his beams— 
 From Derry's sacred walls the ray divine, 325 
 Directs our feet to Freedom's holy shrine — 
 Shevv-s us the blood be-spotted course to shun. 
 Where Gallia's comet her mad race has run ; 
 
 iine 325. Vide the Derry Address, December, 1797. 
 
 P. R.
 
 33 
 
 And while we tread in pure religion's road. 
 
 Our king to honour, and to fear our God, 330 
 
 Yes ! the descendants of that gallant band. 
 
 Who once did save — again shall save the land — 
 
 In vain Sedition lifts the maniac cry, 
 
 And recreant Wliigs our liberties deny — 
 
 C (urran) in vain, with patriot fury wild, 335 
 
 May daunt a witness or confound a child — 
 
 In vain Cethegus plot in dark debate. 
 
 To screen a murder or destroy the state — 
 
 In vain shall Gallia pour her desperate hordes. 
 
 To rush infatuate on our Yeomen's swords. 340 
 
 Since Loyalty from Derry's sacred walls, 
 
 l"lie patriot Protestants of Erin calls ; 
 
 Bids us remember gallant Murray's name, 
 
 And emulate intrepid Walker's fame — 
 
 Bids us, like them, defend our faith and laws, 345 
 
 Or fall the martjrs of the glorious cause. 
 
 Line 334. All the arguments of the Whigs on the 5th 
 of May, 1795, went to prove that the Bill of Rights is not, 
 never was, and ought not to be the law of Ireland. 
 
 " Heu quam mutati !" 
 " How much unlike their patriot sires of old." 
 
 P, R.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 IT is with much comfort and satisfaction that the writer 
 of the notes upon this and the two former Cantos hereof, 
 hath been relieved from the laborious duty of explaining 
 the same, by the kindness of sundry eminent persons who 
 have undertaken to observe thereon, by furnishing notes 
 upon the difficult parts, together with dark passages, ob- 
 scure hints, and unintelligible blunders, particularly my 
 friend the Prime Serjeant, Dr. Kirwan, the Attorney Gene- 
 ral, and other distinguished personages. — G. F. jun. 
 
 Dublin, Feb. 14, 17i>8. 
 
 ORANGE. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 OH ! for tlie verse that roused the Spartan fire. 
 
 When old Tyrtaeus swept the hving lyre. 
 
 That led, to glory led his gallant band. 
 
 To fight and conquer on their native land : 
 
 As did his strains their patriot souls inflame, 5 
 
 When he adjured them by their father's fame ; 
 
 Line 2. Tyrtaeus was a Grecian poet and general, re- 
 markable for making heroic songs, and being lame of a leg, 
 which he sung to his soldiers that they might despise 
 wounds, death, bruises, enemies, and other accidents which 
 they did accordingly in several battles therewith. — N. B. 
 The ballads of Chevy Chace, Death and the Lady, and the 
 Babes of the Wood, are of this kind, being apt to stir up 
 anger and other noble passions, and therefore proper to be 
 sung by soldiers. 
 e
 
 36 
 
 By their affection to their cheerful homes. 
 The piety that reared their sacred domes. 
 And that spontaneous kivalty that chngs 
 Like fihal duty, round paternal Kings. 10 
 
 So should my verse, though humbler be its flight. 
 Arouse the sons of Erin to the fight ; 
 Should bid the Royal standard float unfurl'd, 
 And scare sedition from the harrass'd world ; 
 Should bid our gallant Protestants adv^ance, 15 
 To crush domestic Treason leagued with France : 
 With dauntless minds to hear the frantic yell. 
 By Daemons bellowed from their Gallic hell. 
 And, heedless of the diabolic roar, 
 Stand the Arm champions of their native shore. 20 
 Then should my muse record their father's fame. 
 And dwell ^^^th rapture on each glorious name. 
 Should turn their eyes to Enniskillen's walls, 
 Or where the patriot voice of Deny calls. 
 To proud Athlone, where Shannon's whelming 
 wave, 25 
 
 Has been before the French invader's grave. 
 Should catch new spirit from old Aughrim's plain. 
 And thus inspired, attempt the glorious strain : 
 " Did not your valiant fathers save the land, 
 " In spite of Popery's Gallic Irish band } 30 
 
 " Shall not their sons the meed of glory claim } 
 " Shall they not emulate their father's fame ? 
 
 Line 8. Domes are at the tops of churches, and may be 
 seen to the Royal Exchange, the Round Church, St. Peter's 
 at Rome, the New Custom House, St. Paul's London, and 
 the New Four Courts on the Inn's Quay, and are properly 
 said to be erected by tlie piety of well disposed persons, in 
 donations made after their decease, by will and otherwise. 
 
 Line 18. Daemons are wicked, reprobate, and ill-dis- 
 posed spirits and fallen angels, of the keeping whereof in 
 bottles, a curious account is to be found in the Devil upon 
 Two Sticks, together with sundry love adventures and ar- 
 ticles of secret historj', very delightful to be read by young 
 persons. 
 
 Line 31. " Oi /ter yap trpoyovoi tovs fiapfiapovs iyiKficrav." 
 &c.
 
 37 
 
 " Wliere mad St. Ruth bestrewed the bloody field, 
 " Mav not a fiantic Buonaparte yield ? 
 *' Where coward Rosen, foiled and baffled, fled, 35 
 " Mav not some other monster bow his head ? 
 " Where Sarsfield's gallant, but mistaken zeal, 
 " Was taught Nassau's superior power to feel, 
 "Mav not vour swords the traitor crew confound, 
 " Who at their country aim the mortal wound ?"40 
 But not such call do Protestants require. 
 Nor does their zeal demand the Spartan l)Te, 
 Uncalled — unbidden — see them stand arrayed, 
 Where the proud Orange banner is displayed : 44 
 
 Line 33. St. Ruth, General Buonaparte, Rosen, and 
 Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, were French commanders, 
 — the first of whom was slain at Aughrim, li'th July, 1(591 . 
 The General is a native of Corsica, but whether related to 
 the fairy of that name, I cannot say, which was imported 
 into Ireland about the year 1770, and shewn to the curious. 
 — Field Marshal Rosen besieged Londonderry in 1G89, for 
 the French King, and James the II. by driving all the Pro- 
 testants, men, women and children under the walls thereof, 
 from the neighbouring counties, from which, by the noble 
 obstinacy of the men of Derry, he was defeated with great 
 disgrace — The present Earl of Lucan is descended from the 
 latter. 
 
 Line 40. The learned Dr. Drcnnan hath favoured me 
 herewith, which not understanding, I have added in this 
 place. 
 
 "1 felicitate myself, I congratulate the country — it has 
 elicited from my breast that virtue which contemptuous 
 Administrations had overlooked — Exalted above the mul- 
 titude, I soar undisputed EvEfj-ayoiyos of regenerating Ire- 
 land. — Her enfeebled Constitution lies prosternated to my 
 potentiality — the drastic ingredients ferment in the vesica- 
 tory membrane of political correspondence — the fistulatory 
 tube of Reform is subtended to the intestinal canal of cor- 
 ruption — the elastic compression of the cork of secresy 
 needs only the energy of my hand for its retraction — what 
 a revulsion will be excited — what a torrent of foulness and 
 putrefaction will burst forth and overwhelm our regenera- 
 ted Country."— W. D.
 
 38 
 
 See tlicm unasked — desire their Sovereign's leave. 
 The throne, the country, and themselves to save. 
 See them, in spite of his prudential court. 
 Press holdly forward to their King's support ; 
 Spite of the falsehoods, insolence and sneers. 
 Of coward commoners and knavish peers ; 50 
 
 AVho rather hrave, (as less within its reach,) 
 Tlie wrath of Heaven, than Curran's ribald speech. 
 Who crouch to wretches whom they most despise, 
 And gaze on soaring virtue with surprize ; 
 Or, feeling little interest in the soil, 55 
 
 Look strangely cold upon our patriot toil ; 
 Spite of the daily filth by Drennan spewed. 
 Or bold O'Connor in his bravest mood ; 
 Sjjite of the lizard blooded craft, whose wiles. 
 Are thinly mantled o'er by traitorous smiles ; 60 
 Spite of the coward crew — who basely dare 
 (Protected in the senate or the bar. 
 Or in the hell-i)olluted Press concealed,) 
 The poisonous shaft of calumnv to wield. 
 
 Line 58. 1 call upon ***, and ***, and * **, and ***, 
 to witness that my dear friend Arthur is valiant — that his 
 courage is equal, as his politics are congenial, to my own — 
 Arthur will swear the same for me. — True, we have been 
 both horse-whipped — Mais n'lmporie. — " A gentleman 
 may be a gentleman though he be obligated to dance a 
 bear." — A man of honour may bear a couple of horse- 
 whippings, if it be only to obtain a proper abhorrence of 
 60 unmanly a practice. — J. P. C. 
 
 . Line 59. The kingdom of Ireland is remarkable of all 
 other countries, wherein no vcncmous animals can be 
 found, of which a large viper lately discovered in Dorset 
 Street is a remarkable instance, proving the particular 
 affection of Providence to Irishmen, by banishing them to- 
 gether with toads, lizards, reptiles, &c. which, nevertheless, 
 they are so insensible of, by committing rapes, murders, 
 and shocking outrages, as to make it worse than the back 
 settlements of America or Egypt. 
 
 Line C3. The Press, a patriotic newspaper so called, 
 printed in Church- lane, at the house of Mr. John Stock- 
 dale, who liveth in Abbey-street, by Mr. Arthur O'Connor,
 
 39 
 
 And vainly strive on Loyalty to throw, 65 
 
 That infamy which hut themselves can know ; 
 In spite of furious foes and timid friends, 
 To no dismav the patriot Orange hends ; 
 Forgiving slight, hy insolence unawed, 
 They love their King, and reverence their God, 70 
 Proud of the glory hy their fathers gained. 
 They hum to leave it to their sons unstained ; 
 And firm in loyalty and truth, to stand 
 Like them, the saviours of their native land. 
 
 Thrice happy Erin, did such spirit glow, 75 
 In all thv sons against the fi'antic foe ; 
 Did all stand forward in the common cause. 
 To guard their king, their liherties and laws : 
 Did thev, who in mistaken loyalty. 
 Fought wdth the prince who came to set them free. 
 When loyalty and freedom now unite. 
 Support a hounteous Sovereign in the fight ; 
 Did they come forward for the general good. 
 And loose dissention in their gratitude. 
 Is it religion leagues them with a hand 85 
 
 Who drove religion from their hapless land ? 
 
 who hath for some time past resided in the kingdom of 
 Great Britain. 
 
 This Newspaper was set up by sundry loyal and patriotic 
 noblemen and gentlemen, for the laudable design of assist- 
 ing the French in an invasion thereof; which is performed 
 by noble stories, seditious letters, witty paragraphs and 
 doleful elegies, of which Mr. Peter Finerty now languish- 
 eth in Newgate, he having, for the public good, and the 
 benefit of the owners, sworn himself the sole proprietor of 
 said paper. 
 
 Line 80. His late Majesty King William the Tnird, of 
 glorious and immortal memory, of which see my notes in 
 the former part of this work. 
 
 Line 65. The Roman Catholic Clergy of Ireland and the 
 rich merchants of the same persuasion, have of late shewn 
 a meritorious contempt of wealth and superstition, of 
 which their friends the French are remarkably fond, by 
 joining with the same, in order to be relieved from such 
 superfluities in a successful invasion, and establishing a,
 
 40 
 
 Does restless opulence expect to rise. 
 By those who deem his wealth their future prize ? 
 Do they who serve religion's holy shrine, 
 Against themselves with Atheists comljine ? 90 
 Must they their land with kindred slaughter fiU, 
 Because they are restrained from doing ill ? 
 Or does blind loyalty to James's race. 
 To blinder democratic rage give place ? 
 Do they forget the blessings of a reign, 95 
 
 That link by link has broke their every chain ? 
 Have they forgot the call of gratitude. 
 That should inspire their zeal for George the 
 Good ? 
 Oh, friend to Virtue and by Virtue loved ! 
 Honoured by Truth, and by thy God approved; 1 00 
 Though these mad times withold thv praises due. 
 Yet future days shall own those praises true ; 
 Proud of the homage of the good and just. 
 Of that pure faith which you defend and trust ; 
 In ail thy glorious life without a foe, 105 
 
 Whom Virtue's self might be aggrieved to know ; 
 Is there a wretch in morals and in fame, 
 Lost to himself, to virtue, and to shame. 
 
 Republic therein, under whicli this kingdom being depriv- 
 ed of the means of hixury, riches, and intemperance, will 
 be restored to the true simplicity of former times. 
 
 Line 87. Need we remind our opulent agitators of the 
 fate of the Parisian hankers, or refer the infatuated priest- 
 hood to the pages of Baruel, * and the massacres of Sep- 
 tember. — P. R. 
 
 Line 96. The Roman Catholics of Ireland, of whom 
 several speeches have been made by Mr. Grattan and others, 
 proving that all the benefits obtained by them were useless, 
 unless said Grattan was the giver thereof, he being remark- 
 ably fond of giving away what is not his own, and there- 
 fore fit for a Prime Minister, which is different in various 
 countries, being in some called a Vizier, in others a Lord 
 Chancellor, Black Eunuch, Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 and Reis Effendi, &c. for any of which this great patriot i^ 
 equally qualified. 
 
 * See his history of the French clergy.
 
 41 
 
 At thee his desperate rancour hurls the dart. 
 Dipped in the poison of his putrid heart ; 110 
 
 Still does the venomed shaft from thee recoil. 
 Still hatfled Vice renews her fruitless toil. 
 Have not thy foes throughout a lengthened reign. 
 Been only such as Walcot, Wilkes, and Paine ? 
 Atheists who fear the faith thy laws defend, 115 
 And only hating thee as Virtue's friend. 
 Long may thy life remain to Britons dear, 
 Long may domestic love thy labours cheer ; 
 Long may thy gallant sons thy cause sustain. 
 And long thv banners triumph o'er the main; 120 
 Soon may thy conquered foes thine empire own. 
 And crouch for peace to thine offended throne ; 
 Long may thv virtues guard the British state. 
 And George the Good be hailed — as George 
 THE Great. 
 And will not Popery's stubborn sons obey, 125 
 So good a Sovereign's mild paternal sway ? 
 Is it abhorrence of the Brunswick line. 
 That bids them with the Gallic fiend combine ? 
 Does cherished hatred of the British name. 
 The cause forgotten, still their souls inflame.'' 130 
 Or does the restless spirit of the time. 
 Urge their infatuate folly into crime ? 
 
 Line 1 14. Dr. Walcot, a poet, clergyman, and physician, 
 surnamed Peter Pindar, whereby he exhibiteth his multi- 
 farious talents to the public, having been degraded from 
 his gown for indecency therein ; he therefore became justly 
 enraged at the discreet conduct and tempiTance of his Ma- 
 jesty, whom he accordingly revilcth in sundry obscene, 
 witty, and satirical verses, in which he hatli ingeniously 
 brought in the facetious histories of Tom a Lothian, Jack 
 Hickathrift, the London jester, and other classical authors 
 of good reputation. 
 
 Ibid. Tlic notorious Alderman Wilkes. 
 
 Ibid. Thomas Paine, a staymakcr, exciseman, and politi- 
 cian, of Thetford, in the county of Norfolk, who hath writ- 
 ten many public spirited works for the promotion of blas- 
 phemy and murder.
 
 42 
 
 As when we seek an hateful vice to shun, 
 
 Too often to the worst extreme we run ; 
 
 So superstition in her last decay, 135 
 
 To kindred infidelity gives way ; 
 
 So does perverted sottish lovaltv. 
 
 Into the madness of rebellion flv. 
 
 Else why this frenzy wild, absurd and strange. 
 
 The good they have for certain ill to change? 140 
 
 Who does not feel it nobler far to fall, 
 
 His Sovereign'sfriend — than live the slave of Gaul? 
 
 For honour, truth, and lovaltv to die. 
 
 Than live the sport of vulgar tyranny ; 
 
 To fall assertors of a lawful throne, 1 45 
 
 Tlian live to crouch to Curran or Le Bon. 
 
 Are ye become such mean, degraded things, 
 
 That you must seek the scourge oi felon kings ? 
 
 Are you so tired of Carleton, Downes and Clare. 
 
 To long for M'Anally or Barrere ? 150 
 
 Line 142. Gaul is the ancient name of the kingdom of 
 France, the chief city being called Paris. The natives of 
 that country are remarlcable for being uneasy and restless, 
 for which reason they are in great demand as dancing mas- 
 ters, linguists, and hair-dressers, and other professions re- 
 quiring activity and bodily skill ; they are much given to 
 cruelty, delighting in murder and other crimes, as appear- 
 eth by the late Revolution, to the disgrace of those con- 
 cerned. This people is also remarkable for making the wine 
 called claret; also new systems of government, having tried 
 seven thereof within the last nine years. 
 
 Line 146. The atrocities committed by this monster are 
 too horrible for detail ; his treatment of the brave O'Hara, 
 whom the chance of war had thrown into the power of 
 France, was the very weakness of clemency compared to his 
 inhumanities at Arras. Born of the vilest parents (a 
 gipsey and a thief) he preserved an accurate recollection, 
 and paid a faithful retribution of every insult to which his 
 youth had been exposed ; — age, beauty, or innocence, were 
 no protection against the rancour of his revenge, the bru- 
 tality of his appetite, or the wantonness of his power. — P.R. 
 
 Line 150. L. M. Esq. a lame poet, comedian and coun- 
 sellor ; he is reckoned a very able lawyer, and hath the pe- 
 culiar good fortune of speedily concluding bis causes ; it is
 
 43 
 
 Or do our laws, the boast of ancient years. 
 Where wisdom in each varied form appears ; 
 Whose errors ahvays into mercy turn. 
 Against these laws does such resentment burn ? 
 That ye demand, to gratify your spleen, 155 
 
 The rapid justice of the Guillotine. 
 Awake — arise — renounce this idle hate, 
 Assert your honour, and deserve the state ; 
 Prove to the world, that differing in a creed. 
 All Erin's sons are in her cause agreed : 160 
 
 That bound in Loyalty's fraternal band. 
 Papists and Protestant will save the land ; 
 Then shall no ruffian democrat, defile 
 With goar\' footsteps, our fair emerald isle. 
 See Albion's sons in patriot union bold, 
 A proud example to your eyes unfold ; 
 Behold with honest zeal the Cambrian host. 
 Rush from their hills to their insulted coast. 
 
 computed that more of his clients are hanged annually than 
 any other lawyer can boast of, which evinceth his great 
 merit and the service he performeth to the state ; he also 
 composeth most doleful comedies and heroic farces for the 
 consolation of his deceased clients and their surviving rela- 
 tions, which might induce them to laugh, were they per- 
 mitted by decency so to do. 
 
 Line 15fi. The guillotine is an instrument for cutting 
 ofi' the heads of men as a warning for the misconduct of 
 others, and invented by Dr. Guillotine in France, and cal- 
 led after hmi, by which his own head was cut off ; the same 
 thing having happened in Scotland two hundred yeaj-s ago 
 by the Earl of Morton, whose head was cut off ; he having 
 invented the sam.c, for high treason ; also in Halifax, in 
 Yorkshire, where the great woollen cloth manufactory is 
 carried on similar to the linen trade in the county of Down, 
 Hillsborough, and other places. 
 
 Line 167. " I have a firm persuasion that the French 
 will find themselves disappointed, if they exyect to be sup- 
 ported in their expedition by the disconteated in this coun- 
 try (England). They have already made atrial ; the event 
 should lower their confidence ; the Welch, of all denomina- 
 tions, rushed upon their Gallic enemies, with the impet- 
 f
 
 44 
 
 Alike all ranks witli native anger burn, 
 And on the common foe their fury turn^ 170 
 
 Oh, did such mutual zeal our island grace. 
 Though all the dogs of war in angry chace. 
 Yelled round our coasts, in vain the fiends would 
 
 roar, 
 'Gainst Albion's chalky cliffs and Erin's verdant 
 
 shore. 
 Yes! they will rouse — the dark delusion past, 175 
 The dawn of Union seems to break at last ; 
 Persuaded or corrected, see them bring. 
 Repentant vows to their oflended king ; 
 See them renounce, deceiving or sincere. 
 The devious track of treason's mad career, 1 SO 
 And tired of turbulence and outrage, bend 
 Before their king, their father, and their friend. 
 How pleased, how happy, would the patriot muse. 
 See this pure spirit through the land diffuse ; 
 Alas, 'tis true, nor let us fondly dream, 185 
 
 That Popery in all times is still the same. 
 That flushed with health or sinking in the grave. 
 She still must be a tyrant or a slave — 
 The smarting culprit will deplore his fault. 
 Not that he erred, but that he shoidd be caught ; 
 
 uosity of ancient Britons ; they discomfitted them in a mo- 
 ment ; they covered them with shame, and led them into 
 captivity. — Bishop of LUmdaff's Address. 
 
 Line 178. The Roman Catholic declarations of loyalty, 
 
 1798. 
 
 Line 186. The Popish inhabitants of Ireland are only 
 at present debarred of making laws to bind their Protestant 
 fellow-subjects — their fellow Papists in England are under 
 many more restraints, of which they do not complain— but 
 the outcry here is founded on their numbers— we need not 
 take the trouble of comparing their conduct to us when they 
 had power, with the use we have made of power to relieve 
 them out of every plausible grievance— it is only necessary 
 to observe their progress, from supplication to request— 
 from request to demand, from demand to menace — it is only 
 necessary to observe, that their tone increased with cou-
 
 45 
 
 And treason shrinking under chastisement 
 Of her mischance sincerely will repent ; 
 But whom can such repentant vows deceive. 
 Treason again will plot and rogues again will thieve 
 Even in the more than human mind of Burke, 
 Did not the leaven of rank Popery lurk ? 
 Did not the strength of his gigantic hand, 
 Unsettle every balance of the land ? 
 Raised by his spell, did not a ruthless stonn, 199 
 The noon-tide of his Sovereign's reign defoi'm ? 
 Could all the splendour of his setting sun. 
 Shew half the mischief his wild rage had done ? 
 He chd indeed repent, by grief inspired. 
 Even in the ashes which himself had fired. 
 But far from us be that ill-judging hate, 205 
 
 Which in blind bigotry we reprobate : 
 To eveiy loyal Irishman in arms, 
 My glowing heart with fond affection warms ; 
 Nor that afi'ection shall his creed remove, 
 A brother soldier claims a brother's love : 210 
 Nor should in any rivalship contend, 
 Tlian who shall prove his Sovereign's firmest friend ; 
 
 cession, and that, in the same proportion as they have been 
 gratified, they have clamoured. 
 
 The following notice posted on the door of St. Wer- 
 burgh's and other churches in Dublin, on the morning of 
 Sunday Feb. 18, ITjS, and read by thousands in this city, 
 will explain much upon this interesting subject ; 
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 Erin go brah ! 
 
 " You heretic Protestants, take notice, that Mass will 
 commence in this Church by the 1st of May next. Your 
 BLOOD shall FLOW, aud your souls shall be sent to Hell, to 
 the Devil your grand-father." 
 
 Quid facient in sicco, si sic in viridi audeant ? 
 
 Lord Moira however w ill call this a device of Government ; 
 but let the reader compare it with the threats of the Press 
 of the night before, and judge for himself. — P. R.
 
 46 
 
 Whose bosom shall with j)urest ardour glow, 
 
 Who first shall rush upon th' iuvading foe ; 
 
 Who shall most proudly prove his loyalty, 215 
 
 And who most happv for his King to die : 
 
 Such be the contest, and mav such alone. 
 
 Engage the guardians of my Sovereign's throne. 
 
 Yes, gallant friends, to your unshaken zeal, 
 
 A loyal brother's kindred love I feel : 220 
 
 In one fraternal principle agreed. 
 
 In Georgk's cause to conquer or to bleed ; 
 
 To drive domestic treason from the land, 
 
 To meet.th' invading Gaul upon the strand, 
 
 And hurl destruction on his rufSan baud. 225 
 
 Is there dull opulence whose sottish mind. 
 
 Pants for respect which it can never find ; 
 
 Or dark malignity, whose rancorous hate. 
 
 Broods o'er the pangs of wounded self conceit ; 
 
 Or hungrv learning, "bony, gaunt and grim." 230 
 
 Or mad ambition, or capricious whim ; 
 
 Or desperate bankruptcy, or moody rage, 
 
 Or fell revenge, or crazed and peevish age. 
 
 For treason fitted, the discordant crew 
 
 To no one honest inclination true ; 235 
 
 Combine the rancour of their poisonous hate. 
 
 And urge their common rage against the state ; 
 
 The black committee grows, the dark divan 
 
 Full manv a foul and midnight murder plan ; 
 
 With hellish rapture hear the victim's cries, 240 
 
 While earnest each his horrid labour plies ; 
 
 And veiled bv treason's diabolic gloom: 
 
 In the black page assigns a brother's doom : 
 
 Line 242. Peradventure I can let in a ray of light — a 
 ^intilla of explanation — upon the obscurity of this passage, 
 dashed, splashed, hashed, crashed, double dashed, and hab- 
 erdashed, as it has been by the clumsy pen of a clumsy poe- 
 taster. Let not the reader be deceived by the dark oblivion 
 of a brow ; nothing could be farther from my mind than — 
 " the Prince of Darkness is a gentleman." — \Vm. Fletcher. 
 
 I have ventured to omit the remainder of this note, which
 
 47 
 
 Raised by their spell appears the Union Star, 
 
 And shoots his red portentous beams afar, 245 
 
 Forc1)oding murder, miseiy and war. 
 
 Such are the traitors, such the Popish crew. 
 
 Whom mhie indignant anger would pursue ; 
 
 To these our country owes its honour lost. 
 
 For these invasion hovers round our coast, 250 
 
 Roused by these daemons into frantic rage. 
 
 Do Erin's children mutual warfare wage : 
 
 And urged bv treason into fury, stain 
 
 With kindred homicide their native plain ; 
 
 Yet even to these will sordid interest bend, 255 
 To treat with these will timid courts descend ; 
 Does one more desperate ruffian than the rest. 
 Make treason sport, and homicide a jest ? 
 To him with suppliant voice and soothing strain. 
 To treat with him will cautious statesmen deign. 
 See them entreat for a precarious hour. 
 To keep in quiet their unstable power ; 
 See them in paltry policy bestow. 
 Their dearest favours on their loudest foe. 
 Does Egan bellow — does M'Kenna write, 265 
 
 And teach the land to clamour or unite? 
 The crouching minister to save his place. 
 With chair or pension soothes him into peace ; 
 While wrapt in stupid cunning, falsely wise, 
 Tliis obvious inference escapes his eyes, 270 
 
 That everv bribe which buys a dubious peace. 
 Holds new temptation to the clamorous race. 
 So on a time, ('tis yEsop tells the tale. 
 And yEsop's truths are seldom known to fail,) 
 Torn bv an angiy cur, a rustic wight, 275 
 
 With bleeding leg, in sad distressful plight. 
 Sought for rehef, where some old doating sage. 
 
 would have more than filled the book ; but I rely for excuse 
 upon the well known urbanity and gentleness of the learned 
 counsellor. — P. R.
 
 48 
 
 To soothe the wounded member's acrid rage ; 
 Bade him with bread absorb the streaming blood, 
 And give the cur the medicated food. 280 
 
 The man beheved him, till some wiser knave, 
 This solid warning to the patient gave : 
 " Reward otTences thus unthinking clown, 
 " And you'll be bit by all the curs in town." 
 Nor can such paltry policy succeed, 285 
 
 That gives to clamour the true patriot's meed. 
 To mean submission ministers may bend. 
 The rancorous foe can ne'er become a friend. 
 Sooner shall Mendax to Munchausen yield, 
 The brazen honours of the lying field : 290 
 
 Line 289. The vigour and fertility of imagination mani- 
 fested in the speech of Lord Moira in the British House of 
 Peers, have I think, been over-rated. In my researches 
 into the history of this noble family — I have found an indis- 
 putable document of its hereditary veracity — it is an extract 
 from a speech of the late Earl (who was invidiously stiled 
 Baron Munchausen) in the House of Lords of Ireland, about 
 the year 1769— it is preserved in a collection of the papers 
 of that day, the reference to which I have added : — 
 
 " I can testify the truth of all he has asserted; at the time 
 " of the insurrection in the North I had frequent and inti- 
 " mate conversations with that celebrated enchanter MoU 
 " Coggin: I have often seen her riding on a black ram with 
 " a blue tail— once I endeavoured to fire at her but my 
 " gun melted in my hand to a clear jelly — this jelly I tasted, 
 " and if it had been a little more acid, it would have been 
 " most excellent. Noble Lords may laugh, but I declare 
 " the fact upon my veracity, which has never been doubted. 
 " Once I pursued this fiend into my ale cellar — she rode 
 " instantly out of my sight into the bung hole of a beer 
 " barrel ; she was at that time mounted on her black ram 
 " with a blue tail ; some time after, my servants were 
 " much surprised to find their ale full of blue hairs — I was 
 " not surprised, as I knew the blue hairs were the hairs of 
 " the ram's blue tail. — Noble Lords may stare, but the factis 
 " as I relate it."— V. Batchelor, V. I. p. 164— No. 24. 
 
