The left-hand had been lonesome quite,

If he had not held up the right.

Apart he came, and fix'd his eyes
With rapture on a diftant prize,
On which in letters worthy note,

There "Twenty Thoufand Pounds" was wrote:
Falle trap, for credit fapp'd is found

By getting twenty thousand pound.
Nay, look not thus on me, and ftare,
Doubting the certainty.-To fwear
In fuch a cafe I fhould be loth-

But Perry Cuft may take his oath.

In plain and decent garb array'd,

With the prim quaker Fraud came Trade;
Connivance to improve the plan,
Habited like a Jury-man,
Judging as intereft prevails,

Came next with meafures, weights, and scales;

Extortion next, of hellish race,

A cub moft damn'd, to fhew his face
Forbid by fear, but not by shame,
Turn'd to a Jew, like

came;

Corruption, Midas-like, behold
Turning whate'er fhe touch'd to gold;
Impotence led by Luft, and Pride
Strutting with Ponton by her fide;
Hypocrify, demure and fad,

In garments of the Priesthood clad,
So well difguis'd, that you might swear,
Deceiv'd, a very Priest was there;
Bankruptcy, full of eafe and health,
And wallowing in quell-fav'd wealth,
Came (neering thro' a ruin'd band,
And bringing B-
in her hand;
Victory hanging down her head,
Was by a Highland ftallion led;
Peace, cloth'd in fables, with a face
Which witness'd fenfe of huge difgrace,
Which fpake a deep and rooted shame
Both of herfelf and of her name,
Mourning creeps on, and blushing feels
War, grim War treading on her heels;
Pale Credit, fhaken by the arts

Of men with bad heads and worse hearts,
Taking no notice of a band

Which near her were ordain'd to ftand,
Well nigh deftroy'd by fickly fit,
Look'd wistful all around for Pitt;
Freedom-at that most hallow'd name
My fpirits mount into a flame,

Each pulfe beats high, and each nerve ftrains
Een to the cracking; thro' my veins
The tides of life more rapid run,
And tell me I am Freedom's fon-
Freedom came next, but scarce was feen,
When the sky, which appear'd ferene
And gay before, was overcast ;
Horror beftrode a foreign blaft,
And from the prifen of the North,
To Freedom deadly, ftorms burst forth.
A car like thofe, in which, we're told,
Our wild forefathers warr'd of old,
Loaded with death, fix horses bear
Thro' the blank region of the air.
Too fierce for time or art to tame,
They pour'd forth mingled smoke and flame

*See North Briton, Vol. III.
VOL VIII.

From their wide noftrils; ev'ry steed
Was of that ancient favage breed
Which fell Geryon nurs'd; their food
The flesh of man, their drink his blood.

On the first horses, ill-match'd pair,
This fat and fleek, that lean and bare,
Came ill-match'd riders fide by fide,
And Poverty was yok'd with Pride.
Union moft ftrange it must appear,
Till other unions make it clear.

Next, in the gall of bitterness, With rage which words can ill exprefs, With unforgiving rage, which fprings From a falfe zeal for holy things, Wearing fuch robes as prophets wear, Falfe prophet's placed in Peter's chair; On which, in characters of fire, Shapes antic, horrible and dire," Inwoven flam'd; where to the view,

In

groups appear'd a rabble crew

Of fainted devils where all round
Vile reliques of vile men were found,
Who, worse than devils, from the birth
Perform'd the work of hell on earth,
Jugglers, Inquifitors, and Popes,
Pointing at axes, wheels, and ropes,
And engines, fram'd on horrid plan,
Which none but the deftroyer Man
Could, to promote his selfish views,
Have heads to make, or hearts to use;
Bearing, to confecrate her tricks,
In her left-hand a Crucifix,
Remembrance of our dying Lord,
And in her right a two-edg'd fword;
Having her brows, in impious fport,
Adorn'd with words of high import,
On earth Peace amongst men, Good-will,
Love bearing, and forbearing itill,
All wrote in the heart's-blood of thofe
Who rather death than falfehood chofe ;
On her breaft (where in days of yore,
When God lov'd Jews, the High-prieft wore
Those oracles which were decreed
T' inftruct and guide the chofen feed)
Having with glory clad and ftrength,
The Virgin pictur'd at full length,
Whilft at her feet, in fmall pourtray'd,
As fcarce worth notice, Chrift was laid;
Came Superftition fierce and fell,
An imp detefted, e'en in hell;
Her eye inflam'd, her face all o'er
Foully befmear'd with human gore,
O'er heaps of mangled Saints the rode ;
Faft at her heels Death proudly ftrode,
And grimly fmil'd, well-pleas'd to fee
Such havock of mortality.

