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279

THE ROMAN POET.

And mark the adage, fully known,
"Misfortune never comes alone!"
It so fell out, that full in view,
This temple boasted seat-holes, two,
Of varied form and plan, design'd
To suit the bottoms of mankind;
To fit the case à fortiori,

Or more at ease à posteriori.

His Lordship view'd them with surprise!
He gaz'd, then wildly threw his eyes:
With anxious doubts his bosom heav'd,
With racking pain his bowels griev'd.
Were this less straight it might be fitting,
It sure must be uneasy sitting;

But best of all 't would have been found,
Had this been oblong 'stead of round.
Thus musing, doubting, undecided,
'Twixt right and left his mind divided ;
Now half determin'd, half amaz'd,
He look'd, still doubted, paus'd, and gaz'd;
Till nature, who will ne'er defer,
Nor grant e'en Judges to demur,
Discharg'd the motion with costs of suit,
Then said, "Behold, my L-d, the fruit
Of indecision, and of wav'ring speeches :
The cause is clear, th' effect is in your breeches !"

HE

THE ROMAN POET.

ON LORD COCHRANE AT MALTA.

[From the British Press, July 27.]

- "animum ad civilia vertit

Jura suum, leges que tulit."

turn'd his mind to civil laws,

(A friend to those who plough the seas,)

And in the practice finding flaws,

He bore away the Code of Fees.

Would

Would that the Muse could add, that he,
Like Cæsar, first had peace restor❜d * !
But let them trust him, and they'll see
He'll conquer, or he 'll die on board.
His words and actions prove his aim,
To war with all mankind that do ill;
On throne or bench to him the same,
Napoleon hight, or Dr. Sewell.

DEFENCE OF AN INJURED CHARACTER.
[From the General Evening Post, July 27.]

SIR,

KNOW

TO THE EDITOR.

NOWING the liberal principles upon which your paper is conducted, I have no fear of your rejecting any application in behalf of injured innocence; and I am equally confident, that if you have, by any mistake or misapprehension, been led to join in the popular clamour against the worthy old gentleman for whose character I plead, you will be ready to retract all such suspicions, insinuations, and reflections, when you have perused this letter.

The worthy, and (I may add) illustrious man, to whom I allude, has long been accused of being an enemy to the corn-trade of this country; and I cannot remember a bad harvest, for many years past, in which, if you believe common report, he has not had a very active hand. But as there are people, especially in this great metropolis, who feel more for themselves, and their own selfish enjoyments, than for the fruits of the earth, there is a still heavier charge brought against my worthy old friend; and that is, the pains he takes to spoil parties of pleasure, both

*The beginning of the passage runs thus, "Pace date terris ;" and if this part does not apply to His Lordship, it is not his fault.

by

DEFENCE OF AN INJURED CHARACTER.

281

by land and water. was a more remarkable instance of this species of accusation that on last Sunday; I never, in one day, heard so many spiteful things said of this gentleman. If I did not know his character better than any of his accusers, I should have thought that he had no other employment than to break chaises and coaches in pieces, and to lame all the horses in all the stables in London; and no greater pleasure than to lay the streets and roads under water, and spoil all the Sunday clothes of all the Sunday parties in and about the metropolis. The number of disappointments, of broken engagements, and of engagements performed out of all hu mour and temper, which he is said to have occasioned on the aforesaid day, are beyond my calculation; but I am confident they were as many in number, and as bitter in the baulk, as ever occurred within the same space of time. By these, many were reduced to that most painful of all necessities-staying at home; without any employment, any amusement, any resources within themselves, to defeat that great enemy, Timean enemy, who, for what reason I know not, exerts his power on Sunday with a force more resistless than on any other day.

I do not remember when there

But in all this, painful as it may be to bear, I cannot discover why the old gentleman, whose history I am about to give, should be blamed. I can discover no proof nor evidence of the slightest kind. I inquire of as many of his accusers as come in my way, why they fix their suspicions on him? but they can give me no reason whatever. Many avow that they know not even who or what he is; and others, when hard pressed on the subject, can bring no other authority for their accusations, than the traditionary rumours of a parcel of old women, or old men who have passed into the stage of old women. I ask what interest so good a man, as he they accuse, can have

ju

in disappointing either farmers or men of pleasure, în spoiling markets or engagements, in lessening the number of hackney-coaches, and increasing the demand-in disturbing the temper of good housewives, or deranging their dinners? I ask if it be likely that a man, whose functions in the State and Church were so important, should take pleasure in no more dignified employments than dirtying boots and splashing stockings? I ask if it be likely that a man of such exten. sive benevolence should confine his liberalities to washerwomen and shoeblacks, and evince no taste but for a display of ancles and petticoats? I ask, in a word, if there be any feature in his character that corresponds with the exercise of so much caprice, and the production of so much mischief? But I ask in vain, since his accusers-no uncommon case-abuse a man whom they do not know.

To remove this ignorance, I will endeavour to open the eyes of all the old women in this kingdom-a prodigious undertaking-to the true history of their supposed enemy, St. Swithin! This venerable prelate, Sir, was Bishop of Winchester in the ninth century, a man of an illustrious family, and a native of Winchester. Early in life he took the religious habit among the regular clergy of the cathedral, and made the greatest proficiency in sacred literature and piety. Being ordained priest, he succeeded to the provostship of the cathedral. In the year 838, he was raised to the episcopal dignity, which was a subject of universal exultation; and he even surpassed the expectations that had been formed of him-but not a word about rain. He was indefatigable in promoting the good of the whole kingdom, and particularly of Winchester city and diocese; insomuch, that a great part of the merit in whatever was well or wisely done by the King, was justly ascribed to him-still nothing about rain. He built a great number of churches in those

parishes

REVIEW OF THE GOVERNMENT.

283

parishes where none had before existed, and either first of all constructed, or at least rebuilt, the main citybridge-but still no rain. He was, says his biographer, a treasury of virtues; but those for which he was most distinguished, were his mildness and humility would such a man have rained forty days? So great was his aversion to pomp and ostentation, that he was accustomed to go from one part of his diocese to another, when he went to consecrate churches, or perform other duties of his charge, by night; and these journies he constantly performed on foot-a likely story, if it rained all the way. Finally, he carried his affection for humility even beyond the grave: giving orders, in his last sickness, that his body should not be buried with marks of distinction in the cathedral itself, but among the common people, in the church-yard.

I would now ask these accusers of this good man, where they can, in all this character, find any evidence of his aversion to dry seasons, fine weather and pleasant parties, open carriages, or sailing-boats, from a royal yacht to a Margate hoy? I have laid the facts before them, and I hope we shall be able to account for our bad harvests and broken engagements in some more probable manner.

I am, Sir, yours,

AN IMPARTIALIST.

'T

REVIEW OF THE GOVERNMENT:

AN EPISTLE.

[From the Morning Chronicle, July 30.]

IS true, my friend! on Lisbon's fertile coast
Glory still new has crown'd our British host.

Those Gauls, whose triumphs ev'ry realm deplores,
From Poland's confines to Calabria's shores,

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