For things within the vulgar reach,
To run of errands, and to preach,
Well haft thou judg'd, that heads like mine
Cannot want help from heads like thine;
Well haft thou judg'd thyself unmeet
Of fuch high argument to treat;
'Twas but to try thee that I fpoke,
And all I faid was but a joke.

Nor think a joke, Crape, a difgrace
Or to my perfon, or my place;
The wifeft of the fons of men

Have deign'd to use them now and then :
The only caution, do you fee,
Demanded by our dignity,

From common use and men exempt,
Is, that they may not breed contempt.
Great use they have, when in the hands
Of one, like me, who understands;
Who understands the time and place,
The perfons, manner, and the grace,
Which fools neglect; fo that we find,
If all the requifites are join'd,
From whence a perfect joke must spring,
A joke's a very serious thing.

But to our business-My defign,
Which gave fo rough a fhock to thine,
To my capacity is made

As ready as a fraud in trade,

Which like broad-cloth, I can, with ease,
Cut out in any shape I please.

Some, in my circumftance, fome few,
Aye, and those men of genius too,
Good men, who, without love or hate,
Whether they early rife or late,

With names uncrack'd, and credit found,
Rife worth a hundred thousand pound,
By threadbare ways and means would try
To bear their point; fo will not I.
New methods fhall my wisdom find
To fuit these matters to my mind,
So that the infidels at court,
Who make our City Wits their sport,
Shall hail the honours of my reign,
And own that Dullman bears a brain.

Some, in my place, to gain their ends,
Would give relations up, and friends;
Would lend a wife, who they might swear
Safely, was none the worse for wear;
Would fee a daughter, yet a maid,
Into a Statefman's arms betray'd;
Nay, fhould the girl prove coy, nor know
What daughters to a father owe,

Sooner than schemes fo nobly plann'd

Who wrought, and wrought, but for fome plot,
The caufe of which I've now forgot,
During the abfence of the fun
Undid what the by day had done)
Whilst they a double vifage wear,
What's fworn by day, by night unfwear.
Such be their arts, and fuch perchance
May happily their ends advance:
From a new fyftem mine shall spring,
A Locum Tenens is the thing.
That's your true plan.-To obligate
The present Minifters of State,
My Shadow fhall our Court approach,
And bear my pow'r, and have my coach;
My fine ftate coach, fuperb to view,
A fine ftate coach, and paid for too;
curry favour, and the grace
Obtain, of those who're out of place :
In the mean time I-that's to fay
I proper, I myself-here stay.

To

But hold-perhaps unto the nation,
Who hate the Scot's administration,
To lend my coach may seem to be
Declaring for the Ministry;

For where the City-coach is, there
Is the true effence of the Mayor :
Therefore (for wife men are intent
Evils at diftance to prevent,
Whilst fools the evils first endure,
And then are plagu'd to feek a cure)
No coach-a horfe-and free from fear
To make our Deputy appear,
Faft on his back fhall he be tied,
With two grooms marching by his fide:
Then for a horfe-thro' all the land.
To head our folemn City-band,
Can any one fo fit be found,
As he, who in Artill'ry-ground,
Without a rider, noble fight,
Led on our braveft troops to fight.

But firft, Crape, for my honour's fake,
A tender point, enquiry make
About that horfe, if the difpute
Is ended, or is ftill in fuit.

For whilft a caufe (obferve this plan
Of justice) whether hofe or man
The parties be, remains in doubt,
Till 'tis determin'd out and out,
That pow'r must tyranny appear,
Which fhould, pre-judging, interfere
And weak faint judges over-awe
To bias the free courfe of law.

You have my will now quickly run,
And take care that my will be done.
In public, Crape, you must appear,
Whilt 1 in privacy fit here;
Here fhall great Dullman fit alone,
Making this elbow-chair my throne,
And you, performing what I bid,
Do all, as if I nothing did.

Crape heard, and speeded on his way i With him to hear was to obey. Not without trouble, be affur'd, A proper proxy was procur'd To ferve fuch infamous intent, And fuch a Lord to reprefent; Nor could one have been found at all On t'other fide of London-wall.

The trumpet founds-folemn and flow

Behold the grand proceffion go,
All moving on, cat after kind.
As if for motion ne'er defign'd.

