Lame and o’erburthen’d, and “screaming its wretchedness!”
. . . . . . . . .[[21]]
Ne’er talk of ears again! look at thy spelling-book;
Dilworth and Dyche[[22]] are both mad at thy quantities—
Dactylics, call’st thou ’em—“God help thee, silly one!”
[The following is the Sapphic Ode alluded to above, which was intended by the poet of the Morning Chronicle as a “retort courteous” to the Friend of Humanity. The printer of that paper, unfortunately, being new to “such branches of learning,” and not dreaming it could be intended for poetry, printed it as below. The mistake seems to have been immediately discovered, for it re-appeared next day (Dec. 12) in the guise of verse.—Ed.]
THE COLLECTOR AND THE HOUSEHOLDER.
The Hint taken from the Anti-Jacobin, “Needy Knife-Grinders”
H. Greedy Collector, whither are you going, thus with your inkhorn in your buttonhole, and ledger so snugly underneath your coat? Say, greedy Collector. C. Much I rejoice that I have met you here, friend: turn back, I pri’thee, ’tis with you I want to speak; I am come on business of importance—gentle Householder. H. Greedy Collector, well I know your business, ’tis for my taxes you are come to dun me; well! ’tis the last time you will have a right to ask me for money. Buggy, no longer do I drive a smart one; smash went my gig, as long [ago] as Easter; down Highgate hill we tumbled altogether, horse, wife, and I, Sir. One broke his knees, and[[23]] another broke his collar-bone; there’s an end of pleasuring on Sundays. Take my last payment; there is your two pounds twelve shillings and ninepence. C. Gentle householder, much are you mistaken; Order, Religion, Constitution, Laws, and rational freedom, all demand from you a—triple assessment. H. Triple Assessment! What beside the old tax? C. Certainly: come, deposit, I’m a waiting. H. Wait and be damned. What is it you are after? C. Ten pounds eleven. H. Ten pounds eleven! have I not informed thee gig I have none? I’ve sent it to the hammer; Pay for a gig and not [to] have it! C. But you had one at Easter! H. Easter is past and gone. I’ll never pay thee. C. Gentle Householder, then I must proceed to shew thee a little bit of parchment, called a writ of distringer [for distringas]. [Exit Collector to take possession of the Householder’s bed and furniture.
The verses which we here present to the public were written immediately after the Revolution of the 4th of September. We should be much obliged to any of our classical and loyal correspondents for an English translation of them.