claim your thanks for putting you upon this fpeculation, by which, if properly managed, a pennyworth of merit in the prefent age may be made to exceed all bounds of calculation in the next!

With this I take my leave of your L--d---p, in a humour not quite fo ferious as I began my letter in; for, after all the different feelings which your conduct. excites in me have had their turn, that of r-d-c-le, I confefs, predominates. That you have done more than, perhaps, any man living in this country to deftroy the belief of the existence of public principle in ftatesmen, is a grave charge, and much too grave a one to be mixed in this filly business. Inftead of reprobating your verfatility, therefore, I only fmile at your embarraffment, and have the honour to be, My L--d, your L--d---p's humble fervant,

May 28.

A WHIG OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

SONG.

(UNDERSTOOD TO BE WRITTEN BY MR. G. ROSE.) To the tune of the Anacreontic.

To the ftatesman whofe genius and judgment matur'd,
From Gallic ambition, 'midft anarchy's cry,
To his country, her laws and her commerce fecur'd,
Can Britons the grateful memorial deny ?
No! juft to his claim
Of a patriot's name,

They truft not his merit to pofthumous fame;
Remember with pride what by Chatham was done,
And hallow the day that gave birth to his fon.
Rome's fenate decreed to her worthies ovations,
With civic rewards fhe encircled their brows;
To a true British worthy we pour our libations,
While our fenate her order of merit bestows:
Amid Europe's alarms,

With perfuafion's bleft charms,
Britain's councils he led, rous'd her heroes to arms:
In the dread wreck of nations her empire maintain'd,
Her fpirit unconquer'd, her credit unftain'd..

No Jacobin rites in our fête fhall prevail,

Ours the true feaft of Reason--the foul's focial flow :: Here we cherish the friend, and his virtues we hail, But the Gallic fraternal embrace difavow; Imprefs'd with his worth,

We indulge in our mirth,

And bright fhines the planet that rul'd at his birth.
Round the orbit of Britain, oh! long may it move
Like attendant fatellites circling their Jove.
To the councils of Pitt*, in an era that's paft,

Her high rank 'midft the nations this city may trace ;:
Though his ftatue may moulder, his mem'ry will last,
"The great and the good live again in their race."
Ere to Time's distant day

Our marble convey

The fame that now booms, and will know no decay,
Our fathers' example our breafts shall inspire,
And we'll honour the ion, as they honour'd the fire.

ANOTHER.

SUPPOSED TO BE BY MR. CANNING.

IF huff'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep,
The fky if no longer dark tempests deform;
When our perils are paft, fhall our gratitude fleep?
No-Here's to the Pilot that weather'd the storm!
At the footstool of Power let Flattery fawn;
Let Faction her idols extol to the skies;
To Virtue, in humble retirement withdrawn,
Unblam'd may the accents of Gratitude rife.
And fhall not bis mem'ry to Britain be dear,
Whofe example with envy all nations behold;
A statefman, unbiafs'd by interest or fear,

By pow'r uncorrupted, untainted by gold?

Who, when Terror and Doubt through the universe reign'd,
While Rapine and Treason their standards unfurl'd,
The heart and the hopes of his country maintain'd,
And one kingdom preferv'd 'midft the wreck of the world.

*The late Earl of Chatham.

Unheeding,

Unheeding, unthankful we bask in the blaze,

While the beams of the fun in full majefty fhine,
When he finks into twilight, with fondnefs we gaze,

And mark the mild luftre that gilds his decline.
So, Pitt, when the courfe of thy greatnefs is o'er,
Thy talents, thy virtues, we fondly recall;
Now justly we prize thee, when loft we deplore
Admir'd in thy zenith, but lov'd in thy fall!
Oh! take, then, for dangers by wifdom repell'd,
For evils by courage and conftancy brav'd;
Oh! take, for a throne by thy couniels upheld,
The thanks of a people thy firmness has fav'd!
And oh! if again the rude whirlwind should rife,
The dawning of peace fhould fresh darkness deform;
The regrets of the good and the fears of the wife
Shal turn to the Pilot that weather'd the ftorm!:

VERSES ON A GREAT MAN IN DISTRESS.

BRITANNIA's Pilot, who weather'd the ftorm,"
Has been crown'd by George C-nn-g with wonderful-
glory;

A more arduous task I have now to perform,

And of runaway pilots to tell the fad story.

