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Ero Heaven shall ope her portals to this, When the great signal ran from heaven to Guelf,
hell, While I am guard, may I be damn'd myself! About ten million times the distance reckon'd
From our sun to its earth, as we can tell
How much time it takes up, even to a second, Sooner will I with Cerberus exchange For every ray that travels to dispel My office (and his is no sinecure) The fogs of London; through which, dimly Than see this royal Bedlam-bigot range
beacon'd, The azure fields of heaven,of that be sure!" The weathercocks are gilt, some thrice a “Saint!” replied Satan, "you do well to
If that the summer is not too severe
say that I can tell—'twas half a minute; I'll try to coax our Cerberus up to heaven." I know the solar beams take up more time
Ere,pack'd up for their journey,they begin it;
But then their telegraph is less sublime, Here Michael interposed: "Good saint! And if they ran a race, they would not win it
'Gainst Satan's couriers bound for their Pray,not so fast; you both out-run discretion.
own clime. Saint Peter! you were wont to be more The sun takes up some years for every ray
To reach its goal - the devil not half a day. Satan! excuse this warmth of his expression, And condescension to the vulgar's level: Even saints sometimes forget themselves in Upon the verge of space, about the size
of half-a-crown, a little speck appear'd Have you got more to say ?”—“No!"_“If (I've seen a something like it in the skies
you please, In the Ægean, ere a squall); it near'd, I'll trouble you to call your witnesses." And, growing bigger, took another guise;
Like an aërial ship it tack’d, and steer'd
Or was steer'd (I am doubtful of the grammar Then Satan turn'd and waved his swarthy Of the last phrase, which makes the stanza hand,
stammer ; Which stirr'd with its electric qualities Clouds farther off than we can understand, Although we find him sometimes in our But take your choice); and then it grew skies;
a cloud, Infernal thunder shook both sea and land And so it was—a cloud of, witnesses. In all the planets, and hell's batteries But such a cloud! No land e'er saw a crowd Let off the artillery, which Milton mentions Of locusts numerous as the heavens saw As one of Satan's most sublime inventions.
these ; They shadow'd with their myriads space ;
their loud This was a signal unto such damnd souls And varied cries were like those of wildAs have the privilege of their damnation
geese Extended far beyond the mere controls (If nations may be liken'd to a goose), Of worlds past, present, or to come; no And realized the phrase of "hell broke station
loose." Is theirs particularly in the rolls Of hell assigned; but where their inclination Or business carries them in search of game, Here crash'd a sturdy oath of stout JohnBull, They may range freely-being damu'd the Who damnd away his eyes, as heretofore:
There Paddy brogued “by Jasus!"_“What's
The temperate Scot exclaim'd; the French They are proud of this - as very well they
ghost swore may,
In certain terms I sha'n't translate in full, It being a sort of knighthood, or gilt key As the first coachman will;and 'midst the war Stuck in their loips; or like to an "entrée” | The voice of Jonathan was heard to express, Up the back stairs, or such free-masonry: "Our President is going to war, I guess." I borrow my comparisons from clay, Being clay myself. Let not those spirits be Offended with such base low likenesses ; Besides, there were the Spaniard, Dutch, We know their posts are nobler far than
and Dane; these.
In short, an universal sboal of shades
your wall ?
From Otaheitu's Isle to Salisbury Plain, The rest," quoth Michael: “Who may be Of all climes and professions, years and
80 graced trades,
As to speak first ? there's choice enoughReady to swear against the good king's
who shall reign,
It be?” Then Satan answer'd, - There Bitter as clubs in cards are against spades:
are many; All summond by this grand subpana,” to But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well Try if kings mayn't be damnd, like me
as any." or you.
A merry, cock-eyed, curious looking Sprite, When Michael saw this host, he first grew Upon the instant started from the throng,
Dress'd in a fashion now forgotten quite; As angels can; next, like Italian twilight, For all the fashions of the flesh stick long He turn'd all colours - as a peacock's tail, By people in the next world; where unite Or sunset streaming through a Gothic All the costumes since Adam's, right or skylight
wrong, In some old abbey, or a trout not'stale, From Eve's fig-leaf down to the petticoat, Or distant lightning on the horizon by night, Almost as scanty, of days less remote. Or a fresh rainbow, or a grand review Of thirty regiments in red, green, and blue.
The Spirit look’d around upon the crowds
Assembled, and exclaim'd, “My friends of all Then he address’d hiniself to Satan: “Why- The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst My good old friend, for such I deem you,
these clouds; though
So let's to business: why this general call? Our different parties make us fight so shy, If those are freeholders I see in shrouds, I ne'er mistake you for a personal foe;
And 'tis for an election that they bawl, Our difference is political, and I
Behold a candidate with untnrn'd-coat! Trust that, whatever may occur below, Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?” You know my great respect for you; and
this Makes me regret whate'er you do amiss-Sir," replied Michael, “you mistake: these
Are of a former life, and what we do Why, my dear Lucifer, would you abuse Above is more august; to judge of kings My call for witnesses ? I did not mean Is the tribunal met; so now you know." That you should half of earth and hell "Then I presume those gentlemen with produce;
wings," 'Tis even superfluous, since two honest, Said Wilkes, “are cherubs; and that soul clean,
below True testimonies are enough: we lose Looks much like George the Third; but to Our time, nay, our eternity, between The accusation and defence: if we
A good deal older-Bless me! is he blind?" Hear both, 'twill stretch our immortality.”
“He is what you behold him, and his doom Satan replied, “To me the matter is Depends upon his deeds," the Angel said. Indifferent, in a personal point of view : "If you have aught to arraign in him, the I can have fifty better souls than this
tomb With far less troublo than we have gone Gives license to the humblest beggar's head
To lift itself against the loftiest." Some," Already; and I merely argued his Said Wilkes, don't wait to see them laid Late Majesty of Britain's case with you
in lead, Upon a point of form: you may dispose For such a liberty- and I, for one, Of him ; I've kings enough below, God Have told them what I thought beneath knows!"
Thus spoke the Demon (late callid "multi- "Above the sun ropeat, then, what thou hast
To urge against him," said the Archangel. By multo-scribbling Southey). “Then we'll
Replied the Spirit, "since old scores are One or two persons of the myriads placed
past, Around our congress, and dispense with all Must I turn evidence ? In faith, not I.
Besides, I beat him hollow at the last, The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky Could they distinguish whose the features I don't like ripping up old stories, since
were ; His conduct was but natural in a prince. The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to
They varied like a dream-now here, now Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress
there; A poor unlucky devil without a shilling; And several people swore from out the press, But then I blame the man himself much less They knew him perfectly; and one could Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be
unwilling He was his father: upon which another To see him punish'd here for their excess, Was sure he was his mother's cousin's Since they were both damn'd long ago, and
brother: still in Their place below; for me, I have forgiven, And vote his “habeas corpus” into heaven." Another, that he was a duke, or knight,
An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,
A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wight “Wilkes," said the Devil, “I understand Mysterious changed his countenance at least
As oft as they their minds: though in full You turp'd to half a courtier ere you died,
sight And seem to think it would not be amiss He stood, the puzzle only was increased; To grow a whole one on the other side The man was a phantasmagoria in of Charon's ferry; you forget that his Himself-he was so volatile and thin! Reign is concluded; whatsoe'er betide, He won't be sovereign more: you've lost
The moment that yon had pronounced him For at the best he will but be your neighbour.
Presto! his face changed,and he was another;
And when that change was hardly well However, I knew what to think of it,
put on, When I beheld you, in your jesting way, It varied, till I don't think his own mother Flitting and whispering round about the spit (If that he had a mother) wonld her son Where Belial, upon duty for the day, Have known, he shifted so from one to With Fox's lard was basting William Pitt,
t'other, His pupil; I knew what to think, I say: Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task, That fellow even in hell breeds farther ills; At this epistolary “iron-mask.” I'll have him gagg’d—'twas one of his own
For sometimes he likeCerberus would seem
“Three gentlemen at once" (as sagely says Call Junius!" From the crowd a Shadow Good Mrs. Malaprop); then you might deem
That he was not even one ; now many rays And at the name there was a general squeeze, Were flashing round him; and now a thick So that the very ghosts no longer walk'd
steam In comfort, at their own aërial ease, Hid him from sight-like fogs on London But were all rainm’d, and jammid (but to
days: be balk', Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's As we shall see) and jostled hands and
And certes often like Sir Philip Francis. Like wind compress’d and pent within a
bladder, Or like a human cholic, which is sadder. I've an hypothesis --- 'tis quite my own;
I never let it out till now, for fear
Of doing people harm about the throne, The Shadow came! a tall, thin, gray-hair’d And injuring some minister or peer
On whom the stigma might perhaps be That look'd as it had been a shade on earth;
blown; Quick in its motions, with an air of vigour, It is—my gentle pablic, lend thine ear! But nought to mark its breeding or its birth: 'Tis, that what Junius we are wont to call, Now it wax'd little, then again grew bigger, Was really, truly, nobody at all. With now an air of gloom, or savage mirth; But as you gazed upon its features, they Changed every instant--to what, none could I don't see wherefore letters should not be
Written without hands, since we daily view
Them written without heads; and books | But to the point: while hovering o'er the
brink Are fill'd as well without the latter too: Of Skiddaw (where, as nsual, it still rain'd), And really till we fix on somebody I saw a taper, far below me, wink, For certain sure to claim them as his dae, And, stooping, caught this fellow at a Their author, likc the Niger's mouth, will
No less on History than the Holy Bible. The world to say if there be mouth or author.
