III. Fine gardener, Ben Carter For Proserpine's orchards; That fill up the church-yards; IV. And, lusty as Dido By Stygian hid ford; V. And gallant Tom Dockwra, Lurks by Avernus, Whose honest grasp of hand Still, while his life did stand, At friend's or foe's command, Almost did burn us. VI. Roger de Coverley Push'd for Cocytus, With drivelling Worral, Whose end might affright us! VII. Kindly hearts have I known; Linger yet uneffaced, VIII. But this day Fanny Hutton She died, as the dunce died: And prim Betsy Chambers, IX. And prudent Miss Wither Nor I well, nor you know; Though proud once as Juno! ON R. B. HAYDON'S [In the "Poetical Recreations of the Champion and his Literary Correspondents," published in London, in 1822, there appeared on opposite pages 188 and 189, the following dozen lines, here in Latin, here in English: the former facetiously signed in one word Carlagnulus; the latter simply subscribed with the writer's initials, C. L. The title prefixed to this tribute in the original is subjoined.] IN TABULAM EXIMII PICTORIS B. HAYDONI, IN QUÂ SOLYMÆI, ad VENIENTE DOMINO, PALMAS IN TO MY FRIEND THE (The Indicator, 27th September, YOUR easy Essays indicate a flow, Dear friend, of brain which we may elsewhere seek; And to their pages I and hundreds owe, That Wednesday is the sweetest of the week. Such observation, wit, and sense, are shown, We think the days of Bickerstaff return'd; And that a portion of that oil you own, In his undying midnight lamp which burn'd. I would not lightly bruise old Priscian's head Or wrong the rules of grammar understood; But, with the leave of Priscian be it said, The Indicative is your Potential Mood. Wit, poet, prose-man, party-man, translator H[unt], your best title yet is Indicator. 80 Satan in Search of a Wife. [Published originally in 1831, by Edward Moxon, at 64, New Bond Street, in the form of a curious little duodecimo, fantastically illustrated with woodcuts, and entitled-at full length-"Satan in Search of a Wife; with the whole Process of his Courtship and Marriage, and who Danced at the Wedding. By an Eye Witness.' The whole is a sort of diabolical skit upon "The Loves of the Angels," by Thomas Moore, to whose readers, in fact, as will be seen, this whimsical jeu d'esprit is with covert irony inscribed.] DEDICATION. " To delicate bosoms, that have sighed over the Loves of the Angels, this poem is with tenderest regard consecrated. It can be no offence to you, dear ladies, that the author has endeavoured to extend the dominion of your darling passion; to show love triumphant in places, to which his advent has been never yet suspected. If one Cecilia drew an Angel down, another may have leave to attract a spirit upwards; which, I am sure, was the most desperate adventure of the two. Wonder not at the inferior condition of the agent; for, if King Cophetua wooed a beggar-maid, a greater king need not scorn to confess the attractions of a fair tailor's daughter. The more disproportionate the rank, the more signal is the glory of your sex. Like that of Hecate, a triple empire is now confessed your own. Nor Heaven, nor Earth, nor deepest tracts of Erebus, as Milton hath it, have power to resist your sway. I congratulate your last victory. You have fairly made an honest man of the Old One; and, if your conquest is late, the success must be salutary. The new Benedict has employment enough on his hands to desist from dabbling with the affairs of poor mortals; he may fairly leave human nature to herself; and we may sleep for one while at least secure from the attacks of this hitherto restless Old Bachelor. It remains to be seen, whether the world will be much benefited by the change in his condition. |