In this Eclogue our Author has imitated the Second of his favourite Virgil, with more than his usual Precision. The Subject of Mr. ROSE’s COMPLAINT is, that he is left to do the whole Business of the Treasury during the broiling Heats of Summer, while his Colleague, Mr. STEELE, enjoys the cool Breezes from the Sea, with Mr. PITT, at Brighthelmstone. In this the Scholar has improved on the Original of his great Master, as the Cause of the Distress which he relates is much more natural. This Eclogue, from some internal Evidence, we believe to have been written in the Summer of 1785, though there may be one or two Allusions that have been inserted at a later Period.
None more than ROSE, amid the courtly ring,
Lov’d BILLY, joy of JENKY and the KING.
But vain his hope to shine in BILLY’s eyes;
Vain all his votes, his speeches, and his lies.
STEELE’s happier claims the boy’s regard engage; 5
Alike their studies, nor unlike their age:
With STEELE, companion of his vacant hours,
Oft would he seek Brighthelmstone’s sea-girt tow’rs;
For STEELE, relinquish Beauty’s trifling talk,
With STEELE each morning ride, each evening walk; 10
Or in full tea-cups drowning cares of state,
On gentler topics urge the mock debate;
On coffee now the previous question move;
Now rise a surplusage of cream to prove;
Pass muffins in Committees of Supply, 15
And “butter’d toast” amend by adding “dry:”
Then gravely sage, as in St. Stephen’s scenes,
With grief more true, propose the Ways and Means;
Or wanting these, unanimous of will,
They negative the leave to bring a bill. 20
In one sad joy all ROSE’s comfort lay;
Pensive he sought the treasury day by day;
There, in his inmost chamber lock’d alone,
To boxes red and green he pour’d his moan
In rhymes uncouth; for Rose, to business bred 25
A purser’s clerk, in rhyme was little read;
Nor, since his learning with his fortunes grew,
Had such vain arts engaged his sober view;
For STOCKDALE’s shelves contented to compose
The humbler poetry of lying prose. 30
O barb’rous BILLY! (thus would he begin)
ROSE and his lies you value not a pin;
Yet to compassion callous as a Turk,
You kill me, cruel, with eternal work.
Now, after six long months of nothing done, 35
Each to his home, our youthful statesmen run;
The mongrel ’squires, whose votes our Treasury pays,
Now, with their hunters, till the winter graze;
Now e’en the reptiles of the Blue and Buff,
In rural leisure, scrawl their factious stuff; 40
Already pious HILL, with timely cares,
New songs, new hymns, for harvest-home prepares:
But with the love-lorne beauties, whom I mark
Thin and more thin, parading in the park,
I yet remain; and ply my busy feet 45
From Duke-street hither, hence to Downing-street,
In vain!—while far from this deserted scene,
With happier STEELE you saunter on the Steine.
And for a paltry salary, stript of fees,
Thus shall I toil, while others live at ease? 50
Better, another summer long, obey
Self-weening LANSDOWNE’s transitory sway:
Tho’ GRAFTON call’d him proud, I found him kind;
With me he puzzled, and with him I din’d.
Better with FOX in opposition share, 55
Black tho’ he be, and tho’ my BILLY fair.
Think, BILLY, think JOHN BULL a tasteless brute,
By black, or fair, decides not the dispute:
Ah! think, how politics resemble chess;
Tho’ now the white exult in short success, 60
One erring move a sad reverse may bring,
The black may triumph, and check-mate our king.
You slight me, BILLY; and but little heed,
What talents I possess, what merits plead;
How in white lies abounds my fertile brain; 65
And with what forgeries I those lies sustain.
A thousand fictions wander in my mind;
With me all seasons ready forgeries find.
I know the charm by ROBINSON employed,
How to the Treas’ry JACK his rats decoy’d. 70
Not wit, but malice, PRETTYMAN reveals,
When to my head he argues from my heels.
My skull is not so thick; but last recess
I finish’d a whole pamphlet for the press;
And if by some seditious scribbler maul’d, 75
The pen of CHALMERS to my aid I call’d,
With PRETTY would I write, tho’ judg’d by you;
If all that authors think themselves be true.
O! to the smoky town would BILLY come;
With me draw estimates, or cast a sum; 80
Pore on the papers which these trunks contain,
Then with red tape in bundles tie again;
Chaste tho’ he be, if BILLY cannot sing,
Yet should he play to captivate the KING.
