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surprise, on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs Hornem with her arms half round the loins of a huge hussar-looking gentleman I never set eyes on before; and his, to say truth, rather more than haif round her waist, turning round, and round, and round, to a d-d see-saw up-and-down sort of tune, that remained me of the Black Joke,' only more 'affettuoso,' till it made me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. By and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they would sit or fall down. But no; with Mrs H.'s hand on his shoulder, 'quam familiariter (as Terence said when I was at school), they walked about a minute, and then at it again, like two cockchafers spitted upon the same bodkin. I asked what all this meant, when, with a loud laugh, a child no older than our Wilhelmina (a name I never heard but in the Vicar of Wakefield, though her mother would call her after the Princess of Swappenbach) said, 'Lord! Mr Hornem, can't you see they are valtzing!' or waltzing (I forget which); and then up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Now that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and so does Mrs H. (though I have broken my shins, and four times overturned Mrs Hornem's maid, in practising the preliminary steps in a morning). Indeed, so much do I like it, that having a turn for rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and songs in honour of all the victories (but till lately I have had little practice in that way), I sat down, and with the aid of William Fitzgerald, Esq., and a few hints from Dr Busby (whose recitations I attend, and am monstrous fond of Master Busby's manner of delivering his father's late successful 'Drury Lane Address '), I composed the following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments known to the public; whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise, as well as the critics.-I am, Sir, yours, &c., &c. HORACE HORNEM.

• My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said to have forgotten what he never remembered; but I bought my title-page mette fa Catholic priest for a three-shilling bank token, after much haggling for the even sixpence. I grudged the money to a Papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and 'No Popery,' and quite regretting the downfall of the Pope, because we can't burn him any more,

MUSE of the many-twinkling feet!* whose | Hail, moving Muse! to whom the fair one's charms

Are now extended up from legs to arms;
Terpsichore !-too long misdeem'd a maid-
Reproachful term-bestow'd but to upbraid-
Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine,
The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.

Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;
Mock d, yet triumphant ; sneer'd at, unsubdued;
Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,
If but thy coats are reasonably high;
Thy breast, if bare enough, requires no shield:
Dance forth-sans armour thou shalt take the

field,

And own-impregnable to most assaults,
Thy not too lawfully begotten 'Waltz.'

Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young
bussar,

The whisker'd votary of waltz and war,

breast

Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.
Oh, for the flow of Busby or of Fitz,
The latter's loyalty, the former's wits,
To 'energize the object I pursue,'
And give both Belial and his dance their due!

Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
(Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine),
Long be thine import from all duty free,
And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee;
In some few qualities alike-for hock
Improves our cellar-thou our living stock.
The head to hock belongs-thy subtler art
Intoxicates alone the heedless heart :
Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,
And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.

'To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,
Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain!'
The Lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer;
we do more; we contrive both to conquer and lose them in a
shorter season. If the great Lord's' Cincinnatian progress

His night devotes, despite of spurs and boots;
A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes:
Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz! beneath whose ban-in

ners

A modern hero fought for modish manners;
On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame,†
Cock'd, fired, and miss'd his man-but gain'd
his aim :

agriculture be no speedier than the proportional average of

time in Pope's couplet, it will, according to the farmer's proverb, be ploughing with dogs.'

By-the-by, one of this illustrious person's new titles is forgotten; it is, however, worth ren.embering- Salvador del by the inhabitants of the Peninsula to the name of a man who mundo!' credite, posteri! If this be the appellation annexed

has not yet saved them-(query, are they worth saving, even in this world? for, according to the mildest modifications of any Christian creed, those three words make the odds much against them in the next). Saviour of the world,' quotha!it were to be wished that he, or any one else, could save a corner of it-his country. Yet this stupid misnomer, although shows the near connection between superstition and im piety, so far has its use, that it proves there can be little to dread from those Catholics (inquisitorial Catholics too) who can confer such an appellation on a Protestant. I suppose next year he will be entitled the 'Virgin Mary; if so, Lord George Gordon himself would have nothing to object to such liberal bastards of our Lady of Babylon.

*Glance their many-twinkling feet.'-GRAY. To rival Lord Wellesley's, or his nephew's, as the reader pleases. The one gained a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by Eghting for; and the other has been fighting in the Penin-it sula many a long day, 'by Shrewsbury clock,' without gaining anything la tha? country but the title of 'the great Lord,' and the Lord; which savours of profanation, having been hitherto applied only to that Being to whom Te Deums for carnage is the rankest blasphemy. It is to be presumed that the general will one day return to his Sabine farm, there

O Germany! how much to thee we owe,
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,
And only left us thy dd debts and dances!
Of subsidies and Hanover bereft,

We bless thee still-for George the Third is left!
Of kings the best, and last not least in worth,
For graciously begetting George the Fourth.
To Germany, and highnesses serene,
Who owe us millions-don't we owe the queen?
To Germany, what owe we not besides?
So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides:
Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,
Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud;
Who sent us-so be pardon'd all our faults-
A dozen dukes, some kings, a queen-and Waltz.
But peace to her, her emperor and diet,
Though now transferr'd to Bonaparte's 'fiat!'
Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say,
How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?

Borne on the breath of hyperborean gales From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had mails).

Ere yet unlucky Fame, compelled to creep
To snowy Gottenburg, was chill'd to sleep;
Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise,
Heligoland, to stock thy mart with hes;
While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send,*
Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend,
She came-Waltz came-and with her certain

sets

Of true despatches, and as true gazettes:
Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch,
Which Moniteur nor Morning Post can match;
And, almost crush'd beneath the glorious news,
Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's;
One envoy's letters, six composers' airs,
And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs;
Meiner's four volumes upon womankind,
Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind;
Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and, to back it,
Of Heyne, such as should not sink the packet.

Fraught with this cargo, and her fairest freight,
Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate,
The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand,
And round her flock'd the daughters of the land.

The patriotic arson of our amiable allies cannot be sufficiently commended-nor subscribed for. Amongst other details omitted in the various despatches of our eloquent ambassador, he did not state (being too much occupied with the exploits of Colonel C, in swimming rivers frozen, and galloping over roads impassable) that one entire province perished by famine in the most melancholy manner as follows:-In General Rostopchin's consummate conflagration, the consumption of tallow and train oil was so great, that the market was inadequate to the de

mand: and thus one hundred and thirty-three thousand perLons were starved to death by being reduced to wholesome diet! The lamplighters of London have since subscribed a pint (of oil) a piece, and the tallow-chandlers have unanimously voted a quantity of best moulds (four to the pound), to the relief of the surviving Scythians,--the scarcity will soon, by such exertions, and a proper attention to the quality rather than the quantity of provision, be totally alleviated. It is said, in return, that the untouched Ukraine has subscribed sixty thousand beeves for a day's meal to our suffering manufac

turers.

Not decent David, when, before the ark,
His grand pas-seul excited some remark;
Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought
The knight's fandango friskier than it ought;
Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread,
Her nimble feet danced off another's head;
Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck,
Display'd so much of leg, or more of neck,
Than thou, ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon
Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune!

To you, ye husbands of ten years! whose prows
Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse;
To you of nine years less, who only bear
The budding sprouts of those that you shall wear,
With added ornaments around them roll'd

Of native brass, or law-awarded gold:
To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch
To mar a son's, or make a daughter's, match;
To you, ye children of-whom chance accords-
Always the ladies, and sometimes their lords;
To you, ye single gentlemen, who seek
Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;
As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,
To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;-
To one and all the lovely stranger came,
And every ball-room echoes with her name.

Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country dance, forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz, Waltz alone, both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;
Hands which may freely range in public sight
Where ne'er before-but-pray 'put out the
light.'

Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier

Shines much too far, or I am much too near: And true, though strange-Waltz whispers this remark,

'My slippery steps are safest in the dark !' But here the Muse with due decorum halts, And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.

Observant travellers of every time! Ye'quartos publish'd upon every clime! Oh, say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round, Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound; Can Egypt's Almas-tantalizing groupColumbia's caperers to the warlike whoopCan aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne? Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt s, Each tourist pens a paragraph for 'Waltz.'

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No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake; No stiff-starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache

-

Each new, quite new 'except some ancient tricks),* [new sticks! New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all (Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue, Goats in their visage, women in their shape);*New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue; So saith the muse! my , what say you? + Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain

No damsel faints when rather closely press'd, But more caressing seems when most caress'd; Superfluous hartshorn and reviving salts, Both banish'd by the sovereign cordial, 'Waltz.' Seductive Waltz!-though on thy native shore Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore; Werter-to decent vice though much inclined, Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blindThough gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael, Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball; The fashion hails-from countesses to queens, And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes; Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads, And turns--if nothing else—at least our heads; With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce, And cockneys practise what they can't pro

nounce.

Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts, And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of

'Waltz !'

Best was the time Waltz chose for her début: The court, the Regent, like herself, were new.+ New face for friends, for foes some new rewards; New ornaments for black and royal guards; New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread;

New coins (most new) to follow those that fled;
New victories-nor can we prize them less,
Though Jenky wonders at his own success;
New wars, because the old succeed so well,
That most survivors envy those who fell;
New mistresses-no, old-and yet 'tis true,
Though they be old, the thing is something new;

*It cannot be complained now, as in the Lady Baussière's *me of the Sieur de la Croix,' that there be 'no whiskers; how far these are indications of valour in the field, or else: where, may still be questionable. Much may be, and hath ten, arouched on both sides. In the olden time philosophers And whiskers, and soldiers none-Scipio himself was shavenHazabal thought his one eye handsome enough without a hard; but Adrian, the emperor, wore a beard (having warts. ** his chin, which neither the Empress Sabina nor even the counters could abide-Turenne had whiskers, Marlborough Ace-Bonaparte is unwhiskered, the Regent whiskered; real greatness of mind and whiskers may or may not go turther; but certainly the different occurrences, since the wth of the last mentioned, go further in behalf of whiskers the anathema of Anselm did against long hair in the reign of Henry L-Formerly red was a favourite colour. See Howick Barrey's comedy of Ram Alley, 1661; Act I. Yene 1.

Tea. Now for a wager-What coloured beard comes text by the window? Adriana A black man's, I think.

Ta. Ithink not so: I think a red, for that is most in factor a

There is nothing new under the sun;' but red, then a fwrik, has now subsided into a favourite's colour.

Her new preferments in this novel reign;
Hoops are no more, and petticoats not much;
Such was the time, nor ever yet was such;
Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays,
And tell-tale powder-all have had their days.
The ball begins-the honours of the house
First duly done by daughter or by spouse,
Some potentate-or royal or serene—
With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Glo'ster's
mien,
Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush
Might once have been mistaken for a blush.
That spot where hearts were once supposed
From where the garb just leaves the bosom free,
Round all the confines of the yielded waist,
to be; ‡
The stranger's hand may wander undisplaced;
The lady's in return may grasp as much
As princely paunches offer to her touch. [trip,
Pleased round the chalky floor how well they
One hand reposing on the royal hip;
The other to the shoulder no less royal
Ascending with affection truly loyal!
Thus front to front the partners move or stand,
The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand;
And all in turn may follow in their rank,
The Earl of Asterisk-and Lady-Blank;
Sir-Such-a-one-with those of fashion's host,
For whose blest surnames-vide Morning Post
(Or if for that impartial print too late,
Search Doctors' Commons six months from my
date)-

Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,
The genial contact gently undergo;
Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk,
If nothing follows all this palming work.'§

Oh that right should thus overcome might! Who does not remember the 'delicate investigation' in the Merry Wives of Windsor?'—

Ford. Pray you, come near; if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me; then let me be your jest; I deserve it. How now? whither bear you this? 'Mrs Ford. What have you to do whither they bear it ?— you were best meddle with buck-washing."

The gentle, or ferocious, reader may fill up the blank as he pleases-there are several dissyllabic names at his service (being already in the Regent's): it would not be fair to back any peculiar initial against the alphabet, as every month will add to the list now entered for the sweepstakes-a distinguished consonant is said to be the favourite, much against the wishes of the knowing ones.

We have changed all that,' says the Mock Doctor; 'tis all gone: Asmodeus knows where. After all, it is of no great importance how women's hearts are disposed of; they have • An anachronism-Waltz and the battle of Austerlitz are Nature's privilege to distribute them as absurdly as possible. before said to have opened the ball together; the bard means But there are also some men with hearts so thoroughly bad, as The racans anything), Waltz was not so much in vogue till the to remind us of those phenomena often mentioned in natural Kezent attained the acme of his popularity, Waltz, the history, viz. a mass of solid stone-only to be opened by force comet, whiskers, and the new government, illuminated heaven--and when divided, you find a road in the centre, lively, and earth, in all their glory, much about the same time: of fine the comet only has disappeared; the other three conLise to astonish us still.-Prinier's Devil.

: Jeakinson.

with the reputation of being venomous.

§ In Turkey a pertinent, here an impertinent and superfluous, question-literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, on seeing a waltz in Pera.-Vide Alorier's Travels.

True, honest Mirza !-you may trust my rhyme-Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Something does follow at a fitter time;
The breast thus publicly resign'd to man
In private may resist him-if it can.

O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore,
Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more!
And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste

and will

It is to love the lovely beldames still! [sprite
Thou ghost of Queensberry! whose judging
Satan may spare to peep a single night,
Pronounce if ever in your days of bliss
Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;
To teach the young ideas how to rise,
Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;
Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,
With half-told wish, and ill-dissembled flame :
For prurient nature still will storm the breast-
Who, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?

But ye-who never felt a single thought,
For what our morals are to be, or ought;
Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,
Say-would you make those beauties quite so
cheap?

Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form
From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm?
At once love's most endearing thought resign,
To press the hand so press'd by none but thine;
To gaze upon that eye which never met
Another's ardent look without regret ;
Approach the lip which all, without restraint,
Come near enough-if not to touch-to taint;
If such thou lovest-love her then no more,
Or give-like her-caresses to a score ;
Her mind with these is gone, and with it go
The little left behind it to bestow.

Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme?
Thy bard forgot thy praises were his theme.
Terpsichore, forgive !-at every ball
My wife now waltzes-and my daughters shall,
My son-(or stop-'tis needless to inquire-
These little accidents should ne'er transpire;
Some ages hence our genealogic tree

Will wear as green a bough for him as me)-
Grandsons for me-in heirs to all his friends.
Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends,

THE VISION OF JUDGMENT,

BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS.

SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF WAT TYLER. PUBLISHED IN THE LIBERAL.' 1822.

'A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel !

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.'

PREFACE.

IT hath been wisely said, that 'One fool makes many; and it hath been poetically observed

'That fools rush in were angels fear to tread.'-POPE.

If Mr Southey had not rushed in where he had no business, and where he never was before, and never will be again, the following poem would not have been written. It is not impossible that it may be as good as his own, seeing that it cannot, by any species of stupidity, natural or acquired, be worse. The gross flattery, the dull impudence, the renegado intolerance, and impious cant, of the poem by the author of 'Wat Tyler,' are something so stupendous as to form the sublime of himself-containing the quintessence of his own attributes.

So much for his poem-a word on his preface. In this preface it has pleased the magnanimous Laureate to draw the picture of a supposed 'Satanic School,' the which he doth recommend to the notice of the Legislature; thereby adding to his other laurels the ambition of those of an informer. If there exists anywhere, except in his imagination, such a school, is he not sufficiently armed against it by his own intense vanity? The truth is, that there are certain writers whom Mr S. imagines, like Scrub, to have talked of him; for they laughed consumedly.'

I think I know enough of most of the writers to whom he is supposed to allude, to assert, that they, in their individual capacities, have done more good, in the charities of life, to their fellow-creatures in any one year, than Mr Southey has done harm to himself by his absurdities in his whole life; and this is saying a great deal. But I have a few questions to ask.

1stly, is Mr Southey the author of Wat Tyler?

2dly, Was he not refused a remedy at law by the highest judge of his beloved England, because it was a blasphemous and seditious publication?

3dly, Was he not entitled by William Smith, in full Parliament, 'a rancorous renegado'? 4thly, Is he not Poet Laureate, with his own lines on Martin the regicide staring him in the face?

And 5thly, Putting the four preceding