 Who after this will hesitate in pronouncing of the younger 
 Earl with me almost the words of a sublime poet — 
 " None but his sire can be his parallel." 
 
 P.R.
 
 49 
 
 Sooner shall Smith give one implicit vote. 
 Or Hector Graham buy himself a coat. 
 Sooner The Press shall deviate into truth, 
 Clanwilliam shall recall his wasted youth, 
 Aldbro' write grammar, Pelham learn to lye, 295 
 Or Kirwan preach without vulgarity ; 
 Than shall each instance of extorted bribe. 
 Allay the clamour of the brawling tribe. 
 But does our cause such policy demand, 
 Must we be brib'd to save our native land ? 300 
 Is not the glorious \NTeath of patriot fame. 
 Sufficient prize our ardour to enflame ? 
 Must we be bribed to combat for our wives. 
 Our children, parents, properties and lives ? 
 No ! we anticipate the glorious call, 305 
 
 We burn to rush upon th'invading GavJ. 
 Foot to his foot, and face to face to stand. 
 And hui'l his bloodv banner from the land. 
 With his foul gore to stain the blushing wave. 
 And give his thousands to their wat'ry grave. 310 
 Hear it and tremble France, and friends to France, 
 Twice sixty thousand Irish Protestants, 
 
 Line 307. Kal ir6da irdp ttoSJ 6els wal eV dairldos affirTS 
 ipeiaas. 
 
 ■n^RTAEUS, Eleg. III. 
 
 This whole elegy is so eminently beautiful, that the following 
 attempt at a free translation may not be unacceptable. 
 The third Elegy of TYRT.f:us, 
 addressed to the loyal 
 
 PROTESTANTS OF IRELAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 Yes ! from the heroes of the Bojne ye spring. 
 
 Be firm ! for Heaven still smiles upon your cause ; 
 
 Fear not the rabble crew — defend your King, 
 Stand boldly forward for your faith and laws.
 
 50 
 
 For pure religion and proud loyalty. 
 Boldly resolve to conquer or to die ; 
 Hear it, ye regicides, and feel dismay, 315 
 
 O'er all the land extends the firm array. 
 The land exulting smiles and owns their patriot 
 sway. 
 
 II. 
 
 Well did your sires sustain the sangviined field. 
 Well did their virtue stem the battle's rage, 
 
 Shall not their sons to make rebellion yield, 
 Advance with courage and with skill engage ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Few, very few, who foremost in the throng, 
 Mix hand to hand, and seek the furious foe. 
 
 Whom the full tide of honour bears along. 
 Whose ardent minds with patriot valour glow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Few of those gallant souls in battle fall. 
 
 Whose deeds intrepid oft a nation save ; 
 While dastard minds who heed not honour's call. 
 
 In coward flight run headlong to the grave. 
 
 But oh i what words can tell the dire disgrace, 
 The foul opprobrium, of a Craven's name. 
 
 Whose servile back inglorious wounds debase. 
 Whom fear erases from the roll of fame. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes 1 gallant Protestants, unshaken stand ! 
 
 Strain every muscle, brace your every nerve. 
 Root your firm footing in your native land. 
 
 And never — never — from your duty swerve. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Each in his hand his tempered blade sustain, 
 Each on the helm exalt the nodding plume, 
 
 Each seek for honour in the paths of pain. 
 Nor shun the glories of a soldier's tomb.
 
 51 
 
 Shall not the muse record hi? honoured name, 
 "Whose spirit first aroused this glorious flame ? 
 Can she forget that 'midst an host of foes, 320 
 From Verner's care this patriot band arose ? 
 Can she forget the man whose honest toil. 
 Called forth the champions of her native soil, 
 That Avhenthe Puritan and Popish band, 
 With kindred malice tore the bleeding land ; 325 
 When treason roamed around the noithern plain, 
 And desolation marked her dreary reign ; 
 When urged to follow Popery's fell career, 
 O'er-laboured murder panted in the rear ; 
 From Verner's spirit and example rose, 330 
 
 Tliis patriot band to crush their frantic foes. 
 That as they rose did raging discord cease. 
 And Ulster smile again in harmony and peace. 
 
 Yes fleeting ministers may pass away. 
 And leave no trace — the meteors of a day, 335 
 Even Camden mav be known beyond his hour. 
 Only for thwarted zeal and trammelled power, 
 Wolfe's gloomy wisdom, Parnell's lumbering sense. 
 And Ponsonby's malignant eloquence ; 
 Inveterate Knox, and his emetic face, 340 
 
 And mewling Tighe, and Grattan's manly grace ; 
 Fitzgerald's chattering, and O'Donnell's din. 
 And crabbed Crookshank's everlasting grin ; 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But boldly brandishing the fatal steel, 
 
 Set foot to foot, and face to face engage, 
 Let the fierce Gaul your power superior feel. 
 
 And bow his banner to your loyal rage. — P. R. 
 
 Line 338. If any man shall presume to imagine that it is 
 the littleness of my own vanity, the petty ambition of a 
 paltry fame, or a weak imagination of my own consequence, 
 which actuatesthe feeling of my mind, when in the discharge 
 of an high official duty, I here lay my finger on this name; 
 either I am unfit to perform that duty, or he does most gross- 
 ly mistake the purity of my conscience. — Arthur Wolfe. 
 
 Line 342. 1 protest and vow — I protest and yow — 1 pro-
 
 52 
 
 All into dark forgetfulness may fade, 
 Nor leaA'e behind the shadow of a shade, 
 ^Yhilc Verner's honest name remains engraved. 
 In the proud record of a nation saved. 
 
 It will be saved ! in patriot virtue bold. 
 Her sons will emulate their sires of old ; 
 Shall not new heroes s'art in everv name, 350 
 
 Tlaat guards with reverence its paternal fame ; 
 Shall not an Osbory in Ormond rise. 
 His King to serve and danger to despise ; 
 Does not the zeal that fired the breast of Cole, 
 As purely glow in Enniskillen's soul ; 
 Fearless of difficulty, proud of toil. 
 May not another Broghill rise in Bovle ; 
 Can wayM'ard Bellamout forget the field. 
 Where gallant Coote beheld O'Conaor yield ; 
 May not a Falkland rise in Castlereagh, 360 
 
 As wise, as loyal, and as brave as he. 
 Shall not new Bakers rise, as yet tmknown. 
 And other Ginkles conquer in Athlone ; 
 Shall not new Murravs, Walkers, Moores be found. 
 The force of France and Popery to confotuid } 365 
 
 Yes, they wdl rise, unconquerably bsi'ave,. 
 The fields their fathers won, again to save, 
 The frantic Gaul, and treason's desperate bantl, 
 To hurl indignant from their native land ; 
 Sedition shall no more our plains defile, 370 
 
 Plenty once more throughout the land shall smile. 
 And Peace again rejoice our emeraM isle. 
 
 test and vow, I don't know — I don't know, who this can 
 mean — who this can mean — who this can mean, &c. &c. — 
 Da capo. James Fitzgerald. 
 
 Line 352. Thi.s gallant young nobleman, the glory of the 
 house of Butler, the pride of Kilkenny, is one of my dear 
 and particular friends ; I honour his spirit, I adore his rank,, 
 I revere his castle of Kilkenny ; I have a cottage myself at 
 Cabragh, and, asthereader is probably one ofmy two hun- 
 dred and thirty-three thousand dear, intimate, and parti- 
 cular friends, I beg, indeed whether he is or not I beg, he 
 will give me a day at Cabragh — any time between tliis and 
 the Greek calends ; I beg you will not forget, my dear good 
 fellow — do not forget- — J n T r.
 
 53 
 
 NOTES TO ORANGE. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 P. R. I have made many inquiries in order to 
 ascertain the meaning of tliese initial letters, and 
 also that of the letters P. and F. and the onlv an- 
 swer that I have been able to obtain is the follow- 
 ing:, contained in a letter from my uncle. Dr. 
 Giftard. 
 
 " Your letter wants no apology; nothing can 
 gratify nie more than to bring back to mv memory 
 one whom I loved so dearlv as I loved vour father, 
 and your purpose of reprinting his verses dehghts 
 me; I must rejoice in whatever does honor to his 
 name, and he left no trace of himself that is not 
 honorable. I am afraid, however, that I cannot 
 give vou any satisfactory answer about P. R. and 
 the P. andi^. I once asked who P.R. was, when 
 I was a little boy, and was answered by a request 
 to give a Greek translation of tol-de-rol-lol, or 
 down-derry-down, or some such thing, from which 
 I inferred, I believe justly, that the letters were 
 capriciously used for the purpose of mystification 
 (to emplov a new word for a thing as old as the 
 fame of Eleusis.) 
 
 " The P. and F. I understood to represent Pro- 
 testant and Friend, but this I believe was merely a 
 conjecture of my own, I cannot recollect any ex- 
 planation on the point, and I must not threaten to 
 encumber you with my help, but I may take the 
 0])portunity to say, that any aid I can give, by in- 
 formation or otherwise, is most heartily at your
 
 54 
 
 service. My judgment is little worth, but I think 
 your father's political verses and songs were his 
 best, and Irish History gives them an interest 
 beyond the merit of the versification." 
 
 Line 7. 
 Curran — in his personal appearance was dark, 
 swarthy, and very ill-looking ; he brought an ac- 
 tion against the seducer of his wife, and called 
 their son as a witness against his mother ; the 
 whole affair was discreditable to CuiTan, and jus- 
 tified the strong language of the Sth line. 
 
 12. 
 Three Members of the Irish Parliament. 
 
 62. 
 
 Hardy — the writer of the life of Lord Charle- 
 mont, does not deserve to be thus classed with 
 M'Anally, who is believed to have enjoyed a pen- 
 sion of £j 300. per annum from Government np to 
 the time of his death, including the period he was 
 employed in defending the defenders and other 
 traitors, and in all their secrets. 
 
 83. 
 Callimote — was an Hugonot General in Willi- 
 am's army. 
 
 123. and 126. 
 
 Viceroys of Ireland. 
 
 127. 
 Foster and Clare. — The former, Chancellor of 
 the Irish Exchequer ; the latter. Speaker of the 
 House of Commons. 
 
 132. 
 Keogh — of Mount Jerome, near Harold's Cross,
 
 00 
 
 Dublin, a very clever and rich silk manufacturer, 
 and the brains-carrier of his party. 
 
 133. 
 Dr. Patrick Duigenan — Member of the Irish, 
 and, afterwards, the United Parliament : always 
 an uncompromising, and unflinching opponent of 
 the Papist party. 
 
 155. 
 This alludes to the defeat of Grattan when Can- 
 didate for Dublin. 
 
 161. 
 John Forbes — Member for Drogheda, who af- 
 terwards emigrated to America. 
 
 217. 
 Three murdered Clergymen. 
 
 233. 
 Dr. Moylan — R. C. Bishop of Cork, and — 
 Dr. Troy — R. C. Archbishop of Dublin, sup- 
 ported the Union. 
 
 246. 
 
 Byrne — a very rich merchant. Often chairman 
 of Roman Catholic meetings. 
 
 Broughall — ditto — less cautious, and inore ho- 
 nest. 
 
 Lewines — a bold and clever attorney. He es- 
 caped, lived long, and died in Paris. 
 
 Keogh — see note on line 132. 
 
 Burke, John Ignatius — an influential Roman Ca- 
 tholic, and often Chairman at their meetings
 
 5C 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 31. 
 Charles Biishe — Afterwards Solicitor General, 
 and now (1841.) Chief Justice. 
 
 107. 
 Edmund Pert/ — Uncle of the Earl of Limerick, 
 Speaker of the House of Commons, in which office 
 he succeeded Mr. Ponsonby. 
 
 145. 
 
 Lord Molra. — These lines allude to his visit to 
 Ireland. This Peer descended from an Irish fa- 
 mily of the name of Rawdon, married the heiress 
 of Hastings, that family being now represented in 
 the male line by the Earls of Huntingdon. The 
 epithet "mendax" is more fully explained in the 
 original note on line 2t>9, Canto III. 
 
 170. 
 Lord Moira was a Lieutenant Colonel during 
 the American war, in the course of which a party 
 under his immediate command, (led by a treacher- 
 ous American over the ice) surprised and cut to 
 pieces in their beds a regiment of Light Horse, 
 called, oddly enough. Lady Washington's Dra- 
 goons. 
 
 217. and 219. 
 The madman was Magee, publisher of the Even- 
 ing Post, tried and convicted for political libels 
 before Lord Clonmel, more than once, who was 
 therefore abused by him for his fiat. This Magee 
 purchased a piece of ground immediately in front of 
 Lord Clonmel's mansion, near Dublin, and named 
 it Fiat Hill. Here he v.eekly entertained the
 
 57 
 
 Dublin populace with ludicrous exhibitions — prizes 
 of pigs with soaped tails — dancing dogs in barris- 
 ters uniforms — donkey races with the jockeys in 
 wigs and gowns, &c. He all the time, however, 
 studiously kept without the grasp of the law, and 
 so annoyed Lord Clonmel, that the chagrin occa- 
 sioned by these and other sources of annoyance 
 eventually broke down his spirits and constitution. 
 
 222. 
 Roman Catholic Relief Bill of 1793. 
 
 242. 
 • Edward Cooke — Under Secretary for Ireland. 
 
 243. 
 Lord Tyrawley. 
 
 244. 
 Sir Jonah Barrington — author of several works 
 on the Irish History of this period, amusing, but 
 not strictly correct. 
 
 245. 
 Right Hon. George Ogle—M. P. for Dublin. 
 
 250. 
 Griffith — author of the " Triumvirate," a novel 
 to which the epithet justly applies. 
 
 279. 
 Arthur O'Connor — afterwards tried for High 
 Treason. He now lives in Paris, General O'Con- 
 nor in the French Army.
 
 58 
 
 CANTO UI. 
 
 130. 
 "What a country this for regenerate man*** 
 ■were the satanic Saxon banished from it. — Vide 
 O'Connell's speech at Cork, January, 1841. 
 
 265. 
 John Egan. — Chairman of Dublin County, a 
 coarse, bluff, red-faced man. He voted last against 
 Lord Tyrone's address in favor of the Union, and 
 the number 110 being announced, flourished a 
 great stick over his head and witli the voice of a 
 Stent or cried out — " and I am one hundred and 
 eleven." 
 
 291. 
 Afterwards Baron Smith. . This should rather 
 be explicit, for he never gave his vote in favour of 
 a measure without stating some objection to it. 
 
 292. 
 Father in law of Lord Norbury, and so miser- 
 able in his dress, that a lady, a near relative of the 
 narrator of this anecdote, was once on the point of 
 giving him sixpence, which he would have ac- 
 cepted.
 
 59 
 
 THE RATS, 
 A Ballad, to the tune of " Chevy Chase." 
 
 "The Rats" was written in 1788, upon occasion of the debates in the 
 Irish House of Commons, upon the Regency Question. "The R^ts" are 
 the Placemen and other Pittites, who supposing the King incurably mad, 
 joined Mr. Grattan and the opposition against the Marquis of Buckingham, 
 Mr. Pitt's Lord Lieutenant. 
 
 1. 
 
 God succour soon our noble king 
 And keep us faithful all ; 
 
 A base desertion did of late 
 In Collesre- Green befall. 
 
 "D"- 
 
 2. 
 
 Fierce Grattan made a dreadful vow, 
 Proud Buckingham to fight;* 
 
 WTiose matchless power had oft before, 
 Distress'd this little wight. 
 
 3. 
 
 And thrice he wound his bugle horn. 
 His horn both loud and shrill ; 
 
 The Rats came trooping to his pipe. 
 Obedient to his will. 
 
 4. 
 From Tipperary's fertile fields, 
 
 Came Curran brisk and keen ;t 
 Well skilled to aim the shaft concealed, 
 
 But bad in fight I ween. 
 
 • The Lord Lieutenant. 
 
 t See Note on line 7 of Orange. 
 1
 
 60 
 
 5. 
 Next floating in a dung-boat came. 
 
 Along the grand canal ;* 
 With Wolfe and Burgh and Conolly,t 
 
 The Lord High Admiral^ 
 
 6. 
 In all the pomp of Eastern pride. 
 
 He gi-imly ey'd the flood ; 
 And ruled with arbitrary sway. 
 
 The boatmen as he stood. 
 
 7. 
 Then from his dark monastic cell. 
 
 With harmless canons graced ; 
 Crept forth ecclesiastic Browne,§ 
 
 In legal armour cased. 
 
 8. 
 His spear v/as of that gander's quill, 
 
 Tliat saved the Capitol ; 
 A Parchment helmet too he wore. 
 
 To save his paper skull. 
 
 9. 
 His shield was formed of many a sheet,. 
 
 Of Puff'endorf deJure; 
 His gorget was of Grotius too. 
 
 To guard the little Fury, 
 
 • The seats of A. Wolfe, I. Burgh, and T. ConoUy. 
 were near the canal. 
 
 t Members of the Irish House of Commons. 
 
 + Richard Griffith, Chairman of the Canal Board, and 
 thence called High Admiral. 
 
 § Arthur Browne, Fellow, and for many years M. P. of 
 Dublin College, Doctor of Laws, and practitioner in the 
 Ecclesiastical Court, he -was of small stature.
 
 61 
 
 10. 
 When sneaking came great Godfrey Greene,* 
 
 And some of small renown ; 
 Bold Grattan saw, and sadly soon, 
 
 He cast his eves adown. 
 
 11. 
 
 But quick with happy thoughts inspired. 
 
 He starts and cries aloud ; 
 Let those who now for pensions sigh. 
 
 With haste come join the crowd. 
 
 12. 
 Leave foolish Buckingham for me. 
 
 And to my standard run ; 
 Haste to salute the rising day. 
 
 Forsake the setting sun. 
 
 13. 
 Those that have places shall have more. 
 
 And those that have not, shall ; 
 And those who like it have their fill. 
 
 Of jobbing and cabal. 
 
 14. 
 These words with mighty influence wTOught, 
 
 On bald Sir John the Paviour,t 
 Who would for thirty pence again. 
 
 Betray his Lord and Saviour. 
 
 * An Irish Barrister, M. P. for, I think, Dungarvon, but 
 he -was not a practising Barrister. 
 
 t Sir John Blaquiere, afterwards Lord De Blaquiere, 
 very bald, at this time Chief Commissioner of the Paving 
 Board, he had been Secretary under Lord Harcourt.
 
 62 
 
 15. 
 
 He sooiij for moderation sure. 
 
 Is not in him inherent ; 
 Hurled paving-stones and channel-dirt, 
 
 Upon the king's Vicegerent. 
 
 16. 
 
 He talked of jobbing, and what not, 
 TiU Harcourt's ghost appear'd ;* 
 
 His shroud with icicles was hung. 
 And eke his silver beard. 
 
 17. 
 The Paviour shrunk, his blood was chill'd. 
 
 But Harcourt still came nigher ; 
 Till to remove the deadly cold. 
 
 He raked the soldier's fire. 
 
 18. 
 
 False Loftusf came and Ponsonby, 
 But who'd expect to find, 
 
 A steadiness in men who live 
 By watching of the wind. J 
 
 19. 
 Then Gervais§ tum'd tho' at the act. 
 
 Nunc meminisse horret ; 
 Yet long he beat the bush about. 
 
 To find a reason for it. 
 
 * A Former Lord Lieutenant. 
 •j- Afterward Marquis of Ely. 
 J Postmasters General. 
 § Gervais Parker Bushe.
 
 63 
 
 20. 
 Then shifted Jack,* for learning fam'd, 
 
 I mean old Jack the Prancer ; 
 Who though the gout has cramp'd his toes, 
 
 Is still a noble dancer. 
 
 21. 
 
 George Oglef too, who ne'er before, 
 
 A thought of baseness harbour'd ; 
 Now hid his face, then veer'd about. 
 
 And stationed on the larboard. 
 
 22. 
 Then lofty buskin'd LangrisheJ too, 
 
 Rein'd Pegasus about ; 
 Tho' gorg'd with favours late received. 
 
 Yet join'd in Grattan's rout. 
 
 23. 
 
 But why should T, of private men, 
 
 Take this superfluous notice ; 
 When those in trust and confidence. 
 
 Thought fit to act the Proteus ? 
 
 24. 
 
 When Shannon^ and his light dragoons. 
 
 And Leinsterll and his brothers; 
 Left Buckingham to save himself. 
 
 And went to join the others. 
 
 * John Hely Hutchinson, Provost of Trinity College, 
 Dublin, called Jack Prancer, father of the fitst Lord 
 Donoughmore. 
 
 f Member for Dublin. 
 
 + Sir Hercules was a kind of literary man. 
 
 ^ The present Lord's father. 
 
 II The Duke, and I think three brothers, amongst them 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald.
 
 64 
 
 25. 
 But faithful John Fitzgibbon stay'd 
 
 To help his Royal Master ;* 
 Kilwarhn,t Mason.J Beresford,§ 
 
 Disdain'd to act the dastard. 
 
 26. 
 And thus I pray that our good King 
 
 May be in health e'er long ; 
 To starve those Rats that fled the ship. 
 
 And so I end my song. 
 
 MACDERMOT'S GHOST. 
 
 " Macderinot's Ghost," a sketch of the orisinal Society of Vnited Irish- 
 men, (the fathers of the Rebellion of 17"J8) at their meeting at the Taylor* 
 Hall, Back Lane, Dublin. It has particular reference to the dispersion of 
 the conspirators bv mv p-anilfather as High Sheriff, on the night May 22, 
 1794 ; the poem was wVitten a few days alter that affair. Macdermot had been 
 lianicd for high treason five weeks before : he was a common fellow of the 
 lowest class of farmers, but the United Irishmen named in the poem were all, 
 or all pretended to be, Gentlemen. I ought to except Bacon, who was a tai- 
 lor,but rich, he was taken in the rebellion, dressed as a woman, and hanged 
 in that (Usguise. 
 
 1. 
 
 Glimmering thro' the distant alley, 
 While a dim lamp hardly shone ; 
 Limp'd the mighty INIacanally, |1 
 Meditating and alone. 
 
 * Earl of Clare. 
 
 •f- Afterwards first Marquis of Downshire. 
 
 X I. Monk Mason. 
 
 § John Beresford. 
 
 II An Irish Barrister, Member of the Society of United 
 Irishmen, and, as their champion, fought a duel with Sir 
 Jonah Barrington for speaking in opprobrious terms of 
 that Society.
 
 65 
 
 2. 
 
 Often did his footsteps falter, 
 Often did his ardour check ; 
 While around a shadowy halter, 
 Play'd on his devoted neck. 
 
 3. 
 
 Soon the black Association, 
 Of sedition's sons he found ; 
 Leagued to ffive this wretched nation. 
 Many a deep and mortal wovind. 
 
 4. 
 
 Scowling in each gloomy feature. 
 Blasphemy and murder lay ; 
 Frowns that chill the soul of nature. 
 O'er each face alternate play. 
 
 5. 
 
 But their hon-or shall I terra it. 
 Panic, fright, or abject fear ; 
 When the form of pale Macdermot, 
 Seemed to fill the vacant chair. 
 
 6. 
 
 With wan cheeks and hair defiled. 
 While his neck a halter tied ; 
 O'er the frighted g"ang he smiled. 
 As from his dread form they hied. 
 
 7. 
 Panting every hair erected. 
 First the idiot spokesman fled : 
 Trembling like a thief detected. 
 Ran the son of smuggling Ned.
 
 66 
 
 8. 
 There, who once for fees could strain hard. 
 Who so many friends has hung ; 
 Sinks the flesh of limping Leonard> 
 Melted to a heap of dung. 
 
 9. 
 
 But the bold dare-devil swaggers. 
 And his brother, desperate pair ; 
 Now they aim their Gallic daggers. 
 But they pierce a form of air. 
 
 ^ ' 10. 
 
 As for thee unhappy scion* 
 Of an old and noble stock ; 
 Thee shall Pity cast her eye on. 
 Thee no taunting scorn shall mock. 
 
 11. 
 Starving quacks and briefless lawyers. 
 Foolish gulls and crafty cheats ; 
 Tradesmen who know no employers. 
 Gentlemen without estates. 
 
 12. 
 
 Some in dire confusion running, 
 Heap'd upon each other fall ; 
 Some the dreadful spectre shunning. 
 Curse the uncomplying wall. 
 
 13. 
 
 Not six months were half so tedious. 
 To the soul of mighty Bond ;t 
 Nor to be confined an age, as 
 Those few minutes in such pound. 
 
 * I suppose the Hon. Simon Butler, son of Lord Mount- 
 garret, Chairman of the Society. 
 
 t A woollen draper and t?ilor, Secretary of the Society, 
 — he was sentenced tp t)e hsuiged, but died in prison.
 
 67 
 
 14. 
 Now the prince of petty follies. 
 Sends an odour through the room : 
 Who mistakes the scent of Collis, 
 Overcoming all perfume? 
 
 15. 
 But, alas ! escape is hopeless. 
 Death invoked rejects their call ; 
 Nor •will Ewing* spin a rope less. 
 For the law will have them all. 
 
 16. 
 
 And behold a new disaster, 
 See of ghosts a horrid band ; 
 Rise around their strangled master, 
 And at every elbow stand. 
 
 17. 
 See, he cries, this dismal presence. 
 Quickened once with honest hearts ; 
 These were all brave Irish peasants. 
 Victims of your baleful arts. 
 
 18. 
 Many a curse their weeping widows, 
 Pour upon your hateful gang ; 
 "Will they (cry their orphans) feed us. 
 By whose arts our fathers hang. 
 
 19. 
 Can we from the wealth of Hervey.f 
 Hope to pick one scanty meal ; 
 No, alas ! tho' hundreds starve, he 
 Of his pleasures will not fsul. 
 
 * The hangman. 
 
 t Bagenel Hervey, one of the Chiefs of the Wexford 
 rebels, and afterwards hanged. 
 2
 
 68 
 
 20. 
 
 Will the skill of quacking Drennan* 
 Heal the wounds his pen has made ; 
 Oh that cursed itch of penning, 
 Many a brave heart low has laid. 
 
 21. 
 
 Could the skill of learned Emmet, 
 Save us from th' offended law ; >i 
 
 When the tide came could he stem it. . . ' 
 
 Could he save us from its clav,-. 
 
 22. 
 
 What avails the land that Tone.f 
 Baselv like a traitor fled ; 
 If his foul companions go on. 
 His sedition still to spread. 
 
 23. 
 
 I alas but for your poison. 
 Still might live content with ease ; 
 Had I ne'er your works set eyes on, 
 Base destroyer of my peace. 
 
 24. 
 
 Roused by libels into riot, 
 I dared wrestle with the law ; 
 And destroy'd my country's quiet, 
 Hoping still the state to awe. 
 
 * A Doctor, — the penman and bard of the Society — au- 
 thor of several poems. He first gave the epithet " Eme- 
 rald Isle " to Ireland. 
 
 -j- T. W. Tone, who was an emissary from the Irish re- 
 bels to the French Directory, and held a French commis- 
 sion.
 
 69 
 
 25. 
 But alas my race is ended, 
 Bv a shameful death I fell ; 
 Ail my guiltless kindred branded. 
 Hear me then ye fiends of hell. 
 
 26. 
 See these ghastly spectres round ye, 
 Each an hempen halter bears ; 
 Heav'n will now at length confound ye, 
 'Tis for you the rope he wears. 
 
 27. 
 Have you seen the soaring eagle, 
 Pounce upon the hare below ; 
 Have you seen the furious beagle. 
 Rush upon his brush tailed foe. 
 
