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Do more? or less?_and he in his new grave! To hail their brother, Vich lan Alderman! Her eye, her cheek, betray no inward strife, Guildhall grows Gael, and echoes with Ere And the Er-Empress grows as Er a wife!

roar, So much for human ties in royal breasts ! While all the Common-Council cry, “ClarWhy spare men's feelings, when their own

more!" are jests ? To see proud Albyn's Tartans as a belt

Gird the gross sirloin of a City-Celt,

She burst into a laughter so extreme, But, tired of foreign follies, I turn home, That I awoke - and lo! it was no dream! And sketch the group-the picture's yet to My Muse 'gan weep, but,ere a tear was spilt, Here, reader, will we pause:- if there's She caught Sir William Curtis in a kilt!

no harm in While throng'd the Chiefs of every High- This first-you'll, have, perhaps, a second land clan

Carmen."

come.

THE VISION OF JUDGMENT.

BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS.

SUGGESTED BY THB COMPOSITION 80 ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF “WAT TYLER."

A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, His business so augmented of late years, His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, That he was forced, against his will, no doubt So little trouble had been given of late; (Jast like those cherubs, earthly ministers), Not that the place by any means was full, For some resource to turn himself about, But since the Gallic era “eighty-eight,". And claim the help of his celestial peers, The devils had ta’en a longer, stronger pull, To aid him ere he should be quite worn out And “a pull altogether,” as they say By the increased demand for his remarks; At sea- which drew most souls another six angels and twelvc saints were named way.

his clerks.

The angels all were singing out of tune, This was a handsome board - at least for And hoarse with having little else to do,

heaven ; Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, And yet they had even then enough to do, Or curb a runaway young star or two, So many conquerors' cars were daily driven, Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon So many kingdoms fitted up anew; Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, Each day,too,slew its thousands six or seren, Splitting some planet with its playful tail, Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo, As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale. They threw their pens down in divine dis

gust

The page was so besmear'd with blood and The guardian seraphs had retired on high,

dust. Finding their charges past all care below; Terrestrial business fillid nought in the sky, Save the recording angel's black bureau ; This by the way; 'tis not mine to record Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply What angels shrink from: even the very devil With such rapidity of vice and woe, On this occasion his own work abhorrid, That he had stripp'd off both his wings in So surfeited with the infernal revel;

quills,

Though he himself had sharpen'd every And yet was in arrear of human ills.

sword,

It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evil. What nature made him at his birth, as bare (Here Satan's sole good work deserves in- As the mere million's base unmummied sertion

clayTis, that he has both generals in reversion.) Yet all his spices but prolong decay.

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Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, He's dead- and upper earth with him has Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont,

done: And heaven none - they form the tyrant's He's buried; save the undertaker's bill,

lease,

Or lapidary scrawl, the world is gone With nothing but new names subscribed For him, unless he left a German will;

upon 't;

But where's the proctor who will ask his son? Twill one day finish: meantime they in- In whom his qualities are reigning still,

crease,

Except that household virtue, most un“With seven heads and ten horns," and all

common, in front,

Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman. Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours

are born Less formidable in the head than horn. “God save the king !" It is a large economy

In God to save the like; but if he will

Be saving, all the better; for not one am I In the first year of freedom's second dawn Of those who think damnation better still: Died George the Third : although no tyrant, I hardly know too if not quite alone am I

In this small hope of bettering future ill Who shielded tyrants, till each sense with- By circumscribing, with some slight redrawn

striction, Left him nor mental nor external sun: The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction. A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawn, A worse king never left a realm undone ! He died—but left his subjects still behind, I know this is unpopular; I know One half as mad—and t'other no less blind. 'Tis blasphemous;1 know one may be damn'd

For hoping no one else may e'er be su;

I know my catechism; I know we are cramm’d He died !-his death made no great stir on With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow;

earth;

I know that all save England's church have His burial made some pomp; there was

shamm'd, profusion

And that the other twice two hundred Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth

churches Of aught but tears save those shed by And synagogues have made a damn'd bad collusion;

purchase. For these things may be bought at their

true worth : Of elegy there was the due infusion- God help us all! God help me, too! I am, Bought also; and the torches, cloaks, and God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish,

banners,

And not a whit more difficult to damn Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners, Than is to bring to land a late-hook'd fish,

Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb ;

Not that I'm fit for such a noble dish Form'd a sepulchral melo-drame. Of all As one day will be that immortal fry The fools who flock'd to swell or see the Of almost every body born to die.

show, Who cared about the corpse? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woe. Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, There throbb’d not there a thought which And nodded o'er his keys; when lo! there

pierced the pall; And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low, A wonderous noise he had not heard of It seem'd the mockery of hell to fold

lateThe rottenness of eighty years in gold. A rushing sound of wind, and stream,

and flame;