Conftables, whom the laws admit
To keep the peace by breaking it;
Beadles, who hold the second place
By virtue of a filver mace,
Which ev'ry Saturday is drawn,
For ufe of Sunday, out of pawn;
Treafurers, who with empty key
Secure an empty Treasury;
Churchwardens, who their course pursue
In the fame state, as to their pew
Churchwardens of Saint Margret go,
Since Peirfon taught them pride and show,
Who in fhort tranfient pomp appear,
Like Almanacks chang'd ev'ry year,
Behind whom, with unbroken locks,
Charity carries the Poor's Box,
Not knowing that with private keys
They ope and fhut it when they please ;
Overfeers, who by frauds enfure
The heavy curfes of the poor;
Unclean came flocking, Bulls and Bears,
Like beafts into the ark, by pairs.
Portentous flaming in the van
Stalk'd the Profeffor Sheridan:
A man of wire, a mere Pantine,
A downright animal machine.
He knows alone in proper mode
How to take vengeance on an Ode,
And how to butcher Ammon's fon
And poor Jack Dryden both in one.
On all occafions next the Chair
He ftands for fervice of the Mayor,
And to inftru&t him how to use
His a's and b's, and p's and q's.
O'er letters, into tatters worn,
O'er fyllables, defac'd and torn,
O'er zuords disjointed, and o'er fenfe
Left deftitute of all defence,

He ftrides, and all the way he goes,

Wades, deep in blood, o'er Crifs-Cross-Rozs.
Before him, ev'ry Confonant
In agonies is feen to pant;
Behind, in forms not to be known,
The ghosts of tortur'd Vowels groan.

Next Hart and Duke, well worthy grace
And City favour, came in place.
No children can their toils engage,
Their toils are turn'd to rev'rend age.
When a Court-Dame, to grace his brows
Refolv'd, is wed to City spouse,
Their aid with Madam's aid muft join
The aukward dotard to refine,
And teach, whence trueft glory flows,
Grave Sixty to turn out his toes.
Each bore in hand a kit, and each
To fhew how fit he was to teach
A Cit, an Alderman, a Mayor,
Led in a ftring a dancing bear.

Since the revival of Fingal,
Cuftom, and Cuftom's all in all,
Commands that we should have regard.
On all high seasons, to the Bard.
Great acts like thefe, by vulgar tongue
Prefan'd, fhould not be faid, but fung.

This place to fill, renown'd in fame,
The high and mighty Lockman * came ;
And, ne'er forgot in Dullman's reign,
With proper order to maintain
The uniformity of pride,

Brought brother Whitehead by his fide.

On horfe, who proudly paw'd the ground,
And caft his fiery eye-balls round,
Snorting, and champing the rude bit,
As if, for warlike purpose fit,
His high and gen'rous blood difdain'd
To be for fports and paftimes rein'd,
Great Dymock, in his glorious ftation,
Paraded at the Coronation.
Not fo our City Dymock came,
Heavy, difpirited, and tame;
No mark of fenfe, his eyes half-clos'd.
He on a mighty dray-horse doz'd.
Fate never could a horse provide
So fit for fuch a man to ride;
Nor find a man, with strictest care,
So fit for fuch a horfe to bear.
Hung round with inftruments of death
The fight of him would stop the breath.
Of braggart Cowardice, and make
The very Court Drawcanfir quake.
With dirks, which, in the hands of spite,
Do their damn'd bufinefs in the night,
From Scotland fent, but here difplay'd
Only to fill up the parade;

With fwords, unflesh'd, of maiden hue,
Which rage or valour never drew i
With blunder buffes, taught to ride,
Like pocket piftols, by his fide,
In girdle ftuck, he seem'd to be
A little moving armory.

One thing much wanting to complete
The fight, and make a perfect treat,
Was, that the horse (a courtesy
In horfes found of high degree)
Inftead of going forward on,

All the way backward fhould have gone.
Horfes, unless they breeding lack,
Some fcruple make to turn their back,
Tho' riders, which plain truth declares,
No fcruple make of turning theirs.

Far, far apart from all the reft,
Fit only for a ftanding jeft,
The independent (can you get
A better fuited epithet)
The independent Amyand came,
All burning with the facred flame
Of Liberty, which well he knows
On the great stock of Slav'ry grows.
Like Sparrow, who, depriv'd of mate
Snatch'd by the cruel hand of Fate,
From fpray to fpray no more will hop,
But fits alone on the house-top,
Or like himself, when all alone
At Croydon, he was heard to groan,
Lifting both hands in the defence
Of Intereft and Common-Sense;
Both hands, for as no other man
Adopted and purfu'd his plan,

John Lockman, Secretary to the British Herring Fishery, Author of Many forgotten Poems, and Tranflator of feveral works from the French.

