What though no funeral pomp, no borrow'd tear, Your hour of death to gazing crowds shall tell; Nor weeping friends attend your sable bier, Who sadly listen to the pa.s.sing bell;

16

The tutor'd sigh, the vain parade of woe, No real anguish to the soul impart; And oft, alas! the tear that friends bestow Belies the latent feelings of the heart.

17

What though no sculptured pile your name displays, Like those who perish in their country's cause?

What though no epic Muse in living lays Records your dreadful daring with applause?--

18

Full oft the nattering marble bids renown With blazon'd trophies deck the spotted name; And oft, too oft, the venal Muses crown The slaves of vice with never-dying fame.

19

Yet shall remembrance from oblivion's veil Relieve your scene, and sigh with grief sincere; And soft compa.s.sion at your tragic tale In silent tribute pay her kindred tear.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE DEMAGOGUE. [1]

Bold is the attempt, in these licentious times, When with such towering strides sedition climbs, With sense or satire to confront her power, And charge her in the great decisive hour.

Bold is the man, who, on her conquering day, Stands in the pa.s.s of fate to bar her way: Whose heart, by frowning arrogance unawed, Or the deep-lurking snares of specious fraud, The threats of giant-faction can deride, And stem with stubborn arm her roaring tide. 10 For him unnumber'd brooding ills await, Scorn, malice, insolence, reproach, and hate: At him, who dares this legion to defy, A thousand mortal shafts in secret fly: Revenge, exulting with malignant joy, Pursues the incautious victim to destroy: And slander strives, with unrelenting aim, To spit her blasting venom on his name: Around him faction's harpies flap their wings, And rhyming vermin dart their feeble stings: 20 In vain the wretch retreats, while in full cry Fierce on his throat the hungry bloodhounds fly.

Enclosed with perils, thus the conscious Muse, Alarm'd, though undismay'd, her danger views.

Nor shall unmanly Terror now control The strong resentment struggling in her soul.

While Indignation, with resistless strain, Pours her full deluge through each swelling vein; By the vile fear that chills the coward breast, By sordid caution is her voice suppress'd. 30 While Arrogance, with big theatric rage, Audacious struts on power's imperial stage; While o'er our country, at her dread command, Black Discord, screaming, shakes her fatal brand; While, in defiance of maternal laws, The sacrilegious sword rebellion draws: Shall she at this important hour retire, And quench in Lethe's wave her genuine fire?

Honour forbid! she fears no threat'ning foe, When conscious justice bids her bosom glow: 40 And while she kindles the reluctant flame, Let not the prudent voice of friendship blame!

She feels the sting of keen resentment goad, Though guiltless yet of satire's th.o.r.n.y road.

Let other Quixotes, frantic with renown, Plant on their brows a tawdry paper crown!

While fools adore, and va.s.sal-bards obey, Let the great monarch a.s.s through Gotham bray!

Our poet brandishes no mimic sword, To rule a realm of dunces self-explored; 50 No bleeding victims curse his iron sway; Nor murder'd reputation marks his way.

True to herself, unarm'd, the fearless Muse Through reason's path her steady course pursues: True to herself advances, undeterr'd By the rude clamours of the savage herd.

As some bold surgeon, with inserted steel, Probes deep the putrid sore, intent to heal; So the rank ulcers that our patriot load, Shall she with caustic's healing fires corrode. 60 Yet ere from patient slumber satire wakes, And brandishes the avenging scourge of snakes; Yet ere her eyes, with lightning's vivid ray, The dark recesses of his heart display; Let candour own the undaunted pilot's power, Felt in severest danger's trying hour!

Let truth consenting, with the trump of fame, His glory, in auspicious strains, proclaim!

He bade the tempest of the battle roar, That thunder'd o'er the deep from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. 70 How oft, amid the horrors of the war, Chain'd to the b.l.o.o.d.y wheels of danger's car, How oft my bosom at thy name has glow'd, And from my beating heart applause bestow'd; Applause, that, genuine as the blush of youth Unknown to guile, was sanctified by truth!

