Thus my great-coat, most closely roll'd, Did all the useful package hold, And to the saddle strongly tied I was completely satisfied, As nought appear'd, thus pack'd together, But a protection from the weather, So that the lawyer's lynx's eye Was clos'd on curiosity: For Madam Gripe-all's ready care Did, to my wish, the whole prepare.

Indeed, whatever she might be, Her kindness never fail'd to me.

She frequently would call me son, And say she lov'd me as her own; Nay, when the clock struck, she would say, 'Kiss me as often, dear, I pray As that same clock is heard to strike, And oft'ner, dearest, if you like.'

Though such favour ne'er was shown, } But when we both were quite alone, } And seldom when the clock struck one. } Her fondness I could well have stinted, For, to say truth, she smelt and squinted: But I remember'd that she cried, When my poor, little Phillis died.

"I felt my airing rather droll, Jogging with _Gripe-all_ cheek-by-jowl, And hearing him, with no great awe, Expound the secrets of the law.

--When arriv'd at seven miles' end He smil'd and said, 'Good bye, my friend: Now homewards you will turn and tell, That thus far you have left me well.'

I left him with a hope, how vain!

I ne'er might see his face again.

My spur did sprightly poney goad Till I had got into the road Which did to Oxford's city lead, When I restrain'd my foaming steed, And, calmly pacing on my way, Ere _Great Tom_ toll'd the following day, I had embrac'd my rev'rend friend And kindest patron, _Doctor Bend_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_

QUae GENUS AT OXFORD.]

"I told a simple, artless tale, That seem'd completely to prevail, As I beheld his face the while Beam with a kind, approving smile.

"Tis a bold trick,' the Doctor said, 'Which you, my lively spark, have play'd, But since to College you are come, I'll try to make the place your home; Where I should hope you need not fear To be cut short in your career; I think, at least, we may engage To keep you safe till you're of age, When I shall leave you to the struggling With _Gripe-all's_ artifice and juggling: But still the cunning lawyer knows I have good friends 'mong some of those Who lead the bar or have a seat Where the keen eye detects a cheat.

He will, I doubt not, swear and curse, Nay, he may say you've stole his horse; But if he meets with no disaster, In two days he shall see his master, And John will have a strict command To give a letter to his hand Which I shall with due caution write Before I seek my bed to-night, And if my mental eye sees clear Will fix my friend QUae GENUS here.'

John met the lawyer on the road, Just as he reach'd his own abode, And ere at home he could have heard Of my escape a single word: Told him at once all he could tell, That I at Oxford was, and well, Where as I stay'd, I had of course, With many thanks return'd his horse, John said, he rather look'd confus'd As the epistle he perus'd.

--Whether it bore a kind request I should with ALMA MATER rest, Or any hint that might apply To the High Court of Chancery: If soothing it contain'd or threat, } I never knew or I forget,-- } With all submission it was met. } To all it ask'd he did agree, And sent his kind regards to me, While he his counsel did commend Not to run off from _Doctor Bend_, Nor e'er be govern'd by the whim That made me run away from him.

"Thus soon in Scholar's cap and gown, } I was seen saunt'ring up and down } The High-Street of fair Oxford Town. } And though I stood not first in fame, I never bore an idler's name.

I was content, nay 'twas my pride The Doctor ne'er was heard to chide, Which, as your Oxford youths can tell, Was getting onward rather well.

My friends, the WORTHIES, near the Lake, Lov'd me for DOCTOR SYNTAX' sake, And, free from e'en a speck of care, I pa.s.s'd a short-liv'd Summer there.

--But time, as it is us'd, roll'd on, And I, at length, was twenty-one.

"I now became a man of cares To bear the weight of my affairs, To know my fortune's full amount, And to arrange a clear account Between the vile, rapacious elf, The _Lawyer Gripe-all_ and myself.

--No sooner to the place I came, } Soon as was heard my well-known name, } The bells my coming did proclaim, } And had I stay'd the following day, I would have made the village gay!

Thus _Gripe-all_ was full well prepar'd And put at once upon his guard.

I went unwittingly alone To claim my right and ask my own, Though arm'd, to cut the matter short, With an enliv'ning dose of Port, While he was ready to display The spirit of the law's delay.

--A step, he said, he could not stir Without Baptismal Register, And many a proof he must receive, Which well he knew I could not give; And till these papers I could shew, He must remain in _Statu quo_.

But still, as a kind, gen'rous friend, And from respect to _Doctor Bend_, He would, though cash did not abound, Advance me then _four hundred pound_.

I took the notes and thought it best To wait the settling of the rest; But soon I saw, as I'm alive, That I had sign'd receipt for _five_.

