The Rolliad Part 15

"----------?apa?, ?apa, papa, papa, papa, papa papa?."

The harsh and intractable genius of our language will not permit us to give any adequate idea of the soft, sweet, and innocent sound of the original.--It may, however, be faithfully, though coa.r.s.ely, translated

"------Alas!

Alack! alack! alack! alack! alack! alas!"

At the same time, we have -our doubts whether some chastised tastes may not prefer the simplicity of ARISTOPHANES; though it must not be concealed, that there are critics who think he meant a wicked stroke of ridicule at the PHILOCTETES of SOPHOCLES, when, in his own PLUTUS, he makes his sycophant, at the smell of roast meat, exclaim--

Which we shall render by an excellent interjection, first coined from the rich mint of MAJOR JOHN SCOTT, in his incomparable Ode--

"Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff."

But whatever may be the comparative merits of these pa.s.sages, ancient and modern, we are confident no future critic will dispute but that they are all excelled by the following exquisite couplet of our author:

Ha! ha!--this soothes me in severest woe; Ho! ho!--ah! ah!--oh! oh!--ha! ah!--ho!--oh!!!

We have now seen the drummer quietly inurn'd, and sung our requiem over his grave: we hope, however, that

----He, dead corse, may yet, in complete calf, Revisit oft the glimpses of the candle, Making night chearful.

We had flattered ourselves with the hope of concluding the criticisms on the ROLLIAD with an ode of Mr. ROLLE himself, written in the original EX-MOOR dialect; but we have hitherto, owing to the eagerness with which that gentleman's literary labours are sought after, unfortunately been unable to procure a copy. The learned Mr. DAINES BARRINGTON having, however, kindly hinted to us, that he thought he had once heard Sir JOHN HAWKINS say, that he believed there was something applicable to a drum in the possession of Mr. STEVENS, the erudite annotator on SHAKESPEARE, Sir JOSEPH BANKS kindly wrote to that gentleman; who, upon searching into his ma.n.u.scripts at Hampstead, found the following epitaph, which is clearly designed for our drummer. Mr. STEVENS was so good as to accompany his kind and invaluable communication with a dissertation to prove that this FRANCIS of GLAs...o...b..RY, from similarity of style and orthography, must have been the author of the epitaph which declares that celebrated outlaw, ROBIN HOOD, to have been a British peer. Mr. PEGGE too informs us, that the HARLEIAN MISCELLANY will be found to confirm this idea; and at the same time suggests, whether, as that dignified character, Mr. WARREN HASTINGS, has declared himself to be descended from an Earl of HUNTINGDON, and the late Earl and his family have, through some unaccountable fantasy, as constantly declined the honour of the affinity, this apparent difference of opinion may not be accounted for by supposing him to be descended from _that_ Earl?--But, if we are to imagine any descendants of that exalted character to be still in existence, with great deference to Mr. PEGGE's better judgment, might not Sir ALEXANDER HOOD, and his n.o.ble brother, from similarity of name, appear more likely to be descendants of this celebrated archer? and from him also inherit that skill which the gallant admiral, on a never to be forgotten occasion, so eminently displayed in drawing a _long bow?_ We can only now lament, that we have not room for any minute enquiry into these various hypotheses, and that we are under the necessity of proceeding to the drummer's epitaph, and the conclusion of our criticisms.

[Blackletter: "A stalwart Saxon here doth lie, j.a.peth nat, men of Normandie; Rollo nought scoft his dyand wordes Of poynt mo perrand than a swordis.

And leal folk of Englelonde Shall haven hem yvir mo in honde.

Bot syn that in his life I trowe, Of shepes skynnes he had ynowe, For yvir he drommed thereupon: Now he, pardie, is dede and gone, May no man chese a shepis skynne To wrappe his dyand wordes inne."

Od. Frauncis of Glas...o...b..ry.]

POLITICAL ECLOGUES.

