Ranging, with fell Virtû, his poisonous tribes
Of embryo sneers and animalcule gibes.
Here insect puns their feeble wings expand,
To speed, in little flights, their lord's command:
There, in their paper chrysalis, he sees
Specks of bon-mots, and eggs of repartees.
In modern spirits ancient wit he steeps;
If not its gloss, the reptile's venom keeps;
Thy quaintness, DUNNING! but without thy sense;
And just enough of BT, for offence.

85

90

95

On these lov'd leaves a transient glance he threw;
But weightier themes his anxious thoughts pursue.
Deep senatorial pomp intent to reach,

With ardent eyes he hangs o'er LANSDOWNE's speech.
Then, loud the youth proclaims th' enchanting words
That charm'd the "noble natures" of the Lords.

"Lost and obscur'd in Bowood's humble bow'r,
"No party tool-no candidate for pow'r
"I come, my Lords! an hermit from my cell,
"A few blunt truths in my plain style to tell.

66

100

105

Highly I praise your late commercial plan; "Kingdoms should all unite—like man and man. "The French love peace-ambition they detest; "But Cherbourg's frightful works deny me rest. "With joy I see new wealth for Britain shipp❜d; "Lisbon's a froward child, and should be whipp'd. 110 "Yet Portugal's our old and best ally,

"And Gallic faith is but a slender tie.

"My Lords! the manufacturer's a fool;

"The clothier, too, knows nothing about wool;
"Their interests still demand our constant care;
"Their griefs are mine-their fears are my despair.

Q

115

120

"My Lords! my soul is big with dire alarms ; "Turks, Germans, Russians, Prussians, all in arms! "A noble Pole (I'm proud to call him friend!) "Tells me of things I cannot comprehend. "Your Lordships' hairs would stand on end to hear "My last despatches from the Grand Vizier. "The fears of Dantzick merchants can't be told; "Accounts from Cracow make my blood run cold. "The state of Portsmouth and of Plymouth Docks, 125 "Your Trade your Taxes-Army-Navy-Stocks "All haunt me in my dreams; and, when I rise, "The Bank of England scares my open eyes. "I see-I know some dreadful storm is brewing; "Arm all your coasts-your navy is your ruin. "I say it still; but (let me be believ'd)

"In this your Lordships have been much deceiv'd. "A noble Duke affirms, I like his plan:

"I never did, my Lords!-I never can

130

"Shame on the slanderous breath, which dares instill 135 "That I, who now condemn, advis'd the ill.

"Plain words, thank Heav'n! are always understood: "I could approve, I said-but not I would, "Anxious to make the noble Duke content,

140

My view was just to seem to give consent, "While all the world might see that nothing less was

meant."

While JEKYLL, thus, the rich exhaustless store
Of LANSDOWNE's rhetoric ponders o'er and o'er;
And, wrapt in happier dreams of future days,
His patron's triumphs in his own surveys;
Admiring barristers in crowds resort

145

From Figtree--Brick--Hare--Pump--and Garden

Court.

Anxious they gaze-and watch with silent awe

The motley son of politics and law.

Meanwhile, with softest smiles and courteous bows, 150 He, graceful bending, greets their ardent vows.

"Thanks, generous friends," he cries, "kind Templars,

thanks!

"Though now with LANSDOWNE's band your JEKYLL

ranks,

"Think not, he wholly quits black-letter cares;
"Still-still the lawyer with the statesman shares.”
But, see! the shades of night o'erspread the skies!
Thick fogs and vapours from the Thames arise.
Far different hopes our separate toils inspire;
To parchment you, and precedent, retire.

155

With deeper bronze your darkest looks imbrown,

160

Adjust your brows for the demurring frown:

Brood o'er the fierce rebutters of the bar,
And brave the issue of the gowned war.

Me, all unpractis'd in the bashful mood,

Strange, novice thoughts, and alien cares delude.

165

Yes, modest Eloquence! e'en I must court

For once, with mimic vows, thy coy support;

O! wouldst thou lend the semblance of thy charms!
Feign'd agitations, and assum'd alarms!

"T were all I'd ask :—but for one day alone

170

To ape thy downcast look-thy suppliant tone;
To pause-and bow with hesitating grace—
Here try to falter-there a word misplace:
Long-banish'd blushes this pale cheek to teach,
And act the miseries of a maiden speech.

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175