My fingers caught the fraudful paper, At which he 'gan to fume and vapour, And let loose language full of ire, Such as 'you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, rascal, liar,'

On which I caught him by the nose, And gave the wretch some heavy blows, Nay, as the blood ran down his face, I dash'd the ink all in his face, So that his figure might have done E'en for the pit of Acheron.

Inky black and b.l.o.o.d.y red Was o'er his ghastly visage spread, As he lay senseless on the floor, And, as I then thought, breath'd no more.

--The office, now a scene of blood, Most haply in the garden stood, So that our scene of sanguine riot Did not disturb domestic quiet: The notes were in my pocket stor'd, And the receipt was in the h.o.a.rd; But as I now believ'd him dead, I thought of being hang'd--and fled.

Nor did I make the whisky wait Which then stood at the garden gate.

The driver who there held the reins, Took me through many secret lanes And woodland roads, that might evade Pursuit, if any should be made.

He had an humble play-mate been When I was sportive on the green; But now, like me, to manhood grown, Was as a skilful driver known; And would have gone to serve QUae GENUS Though fire and water were between us.

I told him all the fears I felt, And how I had with _Gripe-all_ dealt; Nay, urg'd him, if I were pursued, } To cheat the blood-hounds, if he could, } All which he mainly swore he would. } Nay, hop'd I'd given him such a drubbing, As to send him Beelzebubbing; Though, first or last, he sure would go To his relations down below.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_

CONFLICT BETWEEN QUae GENUS & LAWYER GRIPE-ALL.]

"Thus as we talk'd a mail-coach pa.s.s'd, And as I could not go too fast, I found, perchance, an empty seat, And thus I made a quick retreat; Nay should, in eight and forty hours, By the wheels' ever-rolling powers, Have a secure retirement found, Safe from pursuit, on Scottish ground.

But as Misfortune, it is said, Calls in a.s.sociates to her aid, And, indeed, is seldom known To pay her visits all alone; So either from the sultry weather, Or anxious thoughts, or both together, I was stopp'd short in my career, By intermitting fits severe Of heat and cold: a Galen came, And Julep was the good man's name, For truly good he prov'd to me In skill and in humanity.

"Tis not,' he said, 'disease alone, Which various symptoms have made known, But they're encreasing as I find, By a disturb'd and anxious mind, And if that cannot be subdued, Med'cine will do but little good.'

I therefore, my distresses told, In short, my story did unfold, While, as I spoke, in his kind eye, I saw the tear of sympathy, And did beneath his roof receive The care that pitying skill could give.

"The fever wag'd a painful strife, A struggling chance 'tween Death and Life, That play'd upon my yielding spine, Which did to outward curve incline: I felt the mark would ne'er forsake Its cruel seat upon my back; I bent beneath the foul disaster That ne'er would yield to any plaister: Nor medicine, nor knife can cure it, And must struggle to endure it.

Thus when restor'd to health and vigour, I was become a crook-back'd figure: My former round and healthful face Had lost its plump, its rosy grace, And was reduc'd from this same cause To pale and lean and lantern jaws, That none who once QUae GENUS knew Would recollect him on the view; Nor e'en would recognition wait Though he should pa.s.s by _Gripe-all's_ gate.

When in the gla.s.s I chanc'd to view, } The figure I now scarcely knew, } I shudder'd and despis'd it too. } --'At length,' said _Julep_, 'I commend, Ere you depart, a worthy friend, A lawyer too, nay, do not start, Whose well-stor'd head and honest-heart, Throughout his life were ne'er disjoin'd, And in his practice are combin'd The cause of truth and right to aid; Who ne'er has heard the poor upbraid His conscious dealings, while 'tis known, The wealthy do his virtues own.

Thus, as your fate has been accurs'd, Of legal dealers, with the worst; You now may, as by all confess'd, Obtain good counsel from the best.

"On such a character intent, To Lawyer _Make-peace_ thus I went, And told my curious story o'er As I have told it you before.

With a keen look my face he ey'd, And in a gentle tone replied.

'If the good man you thus have bang'd, You may contemplate being hang'd; But, as the case to me appears, I trust you may dismiss your fears; For even now you do not know What evil follow'd from the blow; And though some blood may have been spill'd, It follows not the man was kill'd: Besides, whatever ill was done, There was no witness, no not one To prove which of you was in fault, Who first provok'd or gave th' a.s.sault; And if, my friend, you had not fled You need not fear, though he were dead.

--No advertis.e.m.e.nt has appear'd To state the crime, as I have heard, And surely I've the means to know If any measures had been so.

But still, remember, I advise That you move under a disguise, 'Till time and chance have drawn aside That veil that does these threat'nings hide, Which, in your present dubious state, May on your wary footsteps wait.

Change your dress and change your name, For neither now must be the same.'

QUae GENUS.

