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Ero Heaven shall ope her portals to this When the great signal ran from heaven to Guelf,

hell, While I am guard, may I be damn'd myself! About ten million times the distance reckon'd

From our sun to its earth, as we can tell

How much time it takes up, even to a second, Sooner will I with Cerberus exchange For every ray that travels to dispel My office (and his is no sinecure) The fogs of London; through which, dimly Than see this royal Bedlam-bigot range

beacon'd, The azure fields of heaven,of that be sure!" The weathercocks are gilt, some thrice a “Saint!” replied Satan, “you do well to

year,
avenge

If that the summer is not too severo
The wrongs he made your satellites endure ;
And if to this exchange you should be

given,

1
say

that I can tell-'twas half a minute; I'll try to coax our Cerberus up to heaven." I know the solar beams take up more time

Ere,pack'd up for their journey,they begin it;

But then their telegraph is less sublime, Here Michael interposed: "Good saint! And if they ran a race, they would not win it

and devil!

'Gainst Satan's couriers bound for their Pray,not so fast; you both out-run discretion.

own clime. Saint Peter! you were wont to be more The sun takes up some years for every ray

civil:

To reach its goal - the devil not half a day. Satan! excuse this warmth of his expression, And condescension to the vulgar's level: Even saints sometimes forget themselves in Upon the verge of space, about the size

session.

of half-a-crown, a little speck appear'd Have you got more to say ?”—“No!"_“If (I've seen a something like it in the skies

you please,

In the Ægean, ere a squall); it near'd, I'll trouble you to call your witnesses." And, growing bigger, took another guise;

Like an aërial ship it tack’d, and steer'd

Or was steer'd (I am doubtful of the grammar Then Satan turn’d and waved his swarthy Of the last phrase, which makes the stanza hand,

stammer ; Which stirr'd with its electric qualities Clouds farther off than we can understand, Although we find him sometimes in our But take your choice); and then it grew skies;

a cloud, Infernal thunder shook both sea and land And so it wag-a cloud of witnesses. In all the planets, and hell's batteries But such a cloud! No land e'er saw a crowd Let off the artillery, which Milton mentions Of locusts numerous as the heavens saw As one of Satan's most sublime inventions.

these ; They shadow'd with their myriads space ;

their loud This was a signal unto such damnd souls And varied cries were like those of wildAs have the privilege of their damnation

geese Extended far beyond the mere controls (If nations may be liken'd to a goose), Of worlds past, present, or to come; no And realized the phrase of "hell broke station

loose." Is theirs particularly in the rolls Of hell assigned; but where their inclination Or business carries them in search of game, Here crash'd a sturdy oath of stout JohnBull, They may range freely-being damn'd the Who damn'd away his eyes, as heretofore:

There Paddy brogued by Jasus !"_“What's

same.

your wall ?"

The temperate Scot exclaim'd; the French They are proud of this-as very well they

ghost swore may,

In certain terms I sha'n't translate in full, It being a sort of knighthood, or gilt key As the first coachman will;and ʼmidst the war Stuck in their loins; or like to an "entrée” | The voice of Jonathan was heard to express, Up the back stairs, or such free-masonry: "Our President is going to war, I guess." I borrow my comparisons from clay, Being clay myself. Let not those spirits be Offended with such base low likenesses ; Besides, there were the Spaniard, Dutch, We know their posts are nobler far than

and Dane; these.

In short, an universal shoal of shades

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From Otaheito's Isle to Salisbury Plain, The rest," quoth Michael: “Who may be Of all climes and professions, years and

80 graced trades,

As to speak first ? there's choice enoughReady to swear against the good king's

who shall reign,

It be?” Then Satan answer'd, “There Bitter as clubs in cards are against spades:

are many ; All summond by this grand subpæna," to But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well Try if kings mayn't be damn'd, like me

as any."

or you.