The left-hand had been lonesome quite,
If he had not held up the right..
Apart he came, and fix'd his eyes
With rapture on a distant prize,
On which in letters worthy note,

There "Twenty Thoufand Pounds" was wrote:
Falfe trap, for credit fapp'd is found
By getting twenty thousand pound.
Nay, look not thus on me, and stare,
Doubting the certainty.-To fwear
In fuch a cafe I fhould be loth-
But Perry Cuft* may take his oath.

In plain and decent garb array'd,
With the prim quaker Fraud came Trade;
Connivance to improve the plan,
Habited like a Jury-man,
Judging as interest prevails,

Came next with measures, weights, and scales;
Extortion next, of hellish race,

came;

A cub moft damn'd, to fhew his face
Forbid by fear, but not by fhame,
Turn'd to a Jew, like-
Corruption, Midas-like, behold
Turning whate'er fhe touch'd to gold;
Impotence led by Luft, and Pride
Strutting with Ponton by her fide;
Hypocrify, demure and fad,

In garments of the Priesthood clad,
So well difguis'd, that you might swear,
Deceiv'd, a very Prieft was there;
Bankruptcy, full of eafe and health,
And wallowing in well-fav'd wealth,
Came fneering thro' a ruin'd band,
And bringing B- in her hand;
Victory hanging down her head,
Was by a Highland ftallion led;
Peace, cloth'd in fables, with a face
Which witness'd fenfe of huge difgrace,
Which spake a deep and rooted shame
Both of herself and of her name,
Mourning creeps on, and blushing feels
War, grim War treading on her heels;
Pale Credit, fhaken by the arts
Of men with bad heads and worse hearts,
Taking no notice of a band

Which near her were ordain'd to ftand,
Well nigh deftroy'd by fickly fit,
Look'd wiftful all around for Pitt;
Freedom-at that most hallow'd name
My fpirits mount into a flame,

Each pulfe beats high, and each nerve ftrains
E'en to the cracking; thro' my veins
The tides of life more rapid run,
And tell me I am Freedom's fon-
Freedom came next, but fearce was seen,
When the sky, which appear'd serene
And gay before, was overcaft;
Horror beftrode a foreign blaft,
And from the prison of the North,
To Freedom deadly, ftorms burst forth.
A car like thofe, in which, we're told,
Our wild forefathers warr'd of old,
Loaded with death, fix horfes bear
Thro' the blank region of the air.
Too fierce for time or art to tame,
They pour'd forth mingled fmoke and flame

* See North Briton, Vol. III., VOL. VIII.

From their wide noftrils; ev'ry ftced
Was of that ancient savage breed
Which fell Geryon nurs'd; their food
The flesh of man, their drink his blood.

On the firft horfes, ill-match'd pair,
This fat and fleek, that lean and bare,
Came ill-match'd riders fide by fide,
And Poverty was yok'd with Pride.
Union moft ftrange it must appear,
Till other unions make it clear.

Next, in the gall of bitterness,
With rage which words can ill exprefs,
With unforgiving rage, which springs
From a falfe zeal for holy things,
Wearing fuch robes as prophets wear,
Falfe prophet's placed in Peter's chair;
On which, in characters of fire,
Shapes antic, horrible and dire,
Lawoven flam'd; where to the view,
In groups appear'd a rabble crew
Of fainted devils where all round
Vile reliques of vile men were found,
Who, worse than devils, from the birth
Perform'd the work of hell on earth,
Jugglers, Inquifitors, and Popes,
Pointing at axes, wheels, and ropes,
And engines, fram'd on horrid plan,
Which none but the deftroyer Man
Could, to promote his selfish views,
Have heads to make, or hearts to use ;
Bearing, to confecrate her tricks,
In her left-hand a Crucifix,
Remembrance of our dying Lord,
And in her right a two-edg'd fword;
Having her brows, in impious fport,
Adorn'd with words of high import,
On earth Peace among ft men, Good-will,
Love bearing, and forbearing ftill,
All wrote in the heart's-blood of thofe
Who rather death than falfehood chofe ;
On her breaft (where in days of yore,
When God lov'd Jews, the High-priest wore
Thofe oracles which were decreed
T' inftruct and guide the chofen feed)
Having with glory clad and strength,
The Virgin pictur'd at full length,
Whilft at her feet, in fmall pourtray'd,
As fcarce worth notice, Chrift was laid;
Came Superftition fierce and fell,
An imp detefted, e'en in hell;
Her eye inflam'd, her face all o'er
Foully befmear'd with human gore,
O'er heaps of mangled Saints the rode;
Faft at her heels Death proudly ftrode,
And grimly fmil'd, well-pleas'd to fee
Such havock of mortality.

