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Till his old nest-mates changed their Contented if he could subscribe note
In fullest sense his name "EOTNOE ; To hireling, traitor, and turncoat,
('Tis Punic Greek for 'he hath stood !') A base apostate who had sold
Whate'er the men, the cause was good ; His very teeth and claws for gold ;- 30 And therefore with a right good will, And then his feathers !--sharp the jest, Poor fool, he fights their battles still. No doubt he feather'd well his nest ! Tush ! squeak'd the Bats ;-- a mere A Tit indeed! ay, tit for tat
bravado With place and title, brother Bat,
To whitewash that base renegado ; We soon shall see how well he'll play 'Tis plain unless you're blind or mad, Count Goldfinch, or Sir Joseph Jay!' Ilis conscience for the bays he barters ;Alas, poor Bird ! and ill-bestarr'd- And true it is—as true as sad
81 Or rather let us say, poor Bard !
These circlets of green baize he hadAnd henceforth quit the allegoric, But then, alas! they were his garters ! With metaphor and simile,
Ah ! silly Bard, unfed, untended, For simple facts and style historic : Ilis lamp but glimmer'd in its socket; Alas, poor Bard ! no gold had he. He lived unhonour'd and unfriended Behind another's team he stept,
With scarce a penny in his pocket ;And plough'd and sow'd, while others Nay—tho' he hid it from the many— reapt;
With scarce a pocket for his penny ! The work was his, but theirs the glory,
1825. Sic vos non vobis, his whole story. Besides, whate'er he wrote or said Came from his heart as well as head ;
THE TWO FOUNTS And though he never left in lurch
STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY [MRS. His king, his country, or his church, 50
ADERS] ON HER RECOVERY WITH UN'Twas but to humour his own cynical
BLEMISHED LOOKS, FROM A SEVERE Contempt of doctrines Jacobinical ;
ATTACK OF PAIN To his own conscience only hearty, 'Twas but hy chance he served the 'Twas my last waking thought, how party ;
it could be The self-same things had said and writ, That thou, sweet friend, such anguish Had Pitt been Fox, and Fox been Pitt;
should'st endure ; Content his own applause to win,
When straight from Dreamland came a Would never dash through thick and
Dwarf, and he thin,
Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew And he can make, so say the wise,
the cure. No claim who makes no sacrifice ; 60
Methought he fronted me with peering And Bard still less :--what claim had
Fix'd on my heart; and read aloud in Who swore it vex'd his soul to see
game So grand a cause, so proud a realm,
The loves and griefs therein, as from a With Goose and Goody at the helm ;
book : Who long ago had fall'n asunder
And uttered praise like one who wished But for their rivals' baser blunder,
to blame. The coward whine and Frenchified Slaver and slang of the other side !-- In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's
sin Thus, his own whim his only bribe, Two Founts there are, of Suffering and Our Bard pursued his old A. B. C.
That to let forth, and this to keep within ! Had passed : yet I, my sad thoughts to But she, whose aspect I find imaged here, beguile,
Lay weaving on
the tissue of my Of Pleasure only will to all dispense,
dream; That Fount alone unlock, by no distress Choked or turned inward, but still issue Till audibly at length I cried, as though thence
Thou hadst indeed been present to my Unconquered cheer, persistent loveliness.
O sweet, sweet sufferer; if the case be so, As on the driving cloud the shiny bow, I pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less That gracious thing made up of tears and
wise! light, Mid the wild rack and rain that slants In every look a barbed arrow send, below
On those soft lips let scorn and anger live! Stands smiling forth, unmoved and freshly
Do any thing, rather than thus, sweet
friend ! bright :
Hoard for thyself the pain, thou wilt not As though the spirits of all lovely flowers,
1&26. Inweaving each its wreath and dewy
crown, Or ere they sank to earth in vernal
DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LOVE showers,
THE ONLY SURE FRIEND OF Had built a bridge to tempt the angels
DECLINING LIFE down.
A SOLILOQUY Even so, Eliza ! on that face of thine, On that benignant face, whose look alone UNCHANGED within, to see all changed (The soul's translucence thro’ her crystal
without, shrine !)
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt. Ilas power to soothe all anguish but Yet why at others' wanings should'st thine own,
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret, A beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes lladst thou withheld thy love or hid thy wing,
light But with a silent charm compels the In selfish forethought of neglect and stern
slight. And tort’ring Genius of the bitter spring, O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings To shrink aback, and cower upon his urn.
While, and on whom, thou may'st-shine Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet
on ! nor heed found
Whether the object by reflected light In passion, spleen, or strife) the Fount Return thy radiance or absorb it quite : of Pain
And though thou notest from thy safe O’erflowing beats against its lovely mound,
recess And in wild flashes shoots from heart to Old friends burn dim, like lamps in brain ?
Love them for what they are ; nor love Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady
them less, gleam
Because to thee they are not what they On his raised lip, that aped a critic smile,
Like the weak worm that gems the starLINES
Moved in the scanty circlet of his light: SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS
And was it strange if he withdrew the ray
That did but guide the night-birds to OB. ANNO DOM. 1088
their prey ? No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope
The ascending day-star with a bolder Soon shall I now before my God
appear, By him to be acquitted, as I hope ;
Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer
lawn ! By him to be condemned, as I fear.
Yet not for this, if wise, will we decry REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE The spots and struggles of the timid
Dawn; Lynx amid moles ! had I stood by thy Lest so we tempt th’approaching Noon bed,
to scorn Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would
The mists and painted vapours of our have said :
? 1826. I see a hope spring from that humble fear. All are not strong alike through storms
to steer Right onward. What though dread of SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM
threatened death And dungeon torture made thy hand and A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND breath
FRIEND Inconstant to the truth within thy heart? FOUND WRITTEN That truth, from which, through fear, THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER's 'BOOK OF THE
CHURCH' (1825) thou twice didst start,
POET Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
I NOTE the moods and feelings men Or not so vital as to claim thy life :
betray, And myriads had reached Heaven, who And heed them more than aught they do never knew
or say ; Where lay the difference 'twixt the false The lingering ghosts of many a secret and true !
Still-born or haply strangled in its birth ; Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your These best reveal the smooth man's own,
inward creed ! Judge him who won them when he stood
These mark the spot where lies the alone,
treasure Worth ! And proudly talk of recreant BerengareO first the age, and then the man com- Butler made up of impudence and pare!
trick, That age how dark ! congenial minds With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and how rare !
lick, No host of friends with kindred zeal did Rome's brazen serpent—boldly dares burn !
discuss No throbbing hearts awaited his return ! The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Prostrate alike when prince and peasant
Huss ! fell,
And with grim triumph and a truculent He only disenchanted from the spell,
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy, When the shown feeling points a different That made an empire's plighted faith a lie,
way. And fix'd a broad stare on the Devil's Smooth Butler can say grace at slander's eye
feast, (Pleased with the guilt, yet envy-stung at And bless each haut-gout cook'd by monk heart
or priest; To stand outmaster'd in his own black Leaves the full lie on Butler's gong to art !)
swell, Yet Butler
Content with half-truths that do just as FRIEND
40 But duly decks his mitred comrade's Enough of Butler! we're agreed,
flanks, Who now defends would then have done
And with him shares the Irish nation's the deed.
thanks! But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway,
So much for you, my friend! who Who but must meet the proffer'd hand
own a Church,
And would not leave your mother in the When courteous Butler
But when a Liberalasks me what I think POET (aside)
Scared by the blood and soot of Cobbett's (Rome's smooth go-between !)
And Jeffrey's glairy phlegm and Connor's FRIEND
foam, Laments the advice that sour'd a milky
In search of some safe parable I roam
An emblem sometimes may comprise a queen(For 'bloody'all enlighten'd men confess
tome ! An antiquated error of the press :) Who rapt by zeal beyond her sex's
Disclaimant of his uncaught grandsire's bounds,
mood, With actual cautery staunch'd the Church's
I see a tiger lapping kitten's food :
And who shall blame him that he purs wounds! And tho' he deems, that with too broad
When brother Brindle pleads the good a blur
old cause ; We damn the French and Irish mas
And frisks his pretty tail, and half unsacre,
sheathes his claws! Yet blames them both- and thinks the
Yet not the less, for modern lights unapt, Pope might err! What think you now? Boots it with
I trust the bolts and cross-bars of the laws
More than the Protestant milk all newly spear and shield Against such gentle foes to take the field
lapt, Whose beckoning hands the mild Caduceus Impearling a tame wild-cat's whisker'd wield?
1825, or 1826.
NE PLUS ULTRA
What think I now? Even what I
thought before ; What Butler boasts though Butler may
deplore, Still I repeat, words lead me not astray
SOLE Positive of Night !
Antipathist of Light !
The one permitted opposite of God ! We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit; Condensed blackness and abysmal storm
One joy shall” make us smile, and one grief
One age go with us, and one hour of death
Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us
happy. The Substance that still casts the shadow Kath. A precious boon, that would Death !
go far to reconcile one to old age—this The Dragon foul and fell - 16 | love --if true ! But is there any such The unrevealable,
true love? And hidden one, whose breath
Fri. I hope so.
Eliz. (eagerly). I am sure he does.
confident answer. Save to the Lampads Seven
Kath. A more sincere one, perhaps. Reveal'd to none of all th' Angelic State, Fri. Even though he should have
Save to the Lampads Seven, obtained the nick name of Improvisatore,
? 1826. verses at Christmas times ?
Eliz. Nay, but be serious.
Fri. Serious ! Doubtless. A grave THE IMPROVISATORE
personage of my years giving a loveOR, 'JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, JOHN'
lecture to two young ladies, cannot well
be otherwise. The difficulty, I suspect, Scene -- A spacious drawing-room, with would be for them to remain so. It music-room adjoining.
will be asked whether I am not the K’atharine. What are the words? elderly gentleman' who sate de
Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisa- spairing beside a clear stream,' with a tore; here he comes. Kate has a favour willow for his wig-block. to ask of you, Sir; it is that you will Eliz. Say another word, and we will repeat the ballad that Mr.
sang so call it downright affectation. sweetly.
Kath. No! we will be affronted, drop Friend. It is in Moore's Irish Melo- a courtesy, and ask pardon for our predies; but I do not recollect the words sumption in expecting that Mr. distinctly. The moral of them, how would waste his sense on two insignifiever, I take to be this :
Fri. Well, well, I will be serious. Love would remain the same if true, When we were neither young nor new;
Hem! Now then commences the disYea, and in all within the will that came, course ; Mr. Moore's song being the By the same proofs would show itself the same.
text. Love, as distinguished from Eliz. What are the lines you repeated Friendship, on the one hand, and from from Beaumont and Fletcher, which my the passion that too often usurps its mother admired so much ? It begins name, on the otherwith something about two vines so close Lucius (Eliza's brother, who had just that their tendrils intermingle.
joined the trio, in a wlrisper to the Fri. You mean Charles speech to Friend). But is not Love the union of Angelina, in The Elder Brother.
Fri. (aside to Lucius). He never loved We'll live together, like two neighbour vines, Circling our souls and loves in one another! who thinks so.