Classic Poem

Nostrorum sermonum candide judex!

Bard of the borrow'd lyre! to whom belong
The shreds and remnants of each hackney'd song;
Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore,
And count but one good line in eighty-four!

EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN .

Hic Niger est; hunc tu, Romane, caveto!

To tell what gen'rals did or statesmen spoke,
To teach the world by truths, or please by joke;
To make mankind grow bold as they peruse,
Judge on existing things, and — weigh the news;
For this a PAPER first display'd its page,
Commanding tears and smiles through ev'ry age!
Whoe'er thou art, all hail! thy bitter smile
Gilds our dull page, and cheers our humble toil!

Hail, justly famous! who in modern days
With nobler flight aspire to higher praise;
Hail, justly famous! whose discerning eyes
At once detect MISTAKES, MIS-STATEMENTS, LIES ;
Hail, justly famous! who, with fancy blest,
Use fiend-like virulence for sportive jest;
Who only bark to serve your private ends —
Patrons of Prejudice, Corruption's friends!
Who hurl your venom'd darts at well-earn'd fame —
Virtue your hate, and Calumny your aim!

Whoe'er ye are, all hail! — whether the skill
Of youthful C — nn — g guides the ranc'rous quill,
With powers mechanic far above his age
Adapts the paragraph and fills the page,
Measures the column, mends whate'er's amiss,
Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS ;
Or H — mm — d, leaving his official toil,
O'er this great work consume the midnight oil —
Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
And change dull business for amusing wit: —
His life of labour at one gasp is o'er,
His books forgot — his desk beloved no more!
Proceed to prop the Ministerial cause;
See consequential M — rp — th nods applause;
In ev'ry fair one's ear at balls and plays
The gentle Gr — nv — le L — v — s — n whispers praise: —
Well-judging Patrons, whom such works can please;
Great works, well worthy Patrons such as these!

For yet — though firm and fearless in the cause
Of pure religion, liberty, and laws, —

Who heard not, raptur'd, the poetic Sage
Who sung of Gallia in a headlong rage,
And blandly drew, with no uncourtly grace,
The simple manners of our English race —
Extoll'd great Duncan, and, supremely brave,
Whelm'd Buonaparte's pride beneath the wave
I swear by all the youths that M — im — sb — ry chose,
By Ell — s' sapient prominence of nose,
By M — rp — th's gait important, proud and big —
By L — s — n G — w'r's crop-imitating wig,
That, could the pow'rs which in those numbers shine,
Could that warm spirit animate my line,
Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse —
Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
And, while they wonder'd whence I caught my flame,
Your sons should blush to read their father's shame!

Proceed, great men! — your office is not done;
Proceed with what you have so well begun:
Load Fox (if you by Pitt would be preferr'd)
With ev'ry guilt that Kenyon ever heard —
Adult'rer, gamester, drunkard, cheat, and knave,
A factious demagogue, and pension'd slave!
Loose, loose your cry — with ire satiric flash;
Let all the Opposition feel your lash;
And prove them to these and partial times
A combination of the worst of crimes!

Though truth approved, though fav'ring virtue smiled,
Some doubts remain'd: — we yet were unreviled.

Thanks to thy zeal! those doubts at length are o'er!
Thy suffrage crowns our wish! — we ask no more

But softer numbers softer subjects fit: —
In liquid phrases thrill the praise of Pitt;
Extol in eulogies of candid truth
The Virgin Minister — the Heav'n-born Youth;
The greatest gift that fate to England gave,
Created to support, and born to save;
Prompt to supply whate'er his country lacks —
Skillful to GAG , and knowing how to TAX !
With him companions meet in order stand —
A firm, compact, and well-appointed band:
Skill'd to advance or to retreat Dundas,
And bear thick battle on his front of brass;
Grenville with pond'rous head, which match'd we find
By equal ponderosity behind — —

But hold, my Muse; nor farther these pursue! —
Great Editors, we have digress'd from you;
From you, to whom our trivial lays belong,
From yon, the sole inspirers of our song!
Proceed: — urge on the same vindictive strain,
To gain the applauses of great M — lm — sb — ry's tram;
With jaundiced eyes the noblest patriot scan;
Proceed — be more opprobious if you can;
Proceed — be more abusive ev'ry hour; —
To be more stupid is beyond your power.
To stamp with sterling worth each honest line,
Than censure, clothed in vapid verse like thine!

But say — in full blown honours dost thou sit
'Midst Brooks's elders on the bench of wit,
Where H — re, chief-justice, frames the stern decree,
While, with their learned brother, sages three,
F — tzp — tr — k, T — wnsh — d, Sh — r — d — n, agree?

Or art thou one — THE PARTY 's flatter'd fool,
Train'd in Debrett's, or Ridgeway's civic school —
One, who with rant and nonsense daily wears,
Well-natured R — ch — rds — n! thy patient ears; —
Who sees nor taste nor genius in these times,
Save P — r's buzz prose, and C — rt — ny's kidnapp'd rhymes?

Or is it he, — the youth, whose daring soul
With half a mission sought the Frozen Pole; —
And then, returning from the unfinish'd work,
Wrote half a letter , — to demolish Burke?
Studied Burke's manner, — aped his forms of speech; —
Though when he strives his metaphors to reach,
One luckless slip his meaning overstrains,
And loads the blunderbuss with B — df — d's brains.

Whoe'er thou art — ne'er may thy patriot fire,
Unfed by praise or patronage, expire!
Forbid it, Taste! — with compensation large
Patrician hands thy labours shall o'ercharge!
B — df — rd and Wh — tbr — d shall vast sums advance,
The Land and Malt of Jacobin Finance!

Whoe'er thou art! — before thy feet we lay,
With lowly suit, our Number of to-day!
Spurn not our offering with averted eyes!
Let thy pure breath revive the extinguish'd Lies!
Mistakes, Mis-statements , now so oft o'erthrown,
Rebuild, and prop with nonsense of thy own!
Pervert our meaning, and misquote our text —
And furnish us a motto for the next!