Windham, I won’t suppress a gibe.
Whilst Thou art with the whining tribe;
Thou who hast sail’d in a balloon,
And touch’d, intrepid, at the moon,80
(Hence, as the Ladies say you wander,
By much too fickle a Philander:)
Shalt Thou, a Roman free and rough,
Descend to weak blue stocking stuff,
And cherish feelings soft and kind,85
Till you emasculate your mind.
Let Courtenay sneer, and gibe, and hack,
We know Ham’s sons are always black;
On sceptick themes he wildly raves,
Yet Africk’s sons were always slaves;90
I’d have the rogue beware of libel,
And spare a jest—when on the Bible.
Burke, art Thou here too? thou, whose pen,
Can blast the fancied rights of men:
Pray, by what logick are those rights95
Allow’d to Blacks—deny’d to Whites?
But Thou! bold Faction’s chief Antistes,
Thou, more than Samson Agonistes!
Who, Rumour tells us, would pull down
Our charter’d rights, our church, our crown;
Of talents vast, but with a mind
Unaw’d, ungovern’d, unconfin’d;[100]
Best humour’d man, worst politician,
Most dangerous, desp’rate state physician;
Thy manly character why stain105
By canting, when ’tis all in vain?
For thy tumultuous reign is o’er;
The People’s Man thou art no more.
And Thou, in whom the [magick] name
Of William Pitt still gathers fame,110
Who could at once exalted stand,
Spurning subordinate command;
Ev’n when a stripling sit with ease,
The mighty helm of state to seise;
Whom now (a thousand storms endur’d)115
Years of experience have matur’d;
For whom, in glory’s race untir’d,
Th’ events of nations have conspir’d;
For whom, eer many suns revolv’d,
Holland has crouch’d, and France dissolv’d;120
And Spain, in a Don Quixote fit,
Has bullied only to submit;
Why stoop to nonsense? why cajole
Blockheads who vent their rigmarole?
And yet, where influence must rule,125
’Tis sometimes wise to play the fool;
Thus, like a witch, you raise a storm,
Whether the Parliament’s Reform,
A set of Irish Propositions,
Impeachment—on your own conditions,130
Or Richmond’s wild fortifications,
Enough to ruin twenty nations,
Or any thing you know can’t fail,
To be a tub to Party’s whale.
Then whilst they nibble, growl, and worry,135
All keen and busy, hurry-scurry;
Britannia’s ship you onward guide,
Wrapt in security and pride.
Accept fair praise; but while I live
Your Regency I can’t forgive;140
My Tory soul with anger swell’d,
When I a parcel’d Crown beheld;
Prerogative put under hatches,
A Monarchy of shreds and patches;
And lo! a Phantom! to create,145
A huge Hermaphrodite of State!
A monster, more alarming still
Than Fox’s raw-head India Bill!
Thurlow, forbear thy awful frown;
I beg you may not look me down150
My honest fervour do not scout,
I too like thee can be devout,
And in a solemn invocation[10],
Of loyalty make protestation.
Courtiers, who chanc’d to guess aright,155
And bask now in the Royal sight,
Gold sticks and silver, and white wands,
Ensigns of favour in your hands,
Glitt’ring with stars, and envied seen
Adorn’d with ribbands blue, red, green!160
I charge you of deceit keep clear,
And poison not the Sovereign’s ear:
O ne’er let Majesty suppose
The Prince’s friends must be His foes.
There is not one amongst you all165
Whose sword is readier at his call;
An ancient Baron of the land,
I by my King shall ever stand;
But when it pleases Heav’n to shroud
The Royal image in a cloud,170
That image in the Heir I see,
The Prince is then as King to me.
Let’s have, altho’ the skies should lour,
No interval of Regal pow’r[11].
Where have I wander’d? do I dream?175
Sure slaves of power are not my theme;
But honest slaves, the sons of toil,
Who cultivate the Planter’s soil.