Beneath two Monarchs of the Brunswick line, 85
In wealth to flourish, and in arms to shine,
Was Britain’s boast; ’till GEORGE THE THIRD arose,
In arts to gain his triumphs o’er our foes.
From RAMSAY’s pallet, and from WHITEHEAD’s lyre,
He sought renown that ages may admire: 90
And RAMSAY gone, the honours of a name
To REYNOLDS gives, but trusts to WEST for fame:
For he alone, with subtler judgment blest,
Shall teach the world how REYNOLDS yields to WEST.
He too, by merit measuring the meed, 95
Bids WARTON now to WHITEHEAD’s bays succeed;
But, to reward FAUQUIER’s illustrious toils,
Reserves the richer half of WHITEHEAD’s spoils.
For well the monarch saw with prescient eye,
That WARTON’s wants kind OXFORD would supply, 100
Who, justly liberal to the task uncouth,
Learns from St. JAMES’s hard historic truth.
Blest OXFORD! in whose bowers the Laureat sings!
O faithful to the worst, and best of Kings,
Firm to the Right Divine of regal sway, 105
Though Heav’n and Thou long differ’d where it lay!
Still of preferment be thy Sister Queen!
Thy nobler zeal disdains a thought so mean;
Still in thy German Cousin’s martial school,
Be each young hope of BRITAIN train’d to rule; 110
But thine are honours of distinguishd grace,
Thou once a year shall view thy sovereign’s face,
While round him croud thy loyal sons, amaz’d,
To see him stare at tow’rs, by WYATT rais’d.
Yet fear not, OXFORD, lest a monarch’s smiles 115
Lure fickle WYATT from the unfinish’d piles;
To thee shall WYATT still be left in peace,
’Till ENGLISH ATHENS rival ancient Greece.
For him see CHAMBERS, greatly pretty, draw
Far other plans than ever Grecian saw; 120
Where two trim dove-cotes rise on either hand,
O’er the proud roofs, whose front adorns the Strand;
While thro’ three gateways, like three key-holes spied,
A bowl inverted crowns the distant side.
But music most great GEORGE’s cares relieves, 125
Sage arbiter of minims, and of breves!
Yet not by him is living genius fed,
With taste more frugal he protects the dead;
Not all alike; for, though a Briton born,
He laughs all natal prejudice to scorn; 130
His nicer ear our barbarous masters pain,
Though PURCELL, our own Orpheus, swell the strain;
And mighty HANDEL, a gigantic name,
Owes to his country half his tuneful fame.
Nor of our souls neglectful, GEORGE provides, 135
To lead his flocks, his own Right Reverend guides;
Himself makes bishops, and himself promotes,
Nor seeks to influence, tho’ he gives, their votes.
Then for a Prince so pious, so refin’d,
An air of HANDEL, or a psalm to grind, 140
Disdain not, BILLY: for his sovereign’s sake
What pains did PAGET with his gamut take!
And to an Earl what rais’d the simple Peer?
What but that gamut, to his Sovereign dear?
O come, my BILLY, I have bought for you 145
The barrel-organ of a strolling Jew;
Dying, he sold it me at second-hand:
Sev’n stops it boasts, with barrels at command.
How at my prize did envious UXBRIDGE fume,
Just what he wish’d for his new music-room. 150
Come, BILLY, come. Two wantons late I dodg’d,
And mark’d the dangerous alley where they lodg’d.
Fair as pearl-powder are their opening charms,
In tender beauty; fit for BILLY’s arms;
And from the toilet blooming as they seem, 155
Two cows would scarce supply them with cold cream.
The house, the name to BILLY will I show,
Long has DUNDAS the secret wish’d to know,
And he shall know: since services like these
Have little pow’r our virtuous youth to please. 160
Come, BILLY, come. For you each rising day
My maids, tho’ tax’d, shall twine a huge bouquet:
That you, next winter, at the birth-night ball
In loyal splendor may out-dazzle all;
Dear Mrs. ROSE her needle shall employ, 165
To ’broider a fine waistcoat for my boy;
In gay design shall blend with skilful toil,
Gold, silver, spangles, crystals, beads, and foil,
’Till the rich work in bright confusion show
Flow’rs of all hues—and many more than blow. 170
I too, for something to present—some book
Which BILLY wants, and I can spare—will look:
EDEN’s five letters, with an half-bound set
Of pamphlet schemes to pay the public debt;
And pasted there, too thin to bind alone, 175
My SHELBURNE’s speech so gracious from the throne.