In short, a roar of things extremely great, So mix his body with the dust! It might Which would have made aught save a saint Return to what it must far sooner, were

exclaim; The natural compound left alone to fight Bat he, with first a start and then a wink, Its way back into earth, and fire, and air; Said, “There's another star gone out, I But the unnatural balsams merely blight

think!"

came

Bat ere he could return to his repose, And never knew much what it was aboutA cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his He did as doth the puppet - by its wire,

eyes

And will be jadged like all the rest.co doght: At which Saint Peter yawn'd, and rubb’a My business and your own is not to inquire

his nose :

Into such matters, but to mind our cge“Saint porter," said the Angel,” prithee rise!" Which is to act as we are bid to do.* Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as

glows An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly While thas they spake, the angelic caravan,

dyes;

Arriving like a rush of mighty wind, To which the Saint replied, “Well, what's Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the sea

the matter; Some silver-stream(say Ganges, Nile,or Inde. Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter ?" Or Thames, or Tweed), and midst them

an old man

With an old soul, and both extremely blind. “No," quoth the Cherub; “George the Halted before the gate, and in his shroad

Third is dead," Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud. “And who is George the Third ?” replied

the Apostle; What George? what Third?“The King of Bat bringing up the rear of this bright host,

England, "said A Spirit of a different aspect waved The Angel. “Well! he wo’nt find kings to His wings, like thunder-clouds above some jostle

coast Him on his way; but does he wear his head? Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks Because the-we saw here had a tussle,

is paved ; And ne'er would have got into heaven's His brow was like the deep when tempestgood graces,

tost; Had he not flung his head in all our faces. Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved

Eternal wrath on his immortal face,

And where he gazed a gloom pervaded space. He was, if I remember, king of That head of his, which could not keep a

As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate, On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or sin, A claim to those of martyrs-like my own: With such a glance of supernatural hate, If I had had my sword, as I had once As made Saint Peter wish himself withia; When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; He potter'd with his keys at a great rate, But having but my keys, and not my brand, And sweated through his apostolic skin: I only knock'd his head from out is hand. Of course his perspiration was but ichor,

Or some such other spiritual liquor. And then he set up such a headless howl, That all the Saints came out,and took him in; The very cherubs huddled altogether, And there he sits by Saint Paul, cheek by Like birds when soars the falcon;and they felt

jowl;

A tingling to the tip of every feather, That fellow Paul – the parvena ! The skin And form'd a circle, like Orion's belt, Of Saint Bartholomew,which makes his cowl Around their poor old charge, who scarce In heaven, and upon earth redeem'd his sin

knew whither So as to make a martyr, never sped His guards had let him, though they Better than did this weak and wooden head.

gently dealt With royal manes (for, by many stories,

And true, we learn the angels all are Tories). But had it come up here upon its shoulders, There would have been a different tale to

tell :

As things were in this posture, the gate flew The fellow-feeling in the Saints beholders Asunder, and the flashing of its hinges Seems to have acted on them like a spell, Flung over space an universal hue And so this very foolish head heaven solders of many-colourd flame, until its tinges Back on its trunk: it may be very well, Reach'd even our speck of earth, and made And seems the custom here to overthrow Whatever has been wisely done below.” Aurora borealis spread its fringes

O'er the North Pole; the same seen, when

ice-bound, The Angel answer'd, “Peter! do not pout; By Captain Parry's crews, in “Melville's' The king who comes has head and all entire,

Sound."

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And from the gate thrown open issued From the same book, in how polite a way

beaming

The dialogue is held between the Powers ** A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light, Of Good and Evil - but 'twould take up Es Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming

hours; * Victorious from some world-o’erthrowing

fight: My poor comparisons must needs be teeming And this is not a theologic tract, With earthly likenesses, for here the night To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic

Of clay obscures our best conceptions,saving If Job be allegory or a fact, or Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving. But a true narrative; and thus I pick

From out the whole but such and such an act

As sets aside the slightest thought of trick. a 'Twas the Archangel Michael:all men know Tis every tittle true, beyond suspicion,

The make of angels and archangels, since And accurate as any other vision. o There's scarce a scribbler has not one to

show, From the fiends' leader to the angels' prince. The spirits were in neutral space, before There also are some altar-pieces, though The gate of Heaven; like eastern thresholds is

I really can't say that they mnch evince The place where Death's grand cause is of fibre One's inner notions of immortal

argued o'er, But let the connoisseurs explain their merits. And souls despatched to that world or to this;

And therefore Michael and the other wore

A civil aspect : though they did not kiss,
Michael flew forth in glory and in good; Yet still between his Darkness and his
A goodly work of him from whom all glory

Brightness
And good arise; the portal pass’d-he stood; There pass'd a mutual glance of great
Before him the young cherubs and saint

politeness. = te

hoary;
(I say young, begging to be understood
By looke, not years; and should be very sorry The Archangel bow'd, not like a modern
Tostate,they were not older than Saint Peter,

beau,
But merely that they seem'd a little sweeter.) But with a graceful Oriental bend,