A merry, cock-eyed, curious looking Sprite, When Michael saw this host, he first grew Upon the instant started from the throng,

pale,

Dress'd in a fashion now forgotten quite; As angels can; next, like Italian twilight, For all the fashions of the flesh stick long He turn'd all colours - as a peacock's tail, By people in the next world; where unite Or sunset streaming through a Gothic All the costumes since Adam's, right or skylight

wrong,
In some old abbey, or a trout not'stale, From Eve's fig-leaf down to the petticoat,
Or distant lightning on the horizon by night, Almost as scanty, of days less reinote.
Or a fresh rainbow, or a grand review
Of thirty regiments in red, green, and blue.

The Spirit look'd around upon the crowds

Assembled, and exclaim'd, “My friends of all Then he address'd hiniself to Satan: “Why- The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst My good old friend, for such I deem you,

these clouds; though

So let's to business: why this general call? Our different parties make us fight so shy, if those are freeholders I see in shrouds, I ne'er mistake you for a personal foe;

And 'tis for an election that they bawl, Our difference is political, and I

Behold a candidate with unturn'd-coat ! Trust that, whatever may occur below, Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?" You know my great respect for you; and

this Makes me regret whate'er you do amiss- Sir," replied Michael, “you mistake: these

things

Aro of a former life, and what we do Why, my dear Lucifer, would

yon abuse Above is more august; to judge of kings My call for witnesses ? I did not mean Is the tribunal met; so now you know.” That you should half of earth and hell "Then I presume those gentlemen with produce;

wings," 'Tis even superfluous, since two honest, Said Wilkes, “are cherubs; and that soul clean,

below True testimonies are enough: we lose Looks much like George the Third; but to Our time, nay, our eternity, between The accusation and defence: if we A good deal older-Bless me! is he blind?" Hear both, 'twill stretch our immortality.”

“He is what you behold him, and his doom Satan replied, “To me the matter is Depends upon his deeds," the Angel said. Indifferent, in a personal point of view : “If you have aught to arraign in him, the I can have fifty better souls than this

tomb With far less trouble than we have gone Gives license to the humblest beggar's head

through

To lift itself against the loftiest." _Some," Already; and I merely argued his Said Wilkes, “don't wait to see them laid Late Majesty of Britain's case with you

in lead, Upon a point of form: you may dispose For such a liberty- and I, for one, Of him ; I've kings enough below, God Have told them what I thought beneath knows!”

the sun."

my mind

Thus spoke the Demon (late callid "multi-"- Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast

faced”

To urge against him," said the Archangel By multo-scribbling Southey). “Then we'll

“Why," call

Replied the Spirit, “since old scores are Onc or two persons of the myriads placed

past, Around our congress, and dispense with all Must I turn evidence ? In faith, not I.

swear

one,

Besides, I beat him hollow at the last, The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky Could they distinguish whose the features I don't like ripping up old stories, since

were ; His conduct was but natural in a prince. The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to

guess;

They varied like a dream-now here, now Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress

there; A poor unlucky devil without a shilling; And several people swore from out the press, But then I blame the man himself much less They knew him perfectly; and one could Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be

unwilling He was his father: upon which another To see him panish'd here for their excess, Was sure he was his mother's cousin's Since they were both damn'd long ago, and

brother: still in Their place below; for me, I have forgiven, And vote his "habeas corpus” into heaven." Another, that he was a duke, or knight,

An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,

A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wight “Wilkes," said the Devil, “I understand Mysterious changed his countenance at least

all this;

As oft as they their minds: though in full You turp'd to half a courtier ere you died,

sight And seem to think it would not be amiss He stood, the puzzle only was increased; To grow a whole one on the other side The man was a phantasmagoria in Of Charon's ferry; you forget that his Himself-he was so volatile and thin! Reign is concluded; whatsoe'er betide, He won't be sovereign more: you've lost

your labour,

The moment that yon had pronounced him For at the best he will but be your neighbour.

Presto! his face changed,and he was another;

And when that change was hardly well However, I knew what to think of it,

put on, When I beheld you, in your jesting way, It varied, till I don't think his own mother Flitting and whispering round about the spit (If that he had a mother) wonld her son Where Belial, upon duty for the day, Have known, he shifted so from one to With Fox's lard was basting William Pitt,

t'other, His pupil; I knew what to think, I say: Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task, That fellow even in hell breeds farther ills; At this epistolary "iron-mask.” I'll have him gagg’d—'twas one of his own

bills.

