THE END OF BUCKINGHAM. 37 



That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim ! 



Gallant and gay, in Clivedon's proud alcove, 



The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and love ; 



Or just as gay, at council in a ring 



Of mimic statesmen, and their merry king. 



No wit to flatter, left of all his store ! 



No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. 



There victor of his health, his fortune, friends 



And fame ; this lord of useless thousands ends. 



One long sigh of penitence and personal upbraiding, on 

 the other hand, is Buckingham's own last letter — written as 

 a sort of confession to his friend, Dr. Haydon — an excerpt 

 from which forms a preface to this chapter. If never serious 

 before, if his levity never gave place to heart and soul- 

 seachings at any other time, if in his life in private, and when 

 a courtier, his conscience had never pricked, his letter to the 

 doctor leaves no doubt that at the end he combined serious- 

 ness with meditation on his death-bed. The following is an 

 extract from the letter : — 



Dear Doctor, — 



I always looked upon you to be a person of true virtue, and know 

 you to be of sound understanding ; for however I have acted in opposi- 

 tion to the principles of religion, or the dictates of reason, I can honestly 

 assure you, I have always had the highest veneration for both. The 

 world and I shake hands, for I dare affirm we are heartily weary of 

 each other. Oh ! what a prodigal have I been of that most valuable 

 of all possessions — Time ! I have squandered it away with a profusion 

 unparalleled ; and now, when the enjoyment of a few days would be 

 worth the world, I cannot flatter myself with the prospect of half-a- 

 dozen hours. How despicable, my dear friend, is that man who never 

 prays to his God, but in the hour of distress ! In what manner can he 

 supplicate that Omnipotent being in his affliction. Whom in the time 

 of his prosperity he never remembered with reverence ! Do not brand 

 me with infidelity, when I tell you I am almost ashamed to offer up my 

 petition at the Throne of Grace, or to implore that Divine mercy in the 

 next world which I have scandalously abused in this. Shall ingratitude 

 of man be looked upon as the blackest of crimes, and not ingratitude 

 to God ? Shall an insult to the King be looked upon in the most 

 offensive light, and yet no notice taken when the King of Kings is treated 



with indignity and disrespect ? To what situation am I now 



reduced ? Is this odious little hut a fit suitable lodging for a prince ? 

 Is this anxiety of mind becoming the character of a Christian ? From 