Close by her fide, on mifchief bent,
And urging on each bad intent
To its full bearing, favage, wild,
The mother fit of fuch a child,
Striving the empire to advance

Of fin and death, came Ignorance.

With looks, where dread command was plac'd, And fov'reign pow'r by pride difgrac'd, Where loudly witneffing a mind Of favage more than human kind, Not chufing to be lov'd, but fear'd, Mocking at right, Mifrule appear'd. I

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With eyeballs glaring fiery red Enough to strike beholders dead, Gnashing his teeth, and in a flood Pouring corruption forth and blood From his chaf'd jaws; without remorfe Whipping, and fpurring on his horse, Whofe fides, in their own blood embay'd, E'en to the bone were open laid, Came Tyranny; difdaining awe, And trampling over Senfe and Law. One thing and only one he knew, One object only would purfue, 'Tho' lefs (fo low doth paffion bring) Than man, he would be more than King. With ev'ry argument and art Which might corrupt the head and heart, Soothing the frenzy of his mind, Companion meet, was Flatt'ry join'd. Winning his carriage, ev'ry look Employ'd, whilft it conceal'd a hook; When firaple most, most to be fear'd; Moft crafty when no craft appear'd; His tales no man like him could tell, His words, which melted as they fell, Might e'en a hypocrite deceive, And make an infidel believe, Wantonly cheating o'er and o'er Those who had cheated been before: Such Flatt'ry came in evil hour, Pois'ning the royal ear of pow'r, And, grown by prostitution great, Would be firft Minister of State.

Within the chariot, all alone,
High feated on a kind of throne,
With pebbles grac'd, a figure came,
Whom Juftice would, but dare not, name.
Hard times when Juftice, without fear,
Dare not bring forth to public ear
The names of thofe, who dare offend,
'Gainft Juftice, and pervert her end :
But, if the Mufe afford me grace,
Defcription shall supply the place.
In foreign garments he was clad :
Sage ermine o'er the glofly plaid
Caft rev'rend honour; on his heart,
Wrought by the curious hand of art,
In filver wrought, and brighter far
Than heav'nly or than earthly ftar,
Shone a White Rose, the emblem dear
Of him he ever must revere ;

Of that dread Lord, who with his hoft
Of faithful native rebels loft,
Like those black spirits doom'd to hell,
At once from pow'r and virtue fell;
Around his clouded brows was plac'd
A bonnet, moft fuperbly grac'd
With mighty thifiles, nor forgot
The facred motto, Touch me not.

In the right hand a fword he bore
Harder than adamant, and more
Fatal than winds, which from the mouth
Of the rough North invade the South:
The reeking blade to view prefents
The blood of helpless innocents;
And on the hilt, as meek become
As lambs before the fhearers dumb,
With downcaft eye, and folemn show
Of deep unutterable woe,

Mourning the time when Freedom reign'd,
Faft to a rock was Justice chain'd.

In his left-hand, in wax impreft,
With bells and gewgaws idly dreft,
An image, caft in baby mould,
He held, and feem'd overjoy'd to hold.
On this he fix'd his eyes, to this
Bowing he gave the loyal kifs,
And, for rebellion fully ripe,
Seem'd to defire the Antitype.
What if to that Pretender's foes
His greatnefs, nay, his life he owes,
Shall common obligations bind,
And shake his conftancy of mind?
Scorning fuch weak and petty chains,
Faithful to James he still remains,
Tho' he the friend of George appear:
Diffimulation's Virtue here.

Jealous and mean, he with a frown
Would awe, and keep all merit down,
Nor would to Truth and Justice bend,
Unless out-bullied by his friend:
Brave with the coward, with the brave
He is himself a coward flave;
Aw'd by his fears, he has no heart
To take a great and open part;
Mines in a fubtle train he fprings,
And, fecret, faps the ears of kings;
But not e'en there continues firm
'Gainft the refiftance of a worm :
Born in a country, where the will
Of ove is law to all, he still
Retain'd th' infection, with full aim
To fpread it wherefoe'er he came ;
Freedom he hated, Lar defied,
The prostitute of pow'r and pride:
Law he with ease explains away,
And leads bewilder'd Senfe aftray;
Much to the credit of his brain
Puzzles the cause he can't maintain,
Proceeds on moft familiar grounds,
And, where he can't convince, confounds;
Talents of rareft ftamp and fize,
To Nature falfe, he mifapplies,
And turns to poison what was fent
For purposes of nourishment.
Palenefs, not fuch as on his wings
The meffenger of fickness brings,
But fuch as takes its coward rife
From confcious bafenefs, confcious vice,
O'erfpread his cheeks; Difdain and Pride,
To upftart fortunes ever tied,
Scowl'd on his brow; within his eye,
Infidious, lurking like a spy
To Caution principled by Fear,
Not daring open to appear,
Lodg'd covert Mischief; Paffion hung
On his lip quiv'ring; on his tongue
Fraud dwelt at large; within his breast
All that makes Villain found a neft,
All that, on hell's compleatest plan,
E'er join'd to damn the heart of man.

