^.^ 
 
 ::^ 
 
 ^
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 LOST VALENTINES 
 
 FOUND; 
 
 OTHER TRIFLES 
 
 RHYME. 
 
 Wliercsoe'er the cap shall light, 
 
 There let it bide, provided always 
 That it do befit the wearer. 
 
 LEGEND OF OLD SIMOX. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. AND J. ALOIAN, PRINCES STREET. 
 HANOVER SQUARE. 
 
 1821.
 
 BARNABD AND FARLEY, 
 Skiniui- Strtet, London,
 
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 In offering to the public the following very in- 
 teresting morceaux, we feel that we are bound 
 to give some explanation of the mode in which 
 they came into our possession, in justice to our 
 hitherto unimpeached reputation, a part of us, 
 
 by the way, which we value quite as highly as 
 
 a2 
 
 8S7085
 
 iy editor's preface. 
 
 my Lord Eldon* does his, although without the 
 taste, or the opportunity, for so loudly and so 
 
 * " John Scott, Baron Eldon, is a name that will be remem- 
 bered so long as the misery of the present era shall live in 
 the recollection of future ages. ' It is a foul blast that bloweth 
 good to no one,' his Lordship may well exclaim, as he looks 
 back upon the storms which, for the last twenty years, have 
 desolated the fertile plains of Albion, — tlie storms that have 
 razed her proud mansions and her humble cottages, and have 
 passed harmless over her poor-houses alone, — those storms that 
 have brought ruin to three-fourths of her population, priva- 
 tions to all, — have wafted to his Lordship a Baron's coronet 
 and a Prince's revenue. What marvel then that he should 
 stickle for a system by which he has been elevated from an 
 humble and an obscure origin to power almost unbounded, 
 to wealth almost unlimited. Upon the bench, like Fitzgib- 
 bon, he commands the respect of his political opponents ; 
 upon the woolsack, deficient in nerve, in talent, and in elo-
 
 editor's preface. 
 
 pathetically lauding it. VVe are the more 
 anxiously desirous of giving such an explana- 
 tion, lest some evil-minded person or persons 
 
 quence, he has never been looked up to as a leader by his 
 political adherents ; as a judge, he doubts ; as a statesman, 
 he weeps; as both judge and statesman, he has the singular 
 bad taste of vaunting eternally of his own purity. Does his 
 Lordship apprehend, that being so long the depository of his 
 sovereign's conscience, it may be suspected that his own has 
 been ejected from his bosom ? If Lord Eldon were only a 
 judge, his name would go down to posterity with the greatest 
 of his predecessors ; but the memory of his impartiality upon 
 the judgment seat is too likely to be obscured by the recol- 
 lection of the pliancy of his principles in the senate and 
 the cabinet. His Lordship is more to be commiserated than 
 to be condemned; it is the fault of that corrupt system, 
 which makes the ermine of the judge the first prize in the 
 political arena." — Day of Retribution, a pamphlet. 
 
 A3
 
 \i editor's preface. 
 
 should insinuate that we resorted to the assist- 
 ance of picklock barons, intriguing chamber- 
 maids, discarded menials, or, lower than all, of 
 pettifogging lawyers, to enable us to pry into 
 the secrets of our intimates, or of our supe- 
 riors. In limine, then, should any person dare 
 thus to traduce us, we repel the base calumny, 
 with the most profound indignation and with 
 the most sovereign contempt. We tell the foul- 
 mouthed calumniator, that we are British, and 
 we tell him too, that the times must be degene- 
 rate indeed, when honest John Bull shall stoop 
 to the adoption of such means, for the accom- 
 plishment of any object whatsoever. 
 
 Upon the morning of the fifteenth of Fe-
 
 EDITOR .S PREFACE. vii 
 
 bruary, the day after the celebration of St. Va- 
 lentine, a little squat well-built man, attired in 
 a full suit of plain, very respectable Monmouth- 
 street broad-cloth, a cotton umbrella grasped 
 by his right hand, and a parcel wrapped up in 
 an antique Bandanna kerchief occupying- his 
 left, entered the shop of our publishers at a 
 moment when we happened to be present ; and 
 demanded, or rather commanded, an interview 
 in their back parlour, by pointing the aforesaid 
 umbrella in the direction of that apartment, and 
 immediately making a stately movement in ad- 
 vance. Our publishers are persons of very 
 great caution, and whether the mysterious as- 
 pect, or the mysterious taciturnity of the man 
 in brown, discomposed their nervous system,
 
 Vm EDITOR S PREFACE. 
 
 we know not ; but, certes, we plainly perceived 
 tliat the proposed tete-^-tete was by no means 
 relished. We therefore gave them a nod to 
 remain stationary, and pursued the footsteps of 
 the stranger ourself. The unknown was a man 
 of circumspection, a man of few words, and 
 withal a man of business ; the door was se- 
 cured, the Bandanna was untied, its contents 
 unfolded, — all without one word, and within 
 one minute. " Will you purchased' asked the 
 man in brown. We threw our eye hastily 
 over the twopenny-post letters (for such were 
 the papers shown to us), and at once formed 
 our opinion. " How came you, good Sir, 
 in the possession of these documents?" " It 
 boots but little ; will you buy them ? I have
 
 EDITORS PREFACE. ix 
 
 neither words nor time, although I have appe- 
 tite to lose." We perceived our new friend 
 was not to be trifled with. We therefore 
 made an offer, which was accepted ; and the 
 little man, putting our Henry Hase into one 
 pocket, and the vacant Bandanna into the 
 other, without uttering- one word, in a mea- 
 sured pace, took his departure. 
 
 Such, gentle reader, is the history of the 
 transaction. You are now to determine whether 
 we have made a good or a bad bargain ; ques- 
 tionless we made a hasty one ; and at all events, 
 should we have to lament the abstraction of our 
 cash, we shall not have to deplore the forfeiture 
 of our more precious time.
 
 editor's preface. 
 
 In order that our readers — for we suppose 
 them vel duo vel nemo — should have the full 
 value of their money, in quantity at least, 
 we have resorted to a drawer, wherein were 
 deposited the poetic contributions of a perio- 
 dic work, in which we were formerly engaged, 
 but which unhappily departed, after a weakly 
 existence of six months and ten days, — not 
 of consumption, but of rapid decline. The 
 " Trifles in Rhyme" may therefore, in some 
 measure, be considered posthumous ; no small 
 recommendation, as, according to Sir Andrew 
 Analyse, " an author never lives till he dies." 
 
 March, 1821.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Page 
 
 From The to the Marchioness of 3 
 
 The Marchioness of to the 9 
 
 Sir W r S—tt to the Queen 13 
 
 Hibernia to Lord 17 
 
 Mistress Bubble to Lord S 21 
 
 T M e to the Emerald Isle 25 
 
 W C-bb-tt, to the Weaver Boys of 
 
 Lancashire 28 
 
 The Rev. G— Cr— bbe, a Farewell 36 
 
 W W— d — th to Mrs. Hannah More 44
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 Page 
 
 To Mary ^^ 
 
 The Primrose 62 
 
 Farewell ^3 
 
 To the Evening Star 67 
 
 Upon an Infant's Death ''^0 
 
 Speech of Panthea to Abradates "^2 
 
 To J B B "^6 
 
 To P J — - B 80 
 
 Eva 86 
 
 Notes ^'
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND.
 
 LOST VALENTINES 
 
 FOUND. 
 
 FROM THE TO THE MOST NOBLE 
 
 THE MARCHIONESS OF C . 
 
 The dear little creatures, we can't do without them, 
 They're all that is sweet and seducing to man. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Win— r, lith February, 1821. 
 
 Oh ! joy of my bosom, delight of my heart, 
 
 Gay blooming Marchioness ! thou shalt be mine,— < 
 All buxom — all witching — all round as thou art — 
 Thou wert formed, my love ! for thy own Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 b2
 
 LOST VALENTINES POUND. 
 
 Ah ! what is this world and all its possessions, 
 Unless we possess what we love above all? — 
 
 'Tis hollow and false as Jack E — n's professions. 
 And dismal as Sid's puritanical howl. 
 
 What a bother Old Bags keeps about this pure nation, 
 What fudge all his cant is, so fawningly civil — 
 
 Give us but one smile, and thy sweet conversation, 
 And Bags and his conscience may go to the devil. 
 
