To think what a long line of titles may follow How proud they can press to the fun'ral array Of one, whom they shunn'd in his sickness and sorrow: How bailiffs may seize his last blanket, to-day, Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow! And Thou, too, whose life, a sick epicure's dream, Incoherent and gross, even grosser had pass'd, Were it not for that cordial and soul-giving beam, Which his friendship and wit o'er thy nothingness cast: No, not for the wealth of the land, that supplies thee Would I suffer what-ev'n in the heart that thou hast All mean as it is—must have consciously burn'd, When the pittance, which shame had wrung from thee at last, And which found all his wants at an end, was return'd!* "Was this then the fate,"-future ages will say, When some names shall live but in history's curse; When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day Be forgotten as fools, or remember'd as worse;― "Was this then the fate of that high-gifted man, "The pride of the palace, the bower and the hall, "The orator,- dramatist,—minstrel,—who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all; 66 "Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art "From the finest and best of all other men's powers; "Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, "And could call up its sunshine, or bring down its showers; * The sum was two hundred pounds offered when Sh-r-d-n could no longer take any sustenance, and declined, for him, by his friends. “Whose humour, as gay as the fire-fly's light, 66 Play'd round every subject, and shone as it play'd; "Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, "Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ; "Whose eloquence-bright'ning whatever it tried, "Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, "Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, "As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!" Yes-such was the man, and so wretched his fate;And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the Great, And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve. In the woods of the North there are insects that prey On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh*; Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they, First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to die! * Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there was found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten away by them. History of Poland. EPISTLE FROM TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN* CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.† WHAT! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown? Is this the new go? kick a man when he's down! When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him then By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN! "Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaim— CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified — BELCHER spits flame And MOLYNEUX-ay, even BLACKY§ cries "shame!" * A nickname given, at this time, to the Pr-ce R—g—t. Written soon after Bonaparte's transportation to St. Helena. Tom, I suppose, was "assisted" to this Motto by Mr. Jackson, who, it is well known, keeps the most learned company going. § Names and nicknames of celebrated pugilists at that time. Time was, when JOHN BULL little difference spied 'Twixt the foe at his feet, and the friend at his side: When he found (such his humour in fighting and eating) His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating. But this comes, Master BEN, of your curst foreign notions, Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and lotions; Your Noyaus, Curaçoas, and the Devil knows what(One swig of Blue Ruin * is worth the whole lot!) Your great and small crosses (my eyes, what a brood! A cross-buttock from me would do some of them good!) Which have spoilt you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise, Of pure English claret is left in your corpus ; * Gin. |