 28. 
 Lo! but hark what dismal howHng, 
 Hark what cries assail our ears ; 
 Who flies first — the doughty Dowling, 
 Now runs Webb, and now runs Sheares.* 
 
 29. 
 Tis the halter so has scared him. 
 Dreadful sight to guilty eyes ; 
 Had the devil come he'd dared him. 
 From a rope the felon flies. 
 
 30. 
 
 Hear the noise and see the bustle. 
 Now flies Bond and blasphemy ; 
 Empty Lewins, puny Russel, 
 Bandy Wright and Dixon see. 
 
 ■ * All United Irishmen. Tlie brothers Sheares were 
 afterwards hanged.
 
 fO 
 
 31. 
 
 See -who is he yonder stirring. 
 Who to hide employs each art ; 
 O ! art thou there dirty Curran ? 
 Monkey face and Vipers heart ! 
 
 32. 
 
 Who is he with terror shaking. 
 Underneath a shop-hoard hid; 
 'Tis what once was Major Bacon, 
 Wlio could cribbage as he did ! 
 
 33. 
 
 Who art thou with block and axe on. 
 Art thou trembling traitor there ; 
 Come thou forth unlucky Jackson,* 
 From beneath M'Dermots chair. 
 
 34. 
 Now a tribe of nameless traitors, 
 Mixt in vile confusion throng ; 
 Pimps, attornies, tailors, waiters. 
 Scud with hasty steps along. 
 
 35. 
 Just so pale, so wan, so terrified. 
 So with panting horror scared ; 
 Once they from the haughty sheriff hied. 
 When unbidden he appeared. 
 
 36. 
 Still the room is stained with treason, 
 Tho' the coward crew is fled ; 
 Let us now their papers seize on, 
 Embryo libels yet unread. 
 
 * Rev. W. Jackson, Agent for the French Directory to 
 the United Irishmen, — afterwards convicted of treason and 
 hanged.
 
 71 
 
 37. 
 Here exclaims the chieftain spectre, 
 Bum their papers, burn their plans; 
 These are from their Grand Director, 
 Long may he remam in France. 
 
 38. 
 Here are rules to raise defenders. 
 Here the weakness of the coast ; 
 Artful libels fit for sounders. 
 Treason for the Morning Post. 
 
 39. 
 Here are challenges for judges. 
 Fairly penned and fit to fill ; 
 Now their favorite Priestly trudges. 
 Burn despised sire of Dl. 
 
 40. 
 Burn these sons of insurrection, 
 Price, and Macintosh, and Paine ; 
 Heap the pile with this collection. 
 Burn the democratic train. 
 
 41. 
 Muir, and Margarot, and Skirving, 
 Gerald, Dry, and Dance, and Frost ;* 
 Dignum, too, the well deservmg, 
 Now your letters in are tost. 
 
 42. 
 Here, but hark the dawn approaches, 
 Urge the all devouring fire ; 
 Hark the cock our stay reproaches. 
 From this nether world retire. 
 
 All preachers or actors of sedition.
 
 72 
 
 43. 
 Chanticleer his larum sounded, 
 Every ghost tho' fond to stay; 
 Instant at the summons bounded, 
 Yielding to the voice of day.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS.
 
 LYME REGIS. 
 
 " ThSngs nnattempted yet in prose orThjfme," 
 I Stiu would sing— and be the subject Lym«v 
 
 Far on the bosom of the circling bay. 
 That sweeps from rocky Portland west away ; 
 Where the first blush of early morning dawns. 
 With laughing light on Devon's lovely lawns ; 
 Beneath tall cliffs that o'er the ocean frown. 
 Reclines the quiet unpretending town ; 
 And snugly nestled in that circling sweep. 
 From a green vale looks forth upon the deep. 
 Unvexed by crowds and little known to fame. 
 Though on her front she bears the royal name.* 
 Here tranquil joys a resting place have found. 
 And calm domestic comfort breathes around ; 
 Here poor contentment finds repose and health, 
 Nor fears the insolence of neighbouring wealth ; 
 Here patient Thrift her little store can nurse. 
 And decent Pride can husband his poor purse ; 
 The war-worn Veteran bending to the earth. 
 With plenty here can trim his humble hearth ; 
 And hither broken Fashion will repair. 
 To shun the scenes she can no longer share ; 
 
 * Lyme Regis, in Dorsetshire, on the Eastern horder of 
 Devon, was formerly a port of consequence ; it has still a 
 little trade ; but the roads to it lying over very steep hills, 
 and its ancient Pier (called the Cobb) being much decayed, 
 it has not advanced with the general prosperity of the em- 
 pire. It contains 360 houses, and 1925 inhabitants; re- 
 turns two members to Parliament ; 143 miles from London, 
 and in Summer is resorted to for its excellent sea bathing, 
 h
 
 And tkougli still missing from her humble bcjard. 
 
 The luxuries she can no more aflbrd ; 
 
 Often her little means consigned to waste. 
 
 To keep the farce of dignity and taste. 
 
 The "sweet boudoir" — the poor but gay saloon. 
 
 And the dull hai-p unconscious of a tune, 
 
 While the sad slave of all this state is fed 
 
 On scanty morsels of unrelished bread. 
 
 Here too are pleasures free from guilt or shame ; 
 
 The sportive dance the cheap and sober game. 
 
 The idler's librarv — the sheltered \\i\\\i — 
 
 The serious converse — the enlivening talk. 
 
 The week-day business and the sabbath's calm. 
 
 The church o'er flowing and the heartfelt p^alm. 
 
 Health o'er the lucid wave inviting stands. 
 
 And calls the weak to tread these yellow £and^^; 
 
 Or climb the toilsome cliff with labouring breast. 
 
 To give repose and appetite a zest. 
 
 While tenantless the house of bondage lies ;* . 
 
 And Nature smiles in all her countless dyes. 
 
 Yet even amidst these blessings may be seen. 
 
 Some wayward Spirit sick with party spleen ; 
 
 That with an appetite perverted pines,. 
 
 Unless he thinks his country's v»eal decline? ; 
 
 Though peace and comfort all around him ri^^e. 
 
 And stand so obvious to his angry eyes. 
 
 That he might fairly feel his hopes untrue ; 
 
 Still does the weekly press his bile renew. 
 
 And prove midst glories gain'd and victories won, 
 
 Tliat England is, or ought to be, undone. |- 
 
 * The goal of Lyme, known by the unexplained name of 
 Cocknamoyle, or Cockamoyle, stands unoccupied. 
 
 i' The class of Antipatriots seems peculiar to England. 
 In other countries individual traitors are found whose cor- 
 rupt passions or purposes debauch them from the natural 
 love of their country ; but they work in secret and conceal 
 their miscreancy : in England only do they form an avowed 
 class exulting in the distresses, exaggerating the losses, and 
 depreciating the glories and successes of their country. — ■
 
 For liere — even here will blander force its way. 
 And here each newest poison of the d;iy, 
 1 lot from corrupted London's foulest slime. 
 Is duly i*ped to taint the air of Lyme. 
 The vulgar clamour and the beastly bray. 
 The coward lie that stalls and slinks away; 
 And those fit allies of sedition's crew. 
 The impious novel and the false review. 
 The son;;ri of lewd Cotytto's filthy train. 
 The atheist reverie, the incestuous strain; 
 And his whose rancorous hatred of mankind. 
 Is justice to his own polluted mind. 
 But still rejected by the wise and just, 
 Thev find contempt and only raise disgust; 
 And it is fit that this malignant band. 
 Should ever wear in front a warning brand ; 
 That rankling Treason still should he combined, 
 \Vith all of loathsome to the human mind. 
 That he who hates the Altar and the Throne, 
 His Maker and his ordinance disown; 
 That he whose factious qries the laws assail. 
 Should gloat in crimes at vrhich the w^orld turns 
 
 pale. 
 That he whose soul discordant and impure. 
 No sight o'i guiltless quiet can endure ; 
 Should raise tlie serpent hiss at wouian's name,* 
 The deaic-:t tie that binds the social frame. 
 
 — TheFrtncli Emigrants, whose cause we were fighting, 
 were wont to rejoice in the very victories which seemed to 
 seal their interminable exile, while persons born in England, 
 I v.'ill not call them Englishmen, "though calved in West- 
 minster, deplore the triumph of Warterloo ; aye, and record 
 their Antipatriotism in prose and verse. 
 
 * Onu of this gang who styles himself a critic in his Lec- 
 tures read before some Cockney Club, (Institution I believe 
 it is called in their slang) has dared to utter against the 
 whole race of English Women, a slander so foul and univer- 
 sal, as should induce every father, son, and brother, in the 
 iiiigdom to arm himself with a whip — 
 
 " To lash the rascal naked thro' the world^ 
 " Even from the East to West."
 
 Tlie first best blessing sent him from above. 
 To form rude man to pure devoted love, 
 To sooth bis selfish violence and show, 
 A glimpse of Heaven in happiness below, — ■ 
 When commerce ill or feebly understood. 
 Committed our fair fleeces to the flood,* 
 And sent the treasures of our verdant do\vns. 
 To swell the turgid wealth of Belgian towns ; 
 The painful pack-horse toiled through many a lane. 
 Even now impervious to the cumbrous wain. 
 Patient o'er steep and tedious ways to climb : 
 And pour these riches in the lap of Lyme. 
 Then stretched the massive pier into the wave,t 
 The fragile bark to shelter or to save ; 
 Then rose the frequent mansion fair and gay. 
 And looked delighted o'er the silver bay ; 
 Then bustling wealth and happy labour smiled. 
 And the snug port was Traflick's favourite child. 
 But times are changed — the smooth and spaciQ,us 
 
 road. 
 And still canal now bear the gainful load. 
 
 Through what polluted channnel this wretch may 
 have crawled into existence it would be worse than loss of 
 time to enquire ; but we may be allowed to wonder that 
 such things should be delivered with impunity before per- 
 sons addressed as " Ladies and Gentlemen." Yet so it is, 
 and it would be quite as erroneous as to estimate a rasin's 
 moral character by the support he receives from a West- 
 minster mob, and to infer from thence that he was nei- 
 ther a swindler, a libeller, nor an assassin, as to suppose 
 that a Cockney Lecturer need possess the qualities of de- 
 cency and common sense. 
 * "Committed her fair innocence to the flood." — Milton, 
 -f- This curious sample of engineering is called the Cobb, 
 (t. e. Kop Head) it is at present under partial repair, having 
 been much injured by a tremendous storm in 1816. Na- 
 ture seems to point out a foundation for its continuation 
 in a ledge of rock stretching southward from its present ex- 
 tremity into the bay, such an addition would form the best 
 Harbour between Plymouth and Portsmouth, and secure 
 shipping from the clangers of Portland Race.
 
 Destined to exercise a British lopm. 
 In -wealtliy Bradford or in pious Frome.* 
 And since steep hills their barrier interpose. 
 Leave the poor port to calm and dull repo&e; 
 Perchance did not these lefty hills exclude. 
 The world upon our comforts would intrude ; 
 And with its acts of luxm-y and gain, 
 Bring sordid vice and sorrow in her train. 
 But while the crowded mast and frequent §ail. 
 Gave wealth and bustle to this lovely vale, 
 Then often Lyme thy little navy bore, 
 The fiower of England to the Gallic shore.t 
 And still may Fancy from thy ruined pier. 
 Behold embark the heroes of Poictier, 
 Or those who won the prize of Cressy's field. 
 Or saw at Agincourt the Frenchman yield ; 
 How did their gorgeous banners sweeep the air, 
 NeviUe and Bourchier, Mortimer or Vere ; 
 Where now those mighty names, and higher yet. 
 Greater than all — where is Plantagenet ; 
 Whelmed in the tide of time entombed they lie. 
 In thy dark sepulchres — Mortality. J 
 When haughty Philip's unrelenting hate. 
 And bigot wrath in fancied strength elate : 
 Doomed our fair land to bear the yoke of Spain, 
 And spread his proud Armada o'er the maip; 
 
 * Frome deserves this epithet, it was the first to carry 
 into effect by a noble subscription the Act of 1818 for build- 
 ing additional churches. 
 
 f Lyme frequently furnished shipping to the Plantagenet 
 Kings for transporting armies into France. 
 
 X These lines are taken from a speech of Lord Crewe 
 upon the Oxford claim of Peerage, -which with more tast« 
 than is usual in Law writers, Mr. Cruise has quoted in his 
 digest ; but Mr. Cruise may be permitted to enter into the 
 enthusiasm of Lord Crewe, since according to .the West 
 Country^— 
 
 Crawys, Crocker, and Coplestone, 
 WTien the Conqueror came. were at home.
 
 Then gallantry and loyalty wore seen, 
 In eager hope around their patriot Queen ; 
 And as the glorious woman gave the word. 
 Forth from the scabbard leaped each English 
 
 sword. 
 From many a sylvan cove and grassy coomhe. 
 Rushed forth her heroes from the plough & loom ; 
 And hands that only held the scythe before. 
 Unfurled the sail and phed the labouring oar ; 
 With honest zeal and Enghsh courage warmed. 
 Their countless barks around th' invader swarmed; 
 Then Drake and Frobisher and Hawkins bore, 
 Their Sovereign's standard from the western shore. 
 And formed alike to win and rule all heart.-, 
 The glorious Raleigh — Lord of Arms and ^Vrt?. 
 And while they swept her castles from t>.c mi'.in, 
 Crushed all the dawning hopes of haughty Spain.*- 
 Then Lvmef beheld those loftv castles ride, 
 In short-lived triumph o'er the swellijig- tide ; 
 And boldly sent her little fleet to dare, 
 Th' insulting foe and in the Victory sliave. 
 Then did her maidens and her matrons s-lill 
 With breathless expectation crowd the hi!]. 
 And strain across the wave the achin"- siaht, 
 To trace their townsmens banner thro' the hglit. 
 And while exulting infants shouted loud. 
 As broke the flashes through the sulphury cloud ; 
 Oft did the visage pale and frequent start. 
 Betray the pangs that rent the female heart, 
 Xest in the mingled sounds that meet her ear, 
 Might float the dying groans of some one dear ; 
 
 * The zealous patriotism of the West of England on tlie 
 appearance of the Spanish Armada, when every little port 
 sent out its flotilla, and every gentleman armed himself and 
 his tenantry to man these diminutive navies, is well des- 
 cribed by Camden. Drake, Hawkins, Frobisher, and Ra- 
 leigh, those renowned Admirals of Elizabeth were all of 
 Devonshire. 
 
 t The engagement with the Armada commenced v.itliin 
 view of Lyme,
 
 And well I deem that proud Annada bore. 
 One heart that shuddered at its inmost core. 
 To feel there hung upon that day's debate. 
 His country's ruin or his o\vn sad fate. 
 Last of a glorious race, his bigot creed, * 
 Could urge the wish to see his country bleed. 
 Yet gladly did his English feehngs share. 
 In that defeat which gave him to despair — • 
 When rankling from Geneva's sternest school,f 
 The restless Puritan aspired to rule ; 
 And with unholy cant and fraudful arts, 
 Cheated their Monarch of his people's hearts ; 
 Till England's sons beguiled by quibbling words,t 
 Against his person bent their hostile swords. 
 Pampered with wealth deceiving or deceived ; 
 Too deeply Lyme the factious taint received ; 
 The rebel banner on her wall displayed. 
 His measures thwarted and his progress stayed. 
 While faithful Isca|| with protecting arm. 
 Shielded his Queen and royal babe from harm ; 
 For different far the spirit that possessed : 
 Dammouia's sons — the patriots of the West. 
 
 * The last Earl of Westmoreland, of the name of Neville, 
 having failed in an insurrection raised for restoration of 
 Popery, when, as Shakespear says of it — 
 
 " Certain stars shot madly from their spheres," 
 
 fled to Spain, and was on board the Armada, he died in po- 
 verty in Flanders. 
 
 f Countries which have suffered under general contempt- 
 have in more instances than one repaid the injury with in- 
 terest : Geneva, and Corsica, in producing Calvin, Necker, 
 and Buonaparte, have taken ample revenge for the scorn of 
 mankind. 
 
 I "The good old cause" of " The King and Parliament." 
 against the King's person and authority. 
 
 II Exeter (Isca Daumoriorum) was the only place in En- 
 gland where the Queen of Charles I. could rest in safety 
 V. hile s)ie gave birth to the lovely and unfortunate Henrietta, 
 afterwards Duches of Orleans.
 
 « 
 
 Steady in faitli* and firm to England's laws, 
 Their truth gave lustre to their Sovereign's cause ^ 
 Those gallanit soula who crowned ou^ Sti-atton's 
 
 height, t 
 In proud embrace the perils of the fight ; 
 Or up the steepy sides of Landsdowne led, 
 "With Hopton conquered or with Granville bled:t 
 
 * Of the Western Army, Clarendon says, "The fame of 
 their religion and discipline was not less than that of their 
 courage." 
 
 t The Royal army in four columns attacked the Parliament 
 Forces of more than twice their number, strongly posted 
 on the hill of Stratton, in Cornwall, after many hours se- 
 vere contest, they had gained the middle of the ascent, when 
 their ammunition was exhausted ; they then relied on the 
 pike, the forerunner of the British bayonet, and rushing 
 forward overthrew the enemy, took their General prisoner, 
 and as the day closed, met altogether on the top of the hill, 
 "where," says the historian, " they embraced with un- 
 speakable joy." 
 
 I- Sir Beville Granville, (not Grenville,) of a Devonshire 
 family, for many centuries distinguished by loyalty and 
 patriotism, unstained by arrogance or faction. 
 
 The intrepid devotion of Sir Richard Granville in a sea 
 fight off the Azores, in 1.561, forms a glorious feature in 
 our naval history. The courage and conduct of Sir Beville, 
 and the unwearied activity of his brother. Sir Richard, long 
 sustained the Royal cause in the West ; and the services of 
 Sir John Granville, (son of Sir Beville,) in managing the 
 restoration with his kiisman, General Monk, were rewarded 
 by the Earldom of Bath, and the gratitude of the Nation. 
 
 The distinction of name above adverted to becomes ne- 
 cessary on more grounds than one. The spleen of Lord 
 Clarendon, who had a personal quarrel with Sir Richard, 
 has descended to the petty perverseness of writing the name 
 Grenville, and Greenville, and sometimes Greenfield, in his 
 histopr: 
 
 It is observed, that every noble family which could claim 
 desterit' from the Granvilles, has embodied ifs name and 
 titles w-ith their honours. The family of Thynne has taken 
 the title of Bath ; that of Gower, Viscounty of Granville, and 
 even the unaccountable Shelburn, in adopting the title of 
 Landsdowne, paid this homage to his loyaj ancestor. 
 
 It is from a similar feeling that Devonsliirt men and their
 
 9 
 
 Berkeley* and Basset, Arundel and Ball, 
 Trevanion, Slanning, glorious in their fall. 
 
 descendants, at whatever distance of time and place, are 
 anxious to assert tlieir connexion with that county — he 
 who reads the story of the west country loyalists in the pages 
 ef Clarendon will acknowledge that it is a connexion to be 
 proud of. 
 
 The account of Sir Richard Granville's action may be 
 found at full in Hume, vol. r->, p. .'j22. 
 
 In a small vessel with one hundred and three men, lie 
 ■was surrounded by fifty three sail of Spaniards with ten 
 thousand men— he fought for twenty three hours— repelled 
 fifteen attempts to board him, and destroyed four ships and 
 a thousand of tlic enemy, nor until he was severely wounded, 
 and had in vain proposed to blow up his ship, was he com- 
 pelled by the remnant of his crew to strike his colours — 
 the vessel sunk soon after with two hundred Spaniards, and 
 Sir Richard died in a few days, his last words were "Here 
 die I, Richard Gianville, with a joyful and quiet mind ; 
 for that I have ended my life as a true Soldier ought to do, 
 fighting for his country, queen, religion, and honour — my 
 soul willingly departing from this body leaving behind the 
 lasting fame of having behaved as every valiant Soldier is 
 bound to do." 
 
 Of Sir Beville Granville's fall at Landsdowne, the noble 
 Historian of the Civil Wars says: — 
 
 "That which would have clouded any victory, and made 
 the loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Be- 
 ville Granville. He was indeed an excellent person, whose 
 activity, interest and reputation was the foundation of what 
 had been done in Cornwall, and his temper and atiection so 
 public " (patriotic)" that no accident which happened 
 could make any impression on him, and his example kept 
 others from taking any thing ill, or at least seeming to do 
 so: in a word, a brighter courage, and a gentler disposition 
 were never married together to make the most cheerful and 
 innocent conversation." 
 
 *Hoptoh, Arundel, Berkeley, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slan • 
 ning, and Granville. Of Trevanion and Slanning, Clarendon 
 says that "led by no impulsion but that of conscience apd 
 their own observation of the great conductors (for they 
 were both of the House of Commons) they engaged them- 
 .selves in the opposition to Parliament. 
 
 ' ' They were both young, neither of them eight and twenty, 
 and of entire friendship to each other, and to Sir BeviUe 
 
 i
 
 10 
 
 And high Godolphin, Harris brave and good, 
 And generous Monk himself of regal blood;* 
 
 Granville, * * * they were both mortally wounded at the 
 same moment * * * both had the royal sacrifice of their 
 sovereign's particular sorrow, and the concurrence of all 
 good men ; and that which is a greater solemnity to their 
 memories, as it fares with most great and virtuous men 
 ■whose loss is better understood afterwards, they were as 
 often lamented as the accidents in the public affairs made 
 the courage and loyalty of the Cornish of the greatest sig- 
 nification." 
 
 Hopton, Arundel, and Berkeley, were raised to the Peer- 
 age, Godolphin is thus celebrated by Hobbes of Malmsbury. 
 
 " 1 have known clearness of judgement, and largeness of 
 fancy, strength of reason, and graceful elocution, a cou- 
 rage for war, and a fear for the laws, and all eminently in 
 one man, and that was my most noble and learned friend 
 Mr. Sydney Godolphin, who, hating no man, nor hated of 
 any, was unfortunately slain in the beginning of the late 
 Civil War, in a public quarrel, by an undiscerned and undis- 
 cerning hand." 
 
 Of the four above mentioned who fell in battle the un- 
 couth rhyme of the West will shew how ruinous their loss 
 was supposed to be to the Royal cause. 
 "The four wheels of Charles's Wain, 
 " Granville, Godolphin, Trevanion, Slanning slain." 
 
 * It is a part of the cant of faction to impute obscure 
 birth to its opponents. We cannot forget that this reproach 
 was cast on Clive and Warren Hastings. Ciive, v<^ho pos- 
 sessed a patrimony derived from forefathers, settled before 
 the conquest, and Hastings, who has just (Oct. 1818} been 
 laid in his paternal sepulchre amidst ancestors the Lords of 
 Daylesford for the last six hundred years. So it was with 
 Monk, who came one way of the Plantagenets, (Edward 
 the IV. was his father's great grandfather) and in whose 
 veins ran the noblest blood of Devonshire. Yet was he 
 by the Hogg's and Higginses of the day taunted with obscu- 
 rity of birth. 
 
 A more serious charge is made against him in the catch- 
 penny publication called ' the Historical work', that he be- 
 trayed confidential letters in order to effect the (merited) 
 conviction of Argyle. It is, in the first instance, satisfactory 
 to trace the story to the gabble of Burnett; and next, to 
 find that Argyle's trial, reported with abundant tediousness, 
 does not offer a single syllable in support of it.
 
 11 
 
 And yet another and a dearer name, 
 
 Not blazoned in the gorgeous rolls of fame ; 
 
 But fondly still revered in local lore. 
 
 On Taws sequestered banks, and Tamars sylvan 
 
 shore. 
 But vain their stedfast faith, their courage tried, 
 By traitor hands the royal martyr died. 
 Then democratic despotism arose. 
 And hapless England mourning o'er her woes, 
 Saw anarchy to anarchy succeed. 
 Her temples totter, and her children bleed. 
 These were the triumphs of revolted Lyme, 
 But sorrows came in their appointed time. 
 When wretched Monmouth's f cause she madly 
 
 joined. 
 His feeble title, and his feebler mind ; 
 Then did her festive streets with rapture ring. 
 As her fair virgins met the phantom king ; 
 And wreathed their garlands on his luckless sword, 
 And in his hands reposed the sacred word. 
 Short joy ! too soon she heard of Sedgemoor's day. 
 The double treason of the coward Grey ; 
 Their humbled hero crouching on his knee. 
 To bend his bigot uncle's harsh decree ; 
 The savage nature that his tears withstood. 
 And his last hour of misery and blood. 
 But still the storm was distant — soon the vale 
 Re-echoed sad lament and fruitless wail ; 
 \NTiere those fair virgins now — the tyrant's rage, 
 Nor spared their beauteous forms or tender age ; 
 When Kirk and Jefteries, ministers of hell, 
 
 * The weak and unfortunate Monmouth landed at Lyme, 
 ■where (as afterwards at Taunton) a deputation of young 
 •women presented him garlands and a bible. The ruin of 
 his enterprize by the cowardice of Lord Grey, at Sedgemoor ; 
 his miserable and fruitless supplications for life ; his cruel 
 death, and the bloody campaign of Kirk and Jeffries in the 
 cotmties v.'hich had received liim, arc recorded in the His- 
 tories of England.
 
 i^ 
 
 upon this hapless town in vengeance fell. 
 And breathes a Briton who desires once more 
 To rouse these horrors on his native shore ; 
 And for vain shadows of more specious form, 
 Expose his countn- to the ruthless storm. 
 Cain we not see in history's passing page 
 How surely slavery crowns a people's rage : 
 That wild and headlong change but once begun, 
 The pi-ize at last will by the sword be won ; 
 And wasted nations bleed at evey vei%i, 
 That Cromwell or Napoleon mav reign : 
 Till in its mercy Heaven points out the way 
 To Louis or to William's juster sway. 
 No ! to onr countrs^ give the honours due. 
 Our anti-patriots are the noisy few : 
 " Sick of self love" by vain delusions led, 
 Cormptions in plethoric freedom bred ; 
 That swell with momentary pain — and burst 
 And leave the patient healthier than at first ; 
 While Britons to themselves continue just. 
 And still in Heaven's protecting bounty truSt, 
 Nought shall our country dread from civil r-age. 
 The secret compact f or the venomed page. 
 Here sovereign councils still maintained by thee, 
 Hope of the good, and guardian of the free, 
 The noble Falkland of our happier day. 
 Thy country's friend, unshaken Castlereagh : 
 Like him, the patriot with the statesman joined. 
 Of mildest manner and of firmest mind ; 
 Still thy fair course for Britain's welfare hoM, 
 In honour armed, in conscious virtue bold-; 
 Of courage prompt thy sovereign to defend, 
 
 f Mr. Brougham's association in Westmoreland ; hfs 
 branches & affiliations ; his reports and his ribbons, though 
 at present professedly for election purposes, are too mud^ 
 in the taste of the Jacobins, and United Irishmen, not tb 
 awaken serious attention. "Ribbon-men" have been found 
 too mischie%'ous in Ireland, fOr England to desire their in- 
 tvoduction.
 
 IS 
 
 To serve tliv country, or to pave thy friend ; 
 What WilHam's wish, and Anna's anxious pain, 
 And patriot statesmen sought and urged in vain ; 
 To thee in favouring hour was given at length, 
 To hlend our islands in united strength ; 
 To crush corrupted faction's dirty trade. 
 And send its votaries to tlie loom and spade ; 
 Till unincumbered by domestic foes. 
 In her full power Britannia's empire rose; 
 Bade the rude swav of wild discussion cease, 
 And gave the harrassed world to breathe in peace. 
 One who has marked through many a fateful year. 
 The happy progress of thy bright career; * 
 
 * A British Minister is, ex officio, the object of calumny: 
 a tax he pays for his exaltations. But Lord Castlereagh 
 has, besides the enemies common to all Statesmen, enemies 
 enflamed by rancorus feeling of personal disappointment. 
 The great measure of Union was ruin to the traffic of those 
 adventurers so well described by one of their own class, as 
 carrying a little pack of patriotism to the Parliamentary 
 market, the market is no longer open, and the pack must be 
 carried elsewhere. The London newspapers offer at once 
 the means of employment and revenge, and hence the vi- 
 rulence with which Lord Castlereagh is assailed. 
 