'My dress and name I'll do anon, The fever all the rest has done; For Doctor _Bend_ I would defy } The fondled Foundling to descry, } In his mis-shapen misery. } JOHNNY QUae GENUS, now adieu!

JACK PAGE I subst.i.tute for you!'

LAWYER MAKE-PEACE.

'You have good friends whom you can trust, Who to misfortune will be just, They will, I doubt not, let you know, How you must act and what to do.

And much I think you have been wrong, To have with-held your pen so long.

Obey me now in all I've said; Be secret and be not afraid.'

"He spoke, and, in the kindest way, Urg'd me to make no more delay; And when I sought to give the fee; 'No, no,' he said, 'to such as thee For mere good words I'm never paid;-- This is my way of plying trade.

When you have made a fair escape From this unlucky, wretched sc.r.a.pe, And when you are again restor'd To your own happy bed and board; When from all thraldom you are free, Then, if it suits, remember me.'

"My notes were sew'd up in my coat, For JULEP would not take a groat.

'When you reach home,' he kindly said; 'Like his friend MAKE-PEACE, I'll be paid.'

Thus I set off, as was my plan, Guis'd as a trudging, trav'lling man, And in his journey going on To seek his fate in London town.

My needfuls in an oil-cloth sack, Were buckled to my wretched back, And late at night when the full moon In an unclouded brightness shone, I left those gen'rous friends behind Which such as me so seldom find: A Galen, with that goodness fraught, Who gave his skill and drugs for nought; And an attorney, whose great aim Was to put roguery to shame; Nay, whose superior virtues tell The Law can shew a _Miracle_.

"You must, _Sir Jeff'ry_, often see } The strange effects of vanity; } Another you will find in me. } You'll scarce believe as I relate The folly which I now must state: That I've been such a silly elf I now can scarce believe myself: And I could wish I dare conceal What duty bids me to reveal.

--Did not calm prudence whisper now To my existing state to bow, To tell it all to such a friend As I had found in _Doctor Bend_, Or a quick pilgrimage to make } To Worthy-Hall beside the Lake, } Where, for dear _Doctor Syntax'_ sake, } The troubled _Foundling_ would receive All that protecting care could give.

This was the counsel _Make-peace_ gave, A lawyer who was not a knave; Who would advise without a fee, And felt for human misery.

--This Reason said in lessons strong, As I pac'd my still way along, When the dull sound of my own feet And Philomela's sonnet sweet Did on the gen'ral silence break, And seem'd to keep the night awake.

Then VANITY sat pick-a-pack Perch'd on the hump upon my back, And whisper'd into either ear, 'Such humbling counsels do not hear.

Where poor QUae GENUS has been known His alter'd form must ne'er be shown: With this sad shape he never can Hold himself forth a gentleman: No art can furnish you a cloak To hide from pity or from joke.

If pa.s.sing on a river's ridge, Or, perchance lolling o'er a bridge, You gaze upon the stream below Whose crystal mirror's seen to flow, Would not the picture meet your eye Of your own sad deformity?

At Oxford you would be the talk Of the High-street or Christ-Church-walk, While many quizzing fools look round To view your rising back begown'd.

--How would you bear the wond'ring ken Of the good folk of Sommerden, While they with pitying looks lament The once straight form, but now so bent!

Then leave the world where you have been, Where I would be no longer seen, Nor let the jealous eye compare, What you once was with what you are.

Might I advise, I'd sooner die } Unknown, in humble privacy, } Again,' said whisp'ring vanity, } 'Than e'er appear where I was known For graces which were then my own, That pity or that scorn might point At such a form, so out of joint.'

"I need not say how many days I sought the bye and secret ways, For ever list'ning to the tongue } That whisper'd soft and pleaded strong, } To set each better feeling wrong. } Hence I resign'd myself to chance, Left fortune, friends, inheritance, And madly felt that I was hurl'd Thus mark'd to wander through the world.

To s.n.a.t.c.h at, and at once receive, Whate'er the world might chance to give.

'Twas not a whimsy of the brain, } That did the idle scheme sustain, } 'Twas something which I can't explain. } All feeling center'd in the pack That had thus risen on my back; And as I felt the burden there, It seem'd the seat of ev'ry care, Of ev'ry painful thought brimfull, Like OLD PANDORA'S _Ridicule_.

But as every single note } Which I from _Gripe-all's_ grasp had got, } Was still secure within my coat, } I had sufficient means and more To travel all the kingdom o'er With staff in hand, and well-shod feet, } And oil'd umbrella form'd to meet } The show'rs that might my pa.s.sage greet. } One pocket did a bible hold, The other held the story told, Which good aeneas did rehea.r.s.e To Dido, in immortal verse; While from a loop before descended A flute that oft my hours befriended: Thus I with verse, with prose or fist, Was scholar, fiddler, methodist.