ROSE; OR, _THE COMPLAINT._

ARGUMENT.

In this Eclogue our Author has imitated the Second of his favourite Virgil, with more than his usual Precision. The Subject of Mr. ROSE's COMPLAINT is, that he is left to do the whole Business of the Treasury during the broiling Heats of Summer, while his Colleague, Mr. STEELE, enjoys the cool Breezes from the Sea, with Mr. PITT, at Brighthelmstone. In this the Scholar has improved on the Original of his great Master, as the Cause of the Distress which he relates is much more natural. This Eclogue, from some internal Evidence, we believe to have been written in the Summer of 1785, though there may be one or two Allusions that have been inserted at a later Period.

None more than ROSE, amid the courtly ring, Lov'd BILLY, joy of JENKY and the KING.

But vain his hope to s.h.i.+ne in BILLY's eyes; Vain all his votes, his speeches, and his lies.

STEELE's happier claims the boy's regard engage; 5 Alike their studies, nor unlike their age: With STEELE, companion of his vacant hours, Oft would he seek Brighthelmstone's sea-girt tow'rs; For STEELE, relinquish Beauty's trifling talk, With STEELE each morning ride, each evening walk; 10 Or in full tea-cups drowning cares of state, On gentler topics urge the mock debate; On coffee now the previous question move; Now rise a surplusage of cream to prove; Pa.s.s m.u.f.fins in Committees of Supply, 15 And "b.u.t.ter'd toast" amend by adding "dry:"

Then gravely sage, as in St. Stephen's scenes, With grief more true, propose the Ways and Means; Or wanting these, unanimous of will, They negative the leave to bring a bill. 20 In one sad joy all ROSE's comfort lay; Pensive he sought the treasury day by day; There, in his inmost chamber lock'd alone, To boxes red and green he pour'd his moan In rhymes uncouth; for Rose, to business bred 25 A purser's clerk, in rhyme was little read; Nor, since his learning with his fortunes grew, Had such vain arts engaged his sober view; For STOCKDALE's shelves contented to compose The humbler poetry of lying prose. 30 O barb'rous BILLY! (thus would he begin) ROSE and his lies you value not a pin; Yet to compa.s.sion callous as a Turk, You kill me, cruel, with eternal work.

Now, after six long months of nothing done, 35 Each to his home, our youthful statesmen run; The mongrel 'squires, whose votes our Treasury pays, Now, with their hunters, till the winter graze; Now e'en the reptiles of the Blue and Buff, In rural leisure, scrawl their factious stuff; 40 Already pious HILL, with timely cares, New songs, new hymns, for harvest-home prepares: But with the love-lorne beauties, whom I mark Thin and more thin, parading in the park, I yet remain; and ply my busy feet 45 From _Duke-street_ hither, hence to _Downing-street_, In vain!--while far from this deserted scene, With happier STEELE you saunter on the Steine.

And for a paltry salary, stript of fees, Thus shall I toil, while others live at ease? 50 Better, another summer long, obey Self-weening LANSDOWNE's transitory sway: Tho' GRAFTON call'd him proud, I found him kind; With me he puzzled, and with him I din'd.

Better with FOX in opposition share, 55 Black tho' he be, and tho' my BILLY fair.

Think, BILLY, think JOHN BULL a tasteless brute, By black, or fair, decides not the dispute: Ah! think, how politics resemble chess; Tho' now the white exult in short success, 60 One erring move a sad reverse may bring, The black may triumph, and check-mate our king.

You slight me, BILLY; and but little heed, What talents I possess, what merits plead; How in white lies abounds my fertile brain; 65 And with what forgeries I those lies sustain.

A thousand fictions wander in my mind; With me all seasons ready forgeries find.

I know the charm by ROBINSON employed, How to the Treas'ry JACK his rats decoy'd. 70 Not wit, but malice, PRETTYMAN reveals, When to my head he argues from my heels.