COCKER’s arithmetic my gift shall swell;
By JOHNSON how esteem’d, let BOSWELL tell.
Take too these Treaties by DEBRETT; and here
Take to explain them, SALMON’s Gazetteer. 180
And you, Committee labours of DUNDAS,
And you, his late dispatches to Madras,
Bound up with BILLY’s fav’rite act I’ll send;
Together bound—for sweetly thus you blend.
ROSE, you’re a blockhead! Let no factious scribe 185
Hear such a thought, that BILLY heeds a bribe:
Or grant th’ Immaculate, not proof to pelf,
Has STEELE a soul less liberal than yourself?
—Zounds! what a blunder! worse than when I made
A FRENCH arrÊt, the guard of BRITISH trade. 190
Ah! foolish boy, whom fly you?—Once a week
The KING from Windsor deigns these scenes to seek.
Young GALLOWAY too is here, in waiting still.
Our coasts let RICHMOND visit, if he will;
There let him build, and garrison his forts, 195
If such his whim:—Be our delight in courts.
What various tastes divide the fickle town!
One likes the fair, and one admires the brown;
The stately, QUEENSB’RY; HINCHINBROOK, the small;
THURLOW loves servant-maids; DUNDAS loves all. 200
O’er MORNINGTON French prattle holds command;
HASTINGS buys German phlegm at second-hand;
The dancer’s agile limbs win DORSET’s choice;
Whilst BRUDENELL dies enamour’d of a voice:
’Tis PEMBROKE’s dearest pleasure to elope, 205
And BILLY, best of all things, loves—a trope;
My BILLY I: to each his taste allow:
Well said the dame, I ween, who kiss’d her cow.
Lo! in the West the sun’s broad orb disp lay’d
O’er the Queen’s palace, lengthens every shade: 210
See the last loiterers now the Mall resign;
E’en Poets go, that they may seem to dine:
Yet, fasting, here I linger to complain.
Ah! ROSE, GEORGE ROSE! what phrenzy fires your brain!
With pointless paragraphs the POST runs wild; 215
And FOX, a whole week long, is unrevil’d:
Our vouchers lie half-vamp’d, and without end
Tax-bills on tax-bills rise to mend and mend.
These, or what more we need, some new deceit
Prepare to gull the Commons, when they meet. 220
Tho’ scorn’d by BILLY, you ere long may find
Some other Minister, like LANSDOWNE kind.
He ceas’d, went home, ate, drank his fill, and then
Snor’d in his chair, ’till supper came at ten. 224
IMITATONS.
VIRGIL. ECLOGUE II.
Formosum pastor Corydon, ardebat Alexin,
Delicias domini; nec, quid speraret habebat,
Tantum inter dÈnsas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos
AssiduÈ veniebat; ibi hÆc incondita solus
Montibus et sylvis studio jactabat inani.
O crudelis Alexi! nihil mea carmina curas;
Nil nostri miserere: mori me denique coges.
Nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant;
Nunc virides etiam occultant spineta lacertos;
Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus Æstu
Allia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentis.
At mecum raucis, tua dum vestigia lustro,
Sole sub ardenti resonant arbusta cicadis.
NonnÈ fuit melius tristes Amyrillidis iras
Atque superba pata fastidia? NonnÈ Menalcan
Quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses,
O formose puer, nimiÙm ne crede colori.
Alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur.
Sum tibi despectus; nec qui sim quÆris, Alexi:
Quam dives pecoris nivei, quam lactis abundans.
Mille meÆ Siculis errant in montibus agnÆ:
Lac mihi non Æstate novum, non frigore desit.
Canto, quÆ solitus, si quando armenta vocabat,
Amphion DircÆus in Actoeo Aracyntho.
Nec sum adeÒ informis: nuper me in littore vidi,
Cum placidum ventis staret mare: non ego Daphnim,
Judice te, metuam, si nunquam fallat imago.
O tantum libeat mecum tibi sordida rura
Atque humilis habitare casas, et figere cervos,
HÆdorumque gregem viridi compellere hibisco.
Mecum unÀ in Sylois imitabere Pana canendo.