Soon as the car reach'd land, he rofe, And with a look which might have froze The heart's beft blood, which was enough, Had hearts been made of fterner stuff In cities than elsewhere, to make The very ftouteft quail and quake,

He caft his baleful eyes around,
Fix'd without motion to the ground,
Fear waiting on furprize, all ftood,
And horror chill'd their curdled blood:
No more they thought of pomp, no more
(For they had feen his face before)

Of Law they thought; the caufe forgot,
Whether it was or Ghoft, or Plot,
Which drew them there. They all stood more,
Like ftatues than they were before.

What could be done? Could art, could force,
Or both direct a proper courfe
To make this favage monfter tame,
Or fend him back the way he came ?
What neither art, nor force, nor both
Could do, a Lord of foreign growth,
A Lord to that bafe wretch allied
In country, not in, vice and pride,
Effected from the felf-fame land,
(Bad news for our blafpheming band
Of fcribblers, but deferving note)
The poifon came, and antidote.
Abafh'd the monster hung his head;
And like an empty vision fled;
His train, like virgin fnows which run,
Kifs'd by the burning bawdy fun,
To lovefick ftreams, diffolv'd in air;
Joy, who from abfence feem'd more fair,
Came fmiling, freed from flavish awe;
Loyalty, Liberty, and Law,
Impatient of the galling chain,

And yoke of pow'r, refum'd their reign;
And burning with the glorious flame
Of public virtue, Mansfield came.

END OF THE GHOST.

THE

RACE faid in form, which Sceptics

GRACE agree,

At his firft fetting forward ought to know,
That ev'ry rogue he meets must be his foe;
That the rude breath of fatire will provoke
Many who feel, and more who fear the ftroke.
But fhall the partial rage of selfish men
From ftubborn juftice wrench the righteous pen,
Or fhall I not my fettled courfe pursue,
Because my foes are foes to Virtue too?

L. What is this boafted Virtue, taught in Schools,
And idly drawn from antiquated rules?
What is her ufe? Point out one wholefome end:
Will the hurt foes, or can fhe make a friend?
When from long fafts fierce appetites arise,
Can this fame Virtue ftifle Nature's cries?
Can fhe the pittance of a meal afford,

Or bid thee welcome to one great man's board?
When northern winds the rough December arm
With froft and fnow, can Virtue keep thee warm?
Can't thou difmifs the hard unfeeling dun
Barely by faying, Thou art Virtue's fon?
Or by bafe blund'ring statesmen fent to jail,
Will Mansfield take this Virtue for thy bail?
Believe it not, the name is in difgrace,
Virtue and Temple now are out of place.

Quit then this meteor, whose delusive ray
From wealth and honour leads thee far aftray.
True Virtue means, let Reafon ufe her eyes,
Nothing with fools, and int'reft with the wife.
Would't thou be great, her patronage disclaim,
Nor madly triumph in fo mean a name:
Let nobler wreaths thy happy brows adorn,
And leave to Virtue poverty and fcorn.

Let Prudence be thy guide; who doth not know
How feldom Prudence can with Virtue go?
To be fuccessful try thy utmost force,
And Virtue follows as a thing of course.

Hirco, who knows not Hirco? stains the bes
Of that kind mafter who first gave him bread,
Scatters the feeds of difcord thro' the land,
Breaks ev'ry public, ev'ry private band,
Beholds with joy a trusting friend undone,
Betrays a brother, and would cheat a fon :
What mortal in his fenfes can endure
The name of Hirco for the wretch is poor !
"Let him hang, drown, starve, on a dunghill rot,
"By all detefted live, and die forgot;

muft" Let him, a poor return, in ev'ry breath
"Feel all death's pains, yet be whole years in
death."

The man whofe hardy spirit shall engage

To lafh the vices of a guilty age,