Their hero has rushed to the field;
His laurels are cover'd with shade
But where is the spirit that never should yield,
The loyalty never to fade!
In a moment desertion and guile
Abandon'd him up to the foe;
The dastards that flourish'd and grew in his smile, Forsook and renounced him in woe;
And the millions that swore they would perish to
Beheld him a fugitive, captive, and slave!
The Savage all wild in his glen
Is nobler and better than thou;
Thou standest a wonder, a marvel to men,
Such perfidy blackens thy brow!
If thou wert the place of my birth,
At once from thy arms would I sever;
I'd fly to the uttermost parts of the earth,
And quit thee for ever and ever:
And thinking of thee in my long after-years, Should but kindle my blushes and waken my tears.
Oh, shame to thee, Land of the Gaul!
Oh, shame to thy children and thee!
Unwise in thy glory and base in thy fall,
How wretched thy portion shall be!
Derision shall strike thee forlorn.
A mockery that never shall die;
The curses of Hate and the hisses of Scorn
Shall burthen the winds of thy sky;
And proud o'er thy ruin for ever be hurl'd
The laughter of Triumph, the jeers of the World!
Lines composed on the occasion of H. R. H. the P-e R-g-t being seen standing betwixt the coffins of Henry VIII and Charles I in the Royal vault at Windsor.
FAMED for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles, see heartless Henry lies;
Between them stands another Sceptered thing,
It moves, it reigns, in all but name—a King :
Charles to his People, Henry to his Wife,
-In him the double tyrant starts to Life :
Justice and Death have mixed their dust in vain,
Each Royal Vampyre wakes to life again;
Ah! what can tombs avail-since these disgorge
The blood and dust of both--to mould a G-ge.
1813.
SKETCH FROM PRIVATE LIFE.
Honest-Honest Iago!
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. >>
BORN in the garret, in the kitchen bred,
Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head;
Next-for some gracious service unexprest,
And from its wages only to be guess'd-
Rais'd from the toilet to the table,-where
Her wondering betters wait behind her chair,
With eye unmoved, and foread unabash'd,
She dines from off the plate she lately wash'd.
Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie-
The genial confidante, and general spy-
Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess-
An only infant's earliest governess!
She taught the child to read, and taught so well,
That she herself, by teaching, learn'd to spell.
And adept next in penmanship she grows,
As many a nameless slander deftly shows:
What she had made the pupil of her art,
None know-but that high soul secured the heart,
And panted for the truth it could not hear,
With longing breast and undeluded ear.
Foil'd was perversion by that youthful mind, Which Flattery fool'd not-Baseness could not
Deceit infect nor-nor Contagion soil-
Indulgence weaken-nor Example spoil-
Nor master'd Science tempt her to look down
On humbler talents with a pitying frown-
Nor Genius swell-nor Beauty render vain-
Nor Envy ruffle to retaliate pain-
Nor Fortune change-Pride raise-norPassion bow,
Nor Virtue teach austerity-till now.
Serenely purest of her sex that live,
But wanting one sweet weakness-to forgive;
Too shock'd at faults her soul can never know,
She deems that all could be like her below:
Foe to all Vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend,
For Virtue pardons those she would amend.
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