“For goodness consider the rank of the bidder,
Who offers so much for your plumpers:
What’s the Nation or Pitt, to the Prince and Tom Tit!
Dash such stuff—and to Fox fill your bumpers.”
Arrayed on the Whig chief’s side was all the beauty and grace of fair and fascinating wives and daughters of the Whig aristocracy, a bevy of lovely political Circes, whose enchantments were all potent:—
“ON SEEING LADY BEAUCHAMP, LADY CARLISLE, AND LADY DERBY IN THEIR CARRIAGES, ON MR. FOX’S SIDE OF THE HUSTINGS.
“The gentle Beauchamp, and the fair Carlisle,
Around their favour’d Fox expectant wait;
And Derby’s lip suspends the ready smile,
To ask ‘the Poll?’ and ‘what is Charles’s fate?’
“But say, ye belles, whose beauty all admit,
Do you in politics dispute the prize;
Or do ye near the Hustings proudly sit,
To take the suffrage of admiring eyes?“
The Duchess of Devonshire was idolized by enthusiastic Whigs, who hailed in her the salvation of the cause:—
“Let Pitt and Wray dislike the fair,
Decry our Devon’s matchless merit;
A braver, kinder soul we wear,
And love her beauty, love her spirit.
Let distant times and ages know,
When Temple would have made us slaves,
’Tis thus we ward the fatal blow,
’Tis Fox that beats—’tis Devon saves!”
“ON SEEING THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, LADY DUNCANNON, ETC., CANVASSING FOR MR. FOX.
“Sure Heav’n approves of Fox’s cause
(Tho’ slaves at Court abhor him);
To vote for Fox, then, who can pause,
Since angels canvass for him.”