The former is the devil's scripture, and “And who and what art thon ?" the Arch- The latter yours, good Michael ; 80 the angel said.
affair “For that, you may consult my title-page,” Belongs to all of us, you understand. Replied this mighty Shadow of a Shade: I snatch'd him up just as you see him there, “If I have kept my secret half an age, And brought him off for sentence out of I scarce shall tell it now.”_"Canst thou
hand: upbraid,” I've scarcely been ten minutes in the airContinued Michael, “George Rex, or allcge At least a quarter it can hardly be: Aught further ?" Junius answer'd, “You I dare say that his wife is still at tea."
had better First ask him for his answer to my letter:
Here Satan said, “I know this man of old,
And have expected him for some time here; My charges upon record will outlast A sillier fellow you will scarce behold, The brass of both his epitaph and tomb." Or more conceited in his petty sphere: “Repent'st thou not,” said Michael, “of But surely it was not worth while to fold
some past Such trash below your wing, Asmodeus dear! Exaggeration ? something which may doom We had the poor wretch safe (without being Thyself, if false, as him if true? Thou wast
bored Too bitter-is it not so? in thy gloom With carriage) coming of his own accord. Of passion ?” “Passion !” cried the Phan
tom dim, “I loved my country, and I hated him. But since he's here, let's see what he has
“Done!” cried Asmodeus, “he anticipates What I have written, I have written: let The very business you are now upon, The rest be on his head or mine!” So spoke And scribbles as if head-clerk to the Fates. Old “Nominis Umbra;” and while speaking Who knows to what his ribaldry may run,
When such an ass as this, like Balaam's, Away he melted in celestial smoke.
prates ? " Then Satan said to Michael, “Don't forget “Let's hear," quoth Michael, “what he has To call George Washington, and John
Horne Tooke, You know we're bound to that in every way." And Franklin :"- but at this time there was
heard A cry for room, though not a phantom stirr'd. Now the Bard, glad to get an andience, which
By no means often was his case below,
Began to cough, and hawk, and hem, and At length, with jostling, elbowing, and
pitch the aid
His voice into that awful note of woe Of cherubim appointed to that post, To all unhappy hearers within reach The devil Asmodeus to the circle made Of poets when the tide of rhyme's in flow; His way, and look'd as if his journey cost But stuck fast with his first hexameter, Some trouble. When his burden down he Not one of all whose gouty feet would stir.
laid, “What's this?” cried Michael ; "why, 'tis
not a ghost ?" But ere the spavin'd dactyls could be spurr'd “I know it," quoth the incubus; “but he Into recitative, in great dismay Shall be one, if you leave the affair to me. Both cherubim and seraphim were heard
To murmur loudly through their long array;
And Michael rose ere he could get a word Confound the Renegado! I have spraind Of all his founder'd verses under way, My left wing, he's so heavy; one would think And cried, “For God's sake stop, my friends! Some of his works about his neck were
“Non Di, non homines—"you know the rest."
to say ;
A general bustle spread throughout the And then against them, bitterer than over;
For pantisocracy ho once had cried
“What! what ! He had sung against all battles, and again Pye come again? Nomoro-no more of that!” In their high praise and glory; he had callid
Reviewing “the ungentle craft,” and then
Become as base a critic as e'er crawl'dThe tumult grew, an universal cough Fed, paid, and pamper’d by the very men Convulsed the skics, as during a debate, By whom his muse and morals had been When Castlereagh has been up long enough
maul'd: (Before he was first minister of state, He had written much blank verse, and I mean, the slaves hear now), some cried
blanker prose, "off, off," And more of both than any body knows. As at a farce; till grown quite desperate, The Bard Saint Peter pray'd to interpose (Himself an anthor) only for his prose. He had written Wesley's life:-here, turn
To Satan, “Sir, I'm ready to write yours,
For fear, for I can choose my own reviewers :
With amiable modesty, decline
Whose memoirs could be render'd more
divine. the noise Mine is a-pen of all work; not so new With one still greater, as is yet the mode As it was once, but I would make you shino On earth besides; except some grumbling Like your own trumpet; by the way, my own
Has more of brass in it, and is as well blown. Which now and then will make a slight
inroad Upon decorous silence, few will twice But talking about trumpets, here's my Lift up their lungs when fairly overcrowd;
Vision ! And now the Bard could plead his own Now you shall judge, all people; yes, you bad cause;
shall With all the attitudes of self-applausė. Judge with my judgment! and by my
Be guided who shall enter heaven or fall!
He ceased, and drew forth an MS.; and no And take up rather more time than a day, Persuasion on the part of devils, or saints, To name his works_ he would but cite a few Or angels, now could stop the torrent; so Wat Tyler, Rhymes on Blenheim, Waterloo. He read the first three lines of the contents;
But at the fourth, the whole spiritual show
Had vanish'd with variety of scents,