Pan primus calamos cer conjungere plures
instituit;————————
———Pan curat oves, oviumque magistros.
Neu te poeniteat calamo trivisse labellum.
HÆc eadem ut sciret, quid non faciebat Amyntas?
Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis
Fistula, DamÆtas dono mihi quam dedit olim,
Et dixit moriens: “te nunc habet ista secundum.”
Dixit DamÆtas: invidit stultus Amyntas.
PrÆtereÀ duo—nec tut mihi valle reperti
Capreoli, sparsis etiam nunc pellibus albo,
Bina die siccant ovis ubera; quos tibi servo.
Jampridem a me illos abducere Thestylis orat,
Et faciet; quoniam sordent tibi munera nostra!
Huc ades, O formose puer. Tibi lilia plenis
Ecce ferunt nymphÆ calathis: tibi candida NaÏs
Pallentis violas, et summa papavera carpens
Narcissum et florem jungit bene olentis anethi.
Tum casiÂ, atque aliis intexens suavibus herbis
Mollia luteol pingit vaccinia calthÂ.
Ipse ego cana legam tenerÀ lanugine mala,
Castaneasque nuces, mea quas Amaryllis amabat:
Addam ceroa pruna; honos erit huic quoque pomo
Et vos, O lauri carpam, et te, proxima myrtus
Sic positÆ, quoniam suaves miscetis odores.
Rusticus es, Corydon! nec munera curat Alexis
Nec, si muneribus certes, concedat Iolas.
Eheu! quid volui misero mihi? Floribus Austrum
Perditus et liquidis immissi fontibus apros.
Quem fugis, ah! demens? habitÂrunt Di quoque sylvas,
Dardaniusque Paris. Pallas, quas condidit, arces
Ipsa colat: Nobis placeant ante omnia sylvÆ.
Torva leÆna lupum sequitur lupus ipse capellam,
Florentem cytasum sequitur lasciva capella;
Te Corydon, O Alexi: trahit sua quemque voluptas.
Me tamen urit amor: quis enim modis adsit amori.
Aspice! aratra jugo referunt suspensa juvenci,
Et sol crescentis discedens duplicat umbras:
Ah! Corydon, Corydon, quÆ te dementia cepit?
Semiputata tibi frondos vitis in ulmo est.
Quin tu aliquid saltem, potius quorum indiget usus,
Viminibus, mollique paras detexere junco?
Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit, Alexin.
NOTES.
Ver. 29 and 32 allude to a pamphlet on the Irish Propositions, commonly called the Treasury Pamphlet, and universally attributed to Mr. Rose. This work of the Honourable Secretary’s was eminently distinguished by a gentleman-like contempt for the pedantry of grammar, and a poetical abhorrence of dull fact.
Ver. 42. For a long account of Sir Richard Hill’s harvest-home, and of the godly hymns and ungodly ballads, sung on the occasion, see the newspapers in Autumn, 1784.
Ver. 49. Justice to the minister obliges us to observe, that he is by no means chargeable with the scandalous illiberality above intimated, of reducing the income of the Secretaries of the Treasury to the miserable pittance of 3000l. a year. This was one of the many infamous acts which to deservedly drew down the hatred of all true friends to their king and country, on those pretended patriots, the Whigs.
Ver. 66. We know not of what forgeries Mr. Rose here boasts.
Perhaps he may mean the paper relative to his interview with
Mr. Gibbon and Mr. Reynolds, so opportunely found in an obscure
drawer of Mr. Pitt’s bureau. See the Parliamentary debates of 1785.
Ver. 71. Alludes to a couplet in the LYARS, which was written before the present Eclogue.
Ver. 78. The Reply to the Treasury Pamphlet was answered, not by
Mr. Rote himself, but by Mr. George Chalmers.
Ver. 88. The following digression on his Majesty’s love of the fine arts, though it be somewhat long, will carry its apology with it in the truth and beauty of the panegyric. The judicious reader will observe that the style is more elevated, like the subject, and for this the poet may plead both the example and precept of his favourite Virgil.
————sylvÆ sint Consule dignÆ.
Ver. 91 and 92. Since the death of Ramsay, Sir Joshua Reynolds is nominally painter to the king, though his Majesty sits only to Mr. West.
Ver. 93. This line affords a striking instance of our Poet’s dexterity in the use of his classical learning. He here translates a single phrase from Horace.