How oft I blest the patriot's honest rage, That greatly dared to lash the guilty age; That, rapt with zeal, pathetic, bold, and strong, Roll'd the full tide of eloquence along; 80 That power's big torrent braved with manly pride, And all corruption's venal arts defied!

When from afar those penetrating eyes Beheld each secret hostile scheme arise; Watch'd every motion of the faithless foe, Each plot o'erturned, and baffled every blow: A fond enthusiast, kindling at thy name, I glow'd in secret with congenial flame; While my young bosom, to deceit unknown, Believed all real virtue thine alone. 90 Such then he seem'd, and such indeed might be, If truth with error ever could agree!

Sure satire never with a fairer hand Portray'd the object she design'd to brand.

Alas! that virtue should so soon decay, And faction's wild applause thy heart betray!

The Muse with secret sympathy relents, And human failings, as a friend, laments: But when those dangerous errors, big with fate, Spread discord and distraction through the state, 100 Reason should then exert her utmost power To guard our pa.s.sions in that fatal hour.

There was a time, ere yet his conscious heart Durst from the hardy path of truth depart; While yet with generous sentiment it glow'd, A stranger to corruption's slippery road; There was a time our patriot durst avow Those honest maxims he despises now.

How did he then his country's wounds bewail, And at the insatiate German vulture rail! 110 Whose cruel talons Albion's entrails tore, Whose hungry maw was glutted with her gore!

The mists of error, that in darkness held Our reason, like the sun, his voice dispell'd.

And lo! exhausted, with no power to save, We view Britannia panting on the wave: Hung round her neck, a millstone's pond'rous weight Drags down the struggling victim to her fate!

While horror at the thought our bosom feels, We bless the man this horror who reveals. 120 But what alarming thoughts the heart amaze, When on this Ja.n.u.s' other face we gaze!

For, lo, possess'd of power's imperial reins, Our chief those visionary ills disdains!

Alas, how soon the steady patriot turns!

In vain this change astonish'd England mourns!

Her vital blood, that pour'd from every vein, So late, to fill the accursed Westphalian drain, Then ceased to flow; the vulture now no more With unrelenting rage her bowels tore. 130 His magic rod transforms the bird of prey!

The millstone feels the touch, and melts away!

And, strange to tell, still stranger to believe, What eyes ne'er saw, and heart could ne'er conceive, At once, transplanted by the sorcerer's wand, Columbian hills in distant Austria stand!

America, with pangs before unknown, Now with Westphalia utters groan for groan: By sympathy she fevers with her fires, Burns as she burns, and as she dies expires. 140 From maxims long adopted thus he flew, For ever changing, yet for ever true: Swoln with success, and with applause imflamed, He scorn'd all caution, all advice disclaim'd: Arm'd with war's thunder, he embraced no more Those patriot principles maintain'd before.

Perverse, inconstant, obstinate, and proud, Drunk with ambition, turbulent and loud, He wrecks us headlong on that dreadful strand He once devoted all his powers to brand! 150 Our hapless country views with weeping eyes, On every side, o'erwhelming horrors rise; Drain'd of her wealth, exhausted of her power, And agonized as in the mortal hour; Her armies, wasted with incessant toils, Or doom'd to perish in contagious soils, To guard some needy royal plunderer's throne, And sent to fall in battles not their own.

The enormous debt at home, though long o'ercharged, With grievous burdens annually enlarged: 160 Crush'd with increasing taxes to the ground, That suck, like vampires, every bleeding wound: Ground with severe distress the industrious poor Driven by the ruthless landlord to the door.

While thus our land her hapless fate bemoans In secret, and with inward sorrow groans; Though deck'd with tinsel trophies of renown, All gash'd with sores, with anguish bending down; Can yet some impious parricide appear, Who strives to make this anguish more severe? 170 Can one exist, so much his country's foe, To bid her wounds with fresh effusion flow?