 In perfect consistency of public conduct Lord Castle- 
 reagh has not been exceeded. The pledges which he gave 
 as a member of the Northern Club (of Ireland) in 1791, 
 have all been triumphantly redeemed. They were to effect 
 certain internal arrangements for preserving the indepen- 
 dence of the House of Commons, and to obtain a reform 
 in the representation. The first was accomplished by the 
 Irish Place and Pension Acts ; and the last most completely 
 by the Union, which, taking the franchise from one hun- 
 dred close boroughs, and leaving the returns to the coun- 
 ties, cities, and great towns, has given to Ireland a repre- 
 sentation perhaps too democratic. 
 
 It has been a fashion to charge upon Lord Castlereagh 
 those acts of violence said to have been committed in sup- 
 pressing the rebellion of 1798. It is probable that most of 
 these tales of terror might be classed with Mr. Hutchin- 
 son's famous statement, which met so full an explanation 
 from Mr. Croker, when it appeared that the simple fact of 
 exposing the bodies of rebels slain in fight, in order that
 
 14 
 
 One whom his country's sorrow can depress. 
 Whilst high his pulses beat at her success ; 
 One who to courts and factions never bowed. 
 But always what his heart approved avowed ; 
 Speaks from that heart with grateful feelings 
 
 fraught. 
 For good unhoped, and benefits unsought ; 
 Though at safe distance under fervid skies. 
 Still ever turned his soul where Britain lies ; 
 Though far removed he heard no angry sound. 
 Yet could he see the busy scene go round; 
 Could see the Fury faction seize the hour, 
 Of peevish discontent to grasp at power ; 
 Could see the senseless crowd with frenzy vv'ild. 
 Turn on its guardians like a froward child ; 
 Eager, the matchless blessings they enjoy, 
 Their countrv and its glories to destroy ; 
 Who could see this, and not with anguish feel. 
 Deep and sad bodings for the public weal. 
 When first the tempest gathered fierce and loud. 
 And mighty nations sank and empires bowed, 
 By Providence upraised, a pilot stood, 
 Firm at our helm, and stemmed the raging flood ; 
 Through many an arduous day he toiled to save. 
 His darling Britain from the threatening wave ; 
 And when the angry storm appeared to pause, 
 His grateful country crowned him with applause : 
 But soon, too soon, the gathering clouds again, 
 Burst in terrific outrage o'er the main : 
 Again our faithful pilot took his stand. 
 With strength alas ! relaxed, and feebler hand j 
 
 they might be owned and delivered to their friends, was 
 made the foundation of a charge of dehberate and ostenta- 
 tious cruelty. 
 
 But as affecting Lord Castlereagh, the refutation of those 
 calumnies will be found in the fact, that he was not Mi- 
 nister of Ireland until the rebellion had been suppressed, 
 and was then only concerned in the subsequent acts of am- 
 nesty and mercy, now repaid by slander and ingratitude.
 
 15 
 
 Worn down with toil he fell, while his last breath, 
 Pruved for his country as he sunk in death ; 
 Who but remembers that §ad day of gloom. 
 That gave our Guardian to an early tomb: 
 Yet drear as seemed the prospect, though around. 
 In fell and hideous shapes destruction frowned ; 
 While midst the general dread a motley race. 
 Suspicious and suspected, seized his place; 
 Britain relied on Heaven's peculiar care. 
 And with that trust 'twere impious to despair. 
 Though while we wept o'er Pitt and Nelson's bier. 
 And e'en the bravest felt that hour of fear ; 
 When doulit and danger glared on every side. 
 And Tvranny stalked forth with giant stride. 
 Wielding each vassal kingdom but to gain, 
 Another and another to his chain. 
 When coward selfishness and canting fraud. 
 Advised submission to the despot's rod ; 
 When grief did every British heart o'erwhelm. 
 As that fantastic crew assumed the helm ; 
 Who toiled a few mad months to wreck our fame. 
 And brand with impotence the British name ; 
 Who could believe that Britain yet should see. 
 The days of splendour which she owes to thee ; 
 Thy wisdom could in Wellesley's orient fame. 
 See the fit guide to lead the patriot flame ; 
 Which bursting forth from universal Spain, 
 Aroused mankind to rend the tyrant's chain. 
 But these are lofty themes — my humble Muse, 
 Again the subject of her verse pursues ; 
 Let lowly worth her recollection claim. 
 And Lvme exult in honest Coram's f name : 
 Though mean his station, and his birth obscure. 
 Friend of the friendless — patron of the poor ; 
 For many an anxious year the good man toiled, 
 
 * Thomas Coram, a mariner of Lyme, by his unceasing 
 applications to the ])owerful and benevolent, succeeded in 
 cttablishin^ the Hospital for Foundlings, in London.
 
 16 
 
 To snatch from fannine the deserted child j 
 To teach the infant heart its hopes to raise. 
 And Hft its helpless hands to prayer and praise .' 
 Heaven on his pious labours deigned to smile. 
 And British bounty reared the stately pile; 
 Where thousands saved and sheltered yet proclaim. 
 Their ceaseless gratitude to Corara's name. 
 Nor shall thy charms dear Up-Lyme be forgot. 
 The loaded oi-chard, and the sheltered cot; 
 The racy perfume borne upon the breeze, 
 From the full vintage of thy bending trees ; 
 The modest church, the pure and nameless rill. 
 And the wild beauties of thy russet hill :* 
 How sweet from hence to see the infant day, 
 Dance o'er the rippling wave in wanton play : 
 How sweet to see the purple light expand, 
 O'er those tall capes that jut upon thy strand. 
 Like centlnels to guard the lovely laud. 
 Each after each disposed in order still, 
 From Golden Cop to Shipton's lofty hill :t 
 That happy hill to be remembered long. 
 Embalmed in Lewesdon's animated song ; 
 To see the clouds of wreathing smoke that rise, 
 Where in the woodland dell the hamlet lies. 
 How lovely all, how grateful to the sight, 
 Long sickened with the fervid blaze of light. 
 That pours on tropic scenes with beam intense. 
 Fevers the brain, and maddens every sense. 
 And you, dear partner, resting on mine arm. 
 Whose presence lent e'en tropic scenes a charm. 
 How did your heart with happiness expand, 
 
 * The beautiful vale of Up-Lyme, which seems marked 
 out as the track by which to connect Lyme with the great 
 London road,' bat which has been studiously avoided to 
 lead the road over two precipitous hills. Up-Lyme is re- 
 markable for the beauty and abundance of its orchards. 
 
 t Golden Cop, a remarkable headland near Charmoutb. 
 Shipton is described in Mr. Crowe's beautiful poem of Lew- 
 esdon Hill.
 
 17 
 
 When once again you pressed a British strand > 
 
 And saw your playful urchins roving wild 
 
 O'er fields tliat in" the glow of summer smiled ; 
 
 Nor felt that happiness disturbed by care, 
 
 Of lurking serpents, or of noon-tide glare. 
 
 How with a pleasure long uiitasted trace. 
 
 The ruddv bloom of every rustic face ; 
 
 And think how ill the pomp of pride and wealth. 
 
 Exchanged for thee — inestimable health. 
 
 Far to the westward lies an antique pile. 
 
 Round whose grey walls the golden orchards smile ; 
 
 Where Axe through meadows winds his lucid way 
 
 There Blenheim's hero first beheld the day.* 
 
 Rich in his country's love, his poets praise. 
 
 And still unrivalled till our happier days ; 
 
 For dark the traits by faithful history told. 
 
 His crooked counsels, and his lust of gold. 
 
 Ours is the faultless hero. East and West, 
 
 The unchecked triumph of his arms attest ; 
 
 The glorious champion of delivered Spain, 
 
 The tyrant's scourge, the soldier without stain : 
 
 Britannia's pride, lernes' darling son. 
 
 And Europe's shield, unconquered Wellington. 
 
 Oh ! that my feeble summons could awake. 
 
 The harp of Modor, or the Northern lake ; 
 
 Or his who sung of Floden's direful fray, 
 
 Or the high strain of Talavera's day. 
 
 To distant times his glories to prolong. 
 
 Then should the theme be equalled by the song ; 
 
 Now to our rural theme, the woodland hill. 
 
 The clustered hamlet, and the glassy rill ; 
 
 "Where no swoln opulence usurps the scene. 
 
 Contracts the sunny slopes, the dingles green ; 
 
 * Ash, about five miles from Lyme, now a farm-house, 
 formerly a seat of the Drobe family. Sir Winf on Churchill, 
 a zealous royalist, having taken refuge here with his bro- 
 ther-in-law, Sir John Drobe, his son John, the first Duke 
 of Marlboroufrh, was born here in 1G50. 
 k^
 
 1§ 
 
 But all is free as is the balmy air, 
 
 Which wealth may taste, and poverty may share. 
 
 The roving eye on yonder up-land meets. 
 
 The track that leads to Pinhay's green retreats. 
 
 But let me the intrusive step forbear. 
 
 The guarded gate prohibits entrance there ; 
 
 And Pinhay, boast of every neighbouring tongue. 
 
 Her cliffs and orchards must remain unsung. 
 
 And hark ! across the dell a welcome peal. 
 
 From yon grey tower proclaims the time of meal; 
 
 And as our lightsome step the hill descends, 
 
 To join our social board and cheerful friends. 
 
 To meet the laughing love of infant eyes. 
 
 And the soft smiles on beauty's cheek that rise ; 
 
 With thoughts elastic as the ambient air. 
 
 Our grateful spirit breathes a fervent prayer, 
 
 That never vice or discord may annoy 
 
 These haunts of innocence and quiet joy; 
 
 And ever 'mongst them boasr delightfvd vale. 
 
 O'er flowing churches, and an empty jail. 
 
 End of Part I.
 
 19 
 
 Part II. 
 
 That bell again! but oh! how changed the sound. 
 As flote the dull and measured notes around. 
 To tell alike the serious and the gay, 
 A fellow soul has left its home of clay. 
 And passes now the inevitable bourn. 
 Which each of us must travel in his turn ; 
 And though we know the irrevocable doom. 
 Yet act as though secure it ne'er could come. 
 And what new victim of Autumnal rage. 
 Now takes departure from this busy stage, 
 The trappings and the virgin shaw-ments tell, 
 A spotless maid has bid this world farewell : 
 Few days have passed to her of grief and pain. 
 Since last we saw her lead the infant train; 
 What time their morning task was cheerly done. 
 To sport and glitter in the early sun ; 
 How did their little looks for favour vie, 
 Or shrink corrected from her watchful eye ; 
 How did her gentle voice approval speak. 
 How did her kindly hand support the weak ; 
 Excite the humble and confirm the gay. 
 Herself as mild and innocent as they ; 
 That gentle voice is silent, that fine form 
 W^ill now be laid a banquet for the worm ; 
 And that pure spirit unincumbered rise. 
 To seek its lasting mansion in the skies. 
 Now mourners for a time, the funeral train 
 Appears to read the lesson not in vain ; 
 The solemn service rendering dust to dust. 
 And teaching us in whom to place our trust : 
 Awakens all to feel the chastening rod. 
 And own the power and mercies of our God. 
 The earth cast in calls forth a hollow sound, 
 That strikes perforce on every bosom round ; 
 And tells us m a strain from flattery free.
 
 20 
 
 Both what we are, and what we soon must be. 
 
 And now the grave is closed, a grassy heap 
 
 Just marks the spot in %vh)ch her ashes sleep; 
 
 The crowd attest her innocence and truth. 
 
 Deplore her suiferings, and her hapless youth. 
 
 And then dis];erse, each on his several way, 
 
 To join the sport or business of the day. 
 
 And waste, regardl?ss of its healing hour. 
 
 The precious balsam of this serious hour. 
 
 And I am left alone, below me raves 
 
 Tlie restless ocean, round me are the graves ; 
 
 In vain to them th' incessant surges roar. 
 
 Their silent tenants heed the sound no more ; 
 
 But their ambition sleeps not, still survives 
 
 On many a stone the storv of their lives. 
 
 Here one : — six times a Mayor, reclines in state. 
 
 And tells, for history's sake, his name and date; 
 
 For 't would be serious loss to after time, 
 
 Were the world is^norant he was Mavor of Lvme. 
 
 Here lies a wanderer, many a region passed. 
 
 His wear-y footsteps here are fixed at last ; 
 
 He long in burning climes for wealth had sought. 
 
 And ruined health with riches homeward brought; 
 
 In vain he looked to medicine for aid. 
 
 The rankling poison on his vitals preyed ; 
 
 And when e'en Doctors could. not but despair, . 
 
 They sent him here to gasp his native air. 
 
 In the next narrow-house a darling maid, 
 
 With trembling hands by sorrowing parents laid. 
 
 Is just recorded by an humble stone. 
 
 But to dear friends and loved companions known ; 
 
 Tlie simple letters that commenced her name. 
 
 Protection for her ashes serve to claim, 
 
 And say no more ; no praise of form or birth. 
 
 But unobtrusive as her modest worth. 
 
 Now, by the path that winds among the tombs. 
 
 With faultering steps an aged rustic comes ; 
 
 Jle stops beside a tomb that seems to raise,
 
 21 
 
 Some recollection of his earlier days ; 
 
 Questioned he tells me, — " One that I knew well, 
 
 " Is here reposing in his narrow cell ; 
 
 " For many a year with almost brother's love, 
 
 " Did we our varied lot together prove ; 
 
 " Since full of life, with boyish hopes possessed, 
 
 " We left our home, a Borough in the West; 
 
 " Long struggled he in poverty and pain, 
 
 " A scanty living in these parts to gain; 
 
 " At last a rich relation died, whose wealth 
 
 " Could give him everv thing but ease and health, 
 
 " His labour ceased indeed, but with it ceased, 
 
 " The power to combat anguish that increased; 
 
 " A little while he held his golden prize, 
 
 " Was rich and wretched, and now here he lies. 
 
 " If vou would please to hear, I can relate, 
 
 " The tale of that rich kinsman and his mate ; 
 
 " I had it from the Vicar, full and true, 
 
 " For all from first to last his Reverence knew. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 From twelve years old to forty (bless the mark) 
 
 Was Peter Hogson a pains taking clerk; 
 
 At cyphering he could puzzle half the land. 
 
 And much he boasted his fair Roman hand ; 
 
 He, in due time, could accurately spell. 
 
 And round a period excellently well ; 
 
 Knew all the nicety of office forms. 
 
 The hint that checks the hope, the phrase that 
 
 warms ; 
 The frothy promise of all meaning clear. 
 The harsh rebuke, the cold and haughty sneer ; 
 But as they flowed from Hogson's plodding quill. 
 He felt as little for their good or ill. 
 As if he were a mere official mill. 
 In his sqat form, and hard unmeaning face.
 
 22 
 
 No jot of genius could tli' observer trace; 
 
 Yet Peter Hogson was not quite a fool, 
 
 And from experience gathered many a rule ; 
 
 To lowly naen could scarcely be polite. 
 
 Or in a great man's presence stand upright ; 
 
 But most observant of his patron's eye. 
 
 His back was ever bent when he was by ; 
 
 True, Peter Hogson was uncouth and rough, 
 
 His bow was humble, and that was enough; 
 
 And as that bow hi? patron chanced to please. 
 
 Promotion followed him in due degrees; 
 
 When manv a painful year at pounce and pen, 
 
 Had lifted Hogson above vulgar men; 
 
 It served some useful purposes of state. 
 
 To make old Peter our Chief Magistrate ; 
 
 And he and Abigal were forthwith sent. 
 
 To bless our borough with good government. 
 
 For prudent Peter his designs to aid. 
 
 Had wed his patron's mistress waiting maid ; 
 
 Long time had mistress Hogson, luckless dame. 
 
 Endured in sorrow such a vulgar name ; 
 
 But when upon her spouse a title fell. 
 
 For what exploit no man alive would tell ; 
 
 Then lady Hogson shone forth in her pride. 
 
 And knight and lady simpered side by side; 
 
 At church in grimly consequence he sate, 
 
 And filled with portly paunch the chair of state ; 
 
 Raised just twelve inches from the vulgar floor. 
 
 His swinish form was seen from either door ; 
 
 Whether he qhose to pray, or doze, or snore; 
 
 Full in his front to catch each amourous look. 
 
 The lady Hogson kneeled behind her book ; 
 
 And smoothed her gown in many a decent fold. 
 
 While all around her ogling eyes she rolled ; 
 
 Or else, affecting a religious qualm. 
 
 She swayed her see-saw body to the psalm ; 
 
 And waved her book, and spread her arnis abroad, 
 
 To shew the public how she worsliipped God ;
 
 ^3 
 
 For lady Hogson even at her prayers, 
 
 Could not forget her mistress cast otfairs; 
 
 And whatsoever station she inightfill, 
 
 In ntianners was a waiting woman still ; 
 
 Mean, sordid, selfish, arrogant, and vain. 
 
 The knight and lady scorned the borough train; 
 
 And knowing they deserved the public hate, - 
 
 By insolence essayed to keep up state; 
 
 Their ready tool at hand was Lawyer Sneak, 
 
 To cheat the powerful, and oppress the weak; 
 
 The lowest circles of the servile tribe. 
 
 Prepared with smile, and bow, and lie, and gibe. 
 
 To fetch reports, to hint his worship's will. 
 
 And poison in the general car distil ; 
 
 To note who failed in reverence, or was slack. 
 
 Or on the worthy lady turned her back; 
 
 To watch those crimes that no excuse allow, 
 
 A still born courtsey, or a mangled bow ; 
 
 But mid her honours, insolence, and airs, 
 
 Poor Lady Hogson had her secret cares ; 
 
 In her old spouse she could distinctly trace. 
 
 How fast the crow's-feet puckered round his face ! 
 
 In his short neck, red nose, and sunken eyes. 
 
 She saw that death might take him by surprise ; 
 
 And knew how slight, unless possessed of store. 
 
 The charms of widowhood at fifty-four ; 
 
 Though few those years compared with sixty-sfeveft, 
 
 "Which he had numbered on his road to heaven; 
 
 Against that dangerous period to provide, 
 
 She sacrificed e'en consequence and pride ; 
 
 Scanted his table, locked his cellar close. 
 
 And drove expensive follies from his house ; 
 
 Placed every penny carefully at nurse, 
 
 And spared no pains to fill her private purse; 
 
 She thought, if nothing better could be had. 
 
 That Lawyer Sneak was still a comely lad ; 
 
 But fate upon her purpose chose to frown, 
 
 A luckless fever knocked m}t Lady down ;
 
 24 
 
 Old Petev followed, and his hoarded store, 
 Enriched a kinsman driven ft'om his door ; 
 While a fine monument all gold and praise. 
 His name and virtues to the world displays. 
 
 This was the Vicar's tale, and hence he drew. 
 Much useful moral, sound, and just, and true. 
 That riches bring not happiness— that man 
 Must look-for sorrow in life's narrow span, 
 That fairest hopes on worldly prospects built. 
 Are blighted oft by misery and guilt : 
 But he would add^ to cheer our sinking hearts. 
 The assurance which the sacred word imparts ; 
 That in our deepest sadness— faith supplies, 
 A never faihng balm for weeping eyes ; 
 And who has not his sorrows? in this vale. 
 That spreads her bosom to the southern gale ; 
 That decked in nature' s plenty seems to smile. 
 The loveliest favourite of a lovely isle ; 
 Where beauties count the seasons as they run, 
 And gather freshness each revolving sun ; 
 Where rosy health might hold her happy court. 
 And round her joy and innocence resort ; 
 E'en here can life experience every shade, 
 E'en here can folly ruin, vice degrade; 
 E'en here can baffled hope distress the mind. 
 And fleeting pleasure leave but stings behind ; 
 As objects seen at distance oft agree. 
 In one soft tint of blended harmony ; 
 Which, when submitted to our nearer eyes. 
 In broken slopes, and hideous contrast rise ; 
 E'en so with man — too oft his outward show, 
 May beam with joy and pleasure's splendid glow ; 
 But seen more nearly, passions angry jar, 
 And pain, and crime, the fair appearance mar : 
 Wretched, indeed, as beings without hope.
 
 25 
 
 Were we, did this world bound our utmost scope; 
 This world, whose choicest gifts oft hear a stain 
 Of vice, or guilt, or infamy, or pain : 
 Were there not proffered to om* seeking eyes, 
 A glorious and imperishable prize ; 
 Proifered by him All-merciful All-good, 
 Who in return asks only gratitude ; 
 Yet, your philosophers who hate the light. 
 Will rather grovel on in blundering night. 
 And, purblind in the radiant blaze of day. 
 Prefer his own weak reason's lanthorn ray ; 
 E'en now I see him ranging o'er the strand. 
 His basket and his hammer in his hand. 
 Pride in his heart, and cunning in his eye. 
 He comes to prove all Moses wrote, a lie ; 
 Decides by oyster shells and rows of mud. 
 That all is fable about Noah's flood ; 
 Thinks every blow he strikes upon the rock. 
 He gives to Genesis a mortal shock ; 
 Shews by the cockles in their strata laid. 
 That this eternal world was never made ; 
 And a Creator briefly thus dismissed. 
 Away with fear and worship, creed and priest; 
 Then hies him home his wetted shoes to change. 
 His specimens and notions to arrange ; 
 And with the knowledge he so wisely gleans. 
 Fill Scotch Reviews, and Atheist IMagazines; 
 Others in raetaphysic lore refined. 
 Become the manglers of the human mind ; 
 Strip all its form and loveliness away. 
 And bare each loathsome weakness of the day ; 
 Then gloating o'e^r the butcheries of their knife. 
 Exulting cry, " of such is human life :" 
 But such we were not made; the sordid earth 
 That cradles in the infant soul from birth. 
 May with gross passions and perverted views 
 Be soiled, and spotted, and the taint diffuse 
 Upon the immortal spirit ; but a power, 
 1
 
 26 
 
 Benevolent as just, will give the hour 
 
 When purified by merits, not its own, 
 
 That spirit may approach his awful throne. 
 
 Again there are, who, as their system serves. 
 
 Detect the ethereal soul in glands and nerves ;■ 
 
 Or skilfully her secret dwelling trace. 
 
 In the sculls roughness, or the wrinkled face; 
 
 Poor theorists ! th' eternal spark, in vain 
 
 You seek in sordid matter to restrain ; 
 
 Beyond your reach it soars — beyond yoiu- sight. 
 
 And finds its dwelling in the realms of hght ; 
 
 Whence can this strange anxiety arise. 
 
 Against the light of truth to close our eyes ; 
 
 Does infidelity so cheer the mind. 
 
 That to be happv, mortals must be blind ; 
 
 Does the blank desert of eternal sleep 
 
 Afford consoling views to them that weep. 
 
 Or is it charity would send away 
 
 The sufferer's hope, the wretch's surest stay. 
 
 No ! search the secret out and vice and pride,. 
 
 In these delusions firmly are allied; 
 
 And hke the rustic whistling in the night, 
 
 Assume false courage to conceal their fright ; 
 
 Some darling passion man would fain indulge, 
 
 And a new scheme to favour it promulge. 
 
 Th' adulterer scoffs at marriage — his pure mind , 
 
 Cannot conceive how words the free can bind ; 
 
 Words muttered by a priest too, to controul 
 
 The noble wanderings of his generous soul. 
 
 Incest another loves — another wealth — 
 
 Another sees no mighty harm in stealth ; 
 
 Then moulds a new religion by his rules. 
 
 Or spurns at all as only chains for fools ; 
 
 And thus compendiously discards the clog. 
 
 That interrupts his course, the Decalogue. 
 
 But can these wild delusions always hold. 
 
 Can the still voice within be thus controuled ? 
 
 May they not wake as from a dreadful trance.
 
 27 
 
 When wearied down by passion's giddy dance. 
 
 They find themselves in desperate frenzy whirled 
 
 Upon the dizzy brink of either world ; 
 
 And see the dismal vortex yawn below. 
 
 The hideous region of Eternal woe. 
 
 Who then can save them? He whom they offend. 
 
 E'en he, if yet implored, is still their friend; 
 
 E'en he, whose promise they have set at nought. 
 
 Win snatch them from the ruin they have sought ; 
 
 The late repentant freely will forgive. 
 
 And bid him leave his wickedness and live ! 
 
 End of Part 11.
 
 29 
 
 A BALLAD 
 
 OF 
 
 CAREAV AND COURTENAY. 
 
 The story is to be found in Prince's Worthies of Devon, 
 (Ed. 1810, p. 162.) That part which relates to the death 
 of Sir Andrew Barton is omitted. Barton had been killed 
 in a sea-fight with Lord Edward Howard before the 
 battle of Flodden. 
 
 On Isca's wooded banks are seen. 
 
 The wreck of Bickleigh's towers ; 
 The ruin of its noble walls. 
 
 Its gay and stately towers : 
 For Bickleigh's Lord too loyally. 
 
 Sustained his sovereign's cause ; 
 And Bickleigh's Hall in ruin fell. 
 
 With England's King and laws. 
 
 It were a tale to stir the heart. 
 
 So tender and so true ; 
 To tell how Bickleigh's heir was wooed. 
 
 And won by young Carew : 
 And how the pride of wealth bowed down. 
 
 To honour's nobler force ; 
 And how their faithful love deserved. 
 
 And found its happy course. 
 
 At evening met on Isca's bank. 
 The lovers warm and true ; 
 
 A Courtenay was the maiden. 
 And the youth a bold Carew :
 
 30 
 
 And never bathed a fairer maid. 
 
 In Kenna's* ciystal wave ; 
 Nor ever Haccombe's gallant house. 
 
 Sent forth a son more brave. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! the maiden cried. 
 
 That we are forced to part ; 
 But if my guardian rule my hand. 
 
 He cannot rule niy4aeart : 
 He thinks his duty urges him. 
 
 Upon our love to frown ; 
 But if that duty should be his, 
 
 'Tis mine that love to crown. 
 
 " He spreads a long and gorgeous roll, 
 
 Before my dazzled sight ; 
 That beams with crowns and coronets. 
 
 And the crest of many a knight : 
 Where royal names and titles proud. 
 
 Attest a lofty stem ; 
 With Grecia's f high imperial crown. 
 
 And Salem's X diadem. 
 
 " Edessa's jewelled coronet. 
 
 These gorgeous rolls display ; 
 And many a lordly title else. 
 
 That long has passed away: 
 Until the happiest of his race. 
 
 The Royal Capet's son ; 
 In dear and lovely Devon wooed, 
 
 The maid of Okeharapton. 
 
 * Kenna. The River Ken near Powderham. 
 
 -f- The pedigree of Courtenay derived by the Devonshire 
 history from the grandson of l.ouis le Gross, whose father 
 assumed the name of Courtenay, and who himself married 
 the heiress of the Earl of Devon, Lord of the House of 
 Okehampton. 
 
 ♦ The house of Courtenay gSve Jjnperors to Constan-
 
 31 
 
 " From hence he says your lineage spiings. 
 
 With lands and lordships proud ; 
 Nor ever to a landless love, 
 
 A Courtenay's heir has bowed ; 
 And nothing in its haughty swell. 
 
 That blood is humbled vet ; 
 Since mingled with the dangerous tide. 
 
 Of high Plantagenet. 
 
 " But what avail these sounding wordsj 
 
 And lofty thoughts to me ; 
 Or what avail my wide domains, 
 
 Unless my heart be free : 
 'T were better far like Baldwin* beg. 
 
 An exile's hitter bread ; 
 Than live like Okehampton's high Lord^f 
 
 In splendour and in dread. 
 
 " But 'tis thy haughty brother's will. 
 
 My guardian stern and high ; 
 And for a space I must submit. 
 
 In bafHed hope to sigh : 
 But thou my chosen Lord shalt be. 
 
 When fails his hated power ; 
 Though we alas ! must sadly part. 
 
 Until that blessed hour."' 
 
 " Though landless be thy faithful squire," 
 The gallant youth replied ; 
 
 tinople, Kings to JerusaJem, and Counts to the Syrian 
 principality of Edessa. 
 
 * Baldwin, the last Emperor, was expelled from his do- 
 minions, and wandered over Europe to solicit a'ms for the 
 maintenance of his dignity and recovery of his possessions. 
 
 t The Marquis of Exeter, Grandson of Edward IV. first 
 ilie favcuTite and afttrward-i the victim of the jealousy of 
 ilenry VIII.
 
 32 
 
 " Yet surely Haccombe's Lord might well. 
 
 Indulge a brother's pride: 
 Though high and splendid be thy race, 
 
 Yet will I claim our due ; 
 Nor yield to any mortal name. 
 
 The honours of Carew. 
 
 " From Beauclerk's * royal race we come. 
 
 And youngest of our line ; 
 We hold the Lords of Windsor, 
 
 And the princely Geraldine : 
 It is I ween no churli?h stock. 
 
 From which these titles spring ; 
 Nor need Carew through landless shame. 
 
 To stand before the king. 
 
 " But oh ! cheer up my lovely maid. 
 
 And hear thy destined Lord ; 
 He goes to prove his worth for thee. 
 
 And win thee by his sword : 
 Forth by tomorrow's dawn he goes. 
 
 To sail upon the main ; 
 And takes with him one humble page, 
 
 A younger brother's train. 
 
 " For since our King f for Normandy, 
 
 Has crossed the foaming deep ; 
 The vengeful Scot has threatened high. 
 
 The naiTow sea to sweep : 
 But the brave Lord Edmond X Howard shows. 
 
 Old England's flag on high ; 
 
 * The Carews of Haccombe derive themselves from the 
 marriage of William with the daughter of Henry I. sur- 
 named Beauclerk. The pedigrees differ on the point here 
 assumed, hut the antiquity of their stock is unquestionable. 
 
 t Henry VIII. 
 
 X Lord Edmond Howard, third son of the Earl of Surry, 
 ■who with his father and elder brother gained the great vic- 
 tory at Flodden.
 
 33 
 
 And with that gallant Lord I go. 
 To conquer or to die. 
 
 " To win a glorious name in arms. 
 
 Thy love shall be my guide ; 
 Or should my death thy sorrow wake, 
 
 'Twill also raise thy pride : 
 For when Carew shall fall 'twill be. 
 
 The foremost in the strife ; 
 And should he win a glorious name, 
 
 He claims thee for his wife." 
 
 With many a vow and soft caress. 
 
 The grieA^ng lovers part ; 
 And many a time the lovely maid. 
 
 Was pressed against his heart : 
 And many a tender sweet farewell. 
 
 And many a fond adieu ; 
 Was said between the Courtenay's heir 
 
 And her gallant young Carew. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Now float's aloft old England's flag 
 
 Upon the freshening breeze ; 
 And proudly the Lord Edmond sweeps. 
 
 Along the narrow seas : 
 Nor does the wily Scot put forth. 
 
 That red cross flag to meet; 
 But in his inmost harbour lurks. 
 
 The safe and cautious fleet. 
 
 The gallant Howard bends his course. 
 Along Northumbria's strand ; 
 
 A beacon flames on Cheviot fell. 
 The signal flies to land : 
 m
 
 34 
 
 To land to land with eagerness. 
 
 Press every gallant crew ; 
 And first and foremost on the beach. 
 
 Is seen the young Carew. 
 
 Nor slacked they of that eager pace. 
 
 Nor bated of their speed ; 
 Until at Flodden's feet they stood. 
 
 And looked upon the Tweed : 
 There floated Surry's silver bend. 
 
 Upon its ruby field ; 
 And soon the tressured lion * was. 
 
 To gasp upon that shield. 
 
 And there on Flodden's dizzy brow. 
 
 The Scottish army proud ; 
 Gleamed out by flashes on the sight. 
 
 Like lightning tlirough a cloud : 
 The brave Lord Dacre drew his force. 
 
 Upon the plain below ; 
 And with the bold Lord Stanley bade. 
 
 Defiance to the foe. 
 
 But deem not that I dare presume. 
 
 To sing of Flodden fight ; 
 My humble wing adventures not. 
 
 To soar so high a flight : 
 The lofty theme too well deserved, 
 
 A muse of heavenly fire ; 
 And well that muse her task hath done. 
 
 On Scot's enchanting lyre. 
 
 Thrice on Lord Edmond Howard pressed, 
 
 A furious Scottish band. 
 And thrice the bold Carew was seen. 
 
 Against their force to stand : 
 
 * In honour of the victory of Flodden, the Earl of Surry
 
 35 
 
 Athwart the hne in wild despair. 
 
 At last they rushed amain ; 
 And brave Lord Edmond and Carew, 
 
 Were severed from their train. 
 
 " Ride, ride. Lord Edmond for thy Ufe, 
 
 " Yon little bridge to gain; 
 " That little bridge against the foe, 
 
 " I singly will maintain : 
 " Your surcoat en my shoulders throw, 
 
 " The foe shall keep at bay; 
 •" Ride, ride. Lord Edmond for thy life, 
 
 " There is no time to stay. 
 
 That little bridge they briefly gained. 
 
 And on the bold Carew ; 
 UnwuDingly Lord Edmond then. 
 
 His gaudv surcoat threw : 
 The furious foe came rushing on. 
 
 And still as they came nigh ; 
 " Yield, yield. Lord Edmond Howard yield," 
 
 Was the loud and eager cry. 
 
 "Lord Edmond Howard will not yield," 
 
 Exclaimed the bold Carew ; 
 The while across that little bridge. 
 
 His gallant steed he drew : 
 And as the foe approached him, 
 
 Each lijs bearing did admire ; 
 To see a single warrior thus. 
 
 Disdaining to retire. 
 
 And long and stoutly did they fight. 
 In most unequal strife; 
 
 had an augmentation of honour made to his arms in the 
 tressured Lion of Scotland, the arms of the kingdom, with 
 an arrow through his jaws.
 
 36 
 
 And long Carew maintained his poat. 
 
 His liberty and life : 
 At length a ford wrp found at which. 
 
 The Scots passed safelv o'er ; 
 And now they charge him from behind. 
 
 And press on him before. 
 
 " Yield, yield, Lord Edmond Howard now, 
 
 *' Yield up thyself or die ;" 
 " I yield myself," said bold Carew, 
 
 " But never would I fly :" 
 And hark what shouts from Flodden rise. 
 
 And from th^ banks of Till; 
 Lord Edmond Howard's banner floats. 
 
 The highest on the hill. 
 
 " Then who art thou," the Captain cried, 
 
 " That ait our hard eai'ned prize ; 
 " Art thou that Lord whose banner now, 
 
 " On yonder mountain flies :" 
 " Nor Lord nor Knight," said young Carew, 
 
 " A landless Squire am I ; 
 " But of a race that never }-et, 
 
 " Would from the battle fly. 
 
 Now far and wide was heard around, 
 
 A loud victorious shout; 
 And over Till and Tweed the Scots, 
 
 Were seen in hasty rout : 
 They left their King upon the field. 
 
 While Scotland's noblest blood ; 
 Ran swiftly down the mountain's side, 
 
 And mingled with the flood. 
 
 " Tis now our time to ride for life," 
 
 The Scottish leader said ; 
 And captive to the flying band, 
 
 The bold Carew was led ;
 
 37 
 
 With liaste they fled from that sad field, 
 
 And into Scotland far ; 
 Nor drew the rein, nor spared the spur. 
 
 Until they reached Dunbar. 
 
 The gallant Earl of Surry went. 
 
 To view that bloody field ; 
 Wliere many a noble corpse there lay. 
 
 And many a broken shield : 
 " And what Lord Edmond," quoth the Earl, 
 
 " Amidst our general joy ; 
 " What clouds the face of my dear son, 
 
 ' ' What grieves my gaUant boy." 
 
 " Alas ! Lord Edmond cried," I miss, 
 
 " A fair and gallant youth ; 
 " Who gave his life, I fear for mine, 
 
 " A mart)T to his truth : 
 " The honours of this glorious day, 
 
 ' ' I freely woidd forego ; 
 " That still mv brave Carew were safe, 
 
 " With certainty to know." 
 
 Then stepped there forth a young foot page, 
 
 " He was my master dear ; 
 " And long in vain I toiled my limbs, 
 
 " To keep my master near; 
 " On yonder hill for breath I stood, 
 
 " When rushing o'er the plain ; 
 "Two warriors came at utmost speed, 
 
 " That little bridge to gain. 
 
 " They changed their surcoats as they passed, 
 
 " And to my wandering view ; 
 " One rode away to join our force, 
 
 " With the bearings of Carew : 
 " The Howards' arms the other bore, 
 
 " The crosslet and the bend ;
 
 38 
 
 " Upon that little bridge lie stood, 
 " The passage to defend. 
 
 " And long the foe he kept at bay, 
 
 " Till by numbers overpowered ; 
 " The Scots exulting bade him yield, 
 
 " And called the captive Howard." 
 Now letters fair to Scotland go. 
 
 Of ransom free and large ; 
 And for Carew two Scottish knights. 
 
 They gladly did discharge. 
 
 And every generous Howard vied. 
 To grace a friend so true ; 
 
 Till soon a wealthy Squire of lands. 
 Was grown the bold Carew. 
 
 Part III. 
 
 The feast was spread in Bickleigh's Hall, 
 
 And on the topmost tower ; 
 The ruddy orbs of Courtenay* glowed. 
 
 To mark the happy hour : 
 That closed the rigid guardianship, 
 
 Of Haccombe's haughty Lord ; 
 And told the world that Bickleigh's heir. 
 
 No longer was in ward. 
 
 The mulh was high and joyous. 
 And gorgeous was the feast ; 
 
 And many an happy yeoman there. 
 And many a noble guest : 
 
 When from without a mighty shout. 
 And wide the portal flew ; 
 
 * The arms of Courtenay are three tooleaux.
 
 39 
 
 And through the hall a warrior strode. 
 With the bearings of Carew.* 
 
 A single page attended him. 
 
 With helmet and with shield ; 
 Where stalked three sable lions. 
 
 Upon a golden field : 
 Oh rapid is the glance of love. 
 
 And quick the maiden's eye ; 
 Descried the silver crescentf there. 
 
 His mark of cadency. 
 
 The feast became a nuptial feast, 
 
 And mirth and joy went round ; 
 That constancy and valour thus. 
 
 Were by love and beauty crowned : 
 And many a brave and comely son. 
 
 And many a maiden fair ; 
 Soon blessed the union of Carew, 
 
 And Courtenay's lovely heir. 
 
 * The arms of Carew are three lions passant sable, 
 f His distinction as a second brother. 
 
 End of Part III.
 
 40 
 
 LINES 
 
 Inscribed on tlie Monument of Wm. H. Clatter, 
 
 Capt. of the First Ceylon Regiment, who died 
 
 July 25th, 1820, at Colombo. 
 
 Gentle and firm, affectionate and brave 
 A Soldier, and a Christian, fills this grave ; 
 Of stedfast honour, and of manners kind. 
 Unshaken truth, and independent mind : 
 Him a loved ])artner and dear children mourn. 
 By fell disease from their embraces torn; 
 As Husband, Father, Friend, he felt the rod. 
 But for himself bowed meekly to his God. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 In full abundance Father hast thou shed. 
 
 Thy dearest gifts on my unworthy head : 
 
 The blessings that a parent's name impart. 
 
 The golden cordial of a partner's heart; 
 
 A competence to meet my anxious thought. 
 
 And fame, I trust, with truth and honour bought ; 
 
 Oh ! deem me not unthankful if I dare. 
 
 For health, sweet health, to lift my humble prayer. 
 
 "MO^ee*
 
 41 
 
 GIFFARD'S LEAP. 
 
 From Poltvhele's History of Devonshire, 
 Vol. 2, p. 420. 
 
 The cliffs adjoining the sea are remarkably high, 
 craggy, and romantic. The highest bears the 
 marks of, and is supposed to have been, an ancient 
 fortress ; and still retains the name of Pepper- 
 combe Castle. Another, not far distant from 
 Peppercombe Castle, is noted for a remarkable 
 accident which happened there about half a cen- 
 tury ago, which is thus : some of the ancient 
 family of Giffard, and others on a party of plea- 
 sure, having seated themselves on the top of this 
 cliff, which commands an extensive view of the sea, 
 one of the Giffard's (a young man) sitting care- 
 lessly near the brink, and turning himself about 
 hastily, fell backward over the precipice, upwards 
 of one hundred and thirty feet perpendicular, and 
 the floor at bottom covered with craggy rocks and 
 large stones, yet received no manner of hurt : 
 Since which this place has borne the name of 
 Giffard's Jump. 
 
 In the dark woods of Umberleigh 
 Lord Arthur* leads his quiet life. 
 Amongst his daughter's children free 
 From courtly cares and courtly strife. 
 
 No other wish has he, and yet 
 Oft might a thought of lofty things 
 Visit the last Plantagenet, 
 Sprung from a race of mighty kings ; 
 
 * Plantagenet. Viscount Lisle, 
 n
 
 42 
 
 But well, I ween, the jealous mind 
 Of his hot nephew he has known. 
 Nor is his peaceful soul inclined 
 To seek the thorns that fill a throne. 
 
 He leaves to Courtenay and to Pole, 
 The favours of that dangerous king. 
 Who watches in his gloomy soul. 
 The time to make his tiger spring. 
 
 There on the sylvan banks of Taw, 
 One lovely daughter blessed his bed. 
 And twice her bridal rites he saw. 
 Though now he mourns that daughter dead. 
 
 In opening youth to Basset's heir 
 Her not unwilling hand she gave. 
 But clouded was the prospect fair. 
 When Basset filled an early grave : 
 
 But youth and grief will lightly part. 
 And Monk the heir of Potheridge came. 
 She yielded him her widowed heart. 
 And to his halls he bore the dame : 
 
 Their darling ]\Iargaret now is grown 
 The wonder of the Torridge side. 
 And good Lord Arthur deems that none 
 Deserves to claim her for a bride : 
 
 She was his wayward giddy child, 
 Unchecked by aught save love's controul. 
 And when upon his face she smded, 
 'Twas sunshine to the old man's soiU. 
 
 But the young heir of Halsbury 
 Tells his soft wish and wins her heart, 
 A bold and graceful youth is he. 
 And formed to play the lovers part.
 
 43 
 
 And Parkham bells have told the tale 
 That lovely Margaret is his bride, 
 And ever)- village in the vale 
 Has to that joyous sound replied — 
 
 " Come forth, my love," the bridegroom said, 
 " Come look upon the Severn sea," 
 " Yon cliff that proudly lifts his head 
 " Shall be a seat for you and me." 
 
 In sportive mood the cliff they gained. 
 The raptured pair the waters view'd. 
 And o'er the edge their sight they strained. 
 To mark the wild waves fierce and rude. 
 
 And still to trace the rocky beach. 
 Mocking her husband's anxious eye. 
 The giddy Margaret forth would stretch. 
 And still another look would try : 
 
 To lure her from this dangerous spot 
 He turns to point each neighbouring scene — 
 " And look my love, where Portledge Court 
 " Smiles lovely o'er the level green, 
 
 " And westward, dear, direct thine eyes 
 *' Where pendent like a sea bird's nest, 
 •' In quiet calm Clovelly lies, 
 " Reposing on the cliffs high breast ; 
 
 " See Hartland closing round the bay, 
 " Glamorgan's shadowy mountains view, 
 " And Lundy, braving ocean's sway, 
 " And Dunster's heights of distant blue. 
 
 " Refrain, my dearest love, refrain, 
 
 " Nor wildly tempt this dreadful height, 
 
 " "While o'er this giddy brink you strain, 
 
 " The shock may blind your dazzled sight."—
 
 44- 
 
 Her footing failfe — his powerful hand 
 Saves her — but for a sight of woe, 
 He sees her just securely stand. 
 And he himself is hurled below. 
 
 Oh bear away that wretched bride 
 A dismal road to Halsbviry hall. 
 This morning saw her in her pride 
 And noontide sees her reft of all. 
 
 Lord Arthur is fi ^Tetched man 
 To see that pale and lifeless child. 
 Who, when that dismal day began 
 In joy, and health, and beauty smiled , 
 
 And far and near he sends for aid 
 To every Leech of healing skill, 
 And well are his commands obeyed, 
 And soon that mourning hall thej' fill ; 
 
 But as each remedy applied 
 Recalls her back to sense and life, 
 'Tis but to tell that wretched bride 
 That she no longer is a wife. 
 
 And now a murmur rises round — 
 His voice — his own loved voice — she heart. 
 She rushes to the well known sound. 
 And bathes him in her joyful tears ; 
 
 " Oh where, and how, my dearest best, 
 " Restored to me, to love, and life, 
 " "What Angel couid that fate arrest, 
 " Sought -by thy wretched reckless wife ?'* 
 
 " My humblest grateful thanks," he said, 
 •' To the All-merciful are due 
 " Whose arm has snatched me from tlie dead, 
 " Restored to life^ and love,, and von ;
 
 45 
 
 " For he, without whose will, no hair 
 
 •' Is idly from our temples shed, 
 
 ■ • Even as I fell in middle air, 
 
 " The means of safety round me spread, 
 
 • • 'Twas where of old a ragged oak, 
 
 • ' That halfway down the cliff had grown, 
 
 ' ' Forth from a crevice in the rock 
 
 " Its old and tangled root had thrown, 
 
 " With wild con^'xilsive grasp my hands 
 " Upon that tangled root I flung, 
 " And pendent o'er the stony strand 
 " In momentary safety hung — 
 
 " A putting stone, a gadding briar, 
 " Were aids upon my perilous way, 
 " (Small are the aids that we require, 
 " When love and life the prize display,) 
 
 " And soon to many a wondering friend, 
 
 " Lamenting my untimely doom, 
 
 " Did I the lower cliff ascend, 
 
 " And hasten to this happy home." 
 
 He ceased, and well vou may suppose. 
 The gratitude that Margaret felt. 
 When in that evenings happy close. 
 To pour her fervent thanks she knelt — 
 
 Ages have pass'd, and names are gone 
 But living still in local lore — 
 Right well the " Giffard's l^eap" is known 
 To those who tread that rocky shore —
 
 46 
 
 TO FAME. 
 
 In a dearth of News. (1790.) 
 
 Goddess, varj-ing as the hours. 
 Changeful as the silver Moon, 
 
 That like the sky, in April showers. 
 Art jocund now, and sad as soon. 
 
 "Where, fickle Goddess, dost thou stray ? 
 
 Why dost now thy trump suspend ? 
 Shall the din of battle bray ? 
 
 Does the haughty Spaniard bend 
 
 ? 
 
 Dost thou laugh at Gallia's train. 
 Wrangling for the bubble Power ; 
 
 Empty Statesmen — Patriots vain. 
 Strutting, fading, every hour ? 
 
 Dost thou wander through the reeds 
 That deck the swampy sides of Scheldt, 
 
 Where Bigotry, in monkish weeds. 
 Against too mild a sway rebelled .'' 
 
 Or, where the Ottoman array. 
 And Austria, ghtter to the sight. 
 
 Dost thou watch the live-long day. 
 And wait the long impending fight ? 
 
 Dost thou stay in Rufus' hall, 
 
 'Mid the hushed astonished crowd. 
 
 On silver Burke attentive all. 
 To echo every breath aloud } 
 
 Whither, Goddess, shall I turn ? 
 
 Where explore thy hallowed shrine ? 
 For thee my bosom still shall burn. 
 
 Nor rest till I can call thee mine.
 
 47 
 
 ON VISITING THE RUINS 
 
 OF 
 
 BRIGHTLEY, IN DEVONSHIRE. 
 
 Written in 1792. 
 
 " IF in the bosom of this devious wood. 
 Far from the sight of man, ye love to dwell. 
 Whence frighted Taw escapes with hurried flood. 
 While all his waves with panting terror swell — 
 
 Souls of my Fathers — guide my wand'ring feet 
 To that dark dell where rest your faded forms. 
 Where, far from strife, ye hold communion sweet. 
 And, far from care, deride the passing storms." 
 
 1 hear the hallowed sound — the yielding boughs 
 Obsequious, shew a passage through the grove ; 
 I feel my heart beat high, my spirit rouse ; 
 And now they speak, in strains of joy and love — 
 
 " Welcome, thrice welcome to this sacred gloom. 
 To Fathers for their loyalty renowned, 
 Who know the meed of Virtue's deathless bloom. 
 Who ne'er the stain of foul dishonour found," 
 
 And now I see a manly form advatice, 
 Whose open features beam with stern delight; 
 The twilight scarcely glimmers on his lance. 
 And his plumed helmet sheds a waving night. 
 
 " My son, (he cries) I marked the rising sigh, 
 When thro' the tottering halls you bent your way. 
 Where Brightley's walls in dreary ruin lie. 
 And even our memory hurries to decay.
 
 48 
 
 " I saw— with rapture saw the fiUal tear ; 
 Thy pious tribute at a Grandsire's grave ; 
 Where, ranged in monumental pomp, appear 
 Thy Mothers virtuous, and thy Fathers brave. 
 
 "The' proud achievements shew our spotless birth. 
 Our loyalty a prouder boast shall prove ; 
 For while we trod in mortal form the earth. 
 Our king possess'd our swords, our hearts, our love. 
 
 " And when fanatic fury, through the land, 
 Rais'd her infernal head against the Crown, 
 I saw a ruffian aim his murderous hand. 
 This arm uplifted felled the traitor down. 
 
 " Yet treason triumphed o'er my hapless King ; 
 His sacred blood by villain hands was shed : — 
 Then did the wretched land with discord ring. 
 And anarchy distracting darkness spread. 
 
 " But e're my wearied eyes had sunk to rest, 
 I saw my Sovereign's Son regain his throne ; 
 The glorious vision calmed my aching breast, 
 I sunk in death, without a parting groan. 
 
 "' For you, my Son, attend to my command ; 
 Revere your King — ^be loyalty your pride. 
 And should contending Faction shake the land, 
 Prove it most firmly — when mcst fiercely tried."
 
 49 
 
 THE LAURUSTINUS. 
 THE SWEET PEA. AND THE OAK. 
 
 A FABLE IN IMITATION OF LANGHORN. 
 
 Septemier, 1796. 
 
 " Rise, lovely Plant, around me twine, 
 " And point th.v tendrils to the skies ; 
 " Thy weaklv form repose on mine : — 
 •' Arise, my blushing fair, arise ! 
 
 " No longer trail the chilling ground, 
 " Nor thv fair blossoms thus defile: 
 " Spread all thy fragrant influence round ; 
 " And in supported beauty smile. 
 
 ' ' For, sheltered from the wasting breeze, 
 " My humble hardv branches spread; 
 " Wlien Winter strips the prouder trees, 
 " He moves unheeded o'er my head." 
 
 Thus, to the Sweet- Pea's roving bloom. 
 The modest Laurustinus spoke ; 
 "Where covered by the friendly gloom. 
 He grew beneath a lofty Oak. 
 
 The Sweet Pea blushed a deeper red ; 
 'Twas hke Eliza's blush of scorn : — 
 " And were my beauties formed," she said, 
 " Thy homely branches to adorn : 
 
 " What though in each fair blossom dwell 
 " The lilly blended with the rose, 
 " Which scarce Ehza's cheeks excel, 
 " When she with love or anger glows, 
 

 
 30 
 
 " Yet hope not in thine homely shade, 
 " These blended beauties to sustain ; 
 " Nor think I want thy vulgar aid, 
 " Against the wind and driving rain : 
 
 " No '.-round the monarch of the grove, 
 " In bold ambition let me twine ; 
 " There pledge ray pure and faithful love, 
 " And proudly call that monarch mine." 
 
 The clouds of winter veil the sky. 
 The whistling winds begin to roar ; 
 Around the screaming sea-birds fly. 
 And fill with shrieks the frighted shore. 
 
 Around the Oak the Sweet Pea clings. 
 And faintly folds her feeble arms ; 
 While through his boughs the tempest rings. 
 He stands, regardless of her charms. 
 
 In vain, unhappy plant, in vain 
 
 She seeks for aid beneath his power ; 
 
 Her tendrils strew the wasted plain. 
 
 And wild winds tear each blushing flower. 
 
 This little tale, my charming fair, 
 A plain, but useful, lesson proves. 
 That mutual help and fostering care. 
 Are only found in equal loves.
 
 51 
 
 INVASION OF IRELAND.' 
 
 Christmas, 1796. 
 
 Now fair and strong the South-East blew, 
 
 And high the billows rose ; 
 Tlie French fleet bounded o'er the main. 
 
 Freighted with Erin's foes. 
 
 Oh ! where was Hood, and where was Howe 
 
 And where Cornwallis then ; 
 Where Colpoys, Bridport, and Pellew 
 
 And all their gallant train ? 
 
 Nor skill nor courage aught avail. 
 Against high Heaven's decrees : 
 
 The storm arose and closed our ports, 
 A mist o'erspread the seas. 
 
 For not to feeble mortal Man 
 
 Did God his vengeance trust ; 
 He raised his own tremendous arm. 
 
 All powerful as all just. 
 
 Now fierce and loud the tempest roared, 
 And swept the quivering main ; 
 
 And part go South, and part go West, 
 And part the shore attain. 
 
 And trembling on the boisterous wave 
 
 The shattered vessels lie. 
 The billows mounting o'er their heads. 
 
 To kiss the bending skj'. 
 
 " Arise ye sons of Erin, rise 
 
 " The Gaul is on the shore ; 
 " He comes, begrim'd with murder fonl, 
 
 " And red with royal gcre."
 
 52 
 
 The sons of Themis proudly drew 
 
 The sword of Justice bright ; 
 And thirty thousand Yeoman's swords 
 
 Reflected back its light. 
 
 Now firm and bold, her patriot Sons 
 
 To Erin's coasts repair ; 
 With ardent zeal they hold their march. 
 
 Their banners fiU the air. 
 
 In Bantry's deep and rocky bay 
 
 The hostile Navy rode ; 
 And now arrived the festal hour 
 Wlien earth beheld her God. 
 
 The impious crews, with anxious eyes. 
 
 Gazed on each verdant plain : 
 And mocked and scoffed the holy time. 
 
 With many a jest prophane. 
 
 But sure such loud and angry winds 
 
 Ne'er shook the seas before. 
 Nor ever did the glaring clouds 
 
 With such deep thunder roar. 
 
 And fierce and furious is the gale 
 
 That tears the troubled sky ; 
 A\niile, trembhng in the dreadful blast. 
 
 The boasting cowards fly. 
 
 For thirteen nights and thirteen days 
 
 Their scattered Nav\ strove ; 
 And some were wrecked, and some, despair 
 
 Before the tempest drove. 
 
 Now, ever praised be our God, 
 Who saved us from their hand ; 
 
 And never more may foe presume 
 To dare this Christian land.
 
 5a 
 
 TO ELIZA. 
 
 1797. 
 
 Say, lovely maid, for pity's sake declare. 
 Why with averted eye, and look unkind. 
 You chill the fondest visions of my mind ? 
 Ah why so merciless, or why so fair ? 
 
 Oh, by that angel-soul which, blest above. 
 Looks down with pity on this world of care, 
 Which saw the first dawn of my infant love. 
 And by her smile forbad me to despair, 
 
 Oh by that soul which shared Ehza'Svheart, 
 Whilst it inspired the lovely Caroline, 
 For her sweet sake, thy cause of hate impart. 
 Tell me what sad unpardoned fault is mine. 
 For her sake to muie anxious prayer incline, 
 Nor let me longer thus in doubt and anguish pine.
 
 64 
 
 ON BEING IN KILDARE. 
 
 In October, 1798. 
 
 Why did I leave my home so fair. 
 Where once I roved with lightsome glee ; 
 Ye fatal plains of cursed Kildare, 
 What charms, alas, have ye for me. 
 
 Why did I leave my woodbine bower. 
 To trace those horrid fields of blood, 
 AVhere fell, in Treason's dreadful hour. 
 The brave, the loyal, and the good. 
 
 Ah, let me seek my healthy hill, 
 The scene of many a happier day ; 
 That scene my troubled breast may still. 
 Though pleasure must be far away.
 
 55 
 
 THE PILGRIM. 
 
 Delivered in the Character of a Pilgrim, at a 
 
 Masquerade given in Dublin, in celebration of the 
 
 Peace, on the King's Birth-day, 1802. 
 
 Ye Beauties of the "Western Isle, 
 Ah ! listen to the Pilgrim's tale ; 
 Upon his labours kindly smile. 
 Who follows you with fervent zeal. 
 
 If nine long years' unceasing toil. 
 O'er many a distant land and sea, 
 Since last I saw my native Isle, 
 Can move your pity — list to me. 
 
 When Discord here began to roam, 
 And bade all social comfort cease, 
 With heavy heart I left my home, 
 A Pilgrim to the shrine of Peace. 
 
 Far, far from Gallia's guilty strand, 
 I bent my steps, with fearful haste, 
 Where bleak and bare her ruins stand. 
 The monuments of ruthless waste. 
 
 In vain to check the rage of war, 
 Tlie wilds of rude St. Bernard rose ; 
 Even here was urged the blood-stain'd car. 
 And red were died the Alpine snows. 
 
 From fair Italia's fragrant groves. 
 The seats of Love and Piety, 
 The trumpet scar'd the frighted Doves, 
 Nor Love, nor Peace, were there for me.
 
 66 
 
 At length, ('twas classic ground I trod,) 
 I kissed the rocky shores of Greece ; 
 But there, too. War had rais'd his rod. 
 And trampled on the fame of Peace. 
 
 From thence to holy Palestine, 
 With humbled heart I bent my way ; 
 At honoui'ed Salem's sacred shrine 
 My vows for Love and Peace to pay. 
 
 But neither Sion's sacred hill. 
 Nor Carmel's holy mount were free ; 
 The gi^ove of Sharon echoed still. 
 With lengthened cries of misery. 
 
 On Acre's walls the Christian Knight, 
 The blood-red Cross of England raised ; 
 In guilty haste, and wild affright. 
 The daring Atheist fied amazed. 
 
 Where'er my toilsome steps I turned. 
 Pursuing still my weary way. 
 That blood-red Cross in glory burned. 
 And rescued Nations blessed its sw^ay. 
 
 On Eg]iT3t's dark and distant shore, 
 I heard the British thunder peal ; 
 Tlie blackening smoke, the battle's roar. 
 Were mixed with Saba's spicy gale. 
 
 And fiercely through the troubled sky, 
 I saw the British lightning dart ; 
 The murky clouds began to fly. 
 And east and west were seen to part. 
 
 And then my long-expected Star, 
 The Star of Peace began to smile ; 
 I hailed its lovely beams from far. 
 And saw them gild my native Isle.
 
 67 
 
 Blest Isle ! where Peace and Beauty dwell ; 
 No more a wanderer should I roam, 
 Would some dear Maid this heart compel 
 To pay its vows of truth at home. 
 
 Blest Isle ! thy Sovereign's natal day. 
 Is still a day of joy to thee : 
 For him a grateful people pray. 
 The friend of Peace and Liberty.
 
 68 
 
 CATHERINE. 
 
 1S05. 
 
 The vermeil cheek, the glance of fire, 
 To kindle or controul desire— 
 The eye that boldlv shoots around. 
 To seek where conquest may be found- 
 The syren voice, the ivory hand, 
 Skilled to allure, or to command. 
 Displayed for selfish victory. 
 May dazzle, but delight not me. 
 
 But oh ! the fond observant eve. 
 That marks a father's anxious sigh — 
 The voice that sooths the bed of pain, 
 As soft as music's softest strain — 
 The hand that tends the couch of care. 
 Than polished ivory more fair — 
 'Tis piety makes these divine, 
 For these I love mv Catherine. 
 
 How oft have I listened in vain. 
 To the spiritless labours of art, 
 While the dull and inanimate strain, 
 Could awake no response in the heart. 
 But when Catherine pours the sweet song 
 In ecstacy trembles each wire. 
 And the fancy is hurried along. 
 In a full stream of heavenly fire.
 
 59 
 
 ODE* 
 
 For The 
 
 2oth of October, 1809. 
 
 Depone vanos invidise metus, 
 Urbisque fidens digitate. 
 Per plateas animosus aude. 
 
 Hor. ad librum suum. 
 
 I. 
 
 Away, away ; far, far away. 
 
 On this auspicious day 
 
 Be strife, and all her baneful brood ! 
 
 Let no discordant sound intrude. 
 
 Upon the festal lay : 
 
 This day to mirth and joy is given. 
 
 And holy gratitude to Heaven, 
 
 Wliich deigns a nation's prayer to hear. 
 
 And adds another opening year 
 To grace the lengthened reign of George the Good. 
 
 II. 
 
 Down the rapid stream of time 
 Many a fateful year has roll'd, 
 
 * Written for the celebration of the Jubilee in Dublin. 
 The opening stanza is designed to express the very laudable 
 and patriotic feeling with which the gentlemen who con- 
 ducted this celebration endeavoured to exclude every party 
 consideration, and to embrace in the general festivity every 
 class of their fellow subjects.
 
 GO 
 
 Since on "Windsor's height subhme 
 This day an English Monarch told ; 
 
 He who decked in Gallia's spoils, 
 
 Won by the Sable Warrior's toils, 
 
 Reared the ruby cross on high. 
 
 The star of English Chivalry ; 
 And round his Throne in lovely order set, 
 Saw his seven lions of Plantagenet, 
 
 III. 
 
 Equal in glories nobly won, 
 That decorate fair Windsor's brow, 
 Begirt alike by manv a gallant son, 
 Great Gaorge ; far happier thou ! 
 
 The sweetest gift of favouring Heaven, 
 
 Connubial bliss to thee is given, 
 
 Nor dost thou like the widowed Edward mourn 
 A faithful Consort's tomb— an Hero's early urn !* 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whilst frighted Nations pant for breath. 
 
 Or fall — to rise no more. 
 
 And scowling o'er the field of death, 
 
 Stands Gallia grim with gore ; 
 
 Thy happv Islands lift their head in peace. 
 And though the fiends of war in angry chase, 
 
 * Edward Til. of Windsor, founder of the Order of the 
 Garter, was the last English monarch whose reign extended 
 to fifty years ; Edward, the Black Prince, the eldest of his 
 sons, and Philippa his beloved queen, were dead seven years 
 before that period. 
 
 " Edward the Black Prince, 
 Who on the French ground played a tragedy, 
 Making defeat of the full power of France — 
 AA^hiles his most mighty father on a hill 
 Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp 
 Forage in blood of French nohiMty. —Shakspeare,
 
 61 
 
 Yell round our ears, in vain the hell-hounds roar, 
 'Gainst Albion's chalky cliffs and Erin's verdant 
 shore. 
 
 From smoaking ruins — sanguined plains 
 The Muse with horror turns the averted eye; 
 A nobler theme demands her strains, 
 The praise of George the Good and virtuous liberty. 
 Happy people — envied king — 
 While howUng tempests tear each neighbouring 
 
 coast, 
 (\Miere hopes and fears, for ever on the wing. 
 Flit through the troubled air, and vex each ad- 
 verse host,) 
 With mutual love your hearts in concord glow. 
 Such love as patriot kings and grateful subjects 
 know. 
 
 VI. 
 
 From farthest India's glowing chme, 
 To where the polar wave 
 Heaped into pyramids sublime. 
 Dares the star of day to brave ; 
 
 Through many a distant land, 
 
 Tlirough many a separated isle. 
 Whose fields in golden culture smile, 
 Are felt the blessing of thy guardian hand. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Where'er throughout the admiring world 
 Thy navy spreads the sail ; 
 Where'er thy standard is unfurl'd. 
 The blended Crosses waved on high. 
 Give freedom to the gale. 
 
 The wretch, whom fraud or force enthrall.
 
 62 
 
 Though to the- abject gromid 
 lu sordid slavei'v bound. 
 Does he but raise his feeble eye, 
 To where that standard fills the sky. 
 Does he but breathe the air thy banners fan. 
 Instant his chains are burst, his fetters fall. 
 He lifts his form erect, andteels himself a man. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Fostered bv thy favouring care,* 
 
 The sister arts, a smiling train, 
 
 A laureate wreath prepare 
 
 To decorate thy reign. 
 
 For thee thev bid the canvas glow. 
 
 For thee the swelHng organ blow ; 
 
 And Poetry, celestial maid, 
 
 Exulting boasts of many a name 
 
 Linked with thine in endless fame. 
 The bard of Auburn's pensive shade ; 
 Tlie moral sage, whose vigorous hand 
 Lashed vice and folly from the land ; 
 The gentler swain, whose seraph song 
 Could charm to serious thought the giddy throng. 
 And lure the soul to Heaven in flowery bands along 
 
 IX. 
 
 But with the honoured dead 
 
 The milder muse is fled : 
 
 An ardent band awakes the IjTe, 
 
 To deeds of high emprize and martial fire.f 
 
 * The patronage which our beloved king has bestowed 
 on the Fine Arts, in the foundation of the Royal Academy ; 
 the encouragement of Musical Science ; and the liberality 
 with which Literary talents have been fostered and reward- 
 ed ; particularly in the instances of Johnson and Gowper, 
 both of whom enjoyed the Royal bounty. 
 
 f The present prevailing taste for heroic composition.
 
 63 
 
 From Linden bursts the crash of war 
 The Minstrel sings on Teviot's side. 
 Of border fiavs and lordly pride. 
 Deep feuds and revels gay ,• 
 And he whose matin star 
 Beams with Apollo's purest ray. 
 Pours the proud strain of Trafalgar, 
 And Talavera's glorious day. 
 
 X. 
 
 To swell the note of praise. 
 Fair Science joins her grateful voice. 
 Rich in the spoil of ancient days. 
 Her letter'd sons in thee rejoice.* 
 By thee protected, they explore 
 Tlae frozen deep, the burning shore. 
 The heaving sand, the palmy isle, 
 And through his animated bed. 
 To where he hides his oozy head. 
 The long reluctant Nile ; 
 
 less than the epic and higher than the ballad, partaking of 
 much of the force and dignity of the one, and enjoying the 
 ease and popular form of the other, is instanced in Camp- 
 bell's noble stanzas of Hohenlinden; the Minstrel and Mar- 
 mion of Scott ; and the singularly beautiful and animated 
 Poems in celebration of Trafalgar and Talavera, attributed 
 to an Irish gentleman of no common talents ; these three 
 writers have been distinguished by proofs of royal favour ; 
 Mr. Campbell has a pension, Mr. Scott a situation of con- 
 siderable value, and our young and able countryman has 
 been lately called to fill an office of the highest respect and 
 confidence. 
 
 • The encouiagement of Phipps, Cooke, Park, Vancou- 
 ver, and the much slandered Bruce, in their a Iventurous 
 researches ; the additions to astronomical knowledge in the 
 discoveries of Herschel, made under His Majesty's immedi- 
 ate protection, and the name of Georgium Sidus given by 
 the philosopher to the new planet in honour of his patron.
 
 64 
 
 For thee the Philosophic eye 
 
 Excursive, to the verge of space, 
 
 Sweeps through all the starry sky 
 
 Thy name in distant orbs to trace ; 
 That name, to Science and to Virtue dear. 
 Shall Memory through immortal ages bear. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Loyal to her Patriot King, 
 
 Firm in many a dangerous hour. 
 
 And blest in thv paternal power. 
 
 Thy Faithful City stands.* 
 
 Her festive halls with rapture ring. 
 
 Thy name inspires her gallant bands ; 
 
 To thee she consecrates the day. 
 
 To thee devotes the choral lay. 
 
 And while she pours the song of praise. 
 
 She breathes a fervent prayer. 
 That Heaven may still her much-loved Sovereign 
 
 spare. 
 To bless his people by his lengthen'd days. 
 
 * Faithful, the appropriate epithet by which His Majesty 
 has been pleased most justly to distinguish his City of Dub- 
 lin.
 
 65 . 
 
 ON LEAVING DUNDRUM, CO. DUBLIN. 
 
 March, 1810. 
 
 Yet once again, before we part. 
 Here let my lingering eyes delay, 
 Here look another last adieu ; 
 The scenes that pleased my infant heart. 
 And gladdened many a cheerful day. 
 These eves as^ain mav never view. 
 
 a" 
 
 Twas here, in life's enchanting hour, 
 When all was joy and all was new, 
 I frolicked wild in thoughtless glee ; 
 And here I twined my fairy bower. 
 And here my little garden grew. 
 Like me, at random liberty. 
 
 And here, with those on whom the grave 
 Has closed in life's first opening bloom. 
 My careless^ steps were wont to stray ; 
 Two Brothers, kind, and good, and brave. 
 One slow disease laid in the tomb. 
 One fell in Erin's dreadful dav. 
 
 And never fails their memory dear. 
 To wring afresh mv sorrowing breast. 
 While thus the scenes of happier hours. 
 Call forth anew the natural tear. 
 And trace again the days so blest. 
 When here we tw'ined our fairy bowers. 
 
 'Twas here our anxious Father taught 
 Of Honour, Loyalty, and Truth, 
 And pressed them on each tender mind ; 
 His Hero-Son the lesson caught. 
 And martyred in the dawn of youth. 
 His sorrowing tutor left behind. 
 
 q
 
 66 
 
 Here too — but sad reflections rise ; 
 Come, let me send my thoughts abroad. 
 And scan the lovely scene once more. 
 From -where beneath the Western skies. 
 Of rugged mountains many a load, 
 Winds onward to the Eastern shore. 
 
 And thence, where stretched along the wave, 
 Howth like a giant monster lies. 
 Guarded bv his attendant Isles ; 
 By fair Clontarf, the Patriot's grave. 
 Where spires, and masts, and turrets lise. 
 And Dublin in the sun-beam smiles. 
 
 How rich, how varied, laugh around. 
 The verdant fields, the villas gay, 
 The busy town, the swelling sail ; 
 How frequent rise in mingled sound. 
 The civic stir, the rustic lay. 
 The noisy port, the lowing vale. 
 
 And these have each a cheering tone. 
 That strikes my heart with rapture still. 
 With memory of former days ; 
 And can, while musing and alone. 
 That heart with soothing sorrow fill 
 And sad, but lovely, visions raise.' 
 
 And oh ! beneath a burning sun,' 
 Or fanned by India's fragrant gales. 
 Or sheltered by the lordly palm ; 
 Shall here excursive Fancy run, 
 And trace again those infant tales. 
 This agonizing breast to calm. 
 
 Yes ; memory is a blessiiig given, 
 (When free from guilt's unholy stain,) 
 Where'er our weary footsteps stray.
 
 67 
 
 She is an Angel sent from Heaven, 
 
 That hghts our hopes and soothes our pain, 
 
 And cheers the wanderer on his way. 
 
 RONCESVALLES. 
 
 Colombo, 1814. 
 
 " Venea el Labrador cantando aquel romance qui dice, 
 
 " Mala la huvesteis Franceses, 
 
 " En esa de Roncesvalles." &c. Don Quix. p. ii. c 9. 
 
 " Where Charlemagne with all his peerage fell, 
 
 " By Fontarabia." Farad. Lo8t. 
 
 Sing the song of Roncesvalles, 
 Arthur's glory, Rowland's fame ; 
 Sing again of Fontarabia, 
 France's rout and France's shame. 
 
 Warriors of the Thames and Tagus, 
 High-born Cavaliers of Spain, 
 Brothers in the glorious contest. 
 There the bloody field maintain. 
 
 From Vimiera's grassy vallies, 
 From Busaco's airy height. 
 From Rodrigo's antique towers. 
 Rolled along the tide of fight.
 
 es 
 
 Fierce it swept o'er Talavera, 
 High o'er Badajoz it swelled, 
 On through sacred Salamanca, 
 Still its furious course it held. 
 
 \ 
 Red its wave on Albuera, 
 O'er Barrosa's mountain hold, 
 O'er Tanfla's giant barrier. 
 Onward still the torrent rolled. 
 
 Wide and fierce the tide of battle 
 Pours on Leon and Castile ; 
 Soon the towers of Vittoria 
 Its resistless force must feel. 
 
 Who directs that tide of battle ? 
 Erin's boast and Albion's pride, 
 'Tis our own, our gallant Arthur, 
 He directs that dreadful tide. 
 
 Where the haughty Pyreneans 
 With their summits cleave the skies. 
 Onward moves the gallant Arthur, 
 While the hunted Frenchman flies. 
 
 As the Eagle to his aerie, 
 High the rising torrent soars. 
 Bursting through a thousand vallies, 
 Round each rocky base it roars. 
 
 From above our gallant Britons, 
 Now the plains of France behold, 
 Glowing in their pride of harvest, 
 Plains of vegetable gold. 
 
 Like that rich and glowing harvest. 
 Spread the invaders over Spain ; 
 Swept away by British valour. 
 Of theii" thousands nought remain.
 
 69 
 
 Stung with rage, the traitor tyrant 
 Drives new thousands to the fight, 
 On through Gascony advancing. 
 Now they dimb the gory height. 
 
 Firmly as the Pyreneans, 
 British valour meets the shock ; 
 Vainly toil the frantic foemen, 
 As the wave against the rock. 
 
 Baffled fly those frantic foemen ; 
 Gascony beholds their shame ; 
 While the echoing Roncesvalles. 
 Hears a conquering Rowland's name. 
 
 Shout exulting Lueitania ; 
 
 Shout Ibera's patriot band ; 
 
 Now no more the foot of Frenchmen 
 
 Shall pollute your rescued land. 
 
 Sing the song of Roncesvalles ; 
 Arthur's glory, Rowland's fame ; 
 Sing again of Fontarabia, 
 France's rout and France's shame.
 
 70 
 
 ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT. 
 Colombo, April, 1814. 
 
 The romantic Castle of St. 3Iichael, silnated upon 
 a lofty insulated Hill, in Mount's Bay, is the 
 theme of many a Cornish legend ; the most 
 prevalent supposes that their 'long lost Arthur' 
 resides there, under the immediate guardianship 
 cf the Archangel, until the time appointed for 
 his return to the earth ; and it is to this Milton 
 alludes when he says — 
 
 " Where the great vision of the guarded Mount 
 " Looks to Namanco's arid Ba^^ona's hold." 
 
 The Western Sun had sunk in gold, 
 A purple rav o'erspread the tide, 
 Where great St. Michael'f! lofty hold 
 Looks o'er the ocean, far and "wide. 
 
 And scattered in the parting day, 
 Was manv a British ensign seen. 
 Quick glancing through that purple ray. 
 The children of the ocean's Queen. 
 
 Now old Belerium's giant height. 
 Fast fading in the shadowy sky, 
 Caught the last gleam of western light. 
 And gave it hack to Fancy's eye. 
 
 That gleam on high St. Michael fell. 
 The guarded Mount in glory blazed ; 
 A Bard, aroused by Fancy's spell. 
 His song in fear and wonder raised —
 
 71 
 
 " Great vision of the guarded hill, 
 " Our long-lost Arthur's guide and shield 
 •' O'er Britain's welfare watchful still, 
 " Her stay in many a bloody field. 
 
 " Across the main thy gleaming spear 
 " To fair Bayona points its light ; 
 " And red-cross warriors there appear, 
 " Clad in the gory garb of fight. 
 
 " Tliy ruby Cross aloft they raise, 
 " Thine ancient star of victory; 
 " They emulate our Arthur's days 
 " And Arthur's self again they see. 
 
 " Now o'er the scene of guilt and fraud, 
 " Where captive Kings their fate deplored, 
 " The fierce Iberian lifts the rod, 
 " And Britain waves her angry swOT'd. 
 
 " Even in that seat of boasted crime, 
 
 " The tvrant's hated banners fall ; 
 
 " And Vengeance claims her destined time, 
 
 " And hovers o'er the fated walls. 
 
 " And now the hunted robber flies ; 
 " The northern skies are filled with light ; 
 " Now East and West the nations rise, 
 ' ' And rush indignant to the fight. 
 
 " Now raise the lance and lift the brand ; 
 " Pour desolation and dismay, 
 " And vengeance on the guilty land, 
 " And sweep the faithless race away." 
 
 Flashed the red lightning's angry glare ; 
 A mighty voice in thunder broke, 
 And tried — ' ' Presumptuous man forbear." 
 (It was the sacred Vision spoke.)
 
 72 
 
 " Dost thou, a creeping worm, presume 
 " To wield the dreadful wrath of Heaven ! 
 " And are to thee the keys of doom, 
 " And life, and death, and vengeance given ! 
 
 " No ; 'tis to Him who looks on all, 
 " That al] should humbly bow the knee ; 
 " And where His wrath or blessings fall, 
 " Submissive meet the high decree. 
 
 With humbled pride, the sorrowing Bard 
 In silence and in wonder bowed ; 
 While the hoar mountain's mighty guard 
 Spread thick around his sable cloud. 
 
 Now vanished every glimpse of light ; 
 And mount, and clifl', and hold, and bay. 
 Sunk in the deep repose of night, 
 Awaited the return of day.
 
 73 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 Colombo, August, 1814. 
 
 Hark ! hear ye not a lengthened sound 
 Along the wide horizon sweep } 
 It dies in distant murmurs on the deep ; 
 
 And silence, awful and profound. 
 
 Spreading her downy mantle far and near, 
 
 In long expectant pause detains the listeniiig e&r. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now on their adamantine hinges close 
 
 The brazen gates of war. 
 And in that sound that o'er the horizon rose. 
 
 Ye heard the last long thunders of his car ; 
 While cheerful as the Orient Star, 
 
 Diffusing light, and life, and love, 
 See smiling Peace with, jocund footsteps move. 
 
 Ill, 
 
 And is the lovely vision true. 
 
 And is mankind to hope repose. 
 Is there no foul malignant fiend abroad. 
 
 To raise again the afflicting rod, 
 His hands in blood and terror to imbrue. 
 And gorge his lust of power with human woes ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Is the rude Russian in his wintry cave 
 Safe from ambition's searching sword .'' 
 
 Is the swart Spaniard in his chesnut grove 
 Free from oppressions murderous horde? 
 
 Can gold the unresisting burgher save. 
 
 Or crouching monarch's soothe the assassin'; 
 love ?
 
 74 
 
 Or does one mighty deluge swallow all, 
 
 And the blank surface shew a front of peace ? 
 
 Beneath the tide must all the nations fall, 
 
 Must Europe and her glories sink and cease ; 
 
 And does not still the red-cross banner wave. 
 The beacon hght of hope, to succour and to save ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! towering o'er that flood. 
 
 Of fraud, and force, and crime. 
 Unshaken, unsubdued. 
 
 With awful front sublime. 
 Long had Britannia dauntless stood, 
 
 Her frown indignant on the tyrant hurled. 
 And waved that cross on high, to cheer the suffering 
 world. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Not idly waved that cheering sign ; 
 
 From Calpe's height to Moscow's distant plain. 
 Insulted milhons felt its force divine. 
 
 And rushed to arms fair freedom to regain ; 
 
 In Titan strength the tyrant rose, 
 
 "He poured his vassals on his foes. 
 Wave after wave, a countless human tide ; 
 
 And Lusitania's hills with gore were dyed, 
 And myriads found a grave in Lithuania's snows. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Rejoice — the work is done, 
 
 The batfled monster flies : 
 
 And hunted to his lair, 
 
 Till vengeance finds him there. 
 
 He sinks no more to rise — 
 
 The dreadful time is past and gone.
 
 75 
 
 And Peace, with unaffected smile. 
 
 Exalting looks with parent love o'er continent 
 and isle. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Alas ! (on human joy 
 
 Pale sorrow will intrude. 
 And claim a tear :) 
 
 Alas ! for him whose patriot care. 
 And piety sincere, 
 
 Between his people and the danger stood. 
 And stayed the wasting flood 
 
 That went forth to destroy ! 
 Oh that he now might in their triumph share ! 
 
 Alas for George the good ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh ! that upon that darkened mind 
 
 Obscured by dull disease. 
 Almighty power would please 
 
 To pour again the intellectual ray ; 
 That fiUal love exulting might display 
 
 The glories of his delegated sway. 
 And his own Britons show, the pride of human 
 kind ?
 
 76 
 
 ARTHUR OE DANGAN.* 
 Song of an Irish Soldier. 
 
 I^et some talk of Cscsar, as keen as a razor. 
 
 Of Hector and bold Alexander ; 
 And if such their will is — why boast of Achilles, 
 
 I'll sing of one greater and grander. 
 In spite of all noise and haranguing. 
 
 There's none like brave Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who has given our foes such a banging ; 
 
 No hero in story has gather'd such glory. 
 As our gallant Arthur of Dangan. 
 
 It was here out in India — he rattled up Scindia, 
 
 And forced him to take his scrapers. 
 And then at Assaye — how he pepper'd away. 
 
 You have read of it all in the papers. 
 For in spite of all noise and haranguing. 
 
 There's none like brave Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who gave the black Rajah a banging. 
 
 No hero, &c. 
 
 When the French were intriguing at cold Copen- 
 hagen, 
 
 He dashed through the river Kioge, 
 Oh there was such fun, to behold the Danes run. 
 
 And the Holsteiners dancing the hogy. 
 For in spite of all noise and haranguing, 
 
 There's none like our Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who gave the bold Danes such a banging. 
 
 No hero, &c. 
 
 * The Duke of Wellington was born at Dangan Castle, 
 in Ireland.
 
 77 
 
 In Portugal next — for I stick to my text, 
 
 Ugly Junot he thrashed at Viraeiro, 
 But their dirt}- convention, I beg you wont mention. 
 
 Where they spoilt all the work of the hero. 
 For in spite of all noise and haranguing 
 
 Tliere's none like our Arthur of Dangan, 
 Wlio gave ugly Junot a banging, 
 
 No hero, &c. 
 
 Talavera's bright fountains, Buzaco's high moun- 
 tains, 
 
 Salamanca and many miles farther. 
 And strongest Sebastians, the enemy's last chance. 
 
 Will tell of the fame of our Arthur ; 
 For in spite of aU noise and haranguing. 
 
 There's none like brave Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who gave the French Marshals a banging. 
 
 No hero, &c. 
 
 I'm almost out of breath, in just tracing his path. 
 
 But still into France he would enter ; 
 Though after Toulouse, the Mounseers did nt»t 
 choose. 
 
 On another engagement to venture. 
 For awhile ceased tlieir noise and haranguing. 
 
 When they thought of brave Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who gave the Mounseers such a banging. 
 
 No hero, &c. 
 
 Though still Buonaparte, conceited and heartv. 
 
 Declared he could never be beaten ; 
 But at famed Waterloo, Arthur proved it untrue. 
 
 And taught him the art of retreating. 
 There's an end of his noise and haranguing. 
 
 All thanks to brave Arthur of Dangan, 
 Who gave Buonaparte a banging. 
 
 No hero, &c.
 
 78 
 
 THE ANDAMAN BOY. 
 
 (A True Sto7y,J 
 1816. 
 
 1 
 
 Witli favouring gale her pleasant course 
 
 The gallant vessel ran. 
 
 And as the sun arose she passed 
 
 The Isle of Andaman. 
 
 There dwells a rude and savage race. 
 That with extremest toil, 
 A scanty sustenance extort 
 From an ungrateful soil. 
 
 The land was almost out of sight. 
 When loud the seaboy cried. 
 That, struggling with the distan wave, 
 A human form he spied. 
 
 4 
 
 Down goes the helm, back go the sails. 
 The boat is on the wave ; 
 For never yet were Britons slack, 
 A human life to save. 
 
 The sturdy crew against the wind 
 Long plied the wiUing oar. 
 And to the ship returning glad 
 A boy in safety bore.
 
 79 
 
 Now rescued from impending fate. 
 And cheered by generous food. 
 By signs he told his luckless tale. 
 And well was understood. 
 
 How wand'ring on the sandy shore 
 What time the ship he spied, 
 At earliest dawn, in boyish play. 
 He ventured on the tide. 
 
 8 
 
 In thoughtless eagerness he swam. 
 But still the ship went on. 
 Until bewildered and perplexed 
 He saw the rising sun. 
 
 Far from the ship, and fi-om the shore. 
 He struggled long in vain. 
 Until no more his youthful limbs 
 The labour could sustain. 
 
 10 
 
 And had not then the sailor boy 
 Descried him on the wave, 
 And had not well the boatmen rowed 
 The sea had been his gi-ave. 
 
 11 
 
 The Andaman no more was seen, 
 The ship pursued her way. 
 For to fair Lanca's verdant isle 
 Her destined voyage lay.
 
 80 
 
 12 
 
 Ok then ! to see that anxious boy. 
 Look towards his native land. 
 And sadly sigh as he was brought 
 To tread a foreign strand. 
 
 13 
 
 Nor Lanca's Isle, nor kindliest care. 
 Could aught of joy impart ; 
 His mind was on the Andaman, 
 For home was in his heart. 
 
 14 
 
 Upon the bleak and lofty cliff 
 That looks upon the main. 
 The live long day that boy would sit 
 And strain his sight in vain. 
 
 15 
 
 He thought upon his leaf-built hut. 
 His hard and simple fare. 
 But they were lost — and all to him 
 Was dull and dark despair. 
 