Judicium subtile videndis artibus illud.
When he could not possibly apply what concludes,
Boetum in crasso jurares Æere natum.
Ver. 95. Our most gracious Sovereign’s comparative estimate of Messrs. Whitehead and Warton, is here happily elucidated, from a circumstance highly honourable to his Majesty’s taste; that, whereas he thought the former worthy of two places, he has given the latter only the worst of the two. Mr. Fauquier is made Secretary and Register to the order of the Bath, in the room of the deceased Laureat.
Ver. 107. We suspect the whole of this passage in praise of his Majesty, has been retouched by Mr. Warton, as this line, or something very like it, occurs in his “Triumphs of Isis,” a spirited poem, which is omitted, we know not why, in his publication of his works.
Ver. 149. Our readers, we trust, have already admired the several additions which our poet has made to the ideas of his great original. He has here given an equal proof of his judgment in a slight omission. When he converted Amyntas into Lord Uxbridge, with what striking propriety did he sink upon us the epithet of stultus, or foolish; for surely we cannot suppose that to be conveyed above in the term of simple peer.
Ver. 156. In the manuscript we find two lines which were struck out; possibly because our poet supposed they touched on a topic of praise, not likely ta be very prevalent with Mr. PITT, notwithstanding what we have lately heard of his “Atlantean shoulders.” They are as follows:
Yet strong beyond the promise of their years,
Each in one night would drain two grenadiers.
Ver. 181. The orders of the Board of Controul, relative to the debts of the Nabob of Arcot, certainly appear diametrically opposite to Mr. Dundas’s Reports, and to an express clause of Mr. Pitt’s bill. Our author, however, like Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas, roundly asserts the consistency of the whole.
Ver. 189. This unfortunate slip of the Honourable Secretary’s constitutional logic happened in a debate on the Irish Propositions. Among the many wild chimeras of faction on that memorable occasion, one objection was, that the produce of the French West-Indian Islands might be legally smuggled through Ireland into this country. To which Mr. Rose replied, “That we might repeal all our acts in perfect security, because the French King had lately issued an arrÊt which would prevent this smuggling.”
Ver. 216. We flattered ourselves that this line might have enabled us to ascertain the precise time when this eclogue was written. We were, however, disappointed, as on examining the file of Morning Posts for 1784, we could not find a single week in which Mr. FOX is absolutely without some attack or other. We suppose therefore our author here speaks with the allowed latitude of poetry.
* * * * *
THE LYARS.
ARGUMENT.
This Eclogue is principally an Imitation of the third Bucolic of Virgil, which, as is observed by Dr. Joseph Warton, the Brother of our incomparable Laureat, is of that Species called Amoeboea, where the Characters introduced contend in alternate Verse; the second always endeavouring to surpass the first Speaker in an equal number of Lines, As this was in point of Time the first of our Author’s Pastoral Attempts, he has taken rather more Latitude than he afterwards allowed himself in the rest, and has interspersed one or two occasional Imitations from other Eclogues of the Roman Poet.
In Downing-street, the breakfast duly set,
As BANKS and PRETTYMAN one morn were met,
A strife arising who could best supply,
In urgent cases, a convenient lie;
His skill superior each essay’d to prove 5
In verse alternate—which the Muses love!
While BILLY, listening to their tuneful plea,
In silence sipp’d his Commutation Tea,
And heard them boast, how loudly both had ly’d:
The Priest began, the Layman thus reply’d! 10
PRETTYMAN.
Why wilt thou, BANKS, with me dispute the prize?
Who is not cheated when a Parson lies?
Since pious Christians, ev’ry Sabbath-day,
Must needs believe whate’er the Clergy say!
In spite of all you Laity can do, 15
One lie from us is more than ten from you!
BANKS.
O witless lout! in lies that touch the state,
We, Country Gentlemen, have far more weight;
Fiction from us the public still must gull:
They think we’re honest, as they know we’re dull! 20
PRETTYMAN.
In yon Cathedral I a Prebend boast,
The maiden bounty of our gracious host!
Its yearly profits I to thee resign,
If PITT pronounce not that the palm is mine!
BANKS.
A Borough mine, a pledge far dearer sure, 25
Which in St Stephen’s gives a seat secure!
If PITT to PRETTYMAN the prize decree,
Henceforth CORFE-CASTLE shall belong to thee!
