No. XIV.

Feb. 12, 1798.

It has been our invariable custom to suppress such of our correspondents’ favours as conveyed any compliments to ourselves; and we have deviated from it in the present instance, not so much out of respect to the uncommon excellence of the Poem before us, as because it agrees so intimately with the general design of our paper—to expose the deformity of the French Revolution, to counteract the detestable arts of those who are seeking to introduce it here, and above all, to invigorate the exertions of our countrymen against every Foe, foreign and domestic, by showing them the immense and inexhaustible resources they yet possess in British Courage and British Virtue!

Foe to thy country’s foes!’tisTHINEto claimFrom Britain’s genuine sons a British fame—Too long French manners our fair isle disgraced;Too long French fashions shamed our native taste.Still prone to change, we half-resolved to tryThe proffered charms ofFrench fraternity.Fair was her form, andFreedom’shonour’d nameConceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,The long-lost blessings ofAstræa’sreign—But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard faceBetray’d theFurylurking in theGrace—The false attendants that behind her press’d,In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:Peacedropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’dAmbition’smantle reeking fresh with blood;PresumptuousFollystood inReason’sform,Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;Philosophy, proud phantom, undismay’d,With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;SawPersecutiongnash her iron teeth,WhileAtheistspreach’d theeternal sleep of death;SawAnarchythe social chain unbind,AndDiscordsour the blood of human kind;Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!Foil’d by ourArms, where’er inARMSwe met,WithARTS LIKE THESEthe foe assails us yet.Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,More secret wiles his envious malice tries;Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,’TisTHINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.In vain hadPompeycrush’d thePontic host,And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;The base confederates of aGallic[116]foe;Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eyeTrack’d through the windings of conspiracy,Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,The “Jacobin Reformer[117]of his day”.’TisTHINEa subtler mischief to pursue,And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,Detect its malice, or resist its rage;Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;Traitors absolved, and libellers released,The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]TheSovereign-people’scringing, crafty slave,The dashing fool, and instigating knave,Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—Vermin have sunk the Ship that ruled the Main.’TisTHINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,And turn the weapon back upon the foe:To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,And shew the cautious all they have to save.Erect that standardAlfredfirst unfurl’d,Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d fieldBeams with theChristian Cross, theRegal Shield;That standard which thePatriot Baronsbore,Restored, fromRunimede’sresounding shore;Which since consign’d toWilliam’sguardian hand,Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.Yes! thebright sun of Britainyet shall shine—The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;While the red Meteor, whose portentous glareShot plagues infectious through the troubled air;Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,Lost in the radiance ofHIS BRIGHTER DAY!

Foe to thy country’s foes!’tisTHINEto claim

From Britain’s genuine sons a British fame—

Too long French manners our fair isle disgraced;

Too long French fashions shamed our native taste.

Still prone to change, we half-resolved to try

The proffered charms ofFrench fraternity.

Fair was her form, andFreedom’shonour’d nameConceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,The long-lost blessings ofAstræa’sreign—But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard faceBetray’d theFurylurking in theGrace—The false attendants that behind her press’d,In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:Peacedropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’dAmbition’smantle reeking fresh with blood;PresumptuousFollystood inReason’sform,Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;Philosophy, proud phantom, undismay’d,With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;SawPersecutiongnash her iron teeth,WhileAtheistspreach’d theeternal sleep of death;SawAnarchythe social chain unbind,AndDiscordsour the blood of human kind;Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!

Fair was her form, andFreedom’shonour’d name

Conceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:

She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,

Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:

Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,

The long-lost blessings ofAstræa’sreign—

But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard face

Betray’d theFurylurking in theGrace—

The false attendants that behind her press’d,

In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:

Peacedropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’d

Ambition’smantle reeking fresh with blood;

PresumptuousFollystood inReason’sform,

Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;

Philosophy, proud phantom, undismay’d,

With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;

SawPersecutiongnash her iron teeth,

WhileAtheistspreach’d theeternal sleep of death;

SawAnarchythe social chain unbind,

AndDiscordsour the blood of human kind;

Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;

And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!

Foil’d by ourArms, where’er inARMSwe met,WithARTS LIKE THESEthe foe assails us yet.Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,More secret wiles his envious malice tries;Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.

Foil’d by ourArms, where’er inARMSwe met,

WithARTS LIKE THESEthe foe assails us yet.

Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,

More secret wiles his envious malice tries;

Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,

Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.

While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,’TisTHINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.In vain hadPompeycrush’d thePontic host,And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;The base confederates of aGallic[116]foe;Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eyeTrack’d through the windings of conspiracy,Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,The “Jacobin Reformer[117]of his day”.