Close by her fide, on mifchief bent,
And urging on each bad intent
To its full bearing, favage, wild,
The mother fit of fuch a child,
Striving the empire to advance
Of fin and death, came Ignorance.

With looks, where dread command was plac'd,
And fov'reign pow'r by pride difgrac'd,
Where loudly witneffing a mind
Of favage more than human kind,
Not chuting to be lov'd, but fear'd,
Mocking at right, Mifrule appear'd,

I

With eyeballs glaring fiery red Enough to strike beholders dead, Gnashing his teeth, and in a flood Pouring corruption forth and blood From his chaf'd jaws; without remorse Whipping, and fpurring on his horfe, Whofe fides, in their own blood embay'd, E'en to the bone were open laid, Came Tyranny; difdaining awe, And trampling over Senfe and Law. One thing and only one he knew, One object only would pursue, Tho' lefs (fo low doth paffion bring) Than man, he would be more than King.

With ev'ry argument and art Which might corrupt the head and heart, Soothing the frenzy of his mind, Companion meet, was Flatt'ry join'd. Winning his carriage, ev'ry look Employ'd, whilft it conceal'd a hook; When fimple most, most to be fear'd ; Moft crafty when no craft appear'd ; His tales no man like him could tell, His words, which melted as they fell, Might e'en a hypocrite deceive, And make an infidel believe, Wantonly cheating o'er and o'er Those who had cheated been before: Such Flatt'ry came in evil hour, Pois'ning the royal car of pow'r, And, grown by prostitution great, Would be firft Minifter of State.

Within the chariot, all alone,
High feated on a kind of throne,
With pebbles grac'd, a figure came,
Whom Juftice would, but dare not, name.
Hard times when Juftice, without fear,
Dare not bring forth to public ear
'The names of thofe, who dare offend,
'Gainft Juftice, and pervert her end :
But, if the Mufe afford me grace,
Defcription fhall fupply the place.
In foreign garments he was clad :
Sage ermine o'er the glofly plaid
Caft rev'rend honour; on his heart,
Wrought by the curious hand of art,
In filver wrought, and brighter far
Than heav'nly or than earthly ftar,
Shone a White Rofe, the emblem dear
Of him he ever must revere;

Of that dread Lord, who with his hoft
Of faithful native rebels loft,

Like those black fpirits doom'd to hell,
At once from pow'r and virtue fell;
Around his clouded brows was plac'd
A bonnet, moft fuperbly grac'd
With mighty thiftles, nor forgot
The facred motto, Touch me not.

In the right hand a fword he bore
Harder than adamant, and more
Fatal than winds, which from the mouth
Of the rough North invade the South :
The reeking blade to view prefents
The blood of helpless innocents;
And on the hilt, as meek become
As lambs before the fhearers dumb,
With downcaft eye, and folemn show
Of deep unutterable woe,

Mourning the time when Freedom reign'u̸,
Faft to a rock was Juftice chain'd.
In his left-hand, in wax impreft,
With bells and gewgaws idly dreft,
An image, caft in baby mould,
He held, and feem'd overjoy'd to hold.
On this he fix'd his eyes, to this
Bowing he gave the loyal kifs,
And, for rebellion fully ripe,
Seem'd to defire the Antitype.
What if to that Pretender's foes
His greatness, nay, his life he owes,
Shall common obligations bind,
And shake his conftancy of mind?
Scorning fuch weak and petty chains,
Faithful to James he still remains,
Tho' he the friend of George appear:
Diffimulation's Virtue here.