My skull is not so thick; but last recess I finish'd a whole pamphlet for the press; And if by some seditious scribbler maul'd, 75 The pen of CHALMERS to my aid I call'd, With PRETTY would I write, tho' judg'd by you; If all that authors think themselves be true.

O! to the smoky town would BILLY come; With me draw estimates, or cast a sum; 80 Pore on the papers which these trunks contain, Then with red tape in bundles tie again; Chaste tho' he be, if BILLY cannot sing, Yet should he play to captivate the KING.

Beneath two Monarchs of the Brunswick line, 85 In wealth to flourish, and in arms to s.h.i.+ne, Was Britain's boast; 'till GEORGE THE THIRD arose, In arts to gain his triumphs o'er our foes.

From RAMSAY's pallet, and from WHITEHEAD's lyre, He sought renown that ages may admire: 90 And RAMSAY gone, the honours of a name To REYNOLDS gives, but trusts to WEST for fame: For he alone, with subtler judgment blest, Shall teach the world how REYNOLDS yields to WEST.

He too, by merit measuring the meed, 95 Bids WARTON now to WHITEHEAD's bays succeed; But, to reward FAUQUIER's ill.u.s.trious toils, Reserves the richer half of WHITEHEAD's spoils.

For well the monarch saw with prescient eye, That WARTON's wants kind OXFORD would supply, 100 Who, justly liberal to the task uncouth, Learns from St. JAMES's hard historic truth.

Blest OXFORD! in whose bowers the Laureat sings!

O faithful to the worst, and best of Kings, Firm to the Right Divine of regal sway, 105 Though Heav'n and Thou long differ'd where it lay!

Still of preferment be thy Sister Queen!

Thy n.o.bler zeal disdains a thought so mean; Still in thy German Cousin's martial school, Be each young hope of BRITAIN train'd to rule; 110 But thine are honours of distinguishd grace, Thou once a year shall view thy sovereign's face, While round him croud thy loyal sons, amaz'd, To see him stare at tow'rs, by WYATT rais'd.

Yet fear not, OXFORD, lest a monarch's smiles 115 Lure fickle WYATT from the unfinish'd piles; To thee shall WYATT still be left in peace, 'Till ENGLISH ATHENS rival ancient Greece.

For him see CHAMBERS, greatly pretty, draw Far other plans than ever Grecian saw; 120 Where two trim dove-cotes rise on either hand, O'er the proud roofs, whose front adorns the Strand; While thro' three gateways, like three key-holes spied, A bowl inverted crowns the distant side.

But music most great GEORGE's cares relieves, 125 Sage arbiter of minims, and of breves!

Yet not by him is living genius fed, With taste more frugal he protects the dead; Not all alike; for, though a Briton born, He laughs all natal prejudice to scorn; 130 His nicer ear our barbarous masters pain, Though PURCELL, our own Orpheus, swell the strain; And mighty HANDEL, a gigantic name, Owes to his country half his tuneful fame.

Nor of our souls neglectful, GEORGE provides, 135 To lead his flocks, his own Right Reverend guides; Himself makes bishops, and himself promotes, Nor seeks to influence, tho' he gives, their votes.

Then for a Prince so pious, so refin'd, An air of HANDEL, or a psalm to grind, 140 Disdain not, BILLY: for his sovereign's sake What pains did PAGET with his gamut take!

And to an Earl what rais'd the simple Peer?

What but that gamut, to his Sovereign dear?

O come, my BILLY, I have bought for you 145 The barrel-organ of a strolling Jew; Dying, he sold it me at second-hand: Sev'n stops it boasts, with barrels at command.

How at my prize did envious UXBRIDGE fume, Just what he wish'd for his new music-room. 150 Come, BILLY, come. Two wantons late I dodg'd, And mark'd the dangerous alley where they lodg'd.

Fair as pearl-powder are their opening charms, In tender beauty; fit for BILLY's arms; And from the toilet blooming as they seem, 155 Two cows would scarce supply them with cold cream.

