Thus spoke the Demon (late call'd "multifaced"
By multo-scribbling Southey.) "Then we'll call
"One or two persons of the myriads placed
"Around our congress, and dispense with all
"The rest," quoth Michael: "Who may be so graced
"As to speak first? there's choice enough-who shall
"It be?" Then Sathan answered, "There are many;
"But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well as any."
A merry, cock-eyed, curious looking Sprite,
Upon the instant started from the throng,
Drest in a fashion now forgotten quite;
For all the fashions of the flesh stick long
By people in the next world; where unite
All the costumes since Adam's, right or wrong,
From Eve's fig-leaf down to the petticoat,
Almost as scanty, of days less remote.
The Spirit look'd around upon the crowds
Assembled, and exclaim'd, "My friends of all
"The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst these clouds;
"So let's to business: why this general call?
"If those are freeholders I see in shrouds,
"And 'tis for an election that they bawl,
"Behold a candidate with unturn'd-coat!
Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?"
"Sir," replied Michael," you mistake: these things
"Are of a former life, and what we do
"Above is more august; to judge of kings
"Is the tribunal met; so now you know." "Then I presume those gentlemen with wings,' Said Wilkes," are cherubs; and that soul below "Looks much like George the Third; but to my mind "A good deal older-Bless me! is he blind?"
"He is what you behold him, and his doom
Depends upon his deeds," the Angel said.
"If you have ought to arraign in him, the tomb
"Gives licence to the humblest beggar's head
"To lift itself against the loftiest."-" Some,"
Said Wilkes, "don't wait to see them laid in lead, "For such a liberty-and I, for one,
"Have told them what I thought beneath the sun."
"Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast
"To urge against him," said the Archangel. "Why,” Replied the Spirit, "since old scores are past,
"Must I turn evidence? In faith, not I.
Besides, I beat him hollow at the last,
"With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky
"I don't like ripping up old stories, since
"His conduct was but natural in a prince.
"Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress "A poor unlucky devil without a shilling; "But then I blame the man himself much less "Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be unwilling "To see him punish'd here for their excess, "Since they were both damn'd long ago, and still in "Their place below; for me, I have forgiven, "And vote his habeas corpus' into heaven."
Wilkes," said the Devil, "I understand all this;
"You turn'd to half a courtier ere you died,
"And seem to think it would not be amiss
"To grow a whole one on the other side
"Of Charon's ferry; you forget that his
"Reign is concluded; whatsoe'er betide,
"He won't be sovereign more: you've lost your labour, "For at the best he will but be your neighbour.
"However, I knew what to think of it,
"When I beheld you in your jesting way
"Flitting and whispering round about the spit
“Where Belial, upon duty for the day,
"With Fox's lard was basting William Pitt,
"His pupil; I knew what to think, I say:
"That fellow even in hell breeds farther ills;
"I'll have him gagg'd-'twas one of his own bills.
"Call Junius!" From the crowd a Shadow stalk'd, And at the name there was a general squeeze, So that the very ghosts no longer walk'd
In comfort, at their own aërial ease,
But were all ramm'd, and jamm'd (but to be balk'd,
As we shall see) and jostled hands and knees,
Like wind compress'd and pent within a bladder,
Or like a human cholic, which is sadder.
The Shadow came! a tall, thin, gray-hair'd figure, That look'd as it had been a shade on earth; Quick in its motions, with an air of vigour,
But nought to mark its breeding or its birth:
Now it wax'd little, then again grew bigger,
With now an air of gloom, or savage mirth;
But as you gazed upon its features, they
Changed every instant-to what, none could say.
The more intently the ghosts gazed, the less
Could they distinguish whose the features were;
The Devil himself seem'd puzzled even to guess;
They varied like a dream-now here, now there;
And several people swore from out the press,
They knew him perfectly; and one could swear
He was his father; upon which another
Was sure he was his mother's cousin's brother:
Another, that he was a duke, or knight,
An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,
A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wight
Mysterious changed his countenance at least
As oft as they their minds: though in full sight
He stood, the puzzle only was increased;
The man was a phantasmagoria in
Himself-he was so volatile and thin!
The moment that you had pronounced him one,
Presto! his face changed, and he was another;
And when that change was hardly well put on,
It varied, till I don't think his own mother
(If that he had a mother) would her son
Have known, he shifted so from one to t'other,
Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task,
At this epistolary "iron mask."
For sometimes he like Cerberus would seem-
"Three gentlemen at once," (as sagely says
Good Mrs. Malaprop ;) then you might deem
That he was not even one; now many rays
Were flashing round him; and now a thick steam
Hid him from sight-like fogs on London days:
Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's fancies,
And certes often like Sir Philip Francis.
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