Jealous and mean, he with a frown
Would awe, and keep all merit down,
Nor would to Truth and Justice bend,
Unless out-bullied by his friend:
Brave with the coward, with the brave
He is himself a coward flave;
Aw'd by his fears, he has no heart
To take a great and open part;
Mines in a fubtle train he fprings,
And, fecret, faps the cars of kings;
But not e'en there continues firm
'Gainft the refiftance of a worm :
Born in a country, where the will
Of one is law to all, he still
Retain'd th' infection, with full aim
To fpread it wherefoe'er he came ;
Freedom he hated, Law defied,
The proftitute of pow'r and pride:
Law he with ease explains away,
And leads bewilder'd Sense aftray;
Much to the credit of his brain
Puzzles the cause he can't maintain,
Proceeds on moft familiar grounds,
And, where he can't convince, confounds;
Talents of rareft ftamp and fize,
To Nature falfe, he mifapplies,
And turns to poifon what was fent
For purposes of nourishment.
Palenefs, not fuch as on his wings
The meffenger of fickness brings,
But fuch as takes its coward rife
From confcious bafenefs, confcious vice,
O'erfpread his cheeks; Disdain and Pride,
To upftart fortunes ever tied,
Scowl'd on his brow; within his eye,
Infidious, lurking like a spy
To Caution principled by Fear,
Not daring open to appear,
Lodg'd covert Mischief; Paffion hung
On his lip quiv'ring; on his tongue
Fraud dwelt at large; within his breaft
All that makes Villain found a nest,
All that, on hell's compleatest plan,
E'er join'd to damn the heart of man.

Soon as the car reach'd land, he rofe,,
And with a look which might have froze
The heart's beft blood, which was enough,
Had hearts been made of fterner ituft
In cities than elsewhere, to make
The very touteft quail and quake,..

He caft his baleful eyes around,

Fir'd without motion to the ground,
Fear waiting on furprize, all stood,
And horror chill'd their curdled blood:
No more they thought of pomp, no more
(For they had feen his face before)

Of Law they thought; the caufe forgot,
Whether it was or Ghoft, or Plot,

Which drew them there. They all ftood more,
Like ftatues than they were before.

What could be done? Could art, could force, Or both direct a proper course

To make this favage monster tame,

Or fend him back the way he came ?
What neither art, nor force, nor both
Could do, a Lord of foreign growth,
A Lord to that bafe wretch allied
In country, not in vice and pride,
Effected from the felf-fame land,
(Bad news for our blafpheming band
Of fcribblers, but deferving note)
The poifon came, and antidote.
Abath'd the monster hung his head;
And like an empty vifion fled;

His train, like virgin fnows which run,
Kifi'd by the burning bawdy fun,
To lovefick ftreams, diffolv'd in air;
Joy, who from abfence feem'd more fair,
Come fmiling, freed from flavish awe ;
Loyalty, Liberty, and Law,
Impatient of the galling chain,

And yoke of pow'r, refum'd their reign;
And burning with the glorious flame
Of public virtue, Mansfield came.

END OF THE GHOST.

ΤΗΣ

GRACE

At his first fetting forward ought to know,
That ev'ry rogue he meets must be his foe;
That the rude breath of fatire will provoke
Many who feel, and more who fear the stroke.
But fhall the partial rage of selfish men
From ftubborn juftice wrench the righteous pen,
Or fhall I not my fettled courfe purfue,
Because my foes are foes to Virtue too?

L. What is this boasted Virtue, taught in Schools,
And idly drawn from antiquated rules?

What is her ufe? Point out one wholefome end:
Will the hurt foes, or can fhe make a friend?
When from long fafts fierce appetites arise,
Can this fame Virtue ftifle Nature's cries?
Can the the pittance of a meal afford,

Or bid thee welcome to one great man's board?
When northern winds the rough December arm
With froft and fnow, can Virtue keep thee warm?
Can't thou difmifs the hard unfeeling dun
Barely by faying, Thou art Virtue's fon?
Or by bafe blund'ring ftatefmen fent to jail,
Will Mansfield take this Virtue for thy bail?
Believe it not, the name is in difgrace,
Virtue and Temple now are out of place.