 And there's the old Beldame, come back to tor- 
 ment us, 
 
 To the devil we pitch her along with Old Bags ; 
 Let them yell on, my love, they can only cement us; 
 
 A fig for the yells of the gentry in rags!
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 The Bill that we sent to the Lords has miscarried, 
 But Ca — r — gh tells us, we never must fret — 
 
 His thrust, for the present, the scarlet-one parried, 
 But he swears, by the scourge, he will vanquish 
 her yet. 
 
 And oh ! if he do not, we swear by thy smile, pet— 
 An oath the most solemn a lover can swear — 
 
 That we shall destroy both himself and his vile set. 
 And blow them, like froth, into bubble and air. 
 
 In despite of the factions that grapple for power, 
 
 In despite of the wretches that scramble for place. 
 We shall shew, my beloved one, how highly we 
 tower, 
 When our courage is screwed to the mark of dis- 
 grace.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 But away with those turmoils, that trammel our plea- 
 sures — 
 
 Away with those dastardly quakes and alarms — 
 In thy bosom, my love ! are enshrined all our treasures, 
 
 And our j oy in the sphere of thy plump, circling arms. 
 
 When we dwell in that sphere, oh ! the world is a 
 
 banter, 
 
 Not worthy one thought, nor one feeling of our's ; 
 
 Where's the blockhead so simple, to think about 
 
 winter, 
 
 Whilehe roves, undisturbed, in an Eden of flowers? 
 
 At thy feet, my beloved, our diadem laying — 
 No longer a K — , but a subject, we'll be; 
 
 Our glory shall rest in thy mandates obeying, 
 
 And the wreath of our fame shall be woven by thee.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Ah! come to the cot — leave the vv^est for the south, 
 love, 
 Where we shall be Damon, and thou shalt be 
 Phillis, 
 With a crook in our hand, and a pipe in our mouth, 
 love. 
 We'll tend the young lambs— never mind Doctor 
 Willis. 
 
 Come, Phillis, ah! come — for the meadows shall 
 soon, love, 
 Be spangled with daisies and primroses blow- 
 ing ; 
 We shall wander at night, by the light of the moon, 
 love, 
 Attuning our reeds by the rivulet flowing.
 
 8 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Then haste thee, my love, leave the ninny beside thee, 
 To snore out his nights — like a vpell-fatted swine ; 
 
 If thou tarriest longer, thy Damon will chide thee, 
 Thy absence is torture to fond Valentine.
 
 IXJST VALENTINES FOUND, 
 
 FROM THE MARCHIONESS OF H- 
 TO THE . 
 
 M — Square, 
 
 14th February, 1821. 
 
 Heartless, ruthless, vile way-layer — 
 Faithless monster — base betrayer; 
 Hast thou found a fair more suiting 
 Thy selfish joys — or is cornuting 
 Such a passion now of thine, 
 That thou, unwieldy Valentine, 
 Must every day procure a drone, 
 To deck with laurels, like thine own?
 
 10 LOST VALENTINES FOUNC. 
 
 Oh ! my noble bosom's beating 
 
 With pride and rage — revenge and hating; 
 
 In fits that rack me like a tertian, 
 
 When it feels thy base desertion : — 
 
 And for whom — thou mark for scorn 1 
 
 Hast thou planted there a thorn 1 
 
 Not for her whose lonely station, 
 
 Hath roused the lion of the nation, 
 
 Oh ! that would be some consolation ; — 
 
 But for a low-born City woman, 
 
 Like Cheapside ware — less cheap than common ;- 
 
 A creature, God knows how descended, — 
 
 But she descends when you're befriended. 
 
 How dare these doxies from the east, 
 
 Presume to traffic in the west. 
 
 While traders dwell in every square 
 
 And street, this side of Temple- bar ; 
 
 Enough by more than three to one — 
 
 And what is trade when overdone ?
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND, H 
 
 'Tis worthless as thy dandy whiskers, 
 Or thy leering, faithless blinkers. 
 Let me ask, how does this charmer 
 Surpass thy old one — is she warmer 
 Than her, you used to call your bumper? 
 Is she as plump— or is she plumper? 
 Has she seen so many years, 
 Or can she shed such lovely tears ? 
 But I forbear — my heart is breaking, 
 Cruel man — thy joy 's forsaking 
 Simple bosoms that believe thee — 
 Faithful hearts, that won't deceive thee. 
 Oh ! thou hast ever sought the smile 
 Of lovely woman — to beguile : 
 Thou'st never known a generous feeling. 
 For one, whose casket thou wert stealing ; 
 But like the thief, whose joy is thieving, 
 Thou plunderest for the sake of 'reaving.
 
 12 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Tis idle, though, in words t'upbraid thee, 
 No words, lost man, can now degrade thee; 
 For in the eye of all the nation, 
 Thou'rt sunk in lowest degradation. 
 Farewel then — I'm no longer thine, 
 Unwieldy, monstrous Valentine.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 13 
 
 FROM SIR W S-TT TO 
 
 THE Q N. 
 
 Lady fair, and lady bright, 
 
 Hearken to a new-dubbed knight. 
 
 Lady fair, and lady gay. 
 
 Hearken to the roundelay, 
 
 That minstrel singeth at beauty's shrine, 
 
 On eve of sainted Valentine. 
 
 Oh ! Beauty hath power to vanquish us all. 
 Oh ! Beauty of love is the light and the soul ; 
 'Tis the plume that gives wings to thehttle god's dart, 
 'Tis the bird that when fledged finds a nest in the 
 heart
 
 14 tOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Girls and boys — hobbledehoys — 
 New-loves and true-loves — 
 Both LAY and divine, 
 Are all of them thine— 
 Illus-tri-ous Saint Valentine. 
 And why should Poet be 
 
 The hindmost of the throng, 
 In offering to thee 
 
 The incense of his song? 
 Oh! rather be he first, 
 Or for ever be he curst. 
 And doomed for aye to pine, 
 In lack of generous wine. 
 To pledge his Valentine. 
 
 Royal Dame — Britannia's Queen, 
 The Minstrel hath thy sufferings seen, 
 With troubled breast, and throbbing vein. 
 With bursting heart, and burning brain.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 15 
 
 With feelings such as mortals feel, 
 When bowels are not cased in steel. 
 
 'Tis true, though, Lady! thy liege Lord, 
 Unbidden— of his good accord, 
 Did Minstrel's heel, of late, be-spur. 
 His loins be-gird, his cloak be-fur. 
 His helm be-plume, his name be-Sir, 
 
 High honours all : 
 And in requite the Bard hath given, 
 Pledge of faith in sight of Heaven, 
 To be, unto the death-quake even, 
 A faithful thrall. 
 
 His fealty is his King's alone. 
 His body to the hindmost bone. 
 Belongs of right unto the throne ; 
 But, oh ! his heart — his heart's his own,
 
 16 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 And never can unite with heart 
 
 Of Castlereagh, or Vansittart, 
 
 Of Harrowby, or Jenkinson, 
 
 Of Wellesley Pole, or Wellington, 
 
 Of Johnny Scott, or Addington : 
 
 But why should Bard such names withal 
 
 Recount, repeat, remark, recall ? 
 
 They have not gotten hearts at all. 
 
 Fare thee well! — the harp of the North 
 Shall chaunt thy praise, and sing thy worth, 
 From banks of Thames to Frith of Forth. 
 Farewel, Lady ! heaven befriend thee, 
 May truth and justice ever tend thee, 
 And from treachery defend thee. 
 Farewel ! farewel ! a fair good night, 
 And rosy dreams, and slumbers light — 
 To love a bloom, to hate a blight.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 17 
 
 HIBERNIA TO LORD 
 
 Now cursed be the time 
 Of thy nativity ! 1 would the milk 
 Thy mother gave thee wlien thou suckedst her breast. 
 Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake ! 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 
 When truth in thy bosom, if ever there were 
 One spot to be found for sincerity there ; 
 When truth was supposed in thy bosom to dwell, 
 In the bright day of youth, when the breast is no hell, 
 You pledged me your faith, and you swore to be true. 
 And all guileless, my heart fondly trusted in you.
 
