• A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,

He kills the sire and starves the son ; The husband kills, and from her board

Steals all his widow's toil had won ; Plunders God's world of beauty ; rends away

41 All safety from the night, all comfort

from the day.


* Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle

cease :
I'm poor and of a low estate,

The Mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: Peace, Peace on Earth ! the Prince of Peace is born.'


great a sensation in the world as Lord Grenville, or even the Duke of Portland? But the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Talleyrand, is acknowledged, which, in our opinion, could not have happened had he written only that insignificant proseletter, which seems to precede Bonaparte's, as in old romances a dwarf always ran before to proclaim the advent or arrival of knight or giant. That Talleyrand's character and practices more resemble those of some regular Governments than Bonaparte's I admit; but this of itself does not appear a satisfactory explanation. However, let the letter speak for itself. The second line is supererogative in syllables, whether from the oscitancy of the transcriber, or from the trepidation which might have overpowered the modest Frenchman, on finding himself in the act of writing to so great a man, I shall not dare to determine. A few Notes are added by

Your servant,

GNOME. P.S.-As mottoes are now fashionable, especially if taken from out of the way books, you may prefix, if you please, the following lines from Sidonius Apollinaris :

‘Saxa, et robora, corneasque fibras
Mollit dulciloquâ canorus arte!'




[As printed in Morning Post for January 10,

1800.] To the Editor of The Morning Post.

MR EDITOR, — An unmetrical letter from Talleyrand to Lord Grenville has already appeared, and from an authority too high to be questioned : otherwise I could adduce some arguments for the exclusive authenticity of the following metrical epistle. The very epithet which the wise ancients used, ‘aurea carmina,' might have been supposed likely to have determined the choice of the French minister in favour of verse ; and the rather when we recollect that this phrase of golden verses' is applied emphatically to the works of that philosopher who imposed silence on all with whom he had to deal. Besides is it not somewhat improbable that Talleyrand should have preferred prose to rhyme, when the latter alone has got the chink? Is it not likewise curious that in our official answer no notice whatever is taken of the Chief Consul, Bonaparte, as if there had been no such person existing ; notwithstanding that his existence is pretty generally admitted, nay that some have been so rash as to believe that he has created as



My Lord ! though your Lordship repel

deviation From forms long establish'd, yet with

high consideration, I plead for the honour to hope, that no

blame Will attach, should this letter begin with

my name. I dared not presume on your Lordship to

bounce, But thought it more exquisite first to

announce ! My Lord ! I've the honour to be Talley

rand, And the letter's from me! you'll not

draw back your hand




Nor yet take it up by the rim in Cannot prejudice you or your Cousin dismay,

against me: As boys pick up ha’pence on April fool I'm Ex bishop What then? Burke day.

himself would agree I'm no Jacobin foul, or red-hot Cordelier That I left not the Church—'twas the That your Lordship's ungauntleted fingers

Church that left me. need fear

My titles prelatic I lov'd and retain'd, An infection or burn! Believe me, 'tis As long as what I meant by Prelate true,

remain'd: With a scorn like another I look down And tho’ Mitres no longer will pass in on the crew

our mart, That bawl and hold up to the mob's I'm episcopal still to the core of my detestation

heart. The most delicate wish for a silent per. No time from my name this my motto suasion.

shall sever : A form long-establish'd these Terrorists 'Twill be Non sine pulvere palmal for call

ever! Bribes, perjury, theft, and the devil and

all ! And yet spite of all that the Moralist 1 Your goodness, my Lord, I conceive prates,

as excessive, 'Tis the keystone and cement of civilized Or I dar'd not present you a scroll so States.

digressive; Those American Reps!2 And i' faith, And in truth with my pen thro' and thro' they were serious !

I should strike it ; It shock'd us at Paris, like something But I hear that your Lordship's own mysterious,

style is just like it. That men who've a Congress—But no Dear my Lord, we are right : for what more of 't ! I'm proud

charms can be shew'd To have stood so distinct from the In a thing that goes straight like an old Jacobin crowd.

