[Blackletter: "A stalwart Saxon here doth lie, Japeth 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 Glastonbury.]
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 shine 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; Pass muffins in Committees of Supply, 15 And "butter'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 compassion 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.