 16 
 
 And vainly did the gallant crew 
 The boy from danger save. 
 For day by day he pined away 
 And soon was in his grave. 
 
 17 
 
 And who from Scotia's healthy hills. 
 Or Erin's emerald isle, 
 Or happy England's fertile fields, 
 At £uch a tale can sreiie.
 
 81 
 
 18 
 
 Tliougli boundless regions spread between, 
 Though mighty oceans part. 
 Who of you all that does not feel 
 That Home is in his heart. 
 
 DUNDRUM. 
 
 March, 1817. 
 
 Oh ! that the distant liour were come, 
 When I might see thee, dear Dundrum ! 
 Though bleak and bare thy mountains rise. 
 And dreary be thy wintry skies, 
 When snowy fields lie all around. 
 And the winds moan with sullen sound. 
 Yet still amongst thy gloomiest scenes 
 What pleasure recollection gleans, 
 "WTien she recalls the sheltered nook 
 Where oft I loitered with my book ; 
 And, reckless of the wintry wind, 
 To idle visions gave my mind, 
 Or wrapt in contemplation warm 
 Regarded not the passing storm ; 
 Or springing upward, doffed aside 
 The chains of indolence and pride. 
 And full of joy, of life and health, 
 Thought not of caution, care or wealth ; 
 Climbed fearlessly the mistv hill. 
 Though angry words would roar their fill ; 
 And still at day's departing hour 
 Returned to my paternal bower. 
 And lost in many a kindred smile 
 The sense of tempest and of toil, 
 s
 
 82 
 
 And cheerful in the social room 
 Forgot December's frost and gloom. 
 While circled round the blazing fire 
 The youthful jests that never tire. 
 Such were the wintry hours — but when 
 Bhthe spring came smiling o'er the plain. 
 And every primrose oped its eye 
 To gaze upon the lovely sky. 
 When the soft meadows splangled floor 
 Enticed the chariest out of door. 
 When the young orchards swelling blush 
 Began to shade the timid thrush. 
 And the brooks running bright and clear 
 Proclaimed that summer days were near. 
 When every bush, and all the sky. 
 Rang with the birds full melody. 
 The. scene to heaven would lift the mind. 
 And leaving earthly thoughts behind 
 Ort fancy's pinion would she soar. 
 And filled with old poetic lore, 
 Would freely dream of matchless song 
 In ardent numbers borne along ; 
 Of laurels won by lofty rhyme 
 And fame that spurns the scythe of time ; 
 Till the exhausted wing at length. 
 Compelled to feel decay of strength. 
 Recalled the thoughts to fellow men. 
 And sank to them and earth again.
 
 83 
 
 TO HAROLD. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Wlio would wrest the honours due 
 From the men of Waterloo, 
 When the glorious field is won. 
 And the hated Tyrant low ? 
 Britain's base degenerate son, 
 Madlv dares her name to tarnish ; 
 To exalt her baffled foe. 
 To deplore his fallen state. 
 And his infamy to varnish. 
 Could such thought admission find 
 But in gloomy Harold's mind ! 
 Scowling with malignant hate 
 On the quiet of mankind ! 
 
 Twice ten years the harrassed world, 
 Into wreck and ruin hurl'd, 
 Saw the plague of sword and flame 
 Riot in fair Freedom's name. 
 T^^Tanny, with blood defil'd, 
 Ofispring foul of Force and Fraud, 
 Clad as holy Freedom's child. 
 Stalked with daring front abroad. 
 Pouring on the frighted Earth 
 Many a lewd and monstrous birth. 
 Rout and Rapine sped his way. 
 Fear and Folly yelled applause. 
 Blood and Ruin marked his sway. 
 Rifled Fanes and trampled Laws ; 
 Blotting the all-glorious Sun 
 Stood the fiend Napoleon —
 
 84 
 
 Prodigal of human blood 
 Long he poured the living flood ; 
 Long the tide of conquest leading. 
 And o'er wasted nations speeding, 
 Grief and miseiy and dismay. 
 Wreck and horror strewed his way. 
 Undismayed and unsubdued 
 Britain unpolluted stood ! 
 Britain, dauntless and alone, 
 Lightly threw the hostile shock 
 Backward from her island throne, 
 Like the wild wave from the rock !- 
 And her sons, to ireedom true. 
 Crowned her fame at Waterloo — 
 For on British valour never 
 Could avail his fraud or force, 
 Smihng at each vain endeavour 
 Still she staved his impious course ; 
 Recreant and dismaved he fled 
 When a Briton reared his head. 
 Acre saw his coward flight, 
 From before a British Knight ; 
 Egypt saw him leave her strand 
 Skulking from a British band. 
 Safe on Gallia's guilty shore 
 On his impious course he bore ; 
 Then Marengo saw his slaughters, 
 Jena, Austerhtz, Eylau, 
 And the Danube's crimson waters 
 Saw the blood of millions flow. 
 Millions each returning hour 
 Sacrificed to rear his power ; 
 Millions sacrificed to him. 
 Idol bloody foul and grim ; 
 But the retribution due 
 Waited him at Waterloo. —
 
 85 
 
 Does thy race degenerate youth, 
 Boast hereditary truth ? 
 And dost thou their recreant son 
 Adulate Napoleon ? 
 
 But Iberia burst her chain, 
 Britain lent her saving hand ; 
 Then once more he felt how vain 
 Strugghng with a British band — 
 Trembled then the Tyrant's power. 
 As approached his fateful hour : 
 Though in fury he went forth. 
 Thundering on the distant North. 
 Salamanca's fearful story 
 Followed with portentous glare. 
 Roused the rugged Russ to glory 
 Plunged the Tyrant in despair — 
 Where are now the thousand legions 
 Gathered from his vassal regions, 
 That of wealth and conquest dreaming 
 Over passed the peaceful Niemen ? 
 Moscow lighted their undoing, 
 Berezyna saw their ruin ; 
 Flving o'er the trackless waste. 
 Seeking sepulture in snow. 
 Hurrying in breathless haste 
 From the vengeance of the foe. — 
 In that hideous day of grief 
 Where was found their daring chief ? 
 Did he seek a glorious ending 
 In the vaward of his slaves ? — 
 No, but Dnieper saw him wending 
 Through the stillness of the night. 
 Stealing into coward flight. 
 Silent o'er her silent waves. —
 
 8G 
 
 Still sunnved the power of hell ! 
 Still unbroken was the spell ! 
 Leipsic saw it dashed asunder, 
 Paris heard the Prussian thunder ; 
 Then the caitiff Tyrant banished 
 To his prison in the ocean. 
 Deemed we well the days had vanished 
 Of wild outrage and commotion. 
 Falsely deemed we, for again 
 Issued forth the scourge of men ; 
 Onwai"d rushing, till he met 
 With the British bayonet. 
 Then he found the vengeance due 
 To his crimes at Waterloo — 
 . And is this thine idol Harold ? 
 Is the despot Freedom's child 
 That in Fi-eedom's garb apparelled 
 Can inspire thy measures wild ? 
 Yes 'tis fit that thou alone 
 Adulate Napoleon. — 
 Well too fits it that thy lays. 
 Chanted to a tvrant's praise. 
 Should exalt a ruffian's glory 
 O'er the names of modern story. 
 Though that monster could assume 
 Royal Bourbon's snowy plume, 
 while his brother ruffian's hand 
 Carried carnage through the land ; 
 Though awhile a Bourbon's crown 
 Sparkled on his upstart head. 
 Justice hurled the villain down. 
 To the undistinguished dead. 
 And the groaning earth was rid 
 Of the butcher of Madrid. 
 
 To a plant of rancorous root
 
 87 
 
 Do we owe this hateful fruit ; 
 
 To the poisonous Galhc tree 
 
 Falsely called of Liberty ! 
 
 Hideous plant with slaughter nourished! 
 
 That in human miseiy flourished ! 
 
 Offspring fell of Force and Knavery, 
 
 Bearing Tyranny and Slavery! 
 
 From that baleful plant of hell 
 
 Marat, Robespierre, and Danton 
 
 In the germ untimely fell ; 
 
 But the fruit in full maturity 
 
 Of its venomous impurity 
 
 Ripen'd in Napoleon. — 
 
 Till the British lightning flashing 
 
 Full upon its lurid trunk, 
 
 Fruit, and trunk, and branches crashing. 
 
 To its native hell it sunk. 
 
 Never more to rise again 
 
 But in Harold's gloomy strain. 
 
 Vain thy prophecies of iU, 
 
 That those dreadful times returning 
 
 Treason once again shall fill 
 
 The sad earth with grief and mourning. 
 
 Vainly do such visions rise 
 
 To thy misanthropic eyes ! 
 
 That they never can be true. 
 
 Look, and think of Waterloo ! 
 
 Hie then to disgrace and shame. 
 
 Let thy serpent hissing cease ! 
 
 Slanderer of woman's fame ! 
 
 Ruiner of woman's peace ! 
 
 Into dark oblivion flee. 
 
 Think not that a thing like thee 
 
 Can detract the glory due 
 
 From the men of Waterloo.
 
 88 
 
 ST. HELENA. 
 May. 1818. 
 
 Ye cliffs dark and dreary that frown o'er the main. 
 Like dross from a furnace confusedly hurl'd ; 
 
 That pent in your iron bound limit restrain 
 The scourge of our versatile world : 
 
 Oh whether midst Nature's convulsions and throes, 
 When fire with the Ocean contended for power. 
 
 Your rocks from a submarine crater arose, 
 And fell in a chaotic shower. 
 
 Or if ye once fenced that magnificent isle, 
 "Whose beauty the pages of Plato disclose. 
 
 Where happiness sheds its retributive smile 
 On bowers of eternal repose. 
 
 Oh ! whether a remnant of Eden or hell. 
 
 Look well, ye rude cliffs, to your perilous trust : 
 
 Remember there now is confined in your dell 
 The Friend of war, famine and lust. 
 
 And in that deep dell tho' a paradise bloom, 
 Though nature in fulness of beauty be there ! 
 
 To him bloom and beauty are horror and gloom, 
 And peace but remorse and despair. 
 
 For fires more intense than the flames of your birth 
 In his bosom of baffled malignity rage, 
 
 And, to satiate his rancour, the desolate earth 
 Were now too contracted a stage ! 
 
 Though guarded by dragons, your apples of gold 
 Were once by the craft of a pirate purloined. 
 
 And poets have chanted, and chroniclers told. 
 Of the woes which thev wrought to mankind.
 
 89 
 
 The woes which they wrought were but showers 
 of the spring 
 To the wild wintry tempest of vengeance and 
 blood, 
 "Which, if the foul Vulture recover his wing. 
 Will follow his flight o'er the flood. 
 
 Then look, ye dark clifls, to your ominous trust ; 
 
 For if he escape ye by force or by guile, 
 Tlie tempest he wings, in its earliest burst. 
 
 Will wither thy desolate isle. 
 
 Deserted and loathed by the rest' of the earth. 
 Foul creatures of carnage shall lord o'er each dell. 
 
 And the curse of mankind will attribute your birth 
 To a penal eruption of hell.* 
 
 * The eighth and tenth stanzas are supplied by a superior 
 pen ; and of the others he who now writes can only claim 
 the outline.
 
 90 
 
 KANDI. 
 
 1820. 
 
 Marshes and quagmires, paddles, pools and swamps. 
 Dark matted jungles and long plashy plains. 
 Exhaling foetid airs and mortal damps. 
 By Kandyan perfidy miscalled a road. 
 Through which the luckless traveller must wade, 
 Uncheered by sight of man — or man's abode ! 
 Gladly I give to you these farewell strains 
 Nor e'er again would your repose invade. 
 I loathe your noisome fogs — your poisonous mud, 
 And the sad stillness of the sultry wood. 
 Without a sound the sickening heart to cheer. 
 Oh when shall I the western sea breeze hear. 
 Bearing old Ocean's intermitted roar. 
 As wave succeeding wave assails the sounding 
 shore ! 
 
 HOME. 
 
 1820. 
 
 Dear quiet home, while many a darkening liour 
 Of doubtful presage on my fortunes rose. 
 And servile caution shunned my dangerous door 
 As frowned the vulgar pride of upstart power, 
 Still here in peace and love I found repose. 
 For peace, and love, and Harriet, were my own. 
 And now these gloomy times are past and gone, 
 Tliough I do miss the voices that would raise
 
 91 
 
 The shout of infant joy as I appeared, 
 
 (That darling band by distance dearer grown. 
 
 Yet still to Heavenly 'goodness be the praise) 
 
 In thee, dear home,' are all my labours cheered ; 
 
 In thee all means of happiness combine, 
 
 For peace, and love, and Harriet, still are mine. 
 
 ■» ♦» 
 
 WEDDED LOVE. 
 
 July 23, 1820. 
 
 And is it so — twelve years to day 
 
 Since first I called my Harriet wife ? 
 
 Can Wedded Love without decay. 
 
 Gild such a portion of our life 1 
 
 Yet Poets sing, and sages say. 
 
 That Brides and ardent Bridegrooms soon 
 
 Awaken from the dream of love 
 
 And little of its rapture prove 
 
 Beyond the transient honey moon : 
 
 Indeed 'tis told — but scarce believed. 
 
 That for twelve moons a faith unshaken 
 
 Has sometimes glowed with constant flame ; 
 
 And then the parties claimed a prize, 
 
 As if a feat they had achieved. 
 
 Magnificent in human eyes 
 
 And loves expiring sway retrieved. 
 
 And once a century thus — a claim 
 
 Is made for Dunmore's flitch of Bacon. 
 
 But since beyond a twelve month none 
 
 Stands on record in song or histor\-. 
 
 This case of mine I needs must own j 
 
 Becomes a most perplexing mystery ; 
 
 Because, however time has gone, 
 
 I feel, and sure 'tis passing strange.
 
 92 
 
 As if a week had scarce passed over, 
 
 As if I were a youthful lover, 
 
 Without a wish my lot to change. 
 
 And Harriet — by that smile so dear, 
 
 (For well her smile can I translate,) 
 
 Tells me I have no cause to fear 
 
 That her affection can abate ; 
 
 Then as throur^h life we downward steer, 
 
 With hearts not likelv to grow colder, 
 
 Our love shall time itself deride 
 
 As with the stream we gently glide. 
 
 Although we must grow somewhat older. 
 
 But may not this be all a dream, 
 
 An unsubstantial pleasing show, 
 
 Or are these waters Mutwal's stream, 
 
 Is this the ocean spread lielow ? 
 
 Is this fierce rav the vernal beam ? 
 
 Is yon blue peak my native hill? 
 
 Grow those tall palms on Slaney's side ? 
 
 Is yon wild surf our gentle tide ? 
 
 Be still my beating heart — be still — 
 
 Far from the scenes of early joys. 
 
 From seven dear pledges of our love. 
 
 Our gentle girls and lively boys. 
 
 Substantial blessings still we prove. 
 
 Such as from pure affection rise : 
 
 And even on Mutwal's banks can trace 
 
 Remembrance of a milder day. 
 
 While on yon speaking canvas play 
 
 The features of each darling face. — 
 
 Then be it sc — twelve years to day 
 
 Since first I called m v Harriet wife. 
 
 Though my brown locks be turned to grey. 
 
 And wrinkles mark my date of life. 
 
 Blessed in her smile I only pray 
 
 To keep that blessing to the end ; 
 
 And that our dear ones long may prove 
 
 Memorials of our faithful love. 
 
 My wife, my mistress, and my friend.
 
 93 
 
 BAWL BLOCKHEADS, BAWL. 
 
 (A Radical Song.) 
 
 Air " Fall Tyrants, faU!" 
 
 1820. 
 
 The voice of experience is lost upon fools. 
 
 And history teaches in vain; 
 Then, blockheads, a fig for all rational rules. 
 And shout for the bones of Tom Paine. 
 Bawl Blockheads, Bawl, Bawl, Bawl, 
 These are Folly's happy days ; 
 Bawl Blockheads, Bawl. 
 
 How delightful to act on a stage of our own 
 
 All the pranks of republican France ; 
 
 Do\vn, down with the Church, and demolish the 
 
 Throne, 
 And join in the Carmagnole dance. 
 Bawl, &c. 
 
 And down with the Bank, and the 'Change, and St. 
 
 Paul's, 
 Let liondon run rivers of blood. 
 And shout in his ear, as each egotist falls, 
 " It is all for the general good." 
 
 Bawl, &c. 
 
 No matter what miseiy mankind endure. 
 If it forward the demagogue's plan ; 
 What blood has efiected — more blood must secure 
 And what is the life of a man .'' 
 Bawl, &c.
 
 94 
 
 Burdett, Hunt, and Cobbett in transient sway, 
 May then be exalted on high : 
 So Robespiere, Danton, and Marat, had their day, 
 Though now " dark and unlovely they lie." 
 Bawl, &c. 
 
 Away with the gallows so sombre and slow. 
 And up with the brisk guillotine ; 
 So each in his turn, bv his rival laid low, 
 May be quickly removed from the scene. 
 Bawl, &c. 
 
 And down with the merchants, the priests, and 
 
 the lawyers. 
 The noble, the learned and the great ; 
 And up with the tinkers, and taylors, and sawyers. 
 Till vagabonds govern the state. 
 Bawl, &c. 
 
 SIRMIO. 
 
 (From Catullus.) Febrvaiy, 1821. 
 
 Sirmio of all peninsulas or isles. 
 That or on quiet lake or boundless sea 
 Neptune embraces — with what joyous smiles 
 How pleased, dear lovely spot, I come to thee : 
 Scarcely believing I have left behind, 
 Bithynia's plains, and thee in safety find. 
 Oh what more bless'd than, when relieved from 
 
 care. 
 The mind throws off its burthen, and o'er worn 
 With foreign toil — we come to our own chair.
 
 95 
 
 And on the bed we longed for sink till mom ! 
 This, this alone has recompensed my pain — 
 Hail beauteous Sirmio ! — for thy master's sake. 
 Rejoice through all the waters of thy lake. 
 While through my household halls loud mirth and 
 laughter reign. 
 
 TO HARRIET. 
 
 July 23, 1821. 
 
 I heard my anxious Harriet say, 
 As on that group her eyes she bent, 
 " Oh might I hope to see that day ;" 
 And well I knew what day she meant — 
 Oh grant it Heaven, that she may prove 
 That day of joy, that day of love 1 
 
 When once again on Britain's shore 
 Her homeward footsteps she may trace — ■ 
 That happy day which may restore 
 Seven loved ones — to her fond embrace. 
 In thy dear mercy, gracious Heaven, 
 Protect and keep that darling seven ! 
 
 And should it be thy blessed will. 
 That I with her that day should see ; 
 A hope I humbly cherish still. 
 Oh what a day 'twill be for me ; 
 When I behold (our exile past,) 
 Our children and our home at last. 
 
 My Harriet, now a thirteenth year 
 Has closed upon our wedded state !
 
 96 
 
 And, Harriet, you are still more dear 
 Than when you first pronounced my fate. 
 Six annual circuits of the sun. 
 But passed — and then our goal is won ! 
 
 Nor let such hope presumptuous seem. 
 
 Which, founded upon vears of bliss. 
 
 Indulges in the pleasing dream, 
 
 That future years may be like this ; 
 
 My double confidence to prove 
 
 In Heaven's high will, and Harriet's love. 
 
 But be it good, or be it ill, 
 
 Our future days may have in store ; 
 
 Submissive to Almighty will. 
 
 With grateful hearts we will adore 
 
 His name from whom all blessings flow 
 
 In Heaven above and Earth below.
 
 97 
 
 July 23rd, 1822. 
 
 Tuesday, July the twenty-third. 
 
 Our wedding-day and not a word. 
 
 In honour of that happy day. 
 
 When Harriet gave herself away ; 
 
 And not a line in verse or prose, 
 
 To celebrate our Darling Rose ; 
 
 How could I such a recreant prove. 
 
 To Harriet's happiness and love. 
 
 Let me collect my puzzled wit, 
 
 I've two good hours to breakfast yet. 
 
 And may with diligence be able. 
 
 To lay an offering on the table. 
 
 And now a fourteenth year is past 
 
 Of calm domestic happiness. 
 
 And every year so like the last. 
 
 So much to love so much to bless. 
 
 That did not some beloved name 
 
 Serve as a mark to fix the date. 
 
 And now thank Heaven those names are eight, ^, 
 
 Each year would seem to be the same. 
 
 To mark this year of calm repose 
 
 And decorate our Indian bower 
 
 My Harriet brings a beauteous flower 
 
 Her smihng cherub lovely Rose. 
 
 And be it soon her happy lot 
 
 Across the main to bear her prize. 
 
 And twine it with that happy knot 
 
 That blooms beneath the western skies. 
 
 On that loved knot all bounteous Power 
 
 All good, all mighty, and all just. 
 
 In whom we live, in whom we trust. 
 
 Thy Heavenly grace and blessing shower. 
 
 u
 
 98 
 
 SvXy 23rd, 1823. 
 
 My years roll on but rarely now. 
 My pen in numbers tries to flow ; 
 Or if a simple strain 
 Awakes at some delightful thought, 
 The spark is chilled as soon as caught. 
 And all is dark a^ain. 
 
 Yet is there still one darling theWie, 
 On which poetic raptures seein. 
 About my soul to hover ; 
 This day, this joyful hapfpy day, 
 When Harriet gave herself aWay, 
 To bless her faithful l6ver. 
 
 And Harriet when this day we hail, 
 
 Our mutual thanks can never fail. 
 
 To him whose holy will ; 
 
 On us so bountifdlly pdtirs, 
 
 A ceaseless stream of peaceful hours, 
 
 Pure fttid unsullied still. 
 
 And for our dear Elhd IdVtely feevien, 
 
 Our earthly gifts frotti favotirihg heaven, 
 
 Our anxious prayers arisfe ; 
 
 In his protection we confide, 
 
 For those dear pledges who abide. 
 
 Beneath far distant skieS. 
 
 If fluttered by & thail delayed. 
 
 Think how those feelings are repaid, 
 
 "When comes the cheering tale ; 
 
 When the dear letters skitained iti haste. 
 
 Give our P&rental hearts a taste 
 
 Of joys that ne'er can fail.
 
 99 
 
 And for our Oriental Rose, 
 
 See how her infant beauty grows, 
 
 And see her mind expand ; 
 
 Think the delight that we may meet. 
 
 Should we once see those precious feet. 
 
 On our dear Father land. 
 
 Thanks he to Heaven we have eiyoyed, 
 Blessings which have not faUed or cloyed, 
 And can we hope for more ; 
 Yes, let us from his bounteous hand, 
 A guidance hack to that dear land. 
 With humble heart implore. 
 
 In the sweet vallies of the west, 
 To pass our waning days at rest. 
 Removed from strife and state ; 
 And in deep dell or grassy combe. 
 Or near our old paternal tomb, 
 Our final summons wait. 
 
 For this past year of happy days. 
 Again I lift my voice of praise. 
 And from mv heart I give it ; 
 For sure of all that I have passed. 
 Had I to choose I'd take the i^st. 
 And wish again to live it. 
 
 July 23rd, 1824. 
 
 Another year brings round our nuptial day. 
 And though one heavy cloud has dimned the year, 
 And from my Harriet drawn tbe filial tear. 
 Yet have we much of gratitude to pay ; 
 For health to us and ours benignly spared, 
 When pestilence and death arouncl «s glared.
 
 100 
 
 And she we mourn too well her task had done, 
 
 Too long had pined in agony and pain. 
 
 That in our selfishness we should retain. 
 
 One who her prize had gained, her race had run ; 
 
 Oh ! be it ours her liappy lot to share. 
 
 Without her anguish, but with hopes as fair 
 
 Yes, we have much of gratitude to pay, 
 That our dear loved ones in a distant land. 
 Are still protected by his mighty hand, 
 Which Vvfhen a parent it had ta'en away, 
 Raised other guardians in her stead to prove. 
 Successors in her kind and careful love. 
 
 A few months more, should Heaven extend our 
 
 days. 
 And we with those beloved ones may join. 
 Or by the lonely Taw, or wandering Teign, 
 To celebrate with them his glorious praise ; 
 Meantime with joy and gratitude e'en here. 
 My Harriet let us close our sixteenth year. 
 
 July 23rd, 1825. 
 
 The anxious sailor who for many a day. 
 Through changing climes his homeward progress 
 
 bends, 
 Marks duly on his chart the vessel's way. 
 And still rejoices as the line extends ; 
 Altho' that hne for many a league has passed. 
 Through an unvaried dull and trackless waste. 
 
 But should some pleasant object, cape or isle. 
 
 In lovely nature's verdant livery rise. 
 
 Where cheering marks of habitations smile. 
 
 And once more gladden his long wearied eyes. 
 
 Still on the scene delighted will he dwell, 
 
 JHe almost thinks it is the home he loves so well.
 
 101 
 
 So many a tedious hour I count away. 
 Of dull uninteresting listless time, 
 Yet glad to hope that every passing day, 
 Brings me still nearer to the western clime. 
 And as upon the formost prow I stand, 
 I catch the earhest gleam that marks the shadowy 
 land. 
 
 But when this day returns, another year, 
 
 Of nuptial happiness and home-felt hhss, 
 
 Upon my memory rises, and tho' dear 
 
 They all have been, yet none more dear than this, 
 
 That gave me w^ith my inmost love to twine 
 
 The youngest blossom of my darling nine. 
 
 Take dearest Harriet now the seventeenth time 
 The homely offerings of my grateful heart, 
 Tho' clad in halting verse and uncouth rhyme, 
 You value them beyond the pride of art ; 
 To you they breathe of truth and happy days. 
 And humble thanks to God and everlasting praise. 
 
 Oh ! if he will, our nineteenth wedding day, 
 May be the subject of a distant song, 
 A hope which hourly sheds a brighter ray. 
 And helps with steadier steps our course along. 
 That ere two summers pass our feet mav rest. 
 In the green valliea of the lovely west. 
 
 July 23rd, 1826. 
 
 And now another year has rolled along, 
 And my loved Harriet adds another gem. 
 To those that decorate my annual song ; 
 A song tho' rude, yet dear to her and them.
 
 102 
 
 Another year beneath this fervid sky, 
 Chequered abroad, of peace and love at home. 
 Of blessings deeply felt, of cares that fly, 
 As light and transient as the ocean form. 
 
 Pass but another year and we may share, 
 "With all our loved ones under milder skies, 
 Dear Devon's verdant lawns and balmy air ; 
 That now each hour in nearer prospect rise. 
 
 Heaven speed that happy hour to crown our toil. 
 Requiting as for many an anxious day. 
 When those dear eyes again on us shall smile. 
 And those dear lips our kisses shall repay. 
 
 Yes, dearest Harriet, upon hopes like these. 
 In humble confidence our views we rest. 
 On these our wishes fly beyond the seas, 
 And look for quiet in the lovely west. 
 
 That Heaven may speed that hour let us implore. 
 And tlio' tlie scene of many a happy year, 
 "Without regret we leave this sultry shore. 
 Nor give Ceylon the tribute of a tear. 
 
 On the Illness of King Geoft&;i; III. 
 
 Written in Dublin, 1788. 
 
 The voice of joy is silent ! O'er the plains, 
 "Where harmony and mirthful innocence. 
 Late tuned the vocal reed, — see black dispair. 
 Crawl from his horrid dea ; unwiUing quite 
 To leave the loathsome hole, yet goaded fwih 
 By sharp anxiety's tormenting sting. 
 Fast urging wjward to the thojoy seat,
 
 103 
 
 Of certain Grief, who sits enthroned far 
 In the bleak wilds, where sad Misfortune reigns. 
 The heavens themselves restrain the plenteous tears 
 Which used to fall, when death's destructive darts, 
 Envenomed new by Autumn's poisoned air, 
 Swept off the thousands to his dark abode. 
 The tearful clouds in dread suspense are held. 
 And universal nature seems to pause. 
 Till sable Eurus, blacker than of yore. 
 Shall waft the certain news of joy or grief. 
 For the loved Father of his people lies. 
 Distressed by sharp disease, whose cankering tooth 
 Preys on his intellect : unconscious now. 
 Of that dear love his goodness long has gained. 
 He counts the sad and sleepless hours away. 
 Or fired with passion, breaks the brittle bonds. 
 Of Sacred Reason ; then with i-age fatigued. 
 Fore-spent with violence, sinks down again. 
 And darts a ray of sense. Wide o'er his realms, 
 The cheerful light awakens hope, and calls 
 The flash of joy from every sparkhng eye. — 
 So the fierce tempests o'er some verdant plain, 
 Collect their sable troops-^from every side, 
 In dark solemnity they come, — and now 
 The prospect blackens round, — the whistling winds. 
 Proud of their strength begin to roar, — down falls 
 The piercing sleet or driving snow, they rage 
 Long time unchecked, till in his native strength, 
 Sol darts a genial ray, the saddened plains 
 Brighten with verduie, and the cheering green 
 Flows o'er the distant lawns, then fades again. 
 The momentary beam, and all is night ! !
 
 104 
 
 Ode to Poverty. 
 
 March, 1789, 
 
 Tremendous power, whose grievous chain, 
 
 Half naked limbs and chilling mien, 
 
 Can o'er the Sons of Poesy prevail : 
 
 Thou tyrant by thy subjects feared. 
 
 No temple to thy name is reared, 
 
 But the dark horrors of a gloomy goal. 
 
 When the sweet monarch of the tuneful nine, 
 
 Was erst reduced to tend Thessalian kine. 
 
 Eternal enmity to thee he swore. 
 
 And thence the dread resolve imprest. 
 
 On every future poet's breast. 
 
 Which age succeeding age confirms the more ; 
 
 But thou fierce power, with rankling hatred torn. 
 
 Cast on his threats reproach and scorn. 
 
 And as to mock his firm decree. 
 
 And ridicule his enmity. 
 
 Hast chained the infant bard as soon as born. 
 
 While then the favorites of the nine. 
 
 Under thy chilling influence pine, 
 
 Yet still immortal fame embalms the song. 
 
 To distant times our memory lives. 
 
 And though no generous patron gives. 
 
 Yet all revere the tuneful tlirong. 
 
 Descend my muse, in clouds of smoke 
 
 Enwrap't, for want of other cloak. 
 
 Though far more grateful to my eyes. 
 
 The fragrant vapours rise. 
 
 Which from a fat sir loin ascend. 
 
 And while they column to the skies. 
 
 To the pleased scent, a feast voluptuous lend. 
 
 While through the clattering broken pane. 
 
 The zephyrs moist with drizzling rain. 
 
 Search the lone corner where I Kit,
 
 105 
 
 By the small taper's trembling light, 
 
 Aided by fancy's power, I write. 
 
 Satire or praise, morality or wit. 
 
 Alack what noise is this ? — it is the muse. 
 
 Breathing sweet odours of Olympian dews, 
 
 She comes to fire my lyric strain ! 
 
 Ah no ! it is a fierce relentless dun. 
 
 Infernal Plutus' stem obdurate son. 
 
 Where shall I run 
 
 To avoid his strong enslaving gripe ? 
 
 Ah now the noise approaches nigh. 
 
 Whither, ah whither, shall I fly, 
 
 I smeU the perfume of his sootj'^ pipe ; 
 
 Ah Fancy, motley daughter of the brain. 
 
 Why dost thou these ideal terrors feign ? 
 
 'Twas but grimalkin with her captive prey. 
 
 That o'er the smoky rafters took her way, 
 
 And tossed the wi-etched mouse, in fierce vindic- 
 
 [tive play : 
 But see my taper tremblingly expire ; 
 Dark is my dwelling, silent be my Lyre. 
 
 ►♦♦♦< 
 
 On The King's Birth-day. 
 June, 4, 1 792. 
 
 While panting nations pause for breath. 
 
 And Discord's throat has ceased to roar, 
 
 While bending o'er tlie field of death, 
 
 Stands GaUia, grim with human gore ; 
 
 The muse with horror, turns th' averted eye. 
 
 No more she views the sanguined plains, 
 
 A nobler theme demands her grateful strains. 
 
 The praise of George the good and virtuous liberty.
 
 106 
 
 Happy nation's glorious king, 
 
 While howling tempests tear th' neighbouring coast 
 
 Where hope and fear for ever on the wing, 
 
 Flit thro' the troubled air, and vex each hostile host. 
 
 The sister islands lift their heads in peace ; 
 
 And tho' the storms of war in angry chase. 
 
 Yell round their ears, in vain the hell hounds roar, 
 
 'Gainst Albion's chalky cliffs or Erin'sverdant shore. 
 
 Mirth and frolic haste to me, 
 
 Sons of joy, and sons of glee, 
 
 In mutual gladness now your voices raise. 
 
 In songs of love, and songs of praise. 
 
 Let our thanks ascend the skies, 
 
 JiCt George's name be heard around, 
 
 Until the sound 
 
 Shall rise to join celestial harmonies; 
 
 So shall the universal orbit sing 
 
 With praises of our honor'd king. 
 
 CARE, an ODE. 
 Sept. 1796. 
 
 " Hence, busy Phantom, and be still, 
 " Why wilt thou thus my peace destroy, 
 " Anticipating future ill, 
 " Embittering every present joy, 
 
 " Where e'er I turn, where e'er I tread, 
 " Thy form incessant meets my eye, 
 " Abroad, at home, awake, abed,^ 
 " In vain to shun that form I try." 
 
 " Beware," the Phantom cries, beware, 
 " Nor thus avoid thy truest friend, 
 " Thou canst not fly me, I am Care. 
 " And still must on thy steps attend.
 
 107 
 
 " Though in the ruby swelling bowl, 
 " Thou wouldst thine anxious spirit steep, 
 " Still would I haunt thy wakeful soul, 
 " My power will chase the power of sleep, 
 
 " Though thou shouldst seek the splendid scenes, 
 " Of midnight mirth, and noisy joy ; 
 '• Thy heart shall wear my clanking chains, 
 " And with their sound, thy mirth annoy. 
 
 " Not even the discord of the bar, 
 " Shall my incessant whispers drown, 
 " Though clamourous be the wordy war, 
 " And endless be the silken gown. 
 
 " For shame, shalt thou sit idly here, 
 
 " And thus thy early youth consume, 
 
 " Without some pleasing hope to cheer, 
 
 " And lead thee through life's thickest gloom. 
 
 " Is not all Europe roused to arms, 
 " And does thy swelUng heart beat high, 
 " Have robes, or silken gowns, no charms, 
 " Thy ardent soul to gratify." 
 
 " Alas though Europe gleams in arms," 
 (Roused by this last reproach, I cry,) 
 " Though robes and silken gowns have charms 
 " Ambitious souls to gratify. 
 
 " To me, capricious Fate denies, 
 " To seek for honors in the field, 
 " Korean I bid my hopes arise, 
 " The thunder of the bar to wield. 
 
 " Since hapless love, and sad despair, 
 
 " Against my peace combine, 
 
 " For 1 must call EUza fair, 
 
 " And never hope to call her mine.
 
 108 
 
 " But hark, I hear the hostile sound, 
 " Now roars the dreadful drum, 
 " The Gallic foe, our shore has found, 
 " The robbers of the world are come. 
 
 " Away, ye slothful robes of peace, 
 " To warlike trappings yield, 
 " Your idle clamour, gownsmen, cease, 
 " And hurry to the field. 
 
 " There let me, rushing on the foe, 
 
 " Where full and fiercely glows the strife, 
 
 " At once my miseries forego, 
 
 " And end my cares and end my life." 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 May nth, 1797. 
 
 (When on duty with the Lawyers' Cavalry.) 
 
 1 
 
 The weary circuit of the night is o'er. 
 The sleepy guard stroUs homeward to his bed ; 
 While bright Aurora on the eastern shore. 
 Dapples the early clouds with glowing red. 
 
 2 
 
 (Oft through the night, I cast an upward eye. 
 While o'er the pavement clicked the frequent hoof ; 
 To watch the chamber where my love might lie. 
 And call down blessings on her happy roof.)
 
 109 
 
 3 
 To calmer, happier minds I leave repose. 
 And wander pensive to the silent plains ; 
 The splendid Sun in golden lustre glows. 
 And the shrill lark pours out his matin strains. 
 
 4 
 Tlie homely linnet swells his grateful throat. 
 The glossv black-bird echoes thro' the grove; 
 The pve's loud chattering, and the cuckoo's note. 
 Join in the blissful harmony of love. 
 
 5 
 
 Soft is the breath of morn — the vernal rose. 
 That hides her meek head from the vulgar gaze ; 
 Now her pale bosom to the sun-beam shews. 
 And drinks the liquid gloiy of his rays. 
 
 6 
 
 The flaunting wall-flower streaked with many an 
 
 hue. 
 The stocks dark purple, and the tulip's bloom; 
 The vellow jonquil and the violet blue. 
 Fill all around with beauty and perfume. 
 
 7 
 Ah why when nature spreads such music round. 
 Does my duU heart in suUen discord sigh ; 
 When such gay colours paint the smiling ground, 
 Why swells the tear of sadness in mine eye. 
 
 8 
 
 When last with joy, I hailed the coming spring, 
 (Twelve tedious moons have since revolved away ;) 
 How pleased was I to hear the black-bird sing. 
 Or the bUthe lark proclaim the opening day.
 
 110 
 
 9 
 
 Then light and jocund o'er the painted fields, 
 I gaily roved — from love's dominion free ; 
 Then every charm that bounteous nature yields. 
 Gladdened my heart, and was a charm to me. 
 
 10 
 
 Until (vain fool) I thought Eliza smiled. 
 
 Then swelled my breast with hopes delightful dream; 
 
 The sweet delusion every sense beguiled. 
 
 And soon my heart acknowledged love supreme. 
 
 11 
 
 But fancy raised me to a giddy height, 
 To dash me down-ward with more grievous fall ; 
 To hurl my young hopes into blacker night. 
 While my vain sighs upon Eliza call. 
 
 12 
 
 For with averted eye and chilling mein. 
 She turns disdainful from ray anxious sighs ; 
 Or in her looks indignant scorn is seen. 
 And anger flashes from her radiant eyes. 
 
 13 
 
 How can I then the smiUng morning hail, 
 Or taste the soft breath of the opening spring ; 
 Catch the sweet perfume rising on the gale. 
 Or joy to hear the glossy black-bird suig. 
 
 14 
 But dead to nature's charms — to all but love, 
 I wander pensive o'er the lonely plains ; 
 Unmoved, unjoyed, tlirough painted fields I rove. 
 And with a dull ear hear the black-bird's strains.
 
 Ill 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 A MOON-LIGHT SCENE. 
 
 Yes I must ever love the moon's soft beam, 
 When first she rises o'er yon eastern hill ; 
 And everv rude discordant sound is still. 
 Whether she tip the trees with scanty light, 
 Or through the foliage pours her silver stream ; 
 For 'twas at such a time, on such a night. 
 That wrapt in fancy's most dehcious dream, 
 I saw Eliza — heard her softly speak. 
 In sweetest chiding to my eager love ; 
 While not a whispering zephyr dared to move 
 The tresses spread upon her blushing cheek ; 
 And though her looks were seeming to reprove. 
 Yet did our hands in trembling union meet. 
 And feel our conscious hearts in throbs responsive 
 beat. 
 
 ■» ♦» 
 
 FAREWELL FOR EVER. 
 
 May. 1803. 
 
 Flown are my dreams of joy — and hope is vain, 
 Vain every effort — vain each fond endeavour ; 
 My anxious humble wishes to explain. 
 And I must bid — alas! — farewell for ever. 
 
 Yet justly from presumptuous hopes I fall. 
 Since blind with love, with ardent passion burning ; 
 In that bright eye, which kindly beamed on all, 
 My fancy found a smile that love returning.
 
 112 
 
 Cruel mistake. Ah! why did I aspire. 
 To seek a heart which owned a happier lover ; 
 Why ere I fanned the still consuming fire. 
 Did not my fears the dreadful tnith discover. 
 
 Ah why — but let me not obtrude my woes. 
 Upon those eves so cruel, vet so tender ; 
 My grief should interrupt not her repose. 
 My misery should not her less happy render. 
 
 From my presumption, all my miseries spring, 
 And to mv hapless fate I ^^eld — and never 
 May such a pansr Eliza's bosom wring, 
 As that with which I bid — farewell for ever. 
 
 G 
 
 REFLECTION. 
 
 June, 1803. 
 
 To die — and with me to the silent tomb, 
 Bring the last relic of an ancient name ; 
 To plunge its honours in oblivion's gloom. 
 No more to start forth at the call of Fame. 
 
 To see myself the last of all my race. 
 No child to honour, and no wife to love ; 
 No son in whom my lineaments to trace. 
 No daughter's eye my fond caress to prove. 
 
 But joy-less, solitary, still to pine. 
 To waste in aches and pangs the fretful day ; 
 To snatch a short forgetfulness from wnne. 
 And with a sad heart labour to be gay. 
 
 Is this to be my lot — has Heaven designed. 
 An heart disposed for love, to waste alone, 
 Has Providence bestowed ahberal mind. 
 To seek no creature's well-fare but mine own?
 
 113 
 
 Arfd ask a partner all its joys to share ; 
 
 Its ceaseless throbs a kindred heart demaud, 
 
 J(k ! would that kindred heart attend^ its'pfByer. 
 
 THE CHAPTER OF KINGS. 
 
 'fh& crowned heads since the conquest who ruled 
 
 this good nation. 
 Lately quitted their graves for a jollification ; 
 The shades had a supper on one of our coasts. 
 And the waiters were pot-bellied beef-eaters ghosts. 
 
 Luna shone out above them to scatter the dark. 
 As they sat on the sands above high water mark; 
 For the tide though Canute bade it stop they were 
 
 told. 
 Splashed His Majesty's small clothes, and gave 
 
 him a cold. 
 
 These defunct Kings and Queens had a worm- 
 eaten train, 
 
 Of the Statesmen, Wits, Heroes, and toasts of each 
 reign, 
 
 Thus Elizabeth, Burleigh and Bacon brought in, 
 
 Charles the Second made Rochester come with 
 Nell Gwyn. 
 
 Th€ chair, Norman Billy the Conqueror claimed," 
 For putting out candles at eight o'clock famed; , 
 But we 're ghosts now said Billy, and midnigibts 
 
 our own, 
 And I cannot toll curfew to put out the moon.
 
 114 
 
 King Rufus desired that no venison they'd put on, 
 For when hunting it last he was killed dead as 
 
 mutton ; 
 Bring no lampreys says Henry the First for alack, 
 They killed me about seven hundred years back. 
 
 When King Stephen bade Thomas-a-Becket say 
 
 grace, 
 King Henry the second made up a wry face. 
 While Dick Coeur de Lion not caring a damn. 
 Like a Lion attacked a whole quarter of lamb. 
 
 King John growing tipsy cried lets have a toast. 
 Bring the best magnum bonum Old England can 
 
 boast, 
 The best magnvmi bonum his barons could find. 
 Was his own Magna Charta at Runnimede signed. 
 
 Harries, Edwards, and Richards, the last of them 
 
 humpy. 
 Fuddled noses together till some appeared grumpy; 
 For the York apparitions drank white wine 'tis 
 
 said, 
 While the LancasLer ghosts would touch nothing 
 
 but red. 
 
 For the Roses cried Henry the Seventh I entwine'em 
 And like port mixed with sherry in marriage I 
 
 join 'em ; 
 Marriage Henry the Eighth said a good thing of 
 
 coui-?e is. 
 But two other good things are Jack Ketch and 
 
 divorces. 
 
 King Edward the Sixth with the rest did not sup. 
 For a bov of sixteen was too j-oung to sit up ; 
 But Queen Mary was there to our annals a blotch. 
 And Queen Bess with her ruff, and King James 
 with his Scotch.
 
 115 
 
 Charles the First, but the dew falling thick on the 
 shore, 
 
 Seemed the tears of our Isle for his murder of 
 yore ; 
 
 Charles the Second wept too, nought could com- 
 fort afford him. 
 
 Till a bumper, like General Monk, had restored 
 him. 
 
 A card of excuse came from Jamie the Second, 
 But the party had scarce on his company reckon'd. 
 For paler than lemons he fled from his throne. 
 And the Oranges instantly made it their own. 
 
 The Third William stood forward sans circumlo- 
 cution. 
 
 To drink to the memory of our famed revolution ; 
 
 Cried Queen Ann still may Britons the Ocean 
 command. 
 
 And ere long may a Marlborough march on French 
 land. 
 
 As the spirits broke up ere the sun shed his rays. 
 To the shades of two Georges they gave loud 
 
 huzzas. 
 Through the rocks the loud echo of Brunswick 
 
 was heard. 
 Long live England's Monarch, God bles3 George 
 
 the Third. 
 
 m 9 9*
 
 np- 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 Bard of undying fame whose magic lyre 
 Through many an age still yields its notes of fire, 
 Thy name ilium' d by genius' brightest rays 
 Needs not the tribute of a meaner praise': 
 Yet if each heart-string give its fond applause, 
 Tis but the echo which thy music draws. 
 Nor caji each bard the voice of praise refrain. 
 But brings the offering tho' but weak the stfain* 
 In the full chorus notes so low as mine 
 Must die unheard, and yet the tribute line 
 E'ea from my harp sweet Shakspeare shall h$ 
 thine. 
 
 T^y ipuse wa§ nature F^o ^Y Avon's strgaai, 
 Smil'd on her slumbering child's enchanted dream; 
 Uptyeil'd the mystic grandeur of her fac^, 
 Aiid bade thee copy every secret grace. 
 And whilst thou trembled at the high command 
 Trgth lent her pencil to thy doubtful ha^d, 
 Tajight thee to seize each line, each varying j^^e. 
 Until to life the perfect portrait grew. 
 Which still our hearts acknowledge, as we Yif?f« 
 But frohc Fancy saw with envious eye^ 
 Ccjlors so bright adorn realities. 
 Arid lur'd thee far away to fairy bowers 
 Where elfin revels speed Titania's hours ; 
 Where spells are ambush'd in each flow'ret fair. 
 That breathes its odours to the midnight air. 
 Then led thee far o'er yet untravelled seas. 
 To that lone isle whose music haunted breeze 
 Fanned bright Miranda's brow, its lovely queen. 
 Fair as the pearls in ocean caves unseen. 
 The spell girt shore by magic links enchained. 
 The spirit peopled realm where Prosper reigned :
 
 ni 
 
 Sc.wes of the §pijtji to arhjch its mmy heav«n 
 
 A bright mythology has smiling giveo. 
 
 But thou hast followed far thine airy guide 
 
 To northern climes where gloomier phantom^ glide. 
 
 The blasted heath, the tempest darken'd skies. 
 
 Where the wier'd sisters bid their spirits rise ; 
 
 The pallid moon to deeper paleness fright 
 
 Reluctant witness of each horrid rite ; 
 
 Drag unborn ages from the womb of time. 
 
 And beckon onwards through red gulfs of crime. 
 
 To blood bought honors the ambitious Thane, 
 
 Till ruin closes o'er his meteor reign. 
 
 Oh vain the crown that so much guilt has bought. 
 
 The dream'd of joys its splendor has not brought ; 
 
 In vain the board with festive gladness spread, 
 
 A sudden gloom is o'er that banquet shed; 
 
 But 'twas not fancy's spell that bade arise 
 
 Th' avenging spectre to the murderers eyes ; 
 
 'Twas nature lent the lamp, and bade thee mark 
 
 The deep recesses of a heart so dark ; 
 
 "Where throned like nightmare on his troubled 
 
 breast. 
 Remorse has doomed him never more to re»t; 
 While pallid Fqar to execute the doom 
 Evokes her spectres from their gory tomb. 
 E'en tbus, when Fancy's power had bodied fortU 
 The royal Dane revisiting the earth, 
 'Twas nature bade thee trace o'er Hamlet's roiad 
 The sad eclipse that phantom left behind. 
 To critic laws let other Poets bend. 
 In tears begin the scene, in sorrow end. 
 But nature's guidance taught her Shakspeara'a 
 
 hand 
 To range the smile and tear in rainbow band ; 
 We jest with Beatrice, but mourn the wrongs 
 Of Hero " done to death by sland'rous tongues, " 
 In Ardenne% graves let Jacques give the toas 
 To human miaery ox tj^e atrickea deer,
 
 118 
 
 They 're brighten'd by the gems of wit that shine 
 On the young brow of lovely Rosaline. 
 But though no classic rules thy pages own. 
 Though classic lore to the- was all unknown, 
 Yet painted here in colors sternly true 
 The haughty Roman frowns upon our view ; 
 The banished Marcus thirsting for a flood 
 To slake his burning ire of Roman blood. 
 But lol the suppliant female tram appears 
 'Tis qu<^nched far better in a mother's tears. 
 The sterner Brutus whose unyielding hand 
 Guides towards his victim friend the murderous 
 
 band 
 In vain affection in his heart would plead 
 At freedom's altar must that victim bleed. 
 That blood stain'd idol through whose empty name 
 So many crimes the page of history shame. 
 Yes, darker tales than ever fiction told. 
 Of deeper interest can that page unfold. 
 The muse of history on her brow may bind 
 The cypress wreath with laurels fair entwined. 
 And there may Shakspeare weave with skilful 
 
 hand 
 The fairest flowers that bloom in fairv land ; 
 From where tradition's doubtful light is cast 
 Shrouded by mists that veil the shadowy past ; 
 The crownless king, the worse than childless sire, 
 Outraves the war of winds, the tempest's ire ; 
 To where the torch of history burns more clear 
 Like Banquo's mirrored race our kings appear. 
 The voice of weeping o'er her captive child 
 Despairing Constance mourns in accents wild. 
 Yet when those bitter drops of grief were shed 
 She dream'd not where tiie helpless boy was led ; 
 The dungeon solitude, more hideous made 
 When ruffian forms its echoing walls invade ; 
 She did not hear the tyrant's stem command 
 Nor view the glowing steel, th' uplifted hand ;
 
 119 
 
 Oh had they been to those sad eyes reveal'd 
 Death would have pitied, and her lids have sealed. 
 She had not lived to know what strong defence 
 Are childhood's pravers and gentle innocence. — 
 Through the tumultuous cily's joyoi s throng 
 Proud Bolingbroke triumphant sweeps along ; 
 To grace that triumph and to glut that pride 
 His captive monarch sorrows at his side ; 
 Bends 'neath the weight of grief his sacred head. 
 Defiled with dust, and feels that hope is fled; 
 All weep with hira, but who refuse to smile 
 When Falstaff'^ jests the midnight hours beguile; 
 The' wisdom mourns amid that thoughtless band 
 To mark the iuture ruler of the land. — 
 But what are these mere scattered stars enroU'd 
 In the bright galaxy I leave untold ; 
 Far brighter strains their varied splendors ask 
 Sweet Shakspeare, 1 resign the unequal task ; 
 The only incense that should cloud thy shrine 
 Demands a kindhng torch as bright as thine. 
 
 [I. F.] 
 
 TO MY FATHER'S PICTURE. 
 
 1. 
 Dear relic of the noblest mind. 
 The kindest heart the purest worth ; 
 Oh vainly may we hope to find. 
 Another such on earth. 
 
 2. 
 
 Too early lost, unknown too long. 
 Yet prized and loved so well ; 
 Dearest of shades evoked among 
 My thoughts by memory's spell.
 
 120 
 
 3. 
 
 1 l*$Vd thee with a daughter's Itfver, 
 Though I might never share, 
 By the high will of Him above. 
 Thy fondness and thy care. 
 
 4. 
 Wide were the waves that rolled bttWeen 
 Our hearts that throb'd to meet ;■. 
 But darker gulfs now intervene. 
 Since thine has ceased to beat. 
 
 o. 
 
 Thy children hoped those wild waves should 
 The exile home have borne ; 
 Now thou hast past the gloomy flood. 
 Whence bark may ne'er return * 
 
 6. 
 
 The star of hope whose morning ray, 
 Brighten'd our early yeetrs; 
 Has usher'd in a sunless day. 
 Dark with despairing tears. 
 
 7. 
 But is for ever set that star, 
 And lost the hope it gave ? 
 Ah no ! we hail it from afar> 
 It shines beyond the grave. 
 
 8: 
 It tells us that thy spirit free, 
 Has burst its earthly chain, 
 That though awhile in fetters we 
 Must sorrowing here remain.
 
 121 
 
 9. 
 Yet when we pass death's dark abyss, 
 Thoa'lt greet us on that shore, 
 "Where hope is lost in perfect bliss. 
 And sorrow knowa no more. 
 
 10. 
 Can thought of earthly weal or woe, 
 On that repose intrude. 
 Still for thy children canst thou feel, 
 A fond solicitude .'' 
 
 11. 
 
 Our hearts cling to the dear belief. 
 While lonely pilgrims here. 
 Where every step is marked with grief. 
 That dream has power to cheer. 
 
 12. 
 
 Oh view our smiles too transient spark. 
 Our tears unnumbered see, 
 Our feeble efforts gladly mark 
 To lead a life like thee. 
 
 13. 
 
 Like thine may be our death, an end 
 To every shade of gloom, 
 Sweetened by hope of such a friend. 
 To greet beyond the tomb. 
 
 [I. F.]
 
 122 
 
 ON ANNA'S SECOND BIRTH-DAY 
 1834. 
 
 Oh thou whose everlasting love. 
 Pours down all blessings from above, 
 Hear while the voice of humble praise. 
 To thine eternal throne I raise ; 
 This day on which thy goodness gave 
 The dearest joy I have on earth. 
 Save hope of those beyond the grave, 
 Tliis day which saw my darUng's birth. 
 
 And oh when gazing on her sleeping. 
 With love and grateful gladness weeping, 
 I think how few short months are fled. 
 Since watching by her restless bed. 
 The fevered start^ the wandering eyes. 
 How must I praise that pitying power. 
 Who heard my weak despairing cries. 
 And spared me in that fearful hour. 
 
 Yes ! lov'd one. thou art slumbering now. 
 
 No cloud upon thy bright young brow. 
 
 Fresh on thy pillow-cheek the rose. 
 
 In calm and beautiful repose. 
 
 As if some angel's wing were near. 
 
 Fanning all evil things away, 
 
 Or happy dreams had led thee dear. 
 
 Amid lost Eden's bowers to play. 
 
 Ah ! dreams indeed, for thou art still 
 A fallen child, an heir of ill. 
 One who will learn in after years, 
 To steep her couch in midnight tears,
 
 123 
 
 Such drops if now those dear eyes shed, 
 Thy Mother's lips would kiss away ; 
 when I am numbered with the dead. 
 Ah who will then thy griefs allay. 
 
 What eye v,m11 watch so fondly o'er thee. 
 What heart ere feel as mine does for thee, 
 Alas, though dearer far to thine. 
 There'll none return a love like mine; 
 Here darling thou may'st nestle now. 
 When childhood's transient griefs molest. 
 The day may come thy drooping brow. 
 Will ache in vain for such a rest. 
 
 Time on his dark funereal wing, 
 WiU sin and strife and sorrow brinsr. 
 Thy comfort seeking glance may find. 
 But the cold blight of looks unkind. 
 Thy spirit like tlie Patriarch's dove. 
 May long in vain seek rest below, 
 Alas we seldom seek above. 
 Till school'd by many a bitter woe. 
 
 Might I be spared till reason's ray, 
 First o'er thy morn of mind should play, 
 And be with strength divine supplied. 
 Heaven-ward thy infant thoughts to guide. 
 To mark thy joy, thy li«tning eye. 
 Melt into bright and holy tears^ 
 Then lift its prayerful glance on high. 
 Oh that would calm my anxious fears. 
 
 O Lord, on all thy mercies past. 
 Should not my faith her anchor cast, 
 And tho' the rugged path I dread. 
 My darling's feet through life must tread.
 
 124 
 
 Trust that her Saviour will be near, 
 To shield her from the tempter's snares. 
 With heavenlv light the way to cheer. 
 With love divine to sooth her cares. 
 
 Oh let me trust like her who stood. 
 In the old time by Egypt's flood. 
 And trembling, yet confiding gave. 
 Her cherished treasure to the wave : 
 Thou who didst keep that fragile hark. 
 My treasure's guardian deign to be. 
 Watch o'er my helpless little bark, 
 Just launched on life's tempestuous sea. 
 
 Methinks I hear those accents mild. 
 Thy welcome to each blessed child. 
 By Salem's daughters brought to^thee, 
 " Oh suffer such to come to me ;" 
 And wilt thou not my child receive. 
 In thine eternal arms to rest, 
 Ah yes ! in hope assur'd I hve, 
 I know her safe, I know her blest. 
 
 [I. F-]
 
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