Quit then this meteor, whofe delufive ray
From wealth and honour leads thee far aftray.
True Virtue means, let Reason use her eyes,
Nothing with fools, and int'reft with the wife.
Would't thou be great, her patronage disclaim,
Nor madly triumph in fo mean a name :
Let nobler wreaths thy happy brows adorn,
And leave to Virtue poverty and fcorn.

Let Prudence be thy guide; who doth not know
How feldom Prudence can with Virtue go?
To be fuccefsful try thy utmoft force,
And Virtue follows as a thing of courfe.

Hirco, who knows not Hirco ftains the bed
Of that kind mafter who first gave him bread,
Scatters the feeds of difcord thro' the land,
Breaks ev'ry public, ev'ry private band,
Beholds with joy a trusting friend undone,
Betrays a brother, and would cheat a fon :
What mortal in his fenfes can endure
The name of Hirco for the wretch is poor!
"Let him hang, drown, ftarve, on a dunghill rot,
"By all detefted live, and die forgot;

muft" Let him, a poor return, in ev'ry breath
"Feel all death's pains, yet be whole years in
death."

Is now the gen'ral cry we all purfue:

Let Fortune change, and Prudence changes too;
Supple and pliant a new system feels,
Throws up her cap, and spaniels at his heels;
Long live great Hirco, cries, by int'rest taught,
And let his foes, tho' I prove one, be nought.

C. Peace to fuch men, if fuch men can have peace,

Let their poffeffions, let their state increase ;
Let their bafe fervices in Courts strike root,
And in the feafon bring forth golden fruit;
I envy not: let thofe who have the will,
And, with fo little fpirit, so much skill,
With fuch vile inftruments their fortunes carve;
Rogues may grow fat, an honest man dares starve.

L. Thefe ftale conceits thrown off, let us ad

vance

For once to real life, and quit romance.

Starve! pretty talking! but I fain would view
That man, that honest man, would do it too.
Hence to yon mountain which outbraves the sky,
And dart from pole to pole thy ftrengthen'd eye,
Thro' all that space you fhall not view one man,
Not one, who dares to act on fuch a plan.
Cowards in calms will fay, what in a storm
The brave will tremble at, and not perform.
Thine be the proof, and, spite of all you've faid,
You'd give your honour for a cruft of bread.

C. What proof might do what hunger might
fect,

What famifh'd Nature, looking with neglect
On all the once held dear, what fear, at ftrife
With fainting Virtue for the means of life,
Might make this coward flesh, in love with breath,
Shudd'ring at pain, and fhrinking back from death,
In treafon to my foul, defcend to bear,
Trufting to Fate, I neither know nor care.

Once, at this hour those wounds afresh I feel,
Which nor profperity nor time can heal,
Thofe wounds, which Fate feverely hath decreed,
Mention'd or thought of, muft for ever bleed,
Thofe wounds, which humbled all that pride

man,

Which brings fuch mighty aid to Virtue's plan;
Once, aw'd by Fortune's most oppreffive frown,
Py legal rapine to the earth bow'd down,
My credit at laft gafp, my ftate undone,
Trembling to meet the fhock I could not fhun,
Virtue gave ground, and black defpair prevail'd;
Sinking beneath the ftorm, my fpirits fail'd,
Like Peter's faith; 'till one, a friend indeed,
May all diftrefs find fuch in time of need,
One kind good man, in act, in word, in thought,
By Virtue guided, and by Wifdom taught,
Image of him whom Chriftians should adore,

ef

of

From the indulgence of the Public rife;
All private patronage my foul defies.

By candour more inclin'd to fave, than damn,
A gen'rous PUBLIC made me what I am.
All that I have, they gave; juft Mem'ry bears
The grateful ftamp, and what I am is theirs.

L. To feign a red-hot zeal for Freedom's caufe,
To mouth aloud for liberties and laws,
For public good to bellow all abroad,
Serves well the purposes of private fraud.
Prudence by public good intends her own;
If you mean otherwife, you stand alone.
What do we mean by Country and by Court?
What is it to Oppofe, what to Support?
Mere words of course, and what is more abfurd
Than to pay homage to an empty word ?
Majors and Minors differ but in name,
Patriots and Minifters are much the same;
The only diff'rence, after all their rout,
Is, that the one is in, the other out.