While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,

Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,

’TisTHINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;

An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.

In vain hadPompeycrush’d thePontic host,

And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;

The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;

The base confederates of aGallic[116]foe;

Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eye

Track’d through the windings of conspiracy,

Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,

The “Jacobin Reformer[117]of his day”.

’TisTHINEa subtler mischief to pursue,And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,Detect its malice, or resist its rage;Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;Traitors absolved, and libellers released,The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]TheSovereign-people’scringing, crafty slave,The dashing fool, and instigating knave,Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—Vermin have sunk the Ship that ruled the Main.

’TisTHINEa subtler mischief to pursue,

And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;

Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,

Detect its malice, or resist its rage;

Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,

In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]

Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,

And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:

Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,

By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;

Traitors absolved, and libellers released,

The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]

TheSovereign-people’scringing, crafty slave,

The dashing fool, and instigating knave,

Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—

Vermin have sunk the Ship that ruled the Main.

’TisTHINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,And turn the weapon back upon the foe:To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,And shew the cautious all they have to save.

’TisTHINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,

And turn the weapon back upon the foe:

To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,

That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;

To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,

Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;

To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,

And shew the cautious all they have to save.

Erect that standardAlfredfirst unfurl’d,Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d fieldBeams with theChristian Cross, theRegal Shield;That standard which thePatriot Baronsbore,Restored, fromRunimede’sresounding shore;Which since consign’d toWilliam’sguardian hand,Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.

Erect that standardAlfredfirst unfurl’d,

Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;

Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d field

Beams with theChristian Cross, theRegal Shield;

That standard which thePatriot Baronsbore,

Restored, fromRunimede’sresounding shore;

Which since consign’d toWilliam’sguardian hand,

Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;

Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,

Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.

Yes! thebright sun of Britainyet shall shine—The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;While the red Meteor, whose portentous glareShot plagues infectious through the troubled air;Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,Lost in the radiance ofHIS BRIGHTER DAY!

Yes! thebright sun of Britainyet shall shine—

The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;

That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,

Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;

While the red Meteor, whose portentous glare

Shot plagues infectious through the troubled air;

Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,

Lost in the radiance ofHIS BRIGHTER DAY!

'_DESIGN

LINES.Written under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor.

I’ll not sell UncleNoll, Charles Surface cries;—I’ll not sellCharley Fox, John Bull replies:Sell him, indeed! who’ll find me such another?—Fox is above all price; so hold your pother.Morning Post, Feb. 6.

I’ll not sell UncleNoll, Charles Surface cries;—

I’ll not sellCharley Fox, John Bull replies:

Sell him, indeed! who’ll find me such another?—

Fox is above all price; so hold your pother.

Morning Post, Feb. 6.

To make our readers some amends for this miserable doggrel, we will present them, in our turn, with some lines writtenunder a bust,NOTat the Crown and Anchor, by anEnglish travellerjust returned from Petersburgh. We believe they are more just; we are certain they are more poetical.

I.The GrecianOrator of old,With scorn rejectedPhilip’slaws,Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,And triumph’d in his country’s cause.II.A foe to every wild extreme,’Mid civil storms, the Roman SageRepress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,And check’d the madding people’s rage.III.Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,With patriot zeal their labours sought,And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured nameInspired and govern’d every thought.IV.Who now, in this presumptuous hour,Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?—The advocate of foreign power,The Æschines of later days.V.What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,Is thus announced to distant climes?—Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,TheCatilineof modern times![120]

The GrecianOrator of old,With scorn rejectedPhilip’slaws,Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,And triumph’d in his country’s cause.

The GrecianOrator of old,

With scorn rejectedPhilip’slaws,

Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,

And triumph’d in his country’s cause.

II.

A foe to every wild extreme,’Mid civil storms, the Roman SageRepress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,And check’d the madding people’s rage.

A foe to every wild extreme,

’Mid civil storms, the Roman Sage

Repress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,

And check’d the madding people’s rage.

III.

Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,With patriot zeal their labours sought,And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured nameInspired and govern’d every thought.

Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,

With patriot zeal their labours sought,

And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured name

Inspired and govern’d every thought.

IV.

Who now, in this presumptuous hour,Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?—The advocate of foreign power,The Æschines of later days.

Who now, in this presumptuous hour,

Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?

—The advocate of foreign power,

The Æschines of later days.

What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,Is thus announced to distant climes?—Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,TheCatilineof modern times![120]

What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,

Is thus announced to distant climes?

—Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,

TheCatilineof modern times![120]

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