Page:Notes and Queries - Series 9 - Volume 6.djvu/536

444 NOTES AND QUERIES. [9* s. VL D*C. s, 1900. London's twice Praetor! scorn the fool-born jest— The stage's scum, and refuse of the players- Stale topics against Magistrates and Mayors— City and Country ooth thy worth attest. Bid him leave oft his shallow Eton wit, More fit to soothe the superficial ear Of drunken PITT, and that pickpocket Peer, When at their sottish orgies they did sit, Hatching mad counsels from inflated vein, Till England, and the nations, reeled with pain. Poor Canning ! but he survived it. The next effusion (p. 192) is scarcely respectful to royalty. It is entitled • The Godlike. In one great man we view with odds A parallel to all the gods. Great Jove, that shook heaven with his brow, Could never match his princely bow. In him a Bacchus wo behold: Like Bacchus, too, he ne'er grows old. LikePhcpbus next, a flaming lover; And then he's Mercury—all over. A Vulcan, for domestic strife, He lamely lives without hia wife. And sure-sunless our wits be dull— Minerva-like, when moon was full, He issued from paternal skull. The next (p. 195) is an epigram :— On a Projected Journey. To gratify his people's wish See G—-o at lengthprepare— He's setting out for Hanover— We 've often wished him there. The series concludes with the following un- complimentary address (p. 196) to the states- man who called into existence the New World to redress the balance of the Old :— The Unbdovtd. Not a woman, child, or man in All this isle that loves thee, C ng. Fools, whom gentle manners sway, May incline to C gh, Princes, who old ladies love, Of the Doctor may approve, Chancery lads do not abhor Their chatty, childish Chancellor. In Liverpool some virtues strike, And little Van's beneath dislike. Tho, if I were to be dead for't, I could never love thee; H 1: (Every man must have his way) Other grey adulterers may. But t In m unamiable object,— Dear to neither prince, nor subject;— Veriest, meanest scab, for pelf Fastning on the skin of Guelph, Thou, tnou must, surely, loathe thyself. It may be asked if it is worth while to re- suscitate these embers of a dead-and-gone controversy. Yes, I think so; for we cannot really know a man until we have seen every side of his character. When one reads an author, one wishes to know how far he is in touch with his kind. Some, like Milton and Wordsworth, seem almost superior to hu- manity ; others, like Ooldsmith and Lamb and FitzGerald, appeal to us through the follies and eccentricities which bring them in touch with ourselves. The innocent vanity and the parrot -like prattle of Goldsmith afford the " touch of nature " that brings our feelings into harmony -with 'The Deserted Village'; that sea-loving Bohemian, the Laird of Littlegrange, teaches us that a habit of wearing one's hat in the house and a pro- pensity to use red ink in one's correspondence are not incompatible with the noblest thoughts and the most generous hand; and the "gentle Elia" does not disturb our sense of the con- gruity of things when, like ourselves, he feels he must be in the swim " at the time of political excitation. The political parody, the scathing epigram, were the weapons which his friends employed, and Lamb felt that he must show he had an equal skill in handling them. In venturing to expand the famous saying of Buffon, I would declare that " I'reuvre est 1'homme raeme" embodies an even deeper truth, and that if to know a man's works is to know the man himself, we must know all of them, and not merely such as a biographer chooses to select. We want a man, and not a puppet moved by another's hands. Personally, I think I should have disagreed with Lamb's politics, but it adds to the charm which he exercises over us to know that he had none of the aloofness of would-be genius. I will conclude with a short poem written in a more pleasing style. Thelwall was fond of adapting classical metres to English verse, and several experiments in this form of poetical exercise will be found in the 'Re- creations.' One of these, which is entitled 'A Lady's Sapphic,' and bears the initials M. L., I do not think we shall be wrong in attributing to Mary Lamb. It runs as follows: Now the calm evening hastily approaches, Not a sound stirring thro' the gentle woodlands, Save that soft Zephyr with his downy pinions Scatters fresh fragrance. Now the pale sunbeams in the west declining • Mil the dew rising as the twilight deepens. Beauty and splendour decorate the landscape ; Night is approaching. By the cool stream's side pensively and sadly 5it I, while birds sing on the branches sweetly, And my sad thoughts all with their carols soothing, Lull to oblivion. W. F. PfilDXAUX. PJLLL-MALL AND GOLF.— Mr. Joseph Bain prints in the recently issued second volume of his ' Calendar of Scottish Papers' the 'Articles contenyng certane conjectouria, pre- jumptionis, likliehoodis and circumstance*; be the quhilkis it sail evidentlie appeare,'that as James