Pressing one radiant arm just where below

The heart in good men is supposed to tend. The cherubs and the saints bow'd down He turn'd as to an equal, not too low,

before

But kindly; Satan met his ancient friend
That arch-angelic Hierarch, the first With more hauteur,as might an old Castilian
Of Essences angelical, who wore

Poor noble ineet a mushroom rich civilian.
The aspect of a god; but this ne'er nursed
Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core
No thought, save for his Maker's service, He merely bent his diabolic brow

durst

An instant; and then, raising it he stood Intrude, however glorified and high; In act to assert his right or wrong, and show He knew him but the viceroy of the sky. Cause why King George by no means could

or should

Make out a case to be exempt from woe He and the sombre silent Spirit met- Eternal, more than other kings endued They knew each other both for good and ill; With better sense and hearts, whom history Such was their power, that neither could

mentions, forget

Who long have “paved hell with their good His former friend and future foe; but still

intentions.” There was a high, immortal, proud regret In either's eye, as if 'twere less their will Than destiny to make the eternal years Michael began : “What wouldst thou with Their date of war, and their “Champ Clos" the spheres. Now dead, and brought before the Lord ?

What ill

Hath he wrought since his mortal race But here they were in neutral space: we know

began, From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay That thou canst claim him ? Speak! and A heavenly visit thrice a year or 80 ;

do thy will, And that the Sons of God," like those of If it be just: if in this earthly span

clay,

He hath been greatly failing to sulfil Must keep him company; and we might His duties as a king and mortal, say,

And he is thine; if not, let him have way."

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“Michael !" replied the Prince of Air, “even Of ages, since mankind have known the rule

here,

Of monarchs—from the bloody rolls aman'd Before the gate of him thou servest, must Of sin and slaughter-from the Cæsar'i I claim my subject; and will make appear

school, That as he was my worshipper in dust, Take the worst pupil, and produce a rein So shall he be in spirit, although dear More drench'd with gore, more camber'd To thee and thine, because nor wine nor lust

vith the slain! Were of his weaknesses ! yet on the throne He reign’d o'er millions to serve me alone.

He ever warr'd with freedom and the free:

Nations as men, home subjects, foreigo foes, Look to our earth, or rather mine; it was, so that they utter'd the word “Liberty!" Once, more thy master's: but I triumph not Found George the Third their first oppoIn this poor planet's conquest, nor, alas!

nent. Whose Need he thou servest envy me my lot: History was ever stain'd as his will be With all the myriads of bright worlds With national and individual woes?

I grant his household abstinence; I grant In worship round him, he may have forgot His neutral virtues, which most monarchs Yon weak creation of such paltry things ;

vant; I think fev vorth damnation save their

kings,

I know he was a constant consort; own

He was a decent sire, and middling lord. And these bat as a kind of quit-rent, to All this is much, and most upon a throne; Assert my right as Lord; and even had As temperance, if at Apicius' board, I such an inclination, 'twere (as you Is more than at an anchorite's supper shova. Well know) superfluous; they are grown I grant him all the kindest can accord;

so bad,

And this was well for him, but not for those That hell has nothing better left to do Millions who found him what oppression T'han leave them to themselves : 80 mach

chose. more mad And evil by their own internal curse, Heaven cannot make them better,nor I worse. The new world shook him off; the old yet

groans

Beneath what he and his prepared , if not Look to the earth, I said, and say again; Completed : he leaves heirs on many thrones When this old, blind, mad, helpless, weak, To all his vices, without what begot

poor worm Compassion for him - his tame virtues; Began in youth's first bloom and flush to

drones reign,

Who sleep,or despots who have now forgot The world and he both wore a different form, Alesson which shall be re-taught them, wake And much of earth and all the watery plain Upon the thrones of Earth; but let them Of ocean call'd him king: through many

quake!
a storm
His isles had floated on the abyss of Time;
For the rough virtues chose them for their Five millions of the primitive, who hold

clime.
The faith which makes ye great on earth,

implored

part of that vast all they held of old, He came to his sceptre, young; he leaves Freedom to worship-not alone your Lord,

it, old :

Michael, but you, and you, Saint Peter! Cold Look to the state in which he found his Must be your souls, if you have not abhorr'd

realm,

The foe to Catholic participation And left it; and his annals, tno, behold, In all the license of a Christian nation. How to a minion first he gave the helm ; How grew upon his heart a thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm True! he allow'd them to pray God; but, as The meanest hearts; and for the rest, but A consequence of prayer, refused the law

glance

Which would have placed them upon the Thine eye along America and France !

same base With those who did not hold the saints in

awe." 'Tis true, he was a tool from first to last But here Saint Peter started from his place, (I have the workmen safe); but as a tool And cried, “You may the prisoner withSu let him be consumed! From out the past

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