Explore the dark receffes of the mind, In the foul's honest volume read mankind, And own, in wife and fimple, great and finall, The fame grand leading principle in all. Whate'er we talk of wisdom to the wife, Of goodnefs to the good, of public ties Which to our country link, of private bands Which claim most dear attention at our hands, For parent and for child, for wife and friend, Our first great Mover, and our last great End, Is one, and, by whatever name we call The ruling tyrant, Self is all in all. This, which unwilling Faction shall admit, Guided in diff'rent ways a Bute and Pitt, Made Tyrants break, made Kings obferve the law, And gave the world a Stuart and Naffau.

Hath Nature (ftrange and wild conceit of pride)

fhore.

Since, by good fortune into notice rais'd, And for fome little merit largely prais'd, Indulg'd in fwerving from prudential rules, Hated by rogues, and not belov'd by fools, Plac'd above want, shall abject thirst of wealth So fiercely war 'gainst my foul's dearest health, That, as a boon, I fhould bafe fhackles crave, And, born to freedom, make myself a flavej That I fhould in the train of thofe appear, Whom Honour cannot love, nor Manhood fear? That I no longer fkulk from street to street, Afraid left duns affail, and bailiffs meet; That I from place to place this carcafe bear, Walk forth at large, and wander free as air; That I no longer dread the aukward friend, Whofe very obligations must offend, Nor, all too forward, with impatience burn, At fuff'ring favours which I can't return; That, from dependence and from pride fecure, I am not plac'd fo high to fcorn the poor, Nor yet fo low, that I my Lord should fear, Or hesitate to give him fneer for fncer; That, whilst fage Prudence my pursuits confirms, I can enjoy the world on equal terms; That, kind to others, to myself most true, Feeling no want, I comfort those who do, And with the will have power to aid distress: Thefe, and what other bleffings I poffefs,

Doth virtue in thy bofom brighter glow,
Or from a fpring more pure doth action flow?
Is not thy foul bound with those very chains
Which fhackle us; or is that Self, which reigns
O'er kings and beggars, which in all we fee
Moft strong and fov'reign, only weak in thee?
Fond man, believe it not; experience tells
'Tis not thy virtue, but thy pride rebels.
Think (and for once lay by thy lawless pen)
Think, and confefs thyfelf like other men ;
Think but one hour, and to thy confcience led
By Reafon's hand, bow down and hang thy head;
Think on thy private life, recal thy youth,
View thyfelf now, and own with strictest truth,
That Self hath drawn thee from fair Virtue's
way

Farther than Folly would have dar'd to ftray,
And that the talents lib'ral Nature gave
To make thee free, have made thee more a flave.
Quit then, in prudence quit, that idle train
Of toys, which have fe long abus'd thy brain,
And captive led thy pow'rs; with boundless will
Let Self maintain her ftate and empire still,
But let her, with more worthy objects caught,
Strain all the faculties and force of thought
To things of higher daring; let her range
Thro' better pastures, and learn how to change ;
Let her, no longer to weak faction tied,
Wifely revolt, and join our ftronger fide.

C. Ah! what, my Lord, hath private life to do
With things of public nature? Why to view
Would you thus cruelly those scenes unfold,
Which, without pain and horror to behold,
Muft (peak me fomething more or less than man;
Which friends may pardon, but I never can ?
Look back! a thought which borders on despair,
Which human nature muft, yet cannot bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a bufy world,
Where praise and cenfure are at random hurl'd,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts controul,
Or shake one fettled purpose of my foul.

