Chapter 2

A Butcher's Son's Judge Capital Poor Protestants for to enthral, And England to enslave, Sirs; Lose both our Laws and Lives we must When to do Justice we entrust So known an arrant Knave, Sirs.

Some hungry Priests he did once fell, With mighty Strokes sent them to Hell, Sent presently away, Sirs; Would you know why? The Reason's plain They had no _English_ nor _French_ coin To make a longer stay, Sirs.

The Pope to Purgatory sends Who neither Money have nor Friends, In this he's not alone, Sirs; For our Judge to Mercy's no inclin'd, 'Less Gold change Conscience and his Mind, You are infallibly gone, Sirs.

His Father once exempted was Out of all Juries [6]; why? because He was a Man of Blood, Sirs; And why the Butcherly Son (forsooth) Shou'd now be Jury and Judge both Cannot be understood, Sirs.

The good Old Man with Knife and Knocks Made harmless Sheep and stubborn Ox Stoop to him in his Fury; But the brib'd Son, like greasie Oaph, Kneels down and worships Golden Calf, And so do's all the Jury.

Better thou'dst been at Father's Trade, An honest Livelihood to have made, In lamp'ring Bulls with Collars, Than to thy Country prove unjust, First sell, and then betray, thy Trust, For so many hard Rix-Dollars.

Priest and Physician thou didst save From Gallows, Fire, and from the Grave, For which we can't endure thee; The one can ne'er absolve thy Sins, And th'other (tho' he now begins) Of Knav'ry ne'er can cure thee.

But lest we all shou'd end his Life, And with a keen-whet Chopping-Knife In a Thousand pieces cleave him, Let the Parliament first him undertake, They'll make the Rascal stink at stake, And so, like a Knave, let's leave him.

[Footnote 6: By an old law, butchers and surgeons were unable to serve on juries.]

THE BRAWNY BISHOP'S COMPLAINT.

TO THE TUNE OF "PACKINGTON'S POUND."

I.

When B----t [7] perceiv'd the beautiful Dames, Who flock'd to the Chapel of Holy St. _James_, On their Lovers the kindest Looks did bestow, And smil'd not on him while he bellow'd below, To the Princess he went With Pious intent This dangerous Ill in the Church to prevent: "O Madam!" quoth he, "our Religion is lost If the Ladies thus ogle the Knights of the Toast.

II.

"Your Highness observes how I labour and sweat Their Affections to raise, and new Flames to beget; And sure when I preach all the World, will agree That their Ears and their Eyes should be pointed on me: But now I can't find One Beauty so kind As my Parts to regard, or my Presence to mind; Nay, I scarce have a sight of any one Face But those of old _Oxford_ and ugly Arglas.

III.

"These sorrowful Matrons, with Hearts full of Truth, Repent for the manifold Sins of their Youth: The rest with their Tattle my Harmony spoil; And Bur--ton, An--sey, K--gston, and B--le [8] Their Minds entertain With thoughts so profane 'Tis a mercy to find that at Church they contain; Ev'n Hen--ham's [9] Shapes their weak Fancies intice, And rather than me they will ogle the Vice. [10]

IV.

"These Practices, Madam, my Preaching disgrace; Shall Laymen enjoy the just Rights of my Place? Then all may lament my Condition for hard, To thresh in the Pulpit without a Reward. Then pray condescend Such Disorders to end, And from their ripe Vineyards such Labourers send; Or build up the Seats, that the Beauties may see The Face of no brawny Pretender but me."

V.

The Princess, by rude Importunities press'd, Tho' she laugh'd at his Reasons, allow'd his request; And now _Britain's_ Nymphs in a Protestant Reign Are locked up at Pray'rs like the Virgins in Spain, And all are undone As sure as a Gun: Whenever a Woman is kept like a Nun; If any kind Man from Bondage will save her, The Lass in Gratitude grants him the Favour.

[Footnote 7: Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, who in 1674 was preacher at the Rolls Chapel.]

[Footnote 8: Burlington, Anglesey, Kingston, and Boyle.]

[Footnote 9: Heningham.]

[Footnote 10: The Vice-Chamberlain.]

THE POOR BLIND BOY.

BY COLLY GIBBER, 1749.

Oh, say! what is that thing call'd _light_, Which I can ne'er enjoy? What is the blessing of the sight? Oh, tell your poor blind boy.

You talk of wondrous things you see; You say the sun shines bright; I feel his warmth, but how can he E'er make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make, Whene'er I sleep or play; And could I always keep awake, It would be always day.

