LXIV.

Satan replied, "To me the matter is
Indifferent, in a personal point of view:
I can have fifty better souls than this

With far less trouble than we have gone through
Already; and I merely argued his

Late majesty of Britain's case with you Upon a point of form: you may dispose

Of him; I've kings enough below, God knows!"

LXV.

Thus spoke the Demon (late call'd "multifaced"
By multo-scribbling Southey).
"Then we'll call

One or two persons of the myriads placed

Around our congress, and dispense with all The rest," quoth Michael: "Who may be so graced As to speak first? there's choice enough—who shall It be?" Then Satan answer'd, "There are many; But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well as any."

LXVI.

A merry, cock-eyed, curious-looking sprite
Upon the instant started from the throng,
Dress'd in a fashion now forgotten quite;

For all the fashions of the flesh stick long
By people in the next world; where unite

All the costumes since Adam's, right or wrong,
From Eve's fig-leaf down to the petticoat,
Almost as scanty, of days less remote.

LXVII.

The spirit look'd around upon the crowds
Assembled, and exclaim'd, "My friends of all
The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst these clouds ;
So let's to business: why this general call?
If those are freeholders I see in shrouds,
And 'tis for an election that they bawl,
Behold a candidate withunturn'd coat!
Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?"

LXVIII.

"Sir," replied Michael, "you mistake; these things
Are of a former life, and what we do
Above is more august; to judge of kings

Is the tribunal met: so now you know."
“Then I presume those gentlemen with wings,"
Said Wilkes," are cherubs; and that soul below
Looks much like George the Third, but to my mind
A good deal older-bless me! is he blind?"

LXIX.

"He is what you behold him, and his doom
Depends upon his deeds," the Angel said;
"If you have aught to arraign in him, the tomb
Gives license to the humblest beggar's head
To lift itself against the loftiest."-" Some,"

Said Wilkes, "don't wait to see them laid in lead,
For such a liberty-and I, for one,

Have told them what I thought beneath the sun."

LXX.

"Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast

To urge against him," said the Archangel. "Why," Replied the spirit, "since old scores are past,

Must I turn evidence? In faith, not I.

Besides, I beat him hollow at the last,

With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky

I don't like ripping up old stories, since

His conduct was but natural in a prince.

LXXI.

Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress
A poor unlucky devil without a shilling;

But then I blame the man himself much less
Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be unwilling
To see him punish'd here for their excess,

Since they were both damn'd long ago, and still in Their place below: for me, I have forgiven,

And vote his habeas corpus' into heaven."

46

LXXII.

Wilkes," said the Devil, "I understand all this;
You turn'd to half a courtier ere you died,

And seem to think it would not be amiss

To grow a whole one on the other side Of Charon's ferry; you forget that his

Reign is concluded; whatsoe'er betide,

He won't be sovereign more: you've lost your labour, For at the best he will but be your neighbour.

LXXIII.

"However, I knew what to think of it,
When I beheld you in your jesting way,
Flitting and whispering round about the spit
Where Belial, upon duty for the day,
With Fox's lard was basting William Pitt,
His pupil; I knew what to think, I say:
That fellow even in hell breeds farther ills;
I'll have him gagg'd-'twas one of his own bills.

LXXIV.

"Call Junius!" From the crowd a shadow stalk'd, And at the name there was a general squeeze,

So that the very ghosts no longer walk'd

In comfort, at their own aërial ease,

But were all ramm'd, and jamm'd (but to be balk'd,
As we shall see), and jostled hands and knees,
Like wind compress'd and pent within a bladder,
Or like a human colic, which is sadder.

LXXV.'

The shadow came-a tall, thin, grey-hair'd figure,
That look'd as it had been a shade on earth;
Quick in its motions, with an air of vigour,
But nought to mark its breeding or its birth;
Now it wax'd little, then again grew bigger,

With now an air of gloom, or savage mirth;
But as you gazed upon its features, they
Changed every instant-to what, none could say.

LXXVI.

The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less
Could they distinguish whose the features were;
The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to guess;
They varied like a dream-now here, now there;
And several people swore from out the press,

They knew him perfectly; and one could swear
He was his father; upon which another
Was sure he was his mother's cousin's brother:

LXXVII.

Another, that he was a duke, or knight,
An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,

2

A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wight

Mysterious changed his countenance at least
As oft as they their minds: though in full sight
He stood, the puzzle only was increased;

The man was a phantasmagoria in
Himself-he was so volatile and thin.

LXXVIII.

The moment that you had pronounced him one,
Presto! his face changed, and he was another;
And when that change was hardly well put on,
It varied, till I don't think his own mother

(If that he had a mother) would her son

Have known, he shifted so from one to t'other; Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task, At this epistolary "Iron Mask."

LXXIX.

For sometimes he like Cerberus would seem-
"Three gentlemen at once" (as sagely says
Good Mrs. Malaprop); then you might deem

That he was not even one; now many rays
Were flashing round him; and now a thick steam
Hid him from sight-like fogs on London days:
Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's fancies,
And certes often like. Sir Philip Francis.

LXXX.

I've an hypothesis-'tis quite my own;
I never let it out till now, for fear
Of doing people harm about the throne,
And injuring some minister or peer,
On whom the stigma might perhaps be blown;
It is my gentle public, lend thine ear!
'Tis, that what Junius we are wont to call
Was really, truly, nobody at all.

LXXXI.

I don't see wherefore letters should not be
Written without hands, since we daily view
Them written without heads; and books, we see,
Are fill'd as well without the latter too:

And really till we fix on somebody

For certain sure to claim them as his due, Their author, like the Niger's mouth, will bother The world to say if there be mouth or author.

LXXXII.

"And who and what art thou?" the Archangel said. "For that you may consult my title-page," Replied this mighty shadow of a shade:

"If I have kept my secret half an age,

I scarce shall tell it now."—"Canst thou upbraid,"
Continued Michael, "George Rex, or allege
Aught further?" Junius answer'd,
Junius answer'd, "You had better
First ask him for his answer to my letter:

LXXXIII.

'My charges upon record will outlast

The brass of both his epitaph and tomb." "Repent'st thou not," said Michael, "of some past Exaggeration? something which may doom Thyself if false, as him if true? Thou wast Too bitter-is it not so ?-in thy gloom

Of passion ?"-"Passion!" cried the phantom dim, "I loved my country, and I hated him.