PITT.
Begin the strain—while in our easy chairs
We loll, forgetful of all public cares! 30
Begin the strain—nor shall I deem my time
Mispent, in hearing a debate in ryhme!
PRETTYMAN.
Father of lies! By whom in EDEN’s shade
Mankind’s first parents were to sin betray’d;
Lo! on this altar, which to thee I raise, 35
Twelve BIBLES, bound in red Morocco, blaze.
BANKS.
Blest powers of falsehood, at whose shrine I bend,
Still may success your votary’s lies attend!
What prouder victims can your altars boast,
Than honours stain’d, and fame for ever lost? 40
PRETTYMAN.
How smooth, persuasive, plausible, and glib,
From holy lips is dropp’d the specious fib!
Which whisper’d slily, in its dark career
Assails with art the unsuspecting ear.
BANKS.
How clear, convincing, eloquent, and bold, 45
The bare-fac’d lie, with manly courage told!
Which, spoke in public, falls with greater force,
And heard by hundreds, is believ’d of course.
PRETTYMAN.
Search through each office for the basest tool
Rear’d in JACK ROBINSONS’s abandon’d school; 50
ROSE, beyond all the sons of dulness, dull,
Whose legs are scarcely thicker than his scull;
Not ROSE, from all restraints of conscience free,
In double-dealing is a match for me.
BANKS.
Step from St. Stephen’s up to Leadenhall, 55
Where Europe’s crimes appear no crimes at all;
Not Major SCOTT, with bright pagodas paid,
That wholesale dealer in the lying trade;
Not he, howe’er important his design,
Can lie with impudence surpassing mine. 60
PRETTYMAN.
Sooner the ass in fields of air shall graze,
Or WARTON’s Odes with justice claims the bays;
Sooner shall mackrel on the plains disport,
Or MULGRAVE’s hearers think his speech too short;
Sooner shall sense escape the prattling lips 65
Of Captain CHARLES, or COL’NEL HENRY PHIPPS;
Sooner shall CAMPBELL mend his phrase uncouth,
Than Doctor PRETTYMAN shall speak the truth!
BANKS.
When FOX and SHERIDAN for fools shall pass,
And JEMMY LUTTRELL not be thought an ass; 70
When all their audience shall enraptur’d sit
With MAWBEY’s eloquence, and MARTIN’s wit;
When fiery KENYON shall with temper speak,
When modest blushes die DUNDAS’s cheek;
Then, only then, in PITT’s behalf will I 75
Refuse to pledge my honour to a lie.
PRETTYMAN.
While in suspence our Irish project hung,
A well-framed fiction from this fruitful tongue
Bade the vain terrors of the City cease,
And lull’d the Manufacturers to peace: 80
The tale was told with so demure an air,
Not weary Commerce could escape the snare.
BANKS.
When Secret Influence expiring lay,
And Whigs triumphant hail’d th’ auspicious day,
I bore that faithless message to the House, 85
By PITT contriv’d the gaping ’squires to chouse;
That deed, I ween, demands superior thanks:
The British Commons were the dupes of BANKS.
PRETTYMAN.
Say, in what regions are those fathers found,
For deep-dissembling policy renown’d; 90
Whose subtle precepts for perverting truth,
To quick perfection train’d our patron’s youth,
And taught him all the mystery of lies?
Resolve me this, and I resign the prize.
BANKS.
Say, what that mineral, brought from distant climes, 95
Which screens delinquents, and absolves their crimes;
Whose dazzling rays confound the space between
A tainted strumpet and a spotless Queen;
Which Asia’s Princes give, which Europe’s take;
Tell this, dear Doctor, and I yield the stake. 100
PITT.
Enough, my friends—break off your tuneful sport,
’Tis levee day, and I must dress for Court;
Which hath more boldly or expertly lied,
Not mine th’ important contest to decide.
Take thou this MITRE, Doctor, which before 105
A greater hypocrite sure never wore;
And if to services rewards be due,
Dear BANKS, this CORONET belongs to you:
Each from that Government deserves a prize,
Which thrives by shuffling, and subsists by lies. 110
IMITATIONS.
Ver. 6. Amant alterna CamenÆ.
Ver. 10. Hos Corydon, illos referebat in ordine Thyrsis.