For sometimes he likeCerberus would seem

“Three gentlemen at once" (as sagely says Call Junius!" From the crowd a Shadow Good Mrs. Malaprop); then you mighi deem

stalk'd,

That he was not even one ; now many rays And at the name there was a general squeeze, Were flashing round him; and now a thick So that the very ghosts no longer walk'd In comfort, at their own aërial ease, Hid him from sight-like fogs on London But were all rainm'd, and jamm'd (but to

days: be balk’d, Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's As we shall see) and jostled hands and

fancies, knees,

And certes often like Sir Philip Francis. Like wind compress’d and pent within a

bladder, Or like a human cholic, which is sadder. I've an hypothesis ---'tis quite my own;

I never let it out till now, for fear

Of doing people harm about the throne, The Shadow came! a tall, thin, gray-haird And injuring some minister or peer

figure,

On whom the stigma might perhaps be That look'd as it had been a shade on earth;

blown; Quick in its motions, with an air of vigour, It is—my gentle public, lend thine ear! But nought to mark its breeding or its birth: Tis, that what Junius we are wont to call, Now it wax'd little, then again grew bigger, Was rcally, truly, nobody at all. With now an air of gloom, or savage mirth; But as you gazed upon its features, they Changed every instant-to what, none could I don't see wherefore letters should not be

say.

Written without hands, since we daily view

steam

we see

Them written without heads; and books | But to the point: while hovering o'er the

brink Are filld as well without the latter too: Of Skiddaw (where, as usual, it still rain'd), And really till we fix on somebody I saw a taper, far below me, wink, For certain sure to claim them as his due, And, stooping, caught this fellow at a Their author, like the Niger's mouth, will

libel bother

No less on History than the Holy Bible. The world to say if there be mouth or author.

The former is the devil's scripture, and “And who and what art thon?" the Arch- The latter yours, good Michael ; 60 the angel said.

affair “For that, you may consult my title-page,” Belongs to all of us, you understand. Replied this mighty Shadow of a Shade: I snatch'd him up just as you see him there, “If I have kept my secret half an age, And brought him off for sentence out of I scarce shall tell it now.”_"Canst thou

hand: upbraid," I've scarcely been ten minutes in the airContinued Michael, “George Rex, or allege At least a quarter it can hardly be: Aught further ? ” Junius answer'd, “You I dare say that his wife is still at tea.

had better First ask him for his answer to my letter:

Here Satan said, “I know this man of old,

And have expected him for some time here; My charges upon record will outlast A sillier fellow you will scarce behold, The brass of both his epitaph and tomb." Or more conceited in his petty sphere: “Repent'st thou not,” said Michael, "of But surely it was not worth while to fold

some past

Such trash below your wing, Asmodeus dear! Exaggeration? something which may doom We had the poor wretch safe (without being Thyself, if false, as him if true? Thou wast

bored Too bitter-is it not so? in thy gloom With carriage) coming of his own accord. Of passion ?” “Passion!” cried the Phan

tom dim, “I loved my country, and I hated him. But since he's here, let's see what he has

done."

“Done!” cried Asmodeus, "he anticipates What I have written, I have written: let The very business you are now upon, The rest be on his head or mine!" So spoke And scribbles as if head-clerk to the Fates. Old “Nominis Umbra;” and while speaking Who knows to what his ribaldry may run,

yet,

When such an ass as this, like Balaam'a, Away he melted in celestial smoke.

prates ?” Then Satan said to Michael, “Don't forget "Let's hear," quoth Michael, “what he has To call George Washington, and John

Horne Tooke,

You know we're bound to that in every way." And Franklin:"--but at this time there was

heard A cry for room, though not a phantom stirr’d. Now the Bard, glad to get an audience, which

By no means often was his case below,

Began to cough, and hawk, and hem, and At length, with jostling, elbowing, and

pitch the aid

His voice into that awful note of woe Of cherubim appointed to that post, To all unhappy hearers within reach The devil Asmodeus to the circle made Of poets when the tide of rhyme's in flow; His way, and look'd as if his journey cost But stuck fast with his first hexameter, Some trouble. When his burden down he Not one of all whose gouty feet would stir.

laid, “What's this ? ” cried Michael ; "why, 'tis

not a ghost ? " But ere the spavind dactyls could be spurr'd “I know it," quoth the incubus; "but he Into recitative, in great dismay Shall be one, if you leave the affair to me. Both cherubim and seraphim were heard

To murmur loudly through their long array;

And Michael rose ere he could get a word Confound the Renegado! I have spraind Of all his founder'd verses under way, My left wing, he's so heavy; one would think And cried, “For God's sake stop, my friends! Some of his works about his neck were

'twere bestchain'd.

