428 
But how can wath of heraldry eftace 
The name of Bvz KE, and dignify difgrace, 
Can peerage blazon o’er the penfion’ d page, 
And givea glofs to ignominious age ? . 
Himfelf, the prime corrupter of his laws: 
Himfelf, the grievance that, incens’d, he 
draws: i 
Not tobe blam’d, but in atender tone; 
But to be prais’d, but with a heart-felt groan; 
He lives—a leflon for all future time, 
Fathetically great, and paiatelly fublime. 
O why is genius curs’d with length of days? 
The head ftill flourifhing, the heart decays. 
Protracted life makes virtue lefs fecure, 
The death of wits is feldom premature. 
Quench’d too by years gigantic JoHNnson’s 
zeal, 
“Th” unwieldy elephant was taught to kneel; 
Bore his ftrong tow’s, to pleafe a fervile 
. Court, 
And wreath’d his lithe proboicis for their 
fport. 
Of Burke and dennscs fly th? See ane 
fame, 
And if you feek the olen, dread the fae 
The much-prais’d Prefs has made Aeore ie 
men: 
- "The hand-Herculean lifts the puny pen; 
¥or clang of armour, and for deeds fublime, 
Much pointed period—much fyllabic chime! 
Return to him, from whom our fatire 
{prings, ; 
Rich in the blood of concubines and kings: _ 
With greatnefs rifing from his giandfire’s 
bone, : 
nd baftard honour from a baftard throne ; 
os turgid veins the true fucceffion fhows, 
Tly imperial purple flames upon his nofe. 
© Avaunt,” he cries, * ye vulgar and ye bafe! 
‘ Learn the prerogativ es of royal race 5 
* From York and Laitcafter conjoin’d, I come; 
* Sink down, ye dregs; I float at sof ’—the 
fcum! 
Live long, great bye: blow of the royal 
line, 
Long as the coals are tax’d, that. make you 
« dhine! 
Yet grant, that fome, the loweft of the 
throng, : 
Have known the right, as well as felt the 
Wrong ° ° 
That Hz, who rul’d with iron rod the {kies, 
And at whofe -feet'the broken fceptre lies: 
HE too, whofe daring senate pen 
Gives common-fenfe once more to common 
men; 
Wigg {miles at genius in confufion hurld, 
An with light lever elevates the world :— 
Grant, that fuch men, are Adams of their 
line, 
Spring from the earth, but own a fire divine ;— 
While you, with anceftry around you Aee d 
In bronze, or marble, porcelain, or pafte ; 
May rife, at death, toalabafter fame, 
And gain the fmcke of honour—not the fame. 
Thus far for him, the proud, inflated Lord, 
With father concubin’d, and mother whor’d. 
Or: inal Poetry. 
[ O&eber, 
In all fo high in rank, or man, or woman, 
No fenfe fo rare, as what we call—the com< 
‘mon : - 
Scorning that level, they afcend the fkies, 
Like the puff’d bag, whofe lightnefs makeg 
it rife; 
Titles and arms the varnifh’d filk may bear, 
Within— tis nought but peftilential air. 
What’s honour ?—VirTv eE—to its height 
refin’d— _ é 
The felt aroma of the unfeen mipd— 
That cheers the fenfes, tho? it cheats the 
fight, 
And {preads abroad.its.elegant delight. 
Turn from the paft, and “bring thy honours 
home— 
Tuyser the anceftor—for times to comes 
Not the low parafite, who prowls for bread, 
So mean ag he who lives upon the dead, 
From fome dried mummy draws his noble 
claim, 
“Snuffs up the fetor, and believes it fame. 
Be juft—be gen’rous—felf-dependent-—brave 
—Think nothing meaner than a titled flave: 
Cooly refolve to a& the patriot part; 
Join Sydney’s puife to Ruffel’s zealous heart : 
With proud complacence ftand, like Palmer 
pure, 
Or with mild dignity of honeft Muir, 
Before the brazen bulls of law, and hear 
Their favage fentence witha {mile fevere 5 
A {mile that deems it mercy to be hurl’d 
Where one may tread againff the prefent 
world. 
What is life, bere? Its zeft and {pirit gone, 
The flower faded, and the effence fiown ! 
What precious balm, what aromatic art, 
Can cleanfe pollution from the public heart ? 
Better to make the fartheftearth our home, 
With nature’s commoners at large to roam, 
Than join this focial war of clan to clan, 
Where civil life has barbaris’d the man. 
‘Behold yon rsLE, the glory of the Weft, 
By Nature’s hand in lively verdure drett ; 
How to the world it f{preads its Tatanee 
fide, 
And proudly fwells above th’ Atlantic tide, 
Where to the ocean Shannon yields his ftore, 
And fcorns the channel of a fubje@t fhore— 
‘Green. meadows {pread=-reiplencent rivers 
run— 
A healthy climate, and atemp’rate fun— 
There Mis’ry fits, and eats her lazy root 5 
There man is proud to dog his brother brute ¢ 
-In floth the Genius of the ifle decays, 
Loft in hisown, reverts to former days 5 
Yer ftill, like Lear, would in his hovel rule, 
Mock’d by the madman, jeited by the fool. 
There meet th? extremes of rank, ou fo- 
cial art 
Has levell’d mankind by their felfifh eae - 
There no contented middle clafs we trace— 
The fole ambition, to be rich and bafe. 
Some, o’er their native element elate, 
‘Like ice-form’d iflands, ‘tow’r in frozen ftate, 
Repel all nature with their gelid breath, 
And what  feems harbour, is the } jaw of i - 
The 