Roman road?
The tortoise crawls straight, the hare

doubles about ; My Lord ! though the vulgar in wonder | And the true line of beauty still winds in be lost at

and out. My transfigurations, and name me A pos- It argues, my Lord! of fine thoughts tate,

such a brood in us Such a meaningless nickname, which

To split and divide into heads multitunever incens'd me,


While charms that surprise (it can ne'er 1 This sarcasm on the writings of moralists is,

be denied us) in general, extremely just ; but had Talleyrand Sprout forth from each head, like the ears continued long enough in England, he might

from King Midas. have found an honourable exception in the second | Were a genius of rank, like a commonvolume of Dr. Paley's Moral Philosophy; in

place dunce, which both Secret Influence, and all the other Compelld to drive on to the main point Established Forms, are justified and placed in

50 their true light.

2 A fashionable abbreviation in the higher circles for Republicans. Thus Mob was origin- 1 Palma non sine pulvere. In plain English, ally the Mobility,

an itching palm, not without the yellow dust.


at once,

of paper

grow dim,

What a plentiful vintage of initiations 1 Your strokes at her vitals pale Truth has Would Noble Lords lose in your Lord

confess'd, ship’s orations.

And Zeal unresisted entempests your My fancy transports me! As mute as a

breast ! 1 mouse,

Though some noble Lords may be wishAnd as fleet as a pigeon, I'm borne to

ing to sup, the house

Your merit self-conscious, my Lord, keeps Where all those who are Lords, from

you up,

70 father to son,

Unextinguish'd and swoln, as a balloon Discuss the affairs of all those who are none.

Keeps aloft by the smoke of its own I behold you, my Lord ! of your feelings farthing taper. quite full,

Ye SIXTEENS 2 of Scotland, your snuffs 'Fore the woolsack arise, like a sack full

ye must trim ; of wool !

Your Geminies, fix'd stars of England ! You rise on each Anti-Grenvillian Member,

And but for a form long-establish’d, no Short, thick and blustrous, like a day in

doubt November !

60 Twinkling faster and faster, ye all would Short in person, I mean : for the length

go out. of your speeches Fame herself, that most famous reporter, Apropos, my dear Lord ! a ridiculous ne'er reaches.

blunder Lo ! Patience beholds you contemn her Of some of our Journalists caused us brief reign,

some wonder : And Time, that all-panting toil'd after in vain,

1 An evident plagiarism of the Ex-Bishop's (Like the Beldam who raced for a smock from Dr. Johnson :with her grandchild)

· Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, Drops and cries : Were such lungs And panting Time toil'd after him in vain : e'er assign'd to a man-child ? ' His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth confess'd,

And unresisting Passion storm'd the breast.' 1 The word Initiations is borrowed from the

2 This line and the following are involved in new Constitution, and can only mean, in plain

an almost Lycophrontic tenebricosity. On repeatEnglish, introductory matter. If the manuscript

ing them, however, to an Illuminant, whose

confidence I possess, he informed me (and he would bear us out, we should propose to read the line thus—'What a plentiful V'erbage, what

ought to know, for he is a Tallow-chandler by

trade) that certain candles go by the name of Initiations !' inasmuch as Vintage must necessarily refer to wine, really or figuratively; and

sixteens. This explains the whole, the Scotch

Peers are destined to burn out-and so are we cannot guess what species Lord Grenville's eloquence may be supposed to resemble, unless,

candles! The English are perpetual, and are indeed, it be Cowslip wine. A slashing critic to

therefore styled Fixed Stars! The word Geminies whom we read the manuscript, proposed to read,

is, we confess, still obscure to us; though we “What a plenty of Flowers—what initiations !'

venture to suggest that it may perhaps be a and supposes it may allude indiscriminately to

metaphor (daringly sublime) for the two eyes

It Poppy Flowers, or Flour of Brimstone. The

which noble Lords do in general possess. most modest emendation, perhaps, would be this

is certainly used by the poet Fletcher in this —for Vintage read Ventage.

sense, in the 31st stanza of his Purple Island :2 We cannot sufficiently admire the accuracy What! shall I then need seek a patron out, of this simile. For as Lord Grenville, though Or beg a favour from a mistress' eyes, short, is certainly not the shortest man in the To fence my song against the vulgar rout, House, even so is it with the days in November. And shine upon me with her geminies ?'





It was said that in aspect malignant and Though Rage I acknowledge than Scorn sinister

less decorous ; In the Isle of Great Britain a great Yet their presses and types I could shiver Foreign Minister


in splinters, Turn'd as pale as a journeyman miller's Those Printers' black Devils ! those frock coat is

Devils of Printers ! On observing a star that appear’d in In case of a peace—but perhaps it were Bootes !

better When the whole truth was this (O those To proceed to the absolute point of my ignorant brutes !)

letter : Your Lordship had made his appearance For the deep wounds of France, Bonain boots.

parte, my master, You, my Lord, with your star, sat in Has found out a new sort of basilicon boots, and the Spanish

plaister. Ambassador thereupon thought fit to But your time, my dear Lord ! is your vanish.

nation's best treasure,

I've intruded already too long on your But perhaps, dear my Lord, among other

leisure ; worse crimes,

If so, I entreat you with penitent The whole was no more than a lie of

sorrow The Times.


pause, and resume the remainder It is monstrous, my Lord ! in a civilis'd

to-morrow. state That such Newspaper rogues should have

license to prate. Indeed printing in general—but for the taxes,

THE KEEPSAKE Is in theory false and pernicious in praxis! You and I, and your Cousin, and Abbé The tedded hay, the first fruits of the Sieyes,

soil, And all the great Statesmen that live in The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one these days,

field, Are agreed that no nation secure is from Show summer gone, ere come.

The vi'lence

foxglove tall Unless all who must think are maintain’d Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the all in silence.

gust, This printing, my Lord—but 'tis useless Or when it bends beneath the up-springto mention

ing lark, What we both of us think--'twas a Or mountain-finch alighting. And the cursed invention,

rose And Germany might have been honestly (In vain the darling of successful love) prouder

Stands, like some boasted beauty of past Had she left it alone, and found out only

years, powder.

The thorns remaining, and the flowers My Lord! when I think of our labours and cares

Nor can I find, amid my lonely walk Who rule the Department of foreign By rivulet, or spring, or wet roadaffairs,

side, And how with their libels these journal- | That blue and bright-eyed floweret of ists bore us,

the brook,


all gone.

Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget me- Nor yet the entrancement of that maiden not! 1

kiss So will not fade the flowers which With which she promised, that when Emmeline

spring returned, With delicate fingers on the snow white She would resign one half of that dear silk

name, Has worked (the flowers which most she And own thenceforth no other name but knew I loved),


1800. And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair.

LINES TO W. LINLEY, ESQ. In the cool morning twilight, early waked

WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO By her full bosom's joyous restlessness,

PURCELL'S MUSIC Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, Down the slope coppice to the woodbine WHILE my young cheek retains its bower,

healthful hues, Whose rich flowers, swinging in the And I have many friends who hold morning breeze,

me dear, Over their dim fast - moving shadows Linley! methinks, I would not often hung,

hear Making a quiet image of disquiet

Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose In the smooth, scarcely moving river. All memory of the wrongs and sore dispool.

tress There, in that bower where first she For which my miserable brethren owned her love,

weep! And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy But should uncomforted misfortunes From off her glowing cheek, she sate and

steep stretched

My daily bread in tears and bitterness; The silk upon the frame, and worked And if at death's dread moment I should her name

lie Between the Moss-Rose and Forget-me. With no beloved face at my bed-side, not

To fix the last glance of my closing eye, Her own dear name, with her own Methinks such strains, breathed by auburn hair !

my angel-guide, That forced to wander till sweet spring Would make me pass the cup of anguish return,

by, I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her Mix with the blest, nor know that I look,

had died !

1800. Her voice (that even in her mirthful

mood Has made me wish to steal away and


[WRITTEN TO MRS. ROBINSON, A FEW 1 One of the names (and meriting to be the only one) of the Myosotis Scorpioides Palustris,

WEEKS BEFORE HER DEATH] a flower from six to twelve inches high, with

As late on Skiddaw's mount I lay supine, blue blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over the whole Empire of Germany

Midway th' ascent, in that repose divine. (Vergissmein nicht) and, we believe, in Den

When the soul centred in the heart's mark and Sweden.


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