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He was a younger son, for law design'd,
With dauntless look and persevering mind;
While yet a clerk, for disputation famed,
No efforts tired him, and no conflicts tamed.

Scarcely he bade his master's desk adieu,
When both his brothers from the world withdrew.
An ample fortune he from them possess'd,
And was with saving care and prudence bless'd.
Now would he go and to the country give
Example how an English 'squire should live;
How bounteous, yet how frugal man may be,
By a well-order'd hospitality;

He would the rights of all so well maintain,
That none should idle be, and none complain.

All this and more he purposed-and what man
Could do, he did to realize his plan:
But time convinced him that we cannot keep
A breed of reasoners like a flock of sheep;
For they, so far from following as we lead,
Make that a cause why they will not proceed.
Man will not follow where a rule is shown,
But loves to take a method of his own;
Explain the way with all your care and skill,
This will he quit, if but to prove he will.-
Yet had our justice honour; and the crowd,
Awed by his presence, their respect avow'd.

In later years he found his heart incline, More than in youth, to generous food and wine; But no indulgence check'd the powerful love He felt to teach, to argue, and reprove.

Meetings, or public calls, he never miss'dTo dictate often, always to assist. Oft he the clergy join'd, and not a cause Pertain❜d to them but he could quote the laws; He upon tithes and residence display'd A fund of knowledge for the hearer's aid; And could on glebe and farming, wool and grain, A long discourse, without a pause, maintain.

To his experience and his native sense He join'd a bold imperious eloquence; The grave, stern look of men inform'd and wise, A full command of feature, heart, and eyes, An awe compelling frown, and fear inspiring


When at the table, not a guest was seen
With appetite so lingering, or so keen;
But when the outer man no more required,
The inner waked, and he was man inspired.
His subjects then were those, a subject true
Presents in fairest form to public view!
Of church and state, of law, with mighty strength
Of words he spoke, in speech of mighty length:
And now, into the vale of years declined,
He hides too little of the monarch mind:
He kindles anger by untimely jokes,
And opposition by contempt provokes ;
Mirth he suppresses by his awful frown,
And humble spirits, by disdain, keeps down;
Blamed by the mild, approved by the severe,
The prudent fly him, and the valiant fear.

For overbearing is his proud discourse,
And overwhelming of his voice the force;
And overpowering is he when he shows
What floats upon a mind that always overflows

This ready man at every meeting rose, Something to hint, determine, or propose; And grew so fond of teaching, that he taught Those who instruction needed not or sought:

Happy our hero, when he could excite
Some thoughtless talker to the wordy fight:
Let him a subject at his pleasure choose,
Physic or law, religion or the muse;

On all such themes he was prepared to shine,
Physician, poet, la wyer, and divine.
Hemm'd in by some tough argument, borne down
By press of language, and the awful frown,
In vain for mercy shall the culprit plead ;
His crime is past, and sentence must proceed:
Ah! suffering man, have patience, bear thy woes-
For lo! the clock-at ten the justice goes.

This powerful man, on business or to please
A curious taste, or weary grown of ease,
On a long journey travell'd many a mile
Westward, and halted midway in our isle;
Content to view a city large and fair,
Though none had notice-what a man was there!
Silent two days, he then began to long
Again to try a voice so loud and strong:
To give his favourite topics some new grace,
And gain some glory in such distant place;
To reap some present pleasure, and to sow
Seeds of fair fame, in after-time to grow:
Here will men say,
We heard, at such an hour,
The best of speakers-wonderful his power."
Inquiry made, he found that day would meet
A learned club, and in the very street:
Knowledge to gain and give, was the design;
To speak, to hearken, to debate, and dine :
This pleased our traveller, for he felt his force
In either way, to eat or to discourse.


Nothing more easy than to gain access
To men like these, with his polite address;
So he succeeded, and first look'd around,
To view his objects and to take his ground;
And therefore silent chose a while to sit,
Then enter boldly by some lucky hit;
Some observation keen or stroke severe,
To cause some wonder or excite some fear.

Now, dinner past, no longer he suppress'd His strong dislike to be a silent guest; Subjects and words were now at his commandWhen disappointment frown'd on all he plann'd; For, hark!—he heard, amazed, on every side His church insulted, and her priests belied; The laws reviled, the ruling power abused The land derided, and its foes excused :He heard, and ponder'd--What, to men so vile, Should be his language? For his threatening style They were too many ;-if his speech were meek, They would despise such poor attempts to speak: At other times with every word at will, He now sat lost, perplex'd, astonish'd, still.

Here were Socinians, Deists, and indeed All who, as foes to England's church, agreed; But still with creeds unlike, and some without a creed:

Here, too, fierce friends of liberty he saw,
Who own'd no prince and who obey no law;
There were reformers of each different sort,
Foes to the laws, the priesthood, and the court;
Some on their favourite plans alone intent,
Some purely angry and malevolent :

The rash were proud to blame their country's laws;
The vain, to seem supporters of a cause;

One call'd for change that he would dread to see Another sigh'd for Gallic liberty!

And numbers joining with the forward crew,
For no one reason-but that numbers do.

"How," said the justice, “can this trouble rise,
This shame and pain, from creatures I despise ?"
And conscience answer'd-"The prevailing cause
Is thy delight in listening to applause;
Here, thou art seated with a tribe, who spurn
Thy favourite themes, and into laughter turn
Thy fears and wishes; silent and obscure,
Thyself, shalt thou the long harangue endure;
And learn, by feeling, what it is to force
On thy unwilling friends the long discourse:
What though thy thoughts be just, and these, it Proving that liberty of speech was gone;


That all were slaves; nor had we better chance
For better times than as allies to France.
Loud groan'd the stranger-Why, he must relate,
And own'd, "In sorrow for his country's fate."

Nay, she were safe," the ready man replied,

Might patriots rule her, and could reasoners guide;
When all to vote, to speak, to teach, are free,
Whate'er their creeds or their opinions be;
When books of statutes are consumed in flames,
And courts and copyholds are empty names;
Then will be times of joy: but ere they come,
Havoc, and war, and blood must be our doom."

Are traitors' projects, idiots' empty schemes?
Yet, minds like bodies cramm'd, reject their food,
Nor will be forced and tortured for their good!"

At length, a sharp, shrewd, sallow man arose,
And begg'd he briefly might his mind disclose;
It was his duty, in these worst of times,
T' inform the govern'd of their rulers' crimes:"
This pleasant subject to attend, they each
Prepared to listen, and forbore to teach.

Then voluble and fierce the wordy man
Through a long chain of favourite horrors ran :-
First, of the church, from whose enslaving power
He was deliver'd, and he bless'd the hour;

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Now here was Justice Bolt compell'd to sit,
To hear the deist's scorn, the rebel's wit;
The fact mis-stated, the envenomed lie,
And staring, spell-bound, made not one reply.
Then were our laws abused; and with the laws
All who prepare, defend, or judge a cause:
"We have no lawyer whom a man can trust,"
Proceeded Hammond, "if the laws were just;
But they are evil; 'tis the savage state
Is only good, and ours sophisticate!
See! the free creatures in their woods and plains,
Where without laws each happy monarch reigns,
King of himself-while we a number dread,
By slaves commanded and by dunces led ;
O, let the name with either state agree--
Savage our own we'll name, and civil theirs
shall be."

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Hammond they call him; they can give the name
Of man to devils.-Why am I so tame?
Why crush I not the viper?"-Fear replied,
"Watch him a while, and let his strength be tried;
He will be foil'd, if man; but if his aid
Be from beneath, 'tis well to be afraid."

"We are call'd free!" said Hammond-" doleful

When rulers add their insults to their crimes:
For should our scorn expose each powerful vice,
It would be libel, and we pay the price."

Thus with licentious words the man went on,

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The man here paused; then loudly for reform
He call'd, and hail'd the prospect of the storm;
The wholesome blast, the fertilizing flood-
Peace gain'd by tumult, plenty bought with blood:
Sharp means, he own'd; but when the land's disease
Asks cure complete, no medicines are like these.

Our justice now, more led by fear than rage,
Saw it in vain with madness to engage;
With imps of darkness no man seeks to fight,
Knaves to instruct, or set deceivers right:
Then as the daring speech denounced these woes,
Sick at the soul, the grieving guest arose ;
Quick on the board his ready cash he threw,
And from the demons to his closet flew :
There when secured, he pray'd with earnest zeal,
That all they wish'd these patriot souls might

Let them to France, their darling country haste,
And all the comforts of a Frenchman taste;
Let them his safety, freedom, pleasure know,
Feel all their rulers on the land bestow;
And be at length dismiss'd by one unerring blow;
Not hack'd and hew'd by one afraid to strike,
But shorn by that which shears all men alike;
Nor, as in Britain, let them curse delay
Of law, but borne without a form away-
Suspected, tried, condemn'd, and carted in a day;
O! let them taste what they so much approve,
These strong fierce freedoms of the land they love."*

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Home came our hero, to forget no more
The fear he felt and ever must deplore:

For though he quickly join'd his friends again,
And could with decent force his themes maintain,
Still it occurred, that, in a luckless time,
He fail'd to fight with heresy and crime

* The reader will perceive in these and the preceding verses, allusions to the state of France, as that country was circumstanced some years since, rather than as it appears to be in the present date,-several years elapsing between the alarm of the loyal magistrate on the occasion now related, and a subsequent event that farther illus rates the remark with which the narrative commences.

Now he could feel it cruel that a heart

Should be distress'd, and none to take its part;

It was observed his words were not so strong,
His tones so powerful, his harangues so long,
As in old times-for he would often drop
The lofty look, and of a sudden stop;

Though one by one," said Pride, "I would defy
Much greater men, yet meeting every eye,

When conscience whisper'd, that he once was still, I do confess a fear; but he will pass me by.” And let the wicked triumph at their will;

Vain hope! the justice saw the foe's distress, With exultation he could not suppress;

And therefore now, when not a foe was near,

He had no right valiant to appear.

He felt the fish was hook'd, and so forbore,

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Some years had pass'd, and he perceived his fears In playful spite, to draw it to the shore.
Yield to the spirit of his earlier years—
Hammond look'd round again; but none were near,
When at a meeting, with his friends beside, With friendly smile, to still his growing fear;
He saw an object that awaked his pride;
But all above him seem'd a solemn row
His shame, wrath, vengeance, indignation—all
Man's harsher feelings did that sight recall.

A wordy man, and evil every word:

Again he gazed-"It is," said he, "the same;
Caught and secure : his master owes him shame:"
So thought our hero, who each instant found
His courage rising, from the numbers round.

As when a felon has escaped and fled,
So long, that law conceives the culprit dead;
And back recall'd her myrmidons, intent
On some new game, and with a stronger scent;
Till she beholds him in a place, where none
Could have conceived the culprit would have

For lo! beneath him fix'd, our man of law
That lawless man, the foe of order, saw :
Once fear'd, now scorn'd; once dreaded, now ab- Rector of Bradley and of Barton-west;



Nor wonder was it if so strange a sight
Caused joy with vengeance, terror with delight;
Terror like this a tiger might create,
A joy like that to see his captive state,
At once to know his force and then decree his fate.
Hammond, much praised by numerous friends,

was come

To read his lectures, so admired at home;
Historic lectures, where he loved to mix
His free plain hints on modern politics:
Here, he had heard, that numbers had design,
Their business finish'd, to sit down and dine;
This gave him pleasure, for he judged it right
To show by day, that he could speak at night.
Rash the design-for he perceived, too late,
Not one approving friend beside him sate;
The greater number whom he traced around
Were men in black, and he conceived they frown'd.
"I will not speak," he thought; “no pearls of mine
Shall be presented to this herd of swine!"
Not this avail'd him, when he cast his eye
On Justice Bolt; he could not fight, nor fly:
He saw a man to whom he gave the pain,
Which now he felt must be returned again;
His conscience told him with what keen delight
He, at that time, enjoy'd a stranger's fright;
That stranger now befriended--he alone,
For all his insult, friendless, to atone ;

Of priests and deacons, so they seem❜d below;
He wonder'd who his right-hand man might be-
Vicar of Holt cum Uppingham was he;

And who the man of that dark frown possess'd

"A pluralist," he growl'd-but check'd the word,
That warfare might not, by his zeal, be stirr'd.
But now began the man above to show
Fierce looks and threatenings to the man below;
Who had some thoughts his peace by flight to seek-
But how then lecture, if he dared not speak!—

Now as the justice for the war prepared,
He seem'd just then to question if he dared:
"He may resist, although his power be small,
And growing desperate may defy us all;
One dog attack, and he prepares for flight-
Resist another, and he strives to bite;
Nor can I say, if this rebellious cur
Will fly for safety, or will scorn to stir."
Alarm'd by this, he lash'd his soul to rage,
Burn'd with strong shame, and hurried to engage.

There he sits upright in his seat, secure,
As one whose conscience is correct and pure;
This rouses anger for the old offence,
And scorn for all such seeming and pretence;
So on this Hammond look'd our hero bold,
Remembering well that vile offence of old,
And now he saw the rebel dared t' intrude
Among the pure, the loyal, and the good:
The crime provoked his wrath, the folly stirr'd his Sees one poor straying puppy, and no more,

As a male turkey struggling on the green,
When by fierce harriers, terriers, mongrels seen,
He feels the insult of the noisy train,

And skulks aside, though moved by much disdain;
But when that turkey, at his own barn-door,

(A foolish puppy who had left the pack.
Thoughtless what foe was threatening at his back,)
He moves about, as ship prepared to sail,
He hoists his proud rotundity of tail,

The half-seal'd eyes and changeful neck he shows,
Where in its quickening colours, vengeance glows,
From red to blue the pendent wattles turn,
Blue mix'd with red, as matches when they burn;
And thus th' intruding snarler to oppose,
Urged by enkindling wrath, he gobbling goes.
So look'd our hero in his wrath, his cheeks
Flush'd with fresh fires and glow'd in tingling

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Rebels, still warring with the laws that give To them subsistence ?-Yes, such wretches live. "Ours is a church reform'd, and now no more Is aught for man to mend or to restore; 'Tis pure in doctrines, 'tis correct in creeds, Has naught redundant, and it nothing needs; No evil is therein-no wrinkle, spot, Stain, blame, or blemish :-I affirm there's not. "All this you know-now mark what once befell,

With grief I bore it, and with shame I tell ;
I was entrapp'd-yes, so it came to pass,
'Mid heathen rebels, a tumultuous class;
Each to his country bore a hellish mind,
Each like his neighbour was of cursed kind;
The land that nursed them they blasphemed; the


Their sovereign's glory, and their country's cause; And who their mouth, their master-fiend, and who

Rebellion's oracle?-You, caitiff, you!"

He spoke, and standing stretch'd his mighty arm, And fix'd the man of words, as by a charm. "How raved that railer! Sure some hellish power

Restrain'd my tongue in that delirious hour,
Or I had hurl'd the shame and vengeance due
On him, the guide of that infuriate crew;
But to mine eyes such dreadful looks appear'd,
Such mingled yell of lying words I heard,
That I conceived around were demons all,
And till I fled the house, I fear'd its fall.

"O! could our country from her coasts expel
Such foes! to nourish those who wish her well:
This her mild laws forbid, but we may still
From us eject them by our sovereign will;
This let us do."-He said, and then began
A gentler feeling for the silent man ;
E'en in our hero's mighty soul arose
A touch of pity for experienced woes;
But this was transient, and with angry eye
He sternly look'd, and paused for a reply.
'Twas then the man of many words

But, in his trial, had them all to seek :
To find a friend he look'd the circle round,
But joy or scorn in every feature found;
He sipp'd his wine, but in those times of dread
Wine only adds confusion to the head;


In doubt he reason'd with himself-" And how
Harangue at night, if I be silent now?
From pride and praise received, he sought to draw
Courage to speak, but still remain'd the awe;
One moment rose he with a forced disdain,
And then abash'd sunk sadly down again;
While in our hero's glance he seem'd to read,
"Slave and insurgent! what hast thou to plead ?”
By desperation urged, he now began:
"I seek no favour-I-the Rights of Man!
Claim; and I-nay!-but give me leave-and I
Insist-a man-that is-and in reply,

I speak."-Alas, each new attempt was vain :
Confused he stood, he sate, he rose again;
At length he growl'd defiance, sought the door,
Cursed the whole synod, and was seen no more.
'Laud we," said Justice Bolt, "the Powers
Thus could our speech the sturdiest foe remove."


Exulting now he gained new strength of fame,
And lost all feelings of defeat and shame.


He dared not strive, you witness'd-dared not

His voice, nor drive at his accursed drift:
So all shall tremble, wretches who oppose
Our church or state-thus be it to our foes."

He spoke, and, seated with his former air, Look'd his full self, and fill'd his ample chair; Took one full bumper to each favourite cause, And dwelt all night on politics and laws, With high applauding voice, that gain'd him high applause.



I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him How I would think of him, at certain hours, Such thoughts and such;-or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words-comes in my fatherCymbeline, act i. sc. 4. Grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures o'er my face. Comedy of Errors, act v. sc. 1.

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Thus life's small comforts they together share,
And while life lingers for the grave prepare.