With heavy sighs, I often hear You mourn my hopeless woe; But sure with patience I may bear A loss I do not know.

Then let not what I cannot have My peace of mind destroy; While thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy.

THE INISKILLING REGIMENT.

I.

I will sing in the Praise, if you'll lend but an Ear, Of the first Royal Regiment, but don't think I jeer If I vow and protest they are as brave Men and Willing, As ever old _Rome_ bred, or new _Iniskilling_.

II.

Oh, had you but seen them March with that _Decorum_ That no _Roman_ Triumph could e're go before 'em, Some smoking, some whistling, all meaning no harm, Like _Yorkshire_ Attornies coming up to a Term,

III.

On Bobtails, on _Longtails_, on Trotters, on Pacers, On Pads, Hawkers, Hunters, on Higlers, on Racers, You'd ha' swore Knight and Squires, Prigs, Cuckolds, and Pandors. Appear'd all like so many great _Alexanders_,

IV.

Whose Warriers who thorow all Dangers durst go. Most bravely despising Blood, Battle, and Foe, Were mounted on Steeds the last Lord Mayor's Day, From _Turky, Spain, Barbary_, Coach, Cart, and Dray.

V.

'Twas that very day their high Prowess was shown, In guarding the King thro' the Fire-works o' th' Town; Tho' Sparks were unhors'd and their lac'd Coats were spoil'd, They dreaded no Squibs of Men, Women, or Child.

VI.

The Cornet whose nose, though it spoke him no _Roman_, Was mounted that day on a Horse that feared no man, No Wounds, for all o're his Trappings so sumptuous He had ty'd Squibs and Crackers; 'twas mighty presumptuous.

VII.

For note his Design; faith, 'tis worth your admiring: 'Twas to let the Queen se how his Horse could stand firing, Not wisely consid'ring her Majesty's marry'd, And he had been hang'd if the Queen had miscarry'd.

VIII.

All Hearts true as Steel, but of all brave Fellows Th'Attorney for my money who was so zealous, He went for the Lease of his own House from Home, To make a new covering for the Troop's Kettle drum.

IX.

The Lieutenant being thrown by his Jennet, His Son in Law fancying some Treachery in it, Gave the Oaths to the Horse, which the Beast took, they say, But swore by the Lord they went down like chopt hay.

X.

He the Nag of an _Irish_ Papist did buy, So doubting his Courage and his Loyalty, He taught him to eat with his Oats Gunpowdero, And prance to the Tune of Lilly-bolero. [11]

XI. The Tub-preaching Saint was so furious a Blade, In Jack-boots both Day and Night preacht, slept, and pray'd; To call them to prayers he need no Saint's Bell, For gingling his Spurs chim'd them all in as well.

XII.

A noble stout Scrivener that now shall be nameless, That in Day of Battle he might be found blameless, A War-horse of Wood from _Duck Carver_ buys, To learn with more safety the Horse Exercise.

XIII.

With one eye on's Honour, the other on's Gain, He fixes a Desk on _Bucephalus_ Main, That so by that means he his Prancer bestriding, Might practise at once both his Writing and Riding.

XIV.

But, oh, the sad news which their Joy now confounds, To _Ireland_, their own, like the last Trumpet sounds; Lord! Lord! how this sets them a Waiting Petitions, And thinking of nothing but Terms and Conditions.

XV.

Oh, who will March for me? speak any that dare, A Horse and an Hundred Pounds for him, that's fair; Dear Courtiers, excuse me from Teagland and Slaughter, And take which you please, _Sir_, my Wife or my Daughter."

XVI. Some feign'd themselves lame, some feign'd themselves clapt, At last finding all themselves by themselves trapt, The King most unanimously they addrest, And told him the Truth, 'twas all but a Jest.

XVII. "A Jest," quoth the King, and with that the King smil'd, "Come, it ne're shall be said such a Jest shall be spoil'd; Therefore I dismiss you. in Peace all depart, For it was more your Goodness than my Desert."

XVIII.

Thus happily freed from the dreadful Vexation Of being Defenders of this, or that Nation, They kist Royal Fist, and were drunk all for Joy, And broke all their swords, and cry'd _Vive le Roy_.

[Footnote 11: The refrain of a celebrated political song.]

A BALLAD ON THE FLEET.

I.

A mighty great Fleet--the like was ne'er seen Since the Reign of K. _William_ and _Mary_ the Q.-- Design'd the Destruction of _France_, to have been, _Which nobody can deny_, etc.

II.

The Fleet was composed of _English_ and _Dutch_; For Men and for Guns there was never seen such, Nor so little done when expected so much, _Which_, etc.

III.

One hundred Ships which we Capital call, With Frigots and Tenders, and Yatchts that were small, Went out, and did little or nothing at all, _Which_, etc.

IV.

260,500 and six Lusty Men, Had they chanc'd to have met with the _French_ Fleet, oh, then, As they beat 'em last year, so they'd beat 'em again, _Which_, etc.

V.

Six thousand great Guns and seventy-eight more, As good and as great as ever did roar; It had been the same thing had they all been ashore, _Which_, etc.

VI.

But T---- [12] now must command them no more; We try'd of what Mettle he was made of before; It's safer for him on the Land for to whore, _Which_, etc.

VII.

For a Bullet perhaps from the loud Cannons Breech, Which makes no distinction betwixt poor and rich, Instead of his Dog might have taken his Bitch, _Which_, etc.

VIII.

But R---- the C---- C---- R---- is chose His fine self and his Fleet to the Sea to expose, But he'll have a care how he meets with his Foes, _Which_, etc.

IX.

He had Sea-Colonels of the Nature of Otter, Which either might serve by Land or by Water, But of what they have done we have heard no great matter, _Which_, etc.

X.

In the month of _May_ last they sail'd on the Main, And now in _September_ they come back again With the loss of some ships, but in Battle none slain, _Which_, etc.

[Footnote 12: Probably George, Viscount Torrington, First Lord of the Admiralty in 1727.]

ON SEEING MR. FOX AND MR. HASTINGS AT CHELTENHAM.

"En redit Hastingus, pocatis regibus Indi, Anglorum et posito nomine, et imperio, Ecce silet vulpes, annosaque fabula Burki, Faucibus haret, eheu, Dic, age, dic Sheridan."

From Eastern climes, lo, Hastings! late return'd, His struggles ended, and his fame well earn'd, Illustrious Stateman! [13] to a distant age Thy name shall live and grace th'historic page; There licens'd falsehoods [14] shall no more prevail, Nor Dodsley publish [15] Edmund's annual tale. When France, exulting, deem'd our ruin near, And Hyder's progress struck each Chief with fear; When hostile nations press'd in league combin'd, Collected, firm, and dauntless was thy mind; Inspir'd by Hastings, Coote [16]: the seasons brav'd, Embark'd his succours, and a kingdom sav'd. Goddard [17] at his command our standard bore Through lands to England's sons unknown before; While Popham's victories rais'd our country's fame And fix'd in realms remote the British name. The sued-for peace [18] to Gualior's fall is due. And Gualior's capture long was Hastings' view. History shall tell how clos'd the scene of blood, When to a world oppos'd Britannia stood; No conquest Gallia claims on India's coast, No splendid triumphs can the Belgian boast, For millions wasted, [19] and a navy lost. The keen Maratta and the fierce Mysore Their league dissolve, and give the contest o'er; And peace restor'd, e'en party owns, tho' late, [20] That Hastings' firmness has preserv'd the State. Succeeding ages this great truth shall know, A truth recorded by a generous foe, [21] That England's genius, in a luckless hour For Gallic schemes, gave Hastings Sov'reign pow'r.

[Footnote 13: Pitt, who moved the address upon the peace in Lord Shelburne's administration, declared, in the course of his speech, that he had no fears for India while so illustrious a stateman as Mr. Hastings directed our councils, and so great a general as Sir Eyre Coote commanded our armies. This declaration was the more honourable for Mr. Hastings because at that time the absurd prejudices of the Rockingham party had misled half the Nation.]

[Footnote 14: It can be remembered with what diligence copies of the reports of the Select Committee were circulated under the sanction of the Ministry, and how many false and abusive libels were given away through the kingdom, tending to depreciate the character of Mr. Hastings, previous to Mr. Fox's bringing in his India Bill.]

[Footnote 15: Mr. Burke published a speech almost every year after he came into notice.]

[Footnote 16: The preservation of the British empire in India depended upon Sir Eyre Coote's safe arrival at Madras with money and troops at the most dangerous season of the year, when merchant ships seldom venture upon the coast.]

[Footnote 17: General Goddard marched from Corah to Surat, across the continent of Indostan, and after the conclusion of the peace the same army returned to Bengal under the command of Colonel Charles Morgan, through countries which we had formerly little knowledge of. Colonel Pearce marched at the head of five regiments of Bengal Sepoys from Calcutta to reinforce Sir Eyre Coote's army at Madras. This brave detachment was distinguished in every action; on the attack of the French lines at Cuddalore, one of the regiments was opposed to a French European regiment, and much of the success of that day is attributed to the spirited exertions of the Bengal detachment. Colonel Pearce, on the conclusion of the peace with Tippoo, marched this detachment back to Calcutta, where it was disbanded in the month of January.]

[Footnote 18: The separate peace with Madagee Scindia was entirely owing to the capture of Gwalior and to the subsequent operations of a detachment formed by Hastings for the express purpose of drawing Scindia from Guzzerat to the defence of his own dominions, and as a certain means of effecting a general peace.]

[Footnote 19: The war in India cost France at least seven millions sterling, and at the close of it we were in possession of all the French and Dutch settlements on the continent of India, and were besieging their forces in Cuddalore when intelligence of the peace in Europe was received at Madras.]

[Footnote 20: The Directors were divided at one period in their opinion of Hastings; and Fox and Burke invariably laid great stress upon the circumstance that thirteen directors were of opinion he ought to be recalled in 1783, though ten of the same body, and 428 proprietors, most strenuously supported him. Many of the thirteen who voted his recall in 1783 were in the Direction when he received a unanimous vote of thanks for his long, faithful, and important services.]

[Footnote 21: Monsieur Law, governor of Pondicherry, in a memoir addressed to the French Minister, says, "In an evil hour for France the English East India Company appointed Mr. Hastings governor of Bengal." And Monsieur Suffrien, in a letter to Hastings, relative to his treatment of English prisoners, says that he wishes to explain the motives of his conduct to one "of whom all the world speaks well,"-and surely a compliment of this kind was never paid with more justice to any individual than to Warren Hastings. Throughout India and Europe, the character of no man was more generally known or more universally respected.]

AN IMITATION OF HORACE

BOOK II., ODE 16.

WRITTEN BY WARREN HASTINGS ON HIS PASSAGE FROM BENGAL TO ENGLAND IN 1785. ADDRESSED TO JOHN SHORE, ESQ.

For ease the harass'd seaman prays, When Equinoctial tempests raise The Cape's surrounding wave; When hanging o'er the reef, he hears The cracking mast, and sees or fears, Beneath, his wat'ry grave.

For ease the slow _Maratta_ spoils, And hardier _Sic_ erratic toils, While both their ease forego; For ease, which neither gold can buy, Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belie, The cover'd heart bestow;

For neither gold nor gems combin'd Can heal the soul, or suffering mind; Lo! where their owner lies, Perch'd on his couch Distemper breathes, And Care like smoke, in turbid wreathes, Round the gay cieling flies.

He who enjoys, nor covets more, The lands his father held before, Is of true bliss possess'd: Let but his mind unfetter'd tread Far as the paths of knowledge lead, And wise as well as blest.

No fears his peace of mind annoy Lest printed lies his fame destroy, Which labour'd years have won, Nor pack'd committees break his rest, Nor avarice sends him forth in quest Of climes beneath the sun.

Short is our span; then why engage In schemes, for which man's transient age Was ne'er by Fate designed? Why slight the gifts of Nature's hand? What wanderer from his native land E'er left himself behind?

The restless thought, and wayward will, And discontent attend him still, Nor quit him while he lives; At sea care follows in the wind, At land it mounts the pad behind, Or with the postboy drives.

He would happy live to-day Must laugh the present ills away, Nor think of woes to come, For come they will or soon or late, Since mix'd at best is man's estate, By Heaven's eternal doom.

To ripen'd age Clive liv'd renown'd, With lacks enrich'd, with honours crown'd, His valour's well-earn'd meed; Too long, alas! he lived to hate His envied lot, and died [22] too late, From life's oppression freed.

An early death was Elliott's [23] doom; I saw his opening virtues bloom, And manly sense unfold, Too soon to fade! I bade the stone Record his name 'midst Hordes unknown, Unknowing what it told.

To thee, perhaps, the fates may give-- I wish they may--in health to live, Herds, flocks, and fruitful fields, Thy vacant hours in mirth to shine; With these, the muse already thine Her present bounties yields.

For me, O Shore! I only claim To merit, not to seek for fame, The good and just to please, A state above the fear of want, Domestic love, Heaven's choicest grant, Health, leisure, peace, and ease.

[Footnote 22: Lord Clive committed suicide 1774.]

[Footnote 23: Mr. Elliott died in October, 1778, on his way to Nangpore, the capital of Moodagees Boofla's dominions, being deputed on an embassy to that prince by the Governor-General and Council; a monument was erected to his memory on the spot where he was buried, and the Marattas have since built a town there, called Elliott Gunge, or Elliott's Town.]

EPITAPH ON DR. JOHNSON.

Here lies poor Johnson. Reader, have a care, Tread lightly, lest you rouse a sleeping bear: Religious, moral, generous, and humane He was, but self-sufficient, rude, and vain; Ill-bred and overbearing in dispute, A scholar and a Christian--yet a brute. Would you know all his wisdom and his folly, His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy? Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, Will tell you how he wrote, and talked, and cough'd, and spit.

VERSES UPON THE ROAD. FACIT INDIGNATIO.

AN UNPUBLISHED POEM, BY DAVID GARRICK, TO LORD JOHN CAVENDISH.

Whilst all with sighs their way pursue From Chatsworth's blest abode, My mind still fires, my Lord, at you, And thus bursts out in ode.

Forgive my phrenzy, good Lord John, For passion's my Apollo: Sweet Hebe says, when sense is gone, That nonsense needs must follow.

Like Indian knife, or Highland sword, Your words have hewn and hack'd me; Whilst Quin, a rebel to his lord, Like his own Falstaff back'd me.

In vain I bounce, and fume, and fret, Swear Shakespeare is divine; Fitzherbert [24] can a while forget His pains to laugh at mine.

Lord Frederick, George, and eke his Grace, My honest zeal deride; Nay, Hubert's melancholy face Smirks on your Lordship's side.

With passion, zeal, and punch misled, Why goad me on to strife? Why send me to a restless bed And disappointed wife?

This my reward! and this from you! Is't thus you Bowman [25] treat, Who eats more toads than _you know who_ Each night did strawberries eat?

Did I not mount the dun-drawn chaise, And sweat for many a mile? And gave his Grace's skill much praise, _Grinning a ghastly smile!_

Did I not elsewhere risk my bones, My Lord-Duke's freaks took pride in? Did I not trot down hills of Stones, And call it pleasant riding?

Did I not all your feats proclaim, Nor once from duty shrink? In flattery I sunk my fame, A Bowman e'en in drink.

Did I not oft my conscience force, Against its dictates swear? Have I not prais'd Lord Georg's horse? Nay, e'en your Lordship's mare?

Did I not oft, in rain and wind, O'er hills, thro' vallies roam, When wiser folk would lag behind, And Spaniels staid at home?

Have I not with your natives fed, The worst of all my labours; And ventur'd both my ears and head Amongst your scalping neighbours?

Not Quin's more blest with Calipee, Fitzherbert in his puns, Lord John in contradicting me, Lord Frederick with his nuns,

Than I am blest in Shakespear's muse! Each drop within my standish, Each drop of blood for him I'll lose, As firm as any Ca'ndish.

As Whig you gain the world's applause, For once a Tory shine, A Tory once in Shakespeare's cause, And feel his right divine!

Attack my wife, my patent tear, Do deeds without a name! Burn, kill, or ravish, Lord! but spare, Oh, spare my Shakespeare's fame!

Did not Dean Barker [26] wisely preach, Opinion may be sin? Did not his sermon wisely teach To cleanse ourselves within?

From infidelity awake! Oh, melt your heart of stone; Conceal your errors for my sake, Or mend them for your own.

[Footnote 24: William Fitzherbert, Esq., of Tissington, M.P. for Derby.]

[Footnote 25: The name of a character in "Lethe."]

[Footnote 26: The Rev. William Barker, M.A., Dean of Raphoi He died about 1777.]

SATYR ON THE SCOTS.

BY MR. CLEVELAND.

Come, keen _Iambicks_, with your Badgers' Feet, And Badger-like bite till your Teeth do meet; Help ye, Tart Satyrists, to imp my Rage, With all the Scorpions that should whip this Age. But that there's Charm in Verse, I would not quote The Name of Scot without an Antidote, Unless my Head were red, that I might brew Invention there that might be Poison too. Were I a drowzy Judge, whose dismal Note Disgorges Halters, as a Juggler's Throat Does Ribbons; could I in Sir _Empyrick's_ Tone Speak Pills in Phrase, and quack Destruction; Or roar like _Marshal_, that _Geneva_ Bull, Hell and Damnation a Pulpit full: Yet to express a _Scot_, to play that Prize, Not all those Mouth-Granadoes can suffice. Before a _Scot_ can properly be curst, I must, like Hocus, swallow Daggers first. _Scots_ are like Witches; do but whet your Pen, Scratch till the Blood comes, they'll not hurt you then.