Though loud roar'd the thunder, and high the winds blew ;
When black louring clouds the horizon deform;
I join not the Pilot who faves the fhip's crew,
"But the Pilot who takes to his boat in the ftorm."

To him my attachments exclufive belong,

For he was the fun that gave life to our faction;
He's the god of my worship, the theme of my fong ::
Oh! foon may fuch pilots be call'd into action!'
"Tis then we fhall triumph o'er Jacobin rage,

'Tis then new "ftate trials" fall deluge the land;
For 't is his to fubdue this proud, reafoning age,
By the maxim of statesmen, " Divide and command.”

Then again fhall the hero of Gallia's proud bands
Be gail'd by the pow'r of his fplendid oration;
While in figures and tropes he fublimely expands
On his Corfican birth and his foul ufurpation.
Again fhall Bellona rekindle the ftrife,

And war, want, and famine, again prefs the nation;
"Perish commerce, and credit, and honour, and life ;
Give us places, and titles, and endless taxation."
To fuch pilots as he let all honours be paid

By thote who have shar'd both his rife and his fall :
Let him not be forgot when retir'd in the shade,
For the fruits of his planting were tafted by all.
When the ftatue shall rife to eternize his fame,

And Sculpture bid Marble exprefs his cold form,
Our children fhall cry, as they mention his name,
66 That's the Pilot who took to his boat in the storm."
A STAUNCH PITTITE.

TO THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT,

ON THE PROPOSED STATUE.

[From the Morning Chronicle.]

SUBSCRIB'D the Sire of Cities! oh, how pretty!
Subfcription marks thee Father of the City.

Portentous parent of each baneful bribe,

From me take truth-'t is all I can fubfcribe;
Father uniivall'd of each lufty loan,

Each pious prop of Pitt, who propp'd the throne,
Who propp'd it till the day he frankly told
Hibernia's fons by whom their rights were fold;
'T was thine, O generous man! to make it known
That glory was thy Sovereign's, not thy own.
Oh! if to thee we could a ftatue raise,
Large as thy conquefts, ample as thy praife,
Loofely one foot fhould ftand on Gallia's heights,
One firmly on thy country's proftrate rights;

One

One hand * should, confcious, point to Quiberon's strand,
One shake the fcourge + o'er Erin's bleeding land,
Through" troubled" fkies thy "meteor" eyeballs glare,
Thy brow" fhake battles from its horrid hair;"
Or, could the Cape of Palinurus be

But chifel'd to a fhape resembling thee,

Still might thy form o'er fhipwreck'd empires rife,
Still rear some tell-tale fragment to the fkies §,
Still bode of ills which peaceful hores deform,
Still feem "the Pilot fhrinking from the ftorm."
Oh! could our pile, Art's laft and proudest boast,
But mark thee lord of all which thou haft loft,
O'er its broad pedestal should Sculpture trace
Belgium, the Scheldt, and Bourbon's exil'd race;
There fhould Security with Terror wed ||,
Indemnity fhould" bow her cloud-topt head ¶;"
There, Rhodes furvey'd by our Coloffal man,
Her giant humbled to a pigmy's fpan,

And vanquifh'd Ammon, ftung with envy, ftart
To fee his Athos dwindled to a wart.

Once Rome, by Tully fav'd from blood and fire,
That Tully cherish'd as his country's fire ** ;
Thee Europe hails, " by fire and blood” refin'd ††,
"Deliverer" now—(
-(or Torturer) of Mankind.

"He wielded with one hand the democracy of England, and humbled with the other the whole Houfe of Bourbon."--Character (fuppofed to be by Mr. Grattan) of the late Mr. Pitt.

"Quatiente tortore flagellum.”—Juv.

Milton.

Palinurus was too honeft to pretend that he had "weathered the ftorm," but candidly owned that he broke the rudder from the vessel, and fell overboard before it reached land:

"Gubernaculum multâ vi fortè revulfum Præcipitans traxi mecum."

"Tigribus agni."

Gray.

VIRGIL.

**Roma patrem patriæ Ciceronem libera dixit.”—Juv.

十十

"In all its tranfmigrations be purified with fire and

blood."-Reflections on the French Revolution, by the Right Hon. Edmund Burke.