No other subjects on their spirits press,
Nor gain such interest as the past distress;
Grievous events that from the memory drive
Life's common cares, and those alone survive,
Mix with each thought, in every action share,
Darken each dream, and blend with every prayer.
To David Booth, his fourth and last born boy,
Allen his name, was more than common joy;
And as the child grew up, there seem'd in him
A more than common life in every limb,
A strong and handsome stripling he became
And the gay spirit answer'd to the frame;
A lighter, happier lad was never seen,
For ever easy, cheerful, or serene;
His early love he fix'd upon a fair

And gentle maid—they were a handsome pair.
They at an infant-school together play'd,
Where the foundation of their love was laid;
The boyish champion would his choice attend
In every sport, in every fray defend.

As prospects open'd and as life advanced,
They walk'd together, they together danced;
On all occasions, from their early years,

Judith in gaining hearts had no concern,
Rather intent the matron's part to learn;
Thus early prudent and sedate they grew,
While lovers thoughtful-and though children,

To either parents not a day appear'd,
When with this love they might have interfered:
Childish at first, they cared not to restrain;
And strong at last, they saw restriction vain;
Nor knew they when that passion to reprove-
Now idle fondness, now resistless love.

So while the waters rise, the children tread
On the broad estuary's sandy bed;
But soon the channel fills, from side to side
Comes danger rolling with the deepening tide;
Yet none who saw the rapid current flow
Could the first instant of that danger know.

The lovers waited till the time should come
When they together could possess a home :
In either house were men and maids unwed,
Hopes to be soothed, and tempers to be led.
Then Allen's mother of his favourite maid
Spoke from the feelings of a mind afraid :
Dress and amusements were her sole employ,"
She said, " entangling her deluded boy;"
And yet, in truth, a mother's jealous love
Had much imagined and could little prove;
Judith had beauty; and if vain, was kind,
Discreet, and mild, and had a serious mind.

Dull was their prospect-when the lovers met,
They said, we must not dare not venture yet:

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They mix'd their joys and sorrows, hopes and From her would seamen in the evening come,


Each heart was anxious, till it could impart
Its daily feelings to its kindred heart;
As years increased, unnumber'd petty wars
Broke out between them, jealousies and jars ;
Causeless indeed, and follow'd by a peace,
That gave to love-growth, vigour, and increase.
Whilst yet a boy, when other minds are void,
Domestic thoughts young Allen's hours em-

To take th' adventurous Allen from his home;
With his own friends the final day he pass'd,
And every painful hour, except the last.
The grieving father urged the cheerful glass,
To make the moments with less sorrow pass;
Intent the mother look'd upon her son,

And wish'd th' assent withdrawn, the deed un

At length a prospect came that seem'd to smile,
And faintly woo them, from a western isle;
A kinsman there a widow's hand had gain'd,


'Was old, was rich, and childless yet remain'd;
Would some young Booth to his affairs attend,
And wait a while, he might expect a friend."
The elder brothers, who were not in love,
Fear'd the false seas, unwilling to remove;
But the young Allen, an enamour'd boy,
Eager an independence to enjoy,
Would through all perils seek it,—by the sea,-
Through labour, danger, pain, or slavery.
The faithful Judith his design approved,

For both were sanguine, they were young and

The mother's slow consent was then obtain'd;
The time arrived, to part alone remain'd:
All things prepared, on the expected day
Was seen the vessel anchor'd in the bay.


The younger sister, as he took his way,
Hung on his coat, and begg'd for more delay:
But his own Judith call'd him to the shore,
Whom he must meet, for they might meet no


And there he found her-faithful, mournful, true,
Weeping and waiting for a last adieu!
The ebbing tide had left the sand, and there
Moved with slow steps the melancholy pair;
Sweet were the painful moments—but how sweet
And without pain, when they again should meet!
Now either spoke, as hope and fear impress'd
Each their alternate triumph in the breast.

Distance alarm'd the maid-she cried, " "Tis far!"
And danger too—“it is a time of war:
Then in those countries are diseases strange,
And women gay, and men are prone to change;
What then may happen in a year, when things
Of vast importance every moment brings!
But hark! an oar!" she cried, yet none appear'd-
"Twas love's mistake, who fancied what it fear'd;
And she continued-“ Do, my Allen, keep
Thy heart from evil, let thy passions sleep;
Believe it good, nay glorious, to prevail
And stand in safety where so many fail;
And do not, Allen, or for shame, or pride,
Thy faith abjure, or thy profession hide;
Can I believe his love will lasting prove,
Who has no reverence for the God I love!
I know thee well! how good thou art and kind;
But strong the passions that invade thy mind.-
Now, what to me hath Allen to commend?"-

Upon my mother," said the youth, "attend ;

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