There can; to him in vain she lifts her eyes, His soul relentless hears her piercing sighs!

Shameless of front, impatient of control, He spurs her onward to destruction's goal!

Nor yet content on curst Westphalia's sh.o.r.e With mad profusion to exhaust her store, Still peace his pompous fulminations brand, As pirates tremble at the sight of land: 180 Still to new wars the public eye he turns, Defies all peril, and at reason spurns; Till press'd with danger, by distress a.s.sail'd, That baffled courage, and o'er skill prevail'd; Till foundering in the storm himself had brew'd, He strives at last its horrors to elude.

Some wretched shift must still protect his name, And to the guiltless head transfer his shame: Then hearing modest diffidence oppose His rash advice, that golden time he chose; 190 And while big surges threaten'd to o'erwhelm The ship, ingloriously forsook the helm.

But all the events collected to relate, Let us his actions recapitulate.

He first a.s.sumed, by mean perfidious art, Those patriot tenets foreign to his heart: Next, by his country's fond applauses swell'd, Thrust himself forward into power, and held The reins on principles which he alone, Grown drunk and wanton with success, could own; 200 Betray'd her interest and abused her trust; Then, deaf to prayers, forsook her in disgust; With tragic mummery, and most vile grimace, Rode through the city with a woful face, As in distress, a patriot out of place!

Insults his generous prince, and in the day Of trouble skulks, because he cannot sway!

In foreign climes embroils him with allies, And bids at home the flames of discord rise!

She comes! from h.e.l.l the exulting fury springs, 210 With grim destruction sailing on her wings!

Around her scream a hundred harpies fell!

A hundred demons shriek with hideous yell!

From where, in mortal venom dipt on high, Full-drawn the deadliest shafts of satire fly; Where Churchill brandishes his clumsy club, And Wilkes unloads his excremental tub, Down to where Entick, awkward and unclean, Crawls on his native dust, a worm obscene!

While with unnumber'd wings from van to rear 220 Myriads of nameless buzzing drones appear: From their dark cells the angry insects swarm, And every little sting attempt to arm.

Here Chaplains, Privileges, moulder round, And feeble Scourges, [2] rot upon the ground: Here hungry Kenrick strives, with fruitless aim, With Grub-street slander to extend his name: At Bruin flies the slavering, snarling cur, But only fills his famish'd jaws with fur.

Here Baldwin spreads the a.s.sa.s.sinating cloak, 230 Where lurking rancour gives the secret stroke; While gorged with filth, around this senseless block, A swarm of spider-bards obsequious flock: While his demure Welch goat, with lifted hoof, In Poet's corner hangs each flimsy woof; And frisky grown, attempts, with awkward prance, On wit's gay theatre to bleat and dance.

Here, seized with iliac pa.s.sion, mouthing Leech, Too low, alas! for satire's whip to reach, From his black entrails, faction's common sewer, 240 Disgorges all her excremental store.

With equal pity and regret the Muse The thundering storms that rage around her views; Impartial views the tides of discord blend, Where lordly rogues for power and place contend; Were not her patriot-heart with anguish torn, Would eye the opposing chiefs with equal scorn.

Let freedom's deadliest foes for freedom bawl, Alike to her who govern or who fall!

Aloof she stands, all unconcern'd and mute, 250 While the rude rabble bellow, "Down with Bute!"

While villany the scourge of justice bilks, Howl on, ye ruffians! "Liberty and Wilkes."

Let some soft mummy of a peer, who stains His rank, some sodden lump of a.s.s's brains, To that abandon'd wretch his sanction give; Support his slander, and his wants relieve!

Let the great hydra roar aloud for Pitt, And power and wisdom all to him submit!

Let proud ambition's sons, with hearts severe, 260 Like parricides, their mother's bowels tear!

Sedition her triumphant flag display, And in embodied ranks her troops array!

While coward justice, trembling on her seat, Like a vile slave descends to lick her feet!