 18 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 It trusted — though often and often deceived ; 
 
 It trusted — and all your professions believed : 
 
 You were young — you were bold — you were talented 
 
 too, 
 At least my fond heart gave those talents to you. 
 Of all who stood forward to combat my foes, 
 And, oh ! there were many brave hearts among those ; 
 Hearts that could brook not the chains that en- 
 twined me, 
 But sunk to the grave when they failed to unbind me. 
 Oh! thou, in proclaiming my wrongs, wert the 
 
 loudest; 
 Oh ! thou, in demanding my rights, wert the proudest. 
 In denouncing the recreants that trampled me under. 
 Your glance was all lightning, your voice was all 
 
 thunder. 
 And the tyrant appalled stood in tremulous wonder; 
 The banner of green, that for ages lay furled. 
 You rolled from its staff, and displayed to the world.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 19 
 
 Oh ! I wove for thee then, the bright garland of fame, 
 As my heart would respond at the sound of thy name ; 
 And I poured out that heart, as the angels above, 
 To the Godhead pour forth the full chalice of love : 
 But how was my love, by thee, false-one, requited, 
 And how was redeemed the faith that you plighted? — 
 As the serpent's, that poisoned the garden of joy. 
 And smiled upon her, whom it sought to destroy, 
 With fraud and with falsehood, but equalled by his 
 Who betrayed his great God with a parasite kiss. 
 Raised to power alone by thy country's depression, 
 That power was upheld by the fiercest oppression ; 
 By the torture, the faggot, the scourge, and the brand, 
 By rapine's dark claw, and by murder's red hand. 
 With the dupes you deluded, the gibbets were 
 
 crowded. 
 And the mantle of mourning your brethren en- 
 shrouded :
 
 20 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 But 'twas not enough — even then was unsated 
 Thy ravenous gorge — nor thy foul deeds completed. 
 Until you despoiled me of freedom's last gleam, 
 And left me of liberty nought but the dream. 
 But ah ! wretched man, tho' successful thou deemest 
 Thy progress, and though in possession thou seemest 
 Of the spoil that thy falsehood and treachery earned, 
 The time is not distant when you will have learned 
 That the foe in your breast, though its goading may 
 
 cease, 
 But grants thee a truce, and will never make peace. 
 A mind such as thine, when the tumult around thee 
 Shall be stilled, will itself be enough to astound thee, 
 And shall torture thee more, with despair's dark im- 
 pressions, 
 Than the hell that awaits thy atrocious transgressions.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 21 
 
 MISTRESS BUBBLE TO 
 LORD S . 
 
 Alas, for man ! how vain are all his cares! 
 And, oh ! what bubbles his most grave affairs ! 
 
 Gifford's Persiiis, Sat. /. 
 
 Threadneedle Street, 
 
 14th February, 1821. 
 
 My sweetest Lord ! 'tis now the season 
 
 When every young, mid-aged, and olden woman. 
 
 To her belov'd assigns the reason, 
 
 Why he's selected from the herd so common : 
 
 Permit me, therefore, just to seize on 
 
 This sighing moment, and to thee unbosom 
 
 The secrets of a heart that ever shall be thine, 
 
 Religious — holy — hoary — Valentine.
 
 22 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 When first I met thee— cold, sedate, and aged, 
 I was, myself, in years a little stricken; 
 
 The foulest plots against my fame then raged, 
 Plots that made one's very bowels sicken. 
 
 'Pon reputation I was always very rigid, 
 
 But calumny, like Scottish broth, will thicken, 
 
 When kept a-stirring and parboiling. 
 
 And calumny, you know, is reputation-spoiling. 
 
 The name of Mistress Bubble was so much abroad, 
 That even honest folk began to slight it • 
 
 And others, knaves long versed in fraud, 
 
 Essayed, without her leave, themselves to write it. 
 
 With lynx's eye, at once, my love ! you saw't, 
 And thus exclaimed, " Do pray indict it, 
 
 " Mistress Bubble, and trust to me, who feeds the 
 " gallows, 
 
 " And our good brother Ketch — to swing those 
 " fellows.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 23 
 
 " Knowest thou not, good honest Mistress BubblCj 
 " That caution ever marketh my professions, 
 
 " And even when profanely I must babble, 
 " Piety pervadeth my expressions: 
 
 " A mode that saveth much of carnal trouble, 
 
 " To those who are not prone to make confessions, 
 
 " Or to undo themselves what they've been doing, 
 
 " An open mouth is oft the porch of ruin." 
 
 When thus I heard thee speak, I was delighted. 
 
 And did repose a confidence unbounded. 
 In the faith that you so zealously had plighted, 
 
 Despite of bitterest foes who then surrounded. 
 And truth to say— that trust was well requited. 
 
 For all those foes were very soon confounded; 
 You seized — you strung — and Debtor's door can 
 
 tell, 
 How many souls, for me, you sent to heaven or hell. 
 2
 
 24 LOST VALENTINES FOUNB. 
 
 It boots but little, to which habitation. 
 
 Such wretches may have winged their flight; 
 
 It is not worth a moment's cogitation. 
 
 Whether they're now in darkness or in light: — 
 
 Indeed the latter ought to be the station 
 
 For imps who were inured to deeds of night ; 
 
 It matters little, though, for spite of all opinions, 
 
 You took especial care to clip their pinions. 
 
 Pursue, Great Man! the pious course you've chosen. 
 And I shall bless thee while a rag I've gotten; 
 
 String them, string them, by the score and dozen, 
 Make work for Ketch and Parson Cotton : 
 
 And while the system marvellously goes on. 
 Thy services shall never be forgotten ; 
 
 Our Notes shall chant thy praise throughout the 
 nation. 
 
 And Malthus laud thee for depopulation.
 
 I-OST VALENTINES FOUND. 25 
 
 FROM T M TO THE 
 
 EMERALD ISLE. 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 
 Moore, 
 
 Remember thee ! — remember thine ! 
 When yonder orb shall cease to shine, 
 And when the summer wave grows dim, 
 Beneath a sparkling beam from him. 
 Oh ! then this heart, this heart of mine. 
 Shall cease to throb for thee and thine. 
 
 c
 
 26 LOST VALENTINES FOUND, 
 
 Loveliest gem in ocean's breast, 
 Holy land, St. Patrick blessed ; 
 Land of many a flowery wreath. 
 Land whose air no reptiles breathe. 
 
 Land of the fairest, and land of the bravest. 
 
 That ever won trophy in love or in war; 
 When darkness hung over the world, thou gavest 
 
 The beam that illumed and enlightened afar. 
 But ah! in the blaze of her triumph, the world, 
 
 Unmindful of all she had borrowed from thee, 
 Her banners of blood o'er thy mountains unfurled, 
 
 And tore from thy children the wreath of the free; 
 Yet, yet, oh that laurel, though leafless and gory. 
 
 Shall flourish in vigour on Slavery's grave, 
 And Liberty's sun shall, in splendour and glory, 
 
 Relumine the Isle of the fair and the brave, 
 2
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 27 
 
 And, oh! loved Erin, thou shall be, 
 Again, again, both great and free, 
 And then, oh! then, remember me: 
 Remember him who knelt at thy shrine. 
 And wept for thy fall, thy ignoble decline, 
 Remember thy own little Valentine. 
 
 c z
 
 28 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 FROM W M C-BB— TT, 
 
 TO THE 
 
 WEAVER BOYS OF LANCASHIRE. 
 
 14th February, 1821, 
 
 Trampled People! 
 
 for the first time, 
 
 W m C — bb — tt writes in rhyme; 
 
 Iii rhyme, because 'tis rhyming season, 
 But not in rhyme without sound reason.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 29 
 
 Not in sing-song rhyme, like those 
 
 Who chant of Lily and of Rose ; 
 
 My rhyme is nought but stately prose. 
 
 (When I say Rose — I do not mean Old George, 
 
 Death has closed, at last, his greedy gorge,) 
 
 I mean an intelligible manner 
 
 Of conveying sense and grammar. 
 
 Mind, good grammar — which so few 
 
 Of all the Sonnetteers can do : 
 
 Not e'en Leigh Hunt and all his crew. 
 
 'Pon Grammar I have writ a treatise, 
 
 Which, of all others, most complete is ; 
 
 'Tis chiefly meant for knowing plough-boys, 
 
 Strong-minded scavengers and cow-boys. 
 
 Whom the base Whigs and Tories lord o'er, 
 
 And designate the Lower Order, 
 
 Lower Order!! what were Castlereagh's 
 
 And Sidmouth's sires, in other days ?
 
 30 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 I'll tell you — Sid's took charge of madmen, 
 And Stewart's was an Irish hodman, 
 Or something worse; no matter what — 
 Mind, though, I do not vouch for that. 
 My Grammar puts an end to slavery, 
 'Spite your * Parson Hay and all his bravery ; 
 And therefore I do say — you try it — 
 Just one half-crown will serve to buy it : 
 And two-and-sixpence, most readily 
 Can be collected, if you steadily, 
 And all your friends, to my advice adhere : — 
 Drink water— abstain from tea and beer. 
 Coffee, soap, salt, and all visible 
 Commodities exciseable. 
 
