Page images


When the loud shriekings of the hostile cry
Roughly salute my ear, enraged I'll fly;
Send the sharp arrow quivering thro' the heart
Chill the hot vitals with the venom'd dart;
Nor heed the shining steel or noisy smoke,
Gaira and Vengeance shall inspire the stroke.


Says Tom to Jack, 'tis very odd,
These representatives of God,
In color, way of life and evil,
Should be so very like the devil.
Jack, understand, was one of those,
Who mould religion in the rose,
A red hot methodist; his face
Was full of puritanic grace,
His loose lank hair, his slow gradation,
Declared a late regeneration ;
Among the daughters long renown'd,
For standing upon holy ground;
Never in carnal battle beat,
Tho' sometimes forced to a retreat.
But Ct, hero as he is,
Knight of incomparable phiz,

When pliant Doxy seems to yield,
Courageously forsakes the field.
Jack, or to write more gravely, John,
Thro' hills of Wesley's works had gone;
Could sing one hundred hymns by rote ;
Hymns which will sanctify the throat:
But some indeed composed so odly,
You'd swear 'twas bawdy songs made godly.


Young Colin was as stout a boy
As ever gave a maiden joy;
But long in vain he told his tale
To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale.

Ah why, the whining shepherd cried,
Am I alone your smiles denied?
I only tell in vain iny tale
To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale.

True Colin, said the laughing dame,
You only whimper out your flame,
Others do more than sigh their tale
To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale.

He took the hint, &c.


Hail Kew! thou darling of the tuneful nine,
Thou eating-house of verse where poets dine;
The temple of the idol of the great,
Sacred to council-mysteries of state ;
St. Gilbert oft, in dangerous trials known,
To make the shame and felony his own,
Burns incense on thy altars, and presents
The grateful sound of clam'rous discontents :
In the bold favour of thy goddess vain,
He brandishes his sword and shakes his chain.

• Printed from a transcript in the hand-writing of the late Mr. Isaac Reed, contained in Mr. Haslewood's collection.

The poem of Kew Gardens,' had never been published complete. In Southey and Cottle's edition of Chatterton's Works, a few of the concluding lines were published, and the following note was added, vol. i. p. 202 :

Every effort has been made to obtain the remainder of this poem, but without success. The last possessor who can be traced was the late Dr. Lort. His executor, Dr. Halifax, has obligingly communicated the preceding fragment, but the remainder of the poem never came into his possession. Many lines in the ` Extract from Kew Gardens,' appear in the · Whore of Babylon,' but differently arranged."

“Chatterton refers to this poem in his will. I have not been able to ascertain the precise time when it was written, but it is evident that it must have been produced before April, 1770, from the fact of his having named it in the document referred to. I have been fortunate enough to procure a copy of the whole poem, through Mr. atch, and it is here for the first time printed entire."-Dıx's Life of Chatterton, 1837.

He knows her secret workings and desires,
Her hidden attributes, and vestal fires,
Like an old oak has seen her godhead fall,
Beneath the wild descendant of Fingal,
And happy in the view of promised store
Forgot his dignity and held the door.

* happy genius comes along
Humming the music of a Highland song:
Rough and unpolish'd in the tricks of state,
He plots by instinct, is by nature great.
Who, not a mantled herald, can dispute
The native grandeur of the house of Bute?
Who, not a Caledonian, can deny
By instinct all its noble branches lie?
'Tis an entail'd estate upon the name,
To plunder, plot, and pillage into fame,
To live in splendour, infamy, and pride,
The guiders of the tools who seem to guide ;
Or starve on honesty, in state their own,
And marshal sheep unnotic'd and unknown.

vers’d in juntos and intrigues,
The fool and statesman in close union leagues ;
Sits at the council's head; esteem'd at most
An useful kind of circulating post :
Through whose short stage each future measure's laid,
And all the orders of the Thane convey'd.
He gives the written text by fortune wrote;
Sir Gilbert adds his necessary ote


Dyson, a plodding animal of state,
Who's classically little to be great;
An instrument made use of to record
The future witty speeches of his lord :
To write epistles to his powerful dame,
And in the dark supply his loss of flame;
To sell preferment; grovel in the dust;
The slave of interest and the slave of lust.
To lick his lordship's shoes, and find a flaw
In every statute that oppos'd his law,
To carry orders to the guiding tool,
To flatter

with the hopes of rule.
To send congratulations to the man,
Who stands so well affected to the clan,

whose conscientious mind, Does universal service to mankind, When red with justice, and the royal cause, His bloody musket shook with court applause: When monarchs, representatives of God, Honour'd the rascal with a gracious nod, Three ghosts in George's sanguine field were seen, And two struck horror into Bethnal Green. Soft pity's voice, unnotic'd by the crown, Stole in a murmur through the weeping town; And freedom, wand'ring restless and alone, Saw no redress expected froin the throne : Then bade remonstrance wear a bolder dress, And loudly supplicate, and force success.


To *

« PreviousContinue »