Non Di, non homines—" you know the rest."

to say ;

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A general bustle spread throughout the | And then against them, bitterer than over;

throng,

For pantisocracy ho once had cried
Which seem'd to hold all verse in detestation; Aloud, a scheme less moral than 'twas clever;
The angels had of course enough of song Then grew a hearty anti-jacobin-
When upon service; and the generation Had turp'd his coat- and would have turn'd
Of ghosts had heard too much in life, not long

his skin
Before, to profit by a new occasion ;
The Monarch, mute till then, exclaim'd

“What! what ! He had sung against all battles, and again Pye come again? Nomoro—no more of that!” In their high praise and glory; he had callid

Reviewing “the ungentle craft," and then

Become as base a critic as e'er crawl'dThe tumult grew, an universal cough Fed, paid, and pamper’d by the very men Convulsed the skies, as during a debate, By whom his muse and morals had been When Castlereagh has been up long enough

maul'd: (Before he was first minister of state, He had written much blank verse, and I mean, the slaves hear now), some cried

blanker prose, "off, off," And more of both than any body knows. As at a farce; till grown quite desperate, The Bard Saint Peter pray'd to interpose (Himself an author) only for his prose. He had written Wesley's life:-here, turn

ing round

To Satan, "Sir, I'm ready to write yours,
The varlet was not an ill-favour'd knave; In two octavo volumes, nicely bound,
A good deal like a vulture in the face, With notes and preface, all that most allures
With a hook nose and a hawk's eye, which The pious purchaser; and there's no ground

gave

For fear, for I can choose my own reviewers :
A smart and sharper looking sort of grace So let me have the proper documents,
To his whole aspect, which, though rather That I may add you to my other saints."

grave,
Was by no means so ugly as his case;
But that indeed was hopeless as can be, Satan bow'd, and was silent. “Well, if you,
Quite a poetic felony “de se.

With amiable modesty, decline
My offer, what says Michael? There are few

Whose memoirs could be render'd more
Then Michael blew his trump, and stillid

divine. the noise

Mine is a-pen of all work; not so new With one still greater, as is yet the mode As it was once, but I would make you

shing On earth besides; except some grumbling Like your own trumpet; by the way, my own

voice,

Has more of brass in it, and is as well blown. Which now and then will make a slight

inroad Upon decorous silence, few will twice But talking about trumpets, here's my Lift up their lungs when fairly overcrowd;

Vision ! And now the Bard cõuld plead his own Now you shall judge, all people; yes, you bad cause;

shall With all the attitudes of self-applausė. Judge with my judgment! and by my

decision

Be guided who shall enter heaven or fall!
He said—(I only give the heads)—he said, I settle all thesc things by intuition,
He meant no harm in scribbling; 'twas his Times present, past, to come, heaven, hell,
way

and all,
Upon all topics; 'twas, besides, his bread, Like King Alfonso! When I thus see doublc,
of which he butter'd both sides; 'twould I save the Deity some worlds of trouble.”

delay
Too long the assembly (he was pleased to

dread),

He ceased, and drew forth an MS. ; and no And take up rather more time than a day, Persuasion on the part of devils, or saints, To name his works_ he would but cite a few Or angels, now could stop the torrent; so Wat Tyler, Rhymes on Blenheim, Waterloo. He read the first three lines of the contents;

But at the fourth, the whole spiritual show

Had vanish'd with variety of scents,
He had written praises of a regicide; Ambrosial and sulphureous, as they sprang,
He had written praises of all kings whatever; Like lightning, off from his “melodious
Ho had written for republics, far and wide,

twang."

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