 Rather I'd be a jackass browsing. 
 Or the filthiest wretch carousing,
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOCND. 31 
 
 Than put my name to trash so mouthy, 
 
 As Wordsworth writes, or Scott, or Southey; 
 
 Slaves, that after lucre hungering. 
 
 Basely uphold the boroughmongering 
 
 Faction, that they knovsr is prowling 
 
 On your vitals, 'spite of all our howling. 
 
 This is, my friends, the day of Valentine, 
 When our good sires were used to dine 
 On better food than your's and mine. 
 I call him plain, honest, homely Val, 
 Seeing I hate all Saints, and ever shall 
 With hatred to the death pursue, 
 Wilberforce, Banks, and all the crew. 
 
 Look back, I say, to twenty years ago. 
 Who then was Valentine, I'd wish to know?
 
 32 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 'Twas Pitt — the odious William Pitt, 
 
 For him you shouted, and by him were bit ; 
 
 Pitt I detested while he was alive. 
 
 And I detest him, rotting in his grave. 
 
 He left you Castlereagh, and Jenkinson, 
 
 Vansittart, Scott, and Addington ; 
 
 Beside a host of tax-collectors. 
 
 And worst of all, of Bank Directors. 
 
 By the way, I did myself unfold 
 
 The Bank, in " Paper against Gold." 
 
 Some numbers of that work remaining, 
 
 I would dispose of without gaining 
 
 One half of what the other sold for, 
 
 They're at my son John's, when called for. 
 
 Good bye, my friends, may your's and mine 
 Enjoy a brighter Valentine
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 33 
 
 Than you and I have ever seen ; 
 Next week I'll tell you 'bout the Queen, 
 And about the beastly, nasty fellows, 
 Who made her Royal Husband jealous. 
 
 P. S. There now, there is rhyme for you ; aye, 
 and reason too — sober, argumentative versification, 
 and what makes it very marvellous, is, that I have 
 never in my whole life written one line of rhyme be- 
 fore ; no, not one single line, nor half a one, and 
 yet compare those lines I have now written — com- 
 pare them, I say, with Wordsworth, Coleridge, or 
 the apostate Southey, and you will find, that in 
 point of acuteness, profundity, and simplicity, 
 there is no more comparison than between your 
 good dames' linsey-woolsey petticoats, and the 
 
 c 5
 
 34 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 finest pieces of calico that leave your looms. It is 
 a part of the delusive system engendered by the 
 arch-deluders of our day, to cry up to the very skies 
 this kind of scribbling. I tell you though, and you 
 may give full credit to every word I utter, for I do 
 not mean to delude you— I tell you, I say, that a 
 versifier or sonnetteer is the veriest slave alive — a 
 fetterer of our language, and an assassin of simpli- 
 city ; always bespattering and bepraising, with the 
 most nauseous, filthy, beastly flattery, his master or . 
 his mistress ; and as to ability, in what, I should 
 like to know, does even that consist?— in the gingling 
 of cadences, — and who could not do as much, and 
 more than that too 1 the very humblest amongst you, 
 who contributes to the construction of one single 
 piece of good honest wearable cloth, is a better, 
 aye, and a more useful member of the common- 
 wealth, than a thousand, or a hundred thousand of 
 balladmongers — boroughmongers was well nigh out,
 
 LOST VALENTINES POUND. 36 
 
 it was on the very tip of my tongue : but those base 
 wretches are exposed at last, I have them on the 
 agonizing rack ; I will give them some more blows, 
 and if they, when they have got that cudgelling, do 
 not in cross-road graves seek refuge from the scorn 
 of mankind, they will prove themselves more insen- 
 sible than brass or marble. Let them do what they 
 like, they are destroyed.
 
 36 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 A FAREWELL TO SAINT VALENTINE, 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE REV. G CR-BBE. 
 
 INCLOSED IN AN ENVELOPE, ADDRESSED TO 
 MR. M- , OF ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 The Revolution of the Year sung — Its Companions — Announcement 
 of St. Valentine's Day— Mockers of Love — Twopenny Postmen— 
 Their Load and Beverage— Who St. Valentine employs— Invocation 
 to him— The Saint compared to St. Patrick — ^The Palm given to the 
 former— Amusements of St. Patrick's Day condemned, and why—
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 37 
 
 Friendship — When durable — The Poet's Friendship with St. Valen- 
 tine — How long it hath endured — Regrets at taking Leave and bid- 
 ding Farewell — Recollection of Jokes and Spreys— Upon whom 
 practised — Episode of Eliza Smith and Thomas Bland— Her Em- 
 ployment, Character, and Beauty — Her Name, wliy altered — His 
 Character, Profession and Propensity — Indites a Valentine — His 
 Mishap— Attempt at Suicide by Eliza — Her Salvation — Discards her 
 Lover, and dies a Maiden— Conclusion. 
 
 14th February, 1821. 
 
 The year revolves, and oh ! revolving brings 
 Both joy and care upon its fluttering wings ; 
 The year revolves — and lo ! the day is here, 
 When jeer mocks love, and mock-love tries to jeer; 
 When two-penny postmen, groaning 'neath their 
 
 loads. 
 Quaff horns of two-penny on their devious roads ;
 
 38 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 And good employmcMit is dispensed among 
 
 The humble, though industrious sons of song. 
 
 Of all the merry days, at saintly shrine, 
 
 Your's is the merriest, honest Valentine; 
 
 Not e'en surpassed by Erin's Patrick's day ; 
 
 His mirth is breaking heads — a mirthless spray ; 
 
 Frail is the jest that endeth in a fray. 
 
 Cupid forbid that I'd gainsay thy sainiship ; 
 Friendship long-standing is strong-standing friend- 
 ship : 
 And our's, good Val, full fifty years and five, 
 This day I count, was yearly kept alive. 
 'Tis therefore time that I at length confess, 
 Though love's not lessened, I must court thee less. 
 My blood is chilled, my heart is withered too. 
 And frozen veins, or withered heart won't do ; 
 Young blood and beating breast alone for you. 
 Farewell's a heavy word, but none can tell. 
 Save those who feel, how heavy is farewell :
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 39 
 
 'Tis heavy as the night-mare pressing on the chest ; 
 
 'Tis heavy as the last sigh issuing from the breast ; 
 
 'Tis heavy as the sound of a loved-one's passing 
 bell 5 
 
 'Tis heavier than all these — the bosom's last fare- 
 well. 
 
 Many a joke and many a trick I've played 
 With thee, Saint Val, 'pon simple serving maid; 
 Many a joke, and many a joking plan 
 We've brought to bear 'pon simple serving man, 
 In days of giddy youth, when youth is giddy, 
 And sprey and joke, and joke and sprey are 
 
 ready. 
 I do remember once — some time or other — 
 Eliza Smith was cook-maid to my mother : 
 Eliza was her name, but we for shortness, 
 Or rather more for flippancy and smartness,
 
 40 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 'Stead of Eliza, used to call her Betty. 
 
 We had a house -maid too, whose name was 
 
 Patty. 
 Eliza was by much the plumper of the two, 
 But Patty's eyes were both of lieavenly blue : 
 Eliza's hair was jetty black and curly ; 
 Patty's was fair, — her skin quite pearly. 
 In fine, they were both young and comely ; 
 Of manners civil, though a little homely ; 
 Amorous withal, a feeling not uncommon ; 
 Woman was made for love, and love for woman. 
 In the village, which was near at hand, 
 A tailor worked — by name Tom Bland ; 
 A kind of jobbing botch, a licensed fibber; 
 A broad-cloth cutter, and a broad-cloth cribber ; 
 A fellow who would seem to take one's measure, 
 Yet make the garment to his own good pleasure ; 
 And altogether reckless, when 'twas done, 
 Whether it would, or it would not go on.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 41 
 
 One aim alone possessed this man of stitches — 
 Purloining cloth, from coat, waistcoat, or breeches. 
 But hold ; Tom Bland the tailor's not the one 
 We've now to do with, but Tom Bland the man. 
 Our Muse too often puts herself astray. 
 In idle gambols, more than half the day ; 
 And then comes back to where she went away. 
 Like old George Jennings, of the Bowl and 
 
