I a slave in thy dominions—
Nature must give way to art, &c. &c.
Lysight was, perhaps, not a poet in the strict acceptation of the term;—but he wrote a great number of miscellaneous verses—some of them, in general estimation, excellent; some delicate, some gross. I scarce ever saw two of these productions of the same metre, and very few were of the same character. Several of the best poetical trifles in M‘Nally’s “Sherwood Forest” were penned by Lysight.
Having no fixed politics, or in truth decided principles respecting any thing, he was one day a patriot, the next a courtier, and wrote squibs both for government and against it. The stanzas relatively commencing,
Green were the fields that our forefathers dwelt on, &c.
Where the loud cannons rattle, to battle we’ll go, &c.
and
Some few years ago, though now she says no, &c.
were three of the best of his patriotic effusions; they were certainly very exciting, and he sang them with great effect. He ended his literary career by a periodical paper in 1800, written principally against me, and called “The Lantern,” for which and similar squibs, he received four hundred pounds from Lord Castlereagh. I sincerely wished him joy of the acquisition, and told him “if he found me a good chopping-block, he was heartily welcome to hack away as long as he could get any thing by his butchery.” He shook me heartily by the hand, swore I was a “d—d good fellow,” and the next day took me at my word by lampooning me very sufficingly in a copy of verses entitled “The Devil in the Lantern!” But I loved abuse, when it was incurred for opposing the Union; and we never had a moment’s coolness upon that or any other subject. Indeed, I really regarded him.