instance of the facility of alliterative Composition.-I believe that it was in a mixed company, that the apt alliterations of Mr Pope, in the translations of Homer, were spoken of as happy specimens of poetic skill, and Mr Pitt was in some degree abused for having paid little attention in his works to the use of this figure. But Mr P., it seems, held alliteration in contempt; and said that it was not for want of opportunity that he had not used it, and that he thought it the easiest thing in the world to jingle alliterations together without end. "Propose a subject," said he, "and I will give it you in alliterative array directly." Some one present mentioned Cardinal Wolsey, whereupon, in two or three minutes, Mr Pitt exclaimed,
Begot by Butchers, but by Bishops bred,
How high his honour holds his haughty head."
Home, the celebrated author of Douglas, seems to have been very partial to alliteration;-for example :
My father feeds his flocks, a frugal swain
But when the matter matched his mighty mind-
But with the froward he was fierce as fire."
CLV. PUT THAT AND THAT TOGETHER.
On a trial, where a female servant sued her master for wages, the counsel for the defendant cross-examined a fellowservant of the plaintiff sharply as to the treatment she had experienced the food she had had, &c.—and, on her replying to his questions, said "Well, we'll put that and that together." The servant, annoyed by his sharp questioning, at length said to the Judge, "My lord, may I ask that gentlewan (meaning the counsel for the defendant) one question?" "Of course you may" said the Judge." "Well then" said she, addressing the learned Counsel," what is that you have on your nose?" "On my nose," said the barrister, "Oh, I believe I have a mole
"Well" returned the woman, "I have one on my
backside, and you may put that and that together!"
CLVI. CHARITY-AN UNPUBLISHED POEM.
TO THE QUEEN,
THE FOLLOWING POEM,
WRITTEN IN PRAISE OF THE SUBLIMEST OF ALL XTIAN VIRTUES, IN THE PRACTICE OF WHICH
EXHIBITS SO BRIGHT AND AMIABLE AN EXAMPLE,
IS WITH ALL DUTY AND RESPECT
INSCRIBED BY HER MAJESTY'S
MOST DEVOTED AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT
CHR. ANSTEY.
Had it pleas'd him, from whom all wisdom flows,
Him who each good, each perfect gift bestows,
With knowledge to exalt my feeble mind,
Bright as e'er shed its lustre on mankind,
Though on my lips persuasive accents hung,
Sweet as the music of an ANGEL's tongue,
Still should I languish, still my soul despair,
If thou, sweet CHARITY, wert absent there-
Vain were my voice as sounding brass that rings
To deeds of Heroes, or the pomp of Kings,
Vain as the tinkling cymbal, that displays
Man's gaudy pride, but not th' ALMIGHTY's praise.
Could I in various languages expound
All subtle texts, all mysteries profound,
Could I by faith the solid rocks displace,
And make the mountains tremble from their base,
Still in my breast shouldst thou refuse to reign,
My faith were fruitless, and my knowledge vain.
Tho' the rich produce of my worldly store
In alms profuse I lavish on the poor,
Yet all unmcv'd their tales of sorrow hear,
Nor for their sufferings drop one silent tear,
If ne'er from Godlike pity's sacred source
My bounty flow, nor heaven direct its course,
If vanity provoke the generous deed,
Mean is the gift, and small will be its meed.
Tho' to a Martyr's glory I aspire,
And seek my triumphs in the torturing fire,
Firm and undaunted to my latest breath,
Brave the slow flame, and court the ling'ring death,
If thy sweet virtues from my soul depart,
Thy Christian love be foreign from my heart,
He best can tell, who all our thoughts surveys,
How vain the boast, the promise, and the praise.
'Tis thine the raging passions to controul,
To calm, to strengthen, and confirm the soul,
Teach slighted worth with patience to sustain
The powerful man's neglect, the fool's disdain,
Th' ungrateful friend's revolt, or keener pang
(Keen as the bearded steel, or serpent's fang,)
That waits, (too oft alas!) the perjur'd vow,
And lost affection's cold and scornful brow.
The silent eloquence of kindness meet
Beams from thine eye, and mantles on thy cheek,
From envy free, and pride's o'erbearing sway,
Thou tak'st thy mild and inoffensive way.
Grace in thy gestures, and thy look is seen,
Gentle thy mind, and courteous is thy mien.
Thou scorn'st to cast the proud indignant frown
On others' merits, or to boast thy own,
O'er anger, hatred, or revenge to brood,
Record the evil, and forget the good,
Or aught that can thy neighbour's peace destroy,
Make the base subject of thy barbarous joy.
If just the censure, that affects his fame,
"Tis thine to pity, not increase his shatne;
If false the charge, thy soul can know no rest
Till truth appear, and heal his wounded breast,
Forbearing all, and trusting still to find
Some virtues 'midst the failings of mankind.
Thou o'er their faults canst draw the friendly veil,
The better part believe, the worse conceal,
Still hope that time their frailties may remove,
And wait the hour with patience and with love.
Doctrines shall cease, and inspiration fail,
The gift of languages no more prevail,
Knowledge shall fade away, but thou shalt bloom,
Thy graces flourish in the life to come.
Ah, what are all the boasted powers of man
But emblems of his own contracted span !
In part alone he knows, in part is given
Wisdom to teach and lead the way to heaven;
To heaven's blest regions, where perfection reigns,
And knowledge absolute her throne maintains.
There when the soul, in search of purer day,
Loos'd from mortality's impris'ning clay,
Shall swifter than the forked lightning dart,
His vain attainments shall like shades depart,
And vision infinite of truths divine,
Truths that beyond his weak conception shine,
Drown the faint glimmerings of his mental rays
In one all powerful and immortal blaze.
So when the night around th' ethereal fields
In clouded state her ebon sceptre wields,
Myriads of glories 'mid the starry zone
With glittering gems adorn his sable throne;
But when the world's proud lamp,- the golden sun,
Bursts from his veil, his glorious course to run,
Lost in th'effulgence of his radiant fire,
Those feeble ministers of light expire.
In life's first spring, in childhood's thoughtless age,
What trifles charm, what idle cares engage?
How narrow, how confus'd the sense appears
Till reason dawns, and lights our riper years.
"Tis then with judgment and discretion fraught,
We slight the objects of our infant thought,
Chang'd is each passion, each desire and aim,
No more, our actions, or our words the same,
But greater still the change, that shall translate
Man from his earthly to his heavenly state,
From partial knowledge shall his soul redeem,
And clear from doubts his intellectual beam,
Cast the dark glass away, that dims his sight,
And gild his prospect with celestial light,
Bear him beyond the follies, and the strife,
And painful pleasures of his sinful life.
Oh, glorious change! that shall such light display,
And ope one perfect and eternal day!
Where in th' ALMIGHTY's presence we shall shine,
See and adore his attributes divine,
His pow'r, his wisdom, and his mercy own,
And him shall know as we ourselves are known.
Whilst in these gloomy vales of life we stray,
Hope cheers our souls, and faith directs our way,
But when to yon bright realms of joy we soar,
Hope will expire, and faith be known no more,
Faith shall be lost in certainty's abyss,
And Hope absorb'd in everlasting bliss.
But thee, thou fairest Grace, nor death, nor doom,
Nor ever-rolling ages shall consume;
Thou with congenial spirits mix'd above,
Shalt fill all heaven with harmony and love,
In splendour seen, and full perfection known
Thy station fix, by GoD's eternal throne,
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