Ver. 29. Dicite—quandoquidem in molli consedimus herbÂ
Ver. 61. Ante leves ergo pas entur in Æthere cervi
Et freta destituent nudos in littore pisces—
Ver. 89. Die quibus in terris, &c.
Ver. 104. Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites.
Ver. 105. Et vitulÀ tu dignus et hic.
NOTES. Ver. 17. Our poet here seems to deviate from his general rule, by the introduction of a phrase which appears rather adapted to the lower and less elevated strain of pastoral, than to the dialogue of persons of such distinguished rank. It is, however, to be considered, that it is far from exceeding the bounds of possibility to suppose, that, in certain instances, the epithet of “Witless,” and the coarse designation of “Lout,” may be as applicable to a dignitary of the church, as to the most ignorant and illiterate rustic.
Ver. 62. The truth of this line must be felt by all who have read the lyrical effusions of Mr. Warton’s competitors, whose odes were some time since published, by Sir John Hawkins, Knight. The present passage must be understood in reference to these, and not to the Laureat’s general talents.
Ver. 85. The ingenious and sagacious gentleman, who, at the period of the glorious revolution of 1784, held frequent meetings at the Saint Alban’s Tavern, for the purpose of bringing about an union that might have prevented the dissolution of parliament; which meetings afforded time to one of the members of the proposed union to concert means throughout every part of the kingdom, for ensuring the success of that salutary and constitutional measure, which, through his friend Mr. B—ks, he had solemnly pledged himself not to adopt. How truly does this conduct mark “the statesman born!” ———— Dolus an virtus, quis in hoste requirit?
Ver. 98. It must be acknowledged that there is some obscurity in this passage, as well as in the following line,
“Which Asia’s princes give, which Europe’s take:”
and of this, certain seditious, malevolent, disaffected critics have taken advantage, and have endeavoured, by a forced construction, to discover in them an unwarrantable insinuation against the highest and most sacred characters; from which infamous imputation, however, we trust, the well-known and acknowledged loyalty of our author’s principles will sufficiently protect him.
* * * * *
MARGARET NICHOLSON.
ARGUMENT.
Mr. WILKES and Lord HAWKESBURY alternately congratulate each other on his Majesty’s late happy Escape, The one describes the Joy which pervades the Country: the other sings the Dangers from which our Constitution has been preserved. Though in the following Eclogue our Author has not selected any single one of Virgil for a close and exact Parody, he seems to have had his Eye principally upon the Vth, or the Daphnis, which contains the Elegy and APOTHEOSIS of Julius CÆsar.
The Session up: the INDIA-BENCH appeas’d,
The LANSDOWNES satisfied, the LOWTHERS pleas’d,
Each job dispatch’d:—the Treasury boys depart,
As various fancy prompts each youthful heart;
PITT, in chaste kisses seeking virtuous joy, 5
Begs Lady CHATHAM’s blessing on her boy;
While MORNINGTON, as vicious as he can,
To fair R—L—N in vain affects the man:
With Lordly BUCKINGHAM retir’d at STOWE,
GRENVILLE, whose plodding brains no respite know, 10
To prove next year, how our finances thrive,
Schemes new reports, that two and two make five.
To plans of Eastern justice hies DUNDAS;
And comley VILLARS to his votive glass;
To embryo tax bills ROSE; to dalliance STEELE; 15
And hungry hirelings to their hard-earn’d meal.
A faithful pair, in mutual friendship tied,
Once keen in hate, as now in love allied
(This, o’er admiring mobs in triumph rode,
Libell’d his monarch and blasphem’d his God; 20
That, the mean drudge of tyranny and BUTE,
At once his practis’d pimp and prostitute),
Adscomb’s proud roof receives, whose dark recess
And empty vaults, its owner’s mind express,
While block’d-up windows to the world display 25
How much he loves a tax, how much invites the day.
Here the dire chance that god-like GEORGE befel,
How sick in spirit, yet in health how well;
What Mayors by dozens, at the tale affrighted,
Got drunk, address’d, got laugh’d at, and got knighted; 30
They read, with mingled horror and surprise,
In London’s pure Gazette, that never lies.
Ye Tory bands, who, taught by conscious fears,
Have wisely check’d your tongues, and sav’d your ears,—
Hear, ere hard fate forbids—what heavenly strains 35
Flow’d from the lips of these melodious swains.
Alternate was the song; but first began,
With hands uplifted, the regenerate man.