The house, the name to BILLY will I show, Long has DUNDAS the secret wish'd to know, And he shall know: since services like these Have little pow'r our virtuous youth to please. 160 Come, BILLY, come. For you each rising day My maids, tho' tax'd, shall twine a huge bouquet: That you, next winter, at the birth-night ball In loyal splendor may out-dazzle all; Dear Mrs. ROSE her needle shall employ, 165 To 'broider a fine waistcoat for my boy; In gay design shall blend with skilful toil, Gold, silver, spangles, crystals, beads, and foil, 'Till the rich work in bright confusion show Flow'rs of all hues--and many more than blow. 170 I too, for something to present--some book Which BILLY wants, and I can spare--will look: EDEN's five letters, with an half-bound set Of pamphlet schemes to pay the public debt; And pasted there, too thin to bind alone, 175 My SHELBURNE's speech so gracious from the throne.

c.o.c.kER's arithmetic my gift shall swell; By JOHNSON how esteem'd, let BOSWELL tell.

Take too these Treaties by DEBRETT; and here Take to explain them, SALMON's Gazetteer. 180 And you, Committee labours of DUNDAS, And you, his late dispatches to Madras, Bound up with BILLY's fav'rite act I'll send; Together bound--for sweetly thus you blend.

ROSE, you're a blockhead! Let no factious scribe 185 Hear such a thought, that BILLY heeds a bribe: Or grant th' Immaculate, not proof to pelf, Has STEELE a soul less liberal than yourself?

--Zounds! what a blunder! worse than when I made A FRENCH arret, the guard of BRITISH trade. 190 Ah! foolish boy, whom fly you?--Once a week The KING from Windsor deigns these scenes to seek.

Young GALLOWAY too is here, in waiting still.

Our coasts let RICHMOND visit, if he will; There let him build, and garrison his forts, 195 If such his whim:--Be our delight in courts.

What various tastes divide the fickle town!

One likes the fair, and one admires the brown; The stately, QUEENSB'RY; HINCHINBROOK, the small; THURLOW loves servant-maids; DUNDAS loves all. 200 O'er MORNINGTON French prattle holds command; HASTINGS buys German phlegm at second-hand; The dancer's agile limbs win DORSET's choice; Whilst BRUDENELL dies enamour'd of a voice: 'Tis PEMBROKE's dearest pleasure to elope, 205 And BILLY, best of all things, loves--a trope; My BILLY I: to each his taste allow: Well said the dame, I ween, who kiss'd her cow.

Lo! in the West the sun's broad orb disp lay'd O'er the Queen's palace, lengthens every shade: 210 See the last loiterers now the Mall resign; E'en Poets go, that they may seem to dine: Yet, fasting, here I linger to complain.

Ah! ROSE, GEORGE ROSE! what phrenzy fires your brain!

With pointless paragraphs the POST runs wild; 215 And FOX, a whole week long, is unrevil'd: Our vouchers lie half-vamp'd, and without end Tax-bills on tax-bills rise to mend and mend.

These, or what more we need, some new deceit Prepare to gull the Commons, when they meet. 220 Tho' scorn'd by BILLY, you ere long may find Some other Minister, like LANSDOWNE kind.

He ceas'd, went home, ate, drank his fill, and then Snor'd in his chair, 'till supper came at ten. 224

IMITATONS.

VIRGIL. ECLOGUE II.

Formosum pastor Corydon, ardebat Alexin, Delicias domini; nec, quid speraret habebat, Tantum inter densas, umbrosa cac.u.mina, f.a.gos a.s.sidue veniebat; ibi haec incondita solus Montibus et sylvis studio jactabat inani.

O crudelis Alexi! nihil mea carmina curas; Nil nostri miserere: mori me denique coges.

Nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant; Nunc virides etiam occultant spineta lacertos; Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus aestu Allia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentis.