He merely bent his diabolic brow

An instant; and then, raising it, he stood In act to assert his right or wrong, and show

Cause why King George by no means could or should Make out a case to be exempt from woe

Eternal, more than other kings endued

With better sense and hearts, whom history mentions, Who long have «paved hell with their good intentions.» XXXVIII.

Michael began: « What wouldst thou with this man, Now dead, and brought before the Lord? What ill Hath he wrought since his mortal race began,

That thou canst claim him? Speak, and do thy will,

If it be just: if in this earthly span

He hath been greatly failing to fulfil

His duties as a king and mortal, say,

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

XXXIX.

« Michael!» replied the prince of air, « even here, Before the gate of Him thou servest, must

I claim my subject; and will make appear
That as he was my worshipper in dust,
So shall he be in spirit, although dear

To thee and thine, because nor wine nor lust
Were of his weaknesses! yet on the throne
Hle reign'd o'er millions to serve me alone.

XL.

«Look to our earth, or rather mine; it was
Once, more thy Master's: but I triumph not
In this poor planet's conquest, nor, alas!
Need he thou servest envy me my
lot:
With all the myriads of bright worlds which pass
In worship round him, he may have forgot
You weak creation of such paltry things:

I think few worth damnation save their kings.

XLI.

« And these but as a kind of quit-rent, to Assert my right as lord; and even had

I such an inclination, 't were (as you

Well know) superfluous; they are grown so bad, That hell has nothing better left to do

Than leave them to themselves: so much more mad

And evil be their own internal curse,

Beaven cannot make them better, nor I worse.

XLII.

Look to the earth, I said, and say again:

When this old, blind, mad, helpless, weak, poor worm Began in youth's first bloom and flush to reign, The world and he both wore a different form, And much of earth and all the watery plain

Of ocean call'd him king: through many a storm His isles had floated on the abyss of time; For the rough virtues chose them for their clime. XLIII.

«He came to his sceptre young; he leaves it old: Look to the state in which he found his realm, And left it: and his annals, too, behold,

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 The meanest hearts; and, for the rest, but glance Thine eye along America and France!

XLIV.

«T is true, he was a tool from first to last
(I have the workmen safe); but as a tool
So let him be consumed! From out the past
Of ages, since mankind have known the rule
Of monarchs-from the bloody rolls amass'd

Of sin and slaughter-from the Cæsar's school,
Take the worst pupil, and produce a reign
More drench'd with gore, more cumber'd with the slain'
XLV.

«He ever warr'd with freedom and the free! Nations as men, home subjects, foreign foes,

So that they utter'd the word 'Liberty!

Found George the Third their first opponent. Whose History was ever stain'd as his will be

With national and individual woes?

I grant his household abstinence; I grant
Ilis neutral virtues, which most monarchs want;

XLVI.

« I know he was a constant consort; own
He was a decent sire, and middling lord.
All this is much, and most upon a throne;
As temperance, if at Apicius' board,

Is more than at an anchorite's supper shown.
I grant him all the kindest can afford;
And this was well for him, but not for those
Millions who found him what oppression chose.

XLVII.

The new world shook him off; the old yet groans
Beneath what he and his prepared, if not
Completed: he leaves heirs on many thrones
To all his vices, without what begot
Compassion for kim-his tame virtues; drones
Who sleep, or despots who have now forgot
A lesson which shall be re-taught them, wake
Upon the throne of earth; but let them quake!
XLVIII.

« Five millions of the primitive, who hold
The faith which makes ye great on earth, implored

A part of that vast all they held of old,—
Freedom to worship-not alone your Lord,

Michael, but you, and you, Saint Peter!

Cold

Must be your souls, if you have not abhorr'd The foe to Catholic participation

In all the license of a Christian nation.

LXII.

Why, my dear Lucifer, would you abuse My call for witnesses'? I did not mean That you should half of earth and hell produce;

'T is even superfluous, since two honest, clean True testimonies are enough: we lose

Our time, nay, our eternity, between
The accusation and defence: if we
Hear both, 't will stretch our immortality.>>

LXIV.

Sathan replied, «To me the matter is

Indifferent, in a personal point of view:

I can have fifty better souls than this

With far less trouble than we have gone through Already; and I merely argued his

Late Majesty of Britain's case with you Upon a point of form: you may dispose

Of him; I've kings enough below, God knows!»>

LXV.

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 answer'd, « There are many;
But you may chuse Jack Wilkes as well as any.»

LXVI.

A merry, cock-eyed, curious looking sprite Upon the instant started from the throng, Dress'd 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.

LXVII.

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 't is for an election that they bawl,

Behold a candidate with unturn'd-coat!
Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?»>

LXVIII.

<< 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?»>

LXIX.

«He is what you behold him, and his doom
Depends upon his deeds,» the angel said.
If you
have aught to arraigu in him, the tomb
Gives license 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.»

« However, I knew what to think of it,
When I bebeld 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-'t was one of his own bills.
LXXIV.

<< 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 aerial 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.

XCI.

But ere the spavin'd dactyls could be spurr'd
Into recitative, in great dismay

Both cherubim and seraphim were heard

To murmur loudly through their long array;

And Michael rose ere he could get a word

Of all his founder'd verses under way,

XCVIII.

He had sung against all battles, and again
In their high praise and glory; he had call'd
Reviewing the ungentle craft,» and then

Become as base a critic as e'er crawl'd

Fed, paid, and pamper'd by the very men

By whom his muse and morals had been maul'd:

XCII.

A general bustle spread throughout the throng,
Which seem'd to hold all verse in detestation;
The angels had of course enough of: song

When upon service; and the generation

Of ghosts had heard too much in life, not long
Before, to profit by a new occasion :

The monarch, mute till then, exclaim'd « What! what!
Pye come again? No more-no more of that!»

XCIII.

The tumult grew, an universal cough

Convulsed the skies, as during a debate, When Castlereagh has been up long enough

(Before he was first minister of state,

I mean the slaves hear now), some cried « off, off,»

As at a farce; till, grown quite desperate,

The bar Saint Peter pray'd to interpose (Himself an author) only for his prose.

XCIV.

The varlet was not an ill-favour'd knave;
A good deal like a vulture in the face,
With a hook nose and a hawk's eye, which gave
A smart and sharper looking sort of grace
To his whole aspect, which, though rather grave,
Was by no means so ugly as his case;
But that indeed was hopeless as can be,
(uite a poetic felony, « de se.»

XCV.

Then Michael blew his trump, and still'd the noise
With one still greater, as is yet the mode
On earth besides; except some grumbling voice,
Which now and then will make a slight inroad
Upon decorous silence, few will twice

Lift up their lungs when fairly overcrow'd; And now the bard could plead his own bad cause, With all the attitudes of self-applause.

XCVI.

He said (I only give the heads)-he said,

He meant no harm in scribbling;'t was his way Upon all topics; 't was, besides, his bread,

Of which he butter'd both sides; 't would delay Too long the assembly (he was pleased to dread), And take up rather more time than a day, To name his works-he would but cite a fewWat Tyler-rhymes on Blenheim-Waterloo.

XCVII.

He had written praises of a regicide;

He had written praises of all kings whatever; He had written for republics, far and wide,

And then against them, bitterer than ever; For pantisocracy he once had cried

Aloud, a scheme less moral than 't was clever; Then grew a hearty anti-jacobin

Had turn'd his coat-aud would have turn'd his skin.

And more of both than any body knows.