 Bunch, 
 Who fell asleep upon his Suffolk punch ; 
 And having ridden full three hours or more, 
 Found himself at last at old George Jennings' door. 
 But to our tale: — this man of shreds and cloth 
 Made love to her — of dumplings, beef, and broth. 
 He sued, he prayed, nor prayed and sued in vain^ 
 For Betty Smith relieved the tailor's pain. 
 Their hours passed on, without or broil or strife, 
 As Betty was the tailor's love, — not wife ;
 
 42 LOST VALENTINKS FOUND. 
 
 Till came the day, this sacred day of thine, 
 When Tom would fain indite a Valentine. 
 But Thomas, to some chance or other owins. 
 Knew even less of writing than of sewing ; 
 And 'stead of asking one who knew it better 
 To aid him, he addressed his own love-letter. 
 It was intended for no one but Betty, 
 But Tom writ P for B, and then 'twas Petty. 
 The moment Betty saw the hand of Tom 
 Subscribe a billet to her faithless chum, 
 Upon thy day, she uttered not a moan, 
 But flew up stairs, and thence sent forth a groan 
 And to the post, with garter from her knee, 
 She swung herself, as from a gallows-tree. 
 Chance brought my father to the very spot. 
 In time to save her from her hapless lot. 
 Eliza Smith was saved, but her love was lost ; 
 She never more would Thomas Bland accost ;
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 43 
 
 But died a maiden, or unmarried died ; 
 
 None questioned that which none had e'er denied. 
 
 Our story told, now, Valentine, adieu ; 
 While yet we breathe, we yet shall think of you.
 
 44 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 TO MRS. HANNAH MORE, 
 
 FROM 
 
 W W— DS-TH. 
 
 M Lake, 14th Februarj^, 
 
 Hannah More! Hannah More! 
 
 I will write to thee : 
 Hannah More, Hannah More, 
 
 Pr'ythee write to me.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 45 
 
 'Tis full three months and more 
 Since I have writ before, 
 And now this votive line 
 Chance doth make a Valentine. 
 
 What subject shall I write upon? 
 What subject? oh, a royal one I 
 Hearken, therefore, to my lay, 
 Hearken to my royal say *. 
 
 The British Monarch rode him down, 
 Through Westminster's royal town, 
 To his villa by the sea, 
 Looking ever royally.
 
 46 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 Letters to the Monarch say, 
 How his Queen is on her way, 
 And how a yacht, immediately, 
 Ought to fetch her o'er the sea. 
 
 The Monarch to the messenger 
 Vowed he'd send no yacht for her, 
 And then a cloud came o'er his eye, 
 Dimming quite his royalty. 
 
 Often hath a sunny day. 
 The brightest in the month of May, 
 Darkened been by heavy cloud, 
 Ere it thundered deep and loud.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 47 
 
 The cloud that o'er the Monarch came, 
 Was as thunder cloud, the same; 
 Heavy, dark, and lowering. 
 Boding many a fearful thing. 
 
 The Monarch spake to Benjamin, 
 " Ben, get ready — we agen 
 " Shall hie to 'Minster's royal town, 
 " Ere that we shall lay us down." 
 
 The Monarch scarce did speak the word, 
 When the chariot's wheels were heard) 
 And soon upon the road was he. 
 But looking not so smilingly.
 
 48 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 The Monarch hears the rabble rout, 
 Raise aloud a rabble shout, 
 *' Hearken, Ben, look out and see 
 " If that shout be meant for me." 
 
 Sir Ben he looked him round about. 
 His ears were deafened by the shout, 
 But soon he kenned what shout did mean, 
 For shouters boldly roared " The Queen !" 
 
 The Monarch sat in silent gloom, 
 He bent his head — he sunk his plume; 
 And sought not for or hope or solace, 
 Till he reached his royal palace.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 49 
 
 There he summoned knave and fool, 
 From «C— St— r— h to W— 11— 1— y P—le, 
 Faithless Whig and faithful Tory, 
 Upon the old thread-worn story. 
 
 Small time and talk the Tories spent, 
 Until they did, for Parliament, 
 A bag of lies so black indite, 
 As few would read, and fewer write. 
 
 The House that, out of compliment, 
 Is said the realm to represent, 
 Was first required to ope the budget. 
 But, scorning slander, would not touch it. 
 
 D
 
 50 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 'Twas counselled then to try the Peers, 
 For they had neither qualms nor fears; 
 And there the bag was soon unsealed, 
 And to the world its filth revealed. 
 
 When burst therefrom, oh! Hannah More! 
 Such fumes as ne'er were smelled before, 
 And yet the venerable bench, 
 Stopped not a nostril at the stench. 
 
 Varlets lacking name and station, 
 Varlets lacking reputation, 
 Deponed the Queen did naughtiness, 
 The worst she could do— nothing less.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 51 
 
 Oh! thou who sought for Ccelebs' wife! 
 Oh ! thou of pure and spotlesa life ! 
 Oh ! Hannah, wert thou sitting by, 
 How tears would roll them from thine eye! 
 
 In brief, the nobles of the land, 
 Essayed t' affix the scarlet brand, 
 Of disgrace and infamy, 
 Upon the front of Royalty, 
 
 When the noble Jenkinson 
 Rose t' applaud what they had done, 
 And thanking them for voting yea, 
 He now demanded they'd vote nay. 
 d2
 
 62 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 
 
 The noble Lords, submissive all, 
 Hearkened to their leader's call, 
 And after yea, then voted nay. 
 And thus the stigma rubbed away. 
 
 From 'Minster's old monastic tower, 
 The bells rang loud, " with gladsome power," 
 The sun was bright, the shops were gay. 
 And people in their best array. 
 
 The British Monarch rode him down, 
 Through Westminster's royal town, 
 To his villa by the sea, 
 But looking not so graciously.
 
 LOST VALENTINES FOUND. 53 
 
 Farewell, Hannah — evermore 
 Thine, dear Hannah, as before, 
 Thine, for ever, Hannah More. 
 
 W W DS — TH.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 Away with care, away with sorrow, 
 Every sombre thought away. 
 
 The sun that shines upon to-morrow 
 
 Beams on 's natal day. 
 
 d5
 
 58 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 Who shall share my bosom's pleasure? 
 
 Who shall share my heart's gay fliglit? 
 Who but her, that bosom's treasure? 
 
 Who but her, that heart's delight? 
 
 This first pledge, my sweetest Mary ! 
 
 Fanned the flame that rose above, 
 For, ah! the beams, but dim and dreary, 
 
 That Hymen sheds on childless love. 
 
 When the sacred vows are plighted, 
 Oh! the next wish virtue knows, 
 
 Is, that those whom love united, 
 Share the gifts that love bestows.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME, B9 
 
 Anxious hopes and fears distressing, 
 
 Parents' bosoms ever thrill, 
 But heaven's choicest, sweetest blessing. 
 
 Is the throb that parents feel. 
 
 Oh! that throb electric, instant 
 
 Flashing through the glowing frame, 
 
 When the little lisping infant 
 First can sound a parent's name. 
 
 Then its prattle, how endearing, 
 Nature's balm for every woe, 
 
 Sorrow soothing— sadness cheering.— 
 We, my love! have found it so.
 
 60 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 Should a father's fondest wishes 
 Reach the mansions of the blest; 
 
 Thus to the all-wise, all-gracious, 
 He'd unfold his anxious breast. 
 
 May this boy — oh! may he never. 
 Know the pang of virtue's blight, 
 
 But in his bosom glow, for ever, 
 Honour's pure and radiant light. 
 
 May his breast, though firm and manly. 
 Own the softer charms of life; 
 
 For, ah! without them, we are only 
 Beings made for storm and strife.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 61 
 
 Love of country I oh ! implant it, 
 
 Deeply in his infant soul, 
 Cold and heartless, those who want it. 
 
 Want the noblest pulse of all. 
 
 And the fields of his forefathers. 
 Rich in verdure's brightest smile. 
 
 As his young heart manhood gathers. 
 Round it twine the sainted isle.
 
 C2 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 How sweet is the soft rising morn 
 
 Of spring, when it gladdens the plain, 
 
 When the Primrose peeps under the thorn, 
 How gay, yet how transient its reign. 
 
 Ye fair ones attend to this truth, 
 
 Though unpolished and simple the lay, 
 
 So fade the fond dreams of our youth. 
 So they pass, like the Primrose, away.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 63 
 
 Farewell, my friends — farewell, my foes, 
 My peace to these, my love to those. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 My native land, good night. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 My country I shall leave thee — to-morrow 
 Will waft me from thy shores for ever, 
 
 And yet there is no tear, no sorrow, 
 At parting from thee. Oh ! I never 
 
 Thought I'd leave thee thus ; but time will harrow 
 And our best feelings and affections sever, 
 
 Until the heart be left in utter loneliness, 
 
 Without a smile to bless it, or a thing to bless.
 
 64 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 But mine is not so. — I am no rover, 
 
 And yet from early life I wished to roam: 
 
 The restless mind cannot discover 
 What others find in native home. 
 
 I've a wife who loves me, and I love her, 
 And children — I could fill a tome 
 
 With all their beauty and their loveliness ; 
 
 Who then can say my heart's in loneliness ? 
 
 Ambition was the morning star. 
 
 That o'er my cradle twinkled brightly; 
 
 And led my early thoughts to climes afar, 
 In daily dreams as well as nightly. 
 
 But ah ! these visions seldom are 
 
 Fulfilled, and then 'tis said, we're rightly 
 
 Dealt by. Ambition, bringest thou good or ill. 
 
 My bosom's idol — oh 1 I love thee still.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 66 
 
 B'arewell, my country, I have wedded 
 Another isle, as fertile, and more free ; 
 
 Though some have said, and truly said it, 
 That thou'rt the greenest island in the sea> 
 
 In all thy pride my heart has prided, 
 But, oh! thy slavery's not for me ; 
 
 And where no more the sun of freedom shines, 
 
 The flower and shrub may grow, but man declines. 
 
 Farewell, my friends ; oh ! 'tis too true, 
 
 And many a pang I feel to own it, 
 That winter friends, as winter flowers are few ; 
 
 Who hath known winter, and not known it ? 
 But there's a soil — and heavenly dew 
 
 Is poured in showers, so fresh upon it. 
 That spite of winter's dreariest, bitterest blast. 
 The tree of friendship grows in vigour to the last.
 
 66 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 My gentle friends — ye faithful few, 
 
 Whose smiles have soothed some anxious hours, 
 May He who guards us all, bestrew 
 
 Your path of life with blooming flowers ; 
 And when 'tis meet to summon you, 
 
 To other and more peaceful bowers, 
 Oh ! may your bark glide swiftly to the shore. 
 Where hope's bright anchor has been moor'd before. 
 
 1820.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 67 
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR, 
 
 IN 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Star of the Evening ! how brightly thou shineth, 
 Star of the Evening ! the season declineth. 
 But thou art as bright and as lovely to see, 
 As thou vpert when the year was in infancy. 
 
 Star of the Evening! we gaze on thy brightness 
 With eyes all delight, and with bosoms all lightness; 
 But thou wilt shine on, and thy vigils be keeping, 
 When in the cold grave all thy gazers are sleeping.
 
 68 TRIFLES IN nHYME. 
 
 Star of the Evening ! in sickness and sorrow 
 I look on thee now, and, perhaps, ere the morrow, 
 The light of these eye-balls no more shall be mine, 
 But thou, lovely Star! wilt as briUiantly shine. 
 
 Oh ! thou doth resemble the cold bosomed one, 
 That smiles when we're present, and smiles when 
 
 we're gone. 
 That never doth sorrow when friends are departed, 
 And never distinguisheth true from false hearted. 
 
 Bright Star of the Evening! 'tis not with us here, 
 That thou dost in glory and splendour appear ; 
 But in some distant sphere, where in fulness of light, 
 Thou art god of the day, not the twinkler of night.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 69 
 
 This world, gay sparkler, is nothing to thee, 
 Thou hast viewed it since first it was ordered to be, 
 Yet thou hast not witnessed, in all those long years, 
 One season revolve, but in sorrow and tears. 
 
 Oh ! there is another, a better abode ; 
 Oh! there is a sphere, where the heart has no load; 
 Where the light of the breast shall eternally shine, 
 And in brightness and glory surpass even thine. 
 
 12th September, 1820.
 
 70 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 UPON AN INFANT'S DEATH. 
 
 Lovely Baby! thou art gone 
 
 From this vale of grief and care; 
 
 To happier regions thou art flown, 
 To live a sainted cherub there. 
 
 Joy eternal ! bliss complete ! 
 
 Angels for thee prepare : 
 But ah ! this tear must trickle yet^ 
 
 For sorrow rankles here.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 71 
 
 The world's frowns, the world's ills, 
 My heart can trivial deem, 
 
 But, Nature, at thy nod it feels, 
 Its boasted manhood but a dream.
 
 72 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 SPEECH OF PANTHEA 
 
 ABRADATES, 
 
 ON PRESENTING HIM 'WITH THE ARMOUR IN WHICH HE PERISHED IN AN 
 mllEDIATE ENGAGEMENT WITH THE ASSYRIANS. 
 
 See Rollin's Ancient History. 
 
 Admires my love tliat she, whom wars should 
 
 fright, 
 With arms invites him, to the risks of fight ? 
 Yet trust this heart, nor further cause explore, 
 It loves thee much, but loves thy honour more.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 73 
 
 If ever wife a purer fondness proved, 
 Yet urged to dangers whom that fondness moved; 
 If ever mortal stood at once confessed, 
 Supremely wretched, and supremely blest ; 
 Amid the world's wide range, if such there be, 
 That strange consistence here behold in me ; 
 While love and honour equal claims propose, 
 At honour's call strong love its claim foregoes, 
 Nor sad foregoes — when Medes' triumphant train 
 Had bound me captive in its conquering chain, 
 No taunt, no insult, seared my bosom there. 
 Nay, even the victor's proved a brother's care; 
 He spurned the rights that lordly conquests own, 
 And bade those roses bloom for thee alone. 
 If then my soul a grateful sense expressed. 
 My heart dictated what my tongue confessed ; 
 I urged thy worth, I marked the distant day, 
 When you those acts by signal acts should pay. 
 
 E
 
 74 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 That time arrived, be your's the generous pride, 
 
 To shew the hero and the spouse allied ; 
 
 Let matchless deeds thy matchless worth proclaim. 
 
 Go — hurl rough thunder o'er the plains of fame ; 
 
 Rouse all thy might, with all thy strength oppose 
 
 The iron phalanx of Egyptian foes ; 
 
 And when with adverse hosts the gods unite, 
 
 The gods that combat in terrestrial fight. 
 
 Should aught of fear protract thy headlong course. 
 
 Think, think, Panthea nerves thy arm with force, 
 
 Points out to fame, and loudly seems to cry, 
 
 " Or greatly conquer, or as greatly die." 
 
 Then, should some favouring power my hero shield, 
 
 'Midst wondering millions, through the sanguine field j 
 
 When eve's grey shades dismiss the glorious train, 
 
 All crowned with conquest, on Assyria's plain. 
 
 Thyself with war's superior triumph blest, 
 
 Who fired thy soul to rage, shall lull to rest.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 75 
 
 No more appalled by Discord's stern alarms, 
 She waits to clasp thee in her ardent arms, 
 Drives every care and hastes thee to receive 
 All, all Panthea and her love can give. 
 
 E "2
 
 76 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 TO JOHN BERNARD B . 
 
 Here's thy birth-day, little Bernard, 
 
 Long expected, come at last. 
 Time is now, my boy, a sluggard ; 
 
 But a while — he'll move too fast. 
 When age comes rolling like the billow, 
 
 Swelled by every wayward wind, 
 Oh, then, my thoughtless little fellow. 
 
 You'll mourn the birth-days left behind.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 77 
 
 The smoothest road upon life's journey 
 
 Is a thorny one at best ; 
 If, then, fortune chance to turn thee 
 
 To the path where thorns are least, 
 Think of all the countless number 
 
 That no ray of gladness cheers ; 
 And, oh ! thy fellow man remember, 
 
 Labouring in the vale of tears. 
 
 But shouldest thou feel thy forehead dripping 
 
 With care's unhallowed withering dew, 
 And a silent anguish creeping 
 
 Thy wearied bosom through and through ; 
 Despair not — 'tis the guardian power 
 
 That watches o'er thy generous heart, 
 Which suffereth the evil hour 
 
 But to prove how firm thou art.
 
 78 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 Now thy laureat's lay is ended, 
 
 Like laurelled bard he'd say adieu ; 
 But in his breast are feelings blended 
 
 That royal rhymer never knew. 
 Let the heartless hireling gather 
 
 Wreaths for every fulsome line ; 
 A brighter garland crowns thy father. 
 
 In these roseate smiles of thine. 
 
 When amongst the witching circle, 
 
 That clings so closely round his heart; 
 When he sees those bright eyes sparkle, 
 
 That all his joy and hope impart,— 
 " Power," he cries, " which rules above me. 
 
 " I bow unto thy wise decrees ; 
 " But, oh ! change not hearts that love me 
 
 " With such truth ;ind warmth as these.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 79 
 
 " Let thy blessings, great and many, 
 
 " Like thy dew-drop, evenly fall ; 
 " Bless, oh ! bless my little Benny, 
 
 " And oh! bless my darlings all. 
 " As they gather strength, oh! make them 
 
 " Strong in sense and virtue too ; 
 " And if thou wilt that woe o'ertake them, 
 
 " Give them mind to bear them through."
 
 80 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 TO P^ J B- 
 
 PROEM. 
 
 ?th May. 
 
 Another Birth day just come round, 
 And the Laureate quite aground ; 
 But where's the wonder? where's the reasoD ? 
 In birth-days coming ev'ry season ;
 
 THIFLES IN RHYME. 81 
 
 In Winter, when the storm is blowing; 
 In Spring, when flowers and shrubs are growing ; 
 In Summer, when the sun is shining; 
 In Autumn, when the year's declining ; 
 Now no season is complete till 
 Comes the celebration natal. 
 What marvel, then, if Laureate should 
 Find his subject not so good, 
 And not so easy to maintain, 
 Every time from scanty brain : 
 For Lady Muse, maid, wife, or widow. 
 Lives not on air, no more than we do ; 
 And Poet, who shall try to win her 
 Favour, must not lack a dinner, 
 Else, and doubt me, if you choose, 
 His will be no courtly muse. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 THIFLES IN RIIYMK. 
 
 Shades of Wharton, Gibber, Pye, 
 And of all the scribes gone by, 
 Who have strutted 'neath the laurel, 
 And have quaffed the regal barrel; 
 The Muse invokes ye — and oh Bard ! 
 Who stoppeth not at rhyme nor word; 
 Aspirant to the wreath or halter, 
 ' Bard of George — and Bard of Walter ; 
 Aid her, though thy aid be mouthy. 
 Aid her, pr'ythee, Mister Southey, 
 While she sings no triumphale, 
 But what thou termest a song natale^.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. SS 
 
 When first I hailed thy birth-day, Peter, 
 
 Thou wert but in infancy, 
 'Twas then a sweet task, but 'tis sweeter 
 
 Now, for I commune with thee; — 
 In thy infant years 'twas meeter. 
 
 That my verse alone should be 
 Addressed to Him whose mighty wisdom guides 
 This sphere of our's, and every sphere besides. 
 
 I've prayed for thee, and do so still, 
 
 Thy father's heart and tongue shall never 
 
 Cease to supplicate, until 
 
 Both are mute and cold for ever ; 
 
 And even then, if spirits feel. 
 
 And if the throb of death don't sever 
 
 The bonds that bind us to our kindred here — 
 
 Beyond the grave thou shalt not want his prayer.
 
 84 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 In passing through this devious scene, 
 
 This portal to a brighter world, 
 Oh! bear my son! an upright mien, 
 
 A breast undaunted and ^ iincliurled ; 
 To sorrow's child (it might have been 
 
 Thy lot to be where he was hurled) 
 Mete not the heartless, freezing, stern rebufT, 
 No matter whence the tear— it comes— enough. 
 
 The meteor of the summer sky. 
 Is dazzling, bright, and beaming; 
 
 As it meets our wondering eye, 
 In all its fiery glory streaming : 
 
 But the meteor passeth by. 
 
 Like the vision one was dreaming. 
 
 And so shall pass the world and all its fame. 
 
 A fallen star, without or track or name.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 85 
 
 But the star thy breast that lightens, 
 
 Falls not even when worlds decay, 
 Through darkness and through cloud it brightens, 
 
 Hovering o'er the lonely way ; 
 And bursting forth where mortal night ends. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Farewell, my boy ! may thy birth-day, 
 Every year be calm as this is, 
 
 And like its own delightful May, 
 Be cheerful as the passing breezes. 
 
 The storm brings his sombre grey, 
 And haggard care her deep distresses, 
 
 But a bright sun can clear a lowering sky, 
 
 And a bright heart shall every care defy.
 
 86 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 EVA, 
 
 AN EXTRACT. 
 
 Tranquil as Lough Owel's waters, 
 Pure her breast as limpid they ; 
 
 Lovely 'mongst e'en Erin's daughters : 
 Eva sought the close of day. 
 
 To the angel said to guard her 
 She addressed the vesper prayer, 
 
 On the turret's western border, 
 
 When the moon-beam lingered there.
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 87 
 
 And her harp's responsive numbers 
 Swelled the pious sainted lay, 
 
 Stealing o'er the gentle slumbers 
 Of Lough Owel's watery way. 
 
 But never did her bosom glow yet 
 With a lover's burning flame ; 
 
 The only love she sought to know yet, 
 Was to love her father's name. 
 
 To her alone O'Rourk was tender, 
 To her he bent his rugged soul ; 
 
 Heiress to his might and splendour, 
 Heiress to his heart and all. 
 
 Yet sad was Eva's fate, who never 
 From her father's halls should sever ',
 
 S8 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 
 
 But her breast was tranquil still. 
 For it knew nor guile nor ill; 
 Never felt the racking throes 
 Of blighted love or perjured vows ; 
 Of friendship proffered to deceive 
 The simple heart that would believe. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 *• 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 *• 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * * * 
 
 Eva on the terrace kneeling, 
 
 All enthusiastic feeling, 
 
 Touching her harp-strings, around she flung 
 
 The glowing strains of her vesper-song,
 
 TRIFLES IN RHYME. 89 
 
 Resembling more, at her holy prayer, 
 A saint from above than a mortal here. 
 
 ¥t ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note 1.— Page 16. 
 
 " Of Castlereagh or Vansiltart, 
 Of Harrowhy or Jenkinson, 
 Of Wellesley Pole or Wellington, 
 Of Johnny Scott or Addington.^'' 
 
 — being now in the decline of life, resigned himself 
 
 altogether to and . The former the 
 
 most profligate of men, and the latter despised for his canting 
 hypocrisy. By these pernicious ministers he was involved in 
 the popular hatred, due to their om n flagitious deeds."
 
 92 NOTES. 
 
 " To talk the language of sincerity to a Prince, and guide 
 him by honest counsels, is a laborious task : to play the hypo- 
 crite requires no more than to humour his inclinations, what- 
 ever they are. It is the grimace of friendship : the heart has 
 no share in the business." 
 
 - Murphy's Tacitus. 
 
 Note 2.— Page 24.— Mrs. Bubble to Lord S- 
 
 " Make work for Ketch and ParsomCotton." 
 
 I believe it is Horace who says, that there is no reason 
 why a man may ndt be serious, although he laugh. In so- 
 lemn and sad seriousness, then, the Editor of this little book 
 would call the attention of iiis countrymen to the frequent 
 and horrid immolations, that occur now almost weekly at the 
 Debtor's Door of Newgate. In despite of all that has been 
 said — in despite of all that has been written — in despite of 
 all that has been proved — showing beyond the possibility of 
 doubt the total failure of our penal code, as to the object for 
 v\hich all penal statutes are enacted, namely, the decrease
 
 NOTES, 93 
 
 of public delinquency, and the increase of public morality, 
 the executions of late have become frightfully appalling; 
 it is but a few weeks since that a remarkably fine youth, not 
 yet sixteen years of age, was one of the victims ; the unfor- 
 tunate boy wept almost to convulsion, and was obliged lite- 
 rally to be carried to the gallows, amidst the commiseration 
 of hearts which are not accustomed to feel upon such occa- 
 sions. Oh! it is time to put a stop to such scenes, and to 
 adopt other modes of coercion, more congenial to the well- 
 known humanity of the country, and more in the spirit of 
 the benign religion which the Saviour of man came upon 
 earth to promulgate. Mercy is the brightest jewel in an 
 imperial diadem, and woe to him that allows it to be sullied. 
 
 Note 3.— Page 24.— Mrs. Bubble to Lord S- 
 
 " ^nd Malthus laud thee for depopulation.'^ 
 
 " And you, be ye fruitful and multiply." — Command of 
 God. The Editor refers his readers to the Rev. Mr. Mal- 
 thus's work upon Population, for that reverend gentleman's 
 comments upon this text.
 
 94 NOTES. 
 
 Note 4.— Page 30.— C-bb-tt. 
 
 " 'Spile your Parson Hay and all his bravery.'' 
 
 We presume Mr. C. alludes in this line to the reverend and 
 gallant commander of Manchester notoriety — the clerical 
 hero of Peterloo. 
 
 He that fights and stands his ground 
 Does the thing that's most profound ; 
 Provided that he fight with those 
 Who haven't the power of dealing blows. 
 JIudibras, New Version. 
 
 Note S.— Page 45.— W . 
 
 " Royal say." 
 
 The Editor presumes this celebrated writer to mean, what 
 
 he was about to say of royalty. " Royal say" has much of 
 
 the originality of expression about it for which Mr. W. has 
 
 so long been remarkable. It is of the same genus as " eter-
 
 NOTES. 95 
 
 nal prime,'" and other singular phraseology, to be found in 
 that very singular production, — " The White Doe of Ryl- 
 stone." 
 
 " Comes gliding in with lovely gleam, 
 
 Comes gliding in serenely slow, 
 Soft and silent as a dream, 
 
 A solitary doe." 
 Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! 
 
 Note 6.— Page 49. 
 
 " From C-tl-r-gh to T^-ll-sl-y P-le." 
 
 Mr. W. is happy in his climax. The Noble Lord and 
 Right Honourable Gentleman are certainly the alpha and 
 omega of their party — the sharp and flat of administration. 
 
 Note 7.— Page 82.— To P— J— B— . 
 
 " Bard of George and bard of Walter.'" 
 
 Robert S — th-y, Esq. Poet Remembrancer to Walter Ty- 
 ler, and Poet Laureat to his Majesty King George IV.
 
 96 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note*.— Page 82. 
 
 " Song Natale." 
 
 The presenl laurelled bard, despising the vulgar nomen- 
 clature of his predecessors, Messrs. Wharton, &c. designates 
 his courtly rhymes " Carmens,^' Triumphal, Nuptial, or 
 Natal, as the subject matter may require. 
 
 Note 9. — Page 84. 
 
 " Unchurled." 
 
 Here the privilege so frequently adopted by the laurelled 
 bard is claimed and used in the coinage of the word " un- 
 churled." There is no great offence truly in altering churl. 
 Would that every churl were so easily metamorphosed ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Barnard and Farliiy, SkiaDcr-Street, LoDdoa.
 
 THE INDEPENDENT: 
 
 A 
 
 LONDON LITERARY&POLITICAL REVIEW, 
 
 WAS 
 
 PUBLISHED ON THE SIXTH OF JANUARY, 1821, 
 
 AND 
 
 EVERY SUCCEEDING SATURDAY. 
 
 [price 8d. UNSTAMPED.] 
 PRINTED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY T. AND J. ALLMAN, 
 
 BOOKSELLERS TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 
 
 PRINCES STREET, HANOVER SQUARE. 
 
 IN offering our New Paper to the Public, we feel bound to state some 
 of the motives -which have influenced our undertaking. We shdl not 
 commence by decrying our contemporary Journals, nor deduct from 
 any praise which may be their due; but, at the same time, we feel we 
 can hazard little when we assert that many of the Journals now in cir- 
 culation reflect no honour either oa the sentiments or the talents of their 
 conductors. We shall uot attempt to calculate the probabilities of suc- 
 cess ; — that must depend on our exertions. One thing we will assert, 
 that we set out with perfect independence, which we will maintain at 
 every hazard. 
 
 The political part of our Journal will be written with that spirit, which 
 is in strict unison with our professions of independence ; but, at the 
 same time, with that moderation which is best suited to promote the 
 inteiests of liberty. We shall not enlist ourselves under the banners of 
 any faction ; nor shall we prostrate our understanding, with obse- 
 quious servility, before the dogmas of any sect. 
 
 In our politics we shall lean towards the People, because the public 
 welfare is our object; and that welfare must always centre in the inte- 
 rest which comprehends the largest portion of the Community. 
 
 In order to give variety to our topics, we shall pay particular atten- 
 tion to those new works of Literature, Science, and the fine Arts, which 
 merit general consideration. Some of our pages will be devoted to the 
 Drama, whi -h must always exert a marked influence upon the senti- 
 ments, the manners, and civilization of the age. We shall at the rame 
 time endeavour to provide for the gratification of some of our readers, 
 by a collection of Poetry, original and extracted from works of ac- 
 knowledged reputation. We shall thus render our Journal a Miscellany 
 suited to every species of intellect, and every diversity of taste. 
 
 We request attention to one distinguishing feature in our Journal, 
 the vindication of authors unjustly neglected, or wilfully misrepresented. 
 To such, it can be no uninteresting peculiarity, that a portion of our 
 columns shall be always opea j where they may fiad not only a refuge
 
 — but a remedy— against the disingenuous, or incnpable, or n^^Iiynant 
 Criric. 
 
 The obituary of the good, the wise, and the great, demands a C!)n- 
 spiouoMS notice, and shall obtain it. Our domestic concerns must ne- 
 <'essarily form the leading objects of our attention; hut those of our 
 noitriibours will not escape our observation. The Germans, French, and 
 Dutch are already rivalling us in literatiue and commerce: we shall 
 sedii'(MisIy watch tlieir progress, and unfcignedly rejoice in their intel- 
 lectu.il advancement. 
 
 Oil everj' <|uestiou which we discuss we shall sufler no persona! or 
 interi.sted consideration to make us deviate from the principles of 
 liberality, of justice, and of truth. The skilful advocate leaves some- 
 thing to ue im.i'/ined; and we, like him, leava something more than 
 our promi^e to be inferred. Our bark shall soon be afloat; we may set 
 sail in the storm, and be crossed by adverse winds and tides ; but our 
 Vessel is well manned ; our Pilot is Trutli ; our Compass the Constitu- 
 tion ; Justice is our polar star : great is Justice, and it will prevail. 
 
 Many adventurers are in the field before us ; but the literary vineyard 
 is not yet so occupied that those who enter in at the eleventh hour may 
 not become profitable servants. We write for the thinking, rather than 
 the talking. The Literature of our own time has the first claim upon 
 our notice ; its policy not the last, nor shall it be the least in our favour. 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST FOUR LUMBERS. 
 
 No. I. An Address to the Public, Review of Politics — Triumph of Pub- 
 lic Opinion — Lingard's England — Melmoth the Wanderer — 
 — Amarynthus — the Literary Pocket Book for 1821 — Table 
 Talk, No. L— Original Poetry— The Log Book, No. I.— The 
 Drama, &,c. &c. 
 No. II. A Review of Politics — Mr. Tennyson's Address to his Constitu- 
 ents — Standish's Life of Voltaire — Lingard's England concluded 
 — Mrs. Graham's Life of Poussin — Mtlmuth continued — Mirati- 
 dola, by Barry Cornwall — Amarynthus concluded — Table Talk, 
 No. II. — Original Poetry— the Log Book, No. II. — Notice of the 
 Drama, Montalto, Mirandola, &c. &c. 
 No. III. A Review of John Bull, No. I. to IV. its Calumnies exposed — 
 B'lirandola, by Barry Cornwall — Standish's Life of Voltaiie — 
 Brick wood on the National Debt — Melmolh concluiled— Table 
 Talk, No. III.— Original Poetry— Log Book, No.IIL— The Dra- 
 ma — Impeachment of Ministers — Kenilworth, &c. 
 No. IV. A Review ofthe Journal of LOUISE DEMOIMT— Kenilworth— 
 Defence of her Majesty — Mutton's Africa — Gent's Poems — 
 Standish's Life of Voltaire— Table Talk, No. IV^— Original 
 Poetry — the Log Book, No. IV. — the Drama, &c. 
 
 This Journal comprises sixteen pages, or forty-eight columns of 
 original Matter, Price One Shilling stamped; and may be delivered on 
 Sunday, free of Postage, iu any part of the Country. It is the intention 
 ofthe Proprietors to devote a limited space of their Miscellany to the 
 insertion of such Advertisements as are in their nature literary. 
 
 London: Printed by N. BLISS, 21, Watcr-laue, Fleet-street ; and 
 sold by T. BAGSHAW, Brydges-street, Covent Garden, every Saturday- 
 morning. Published by T. and J. ALLMAN, Booksellers to HER MA- 
 JESTY, No. 5, Princes-street, Hanover-square ; to whom communica- 
 tions, postpaid, to the Editor, are requested to be addressed.
 
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