Free and at large might their wild curíes roam,
If all, if all, alas ! were well at home.
No-'tis the tale which angry Confcience tells,
When the with more than tragic horror fwells
Each circumftance of guilt; when fstern but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review;
And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall,
Bids late Remorfe awake at Reafon's call;
Arm'd at all points bids fcorpion Vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up Reflection glass ;
The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt

groan,

And hates that form fhe knows to be her own.
Enough of this-let private forrows rest→→
As to the Public I dare ftand the test;
Dare proudly boaft, I feel no wish above
The good of England, and my Country's love.
Stranger to party-rage, by Reafon's voice,
Unerring guide, directed in my choice,
Not all the tyrant pow'rs of earth combin'd,
No, nor of hell, thall make me change my mind.
What! herd with men my honeft foul difdains,
Men who, with fervile zeal, are forging chains
For Freedom's neck, and lend a helping hand,
To spread destruction o'er my native land.
What! fhall I not, e'en to my latest breath,
In the full face of danger and of death,
Exert that little strength which Nature gave,
And boldly frem, or perish in the wave?

L. When I look backward for fome fifty years,
And fee proteffing Patriots turn to Peers;
Hear men moft loofe, for decency declaim,
And talk of character without a name ;

See infidels affert the caufe of God,

And meek divines wield perfecution's rod;

See men transform'd to brutes, and brutes to men,
See Whitehead* take a place, † Ralph change his

pen,

I mock the zeal, and deem the men in fport,
Who rail at Minifters, and curfe a Court.
Thee, haughty as thou art, and proud in rime,
Shall fome preferment, offer'd at a time
When Virtue fleeps, fome facrifice to pride,
Or fome fair victim, move to change thy fide.
Thee thall these eyes behold, to health reftor'd,
Ufing, as Prudence bids, bold Satire's sword,
Galling thy prefent friends, and praising those,
Whom now thy frenzy holds thy greatest foes.
C. May I (can worse difgrate on manhood fall ?)
Be born a Whitehead, and baptiz'd a Paul;
May I (tho' to his fervice deeply tied
By facred oaths, and now by will allied)

With falfe feign'd zeal an injur'd God defend,
And ufe his name for fome bafe private end;
May I (that thought bids double horrors roll
O'er my fick fpirits, and unmans my foul)
Ruin the virtue which I held most dear,
And still must hold; may I, thro' abject fear,
Betray my friend; may to fucceeding times,
Engrav'd on plates of adamant, my crimes
Stand blazing forth, whilst mark'd with envious blot,
Each little act of virtue is forgot;

Of all thofe evils which, to ftamp men curs'd,
Hell keeps in ftore for vengeance, may the worst
Light on my head, and in my day of woe,
To make the cup of bitterness o'erflow,
May I be fcorn'd by ev'ry man of worth,
Wander, like Cain, a vagabond on earth,
Bearing about a hell in my own mind,
Or be to Scotland for my life confin'd,
If I am one among the many known,
Whom Shelburne fled, and Calcraft blufh'd to own.
L. Do you refic&t what men you make your foes?
C. I do, and that's the reafon I oppofe.
Friends I have made, whom Envy must commend,
But not one foe, whom I would with a friend.
What if ten thousand Butes and Hollands bawl,
One Wilkes hath made a large' amends for all.
"Tis not the title, whether handed down
From age to age, or flowing from the crown
In copious ftreams on recent men, who came
From ftems unknown, and fires without a name?
'Tis not the far, which our great Edward gave
To mark the virtuous, and reward the brave,
Blazing without, whilft a bafe heart within
Is rotten to the core with filth and fin;
'Tis not the tinfel grandeur, taught to wait,
At custom's call, to mark a fool of state
From fools of defler note, that foul can awe
Whofe Pride is Keafon, whofe defence is Law.

L. Suppofe (athing scarce poffible in art,
Were it thy cue to play a common part ;)
Suppofe thy writings fo well fenc'd in law,
That Norton cannot find, nor make a flaw,
Haft thou not heard, that 'mongst our ancient tribes,
By party warpt, or lull'd afleep by bribes,
Or trembling at the ruffian hand of Force,
Law hath fufpended stood, or chang'd s courfe?
Art thou affur'd, that, for deftruction ripe,
Thou may'it not smart beneath the felf-fame gripe ?
What fanction haft thou, frantic in thy rimes,
Thy life, thy freedom to fecure?

For fomething, or for nothing, for a word,
Or thought, I might be doom'd to death, unheard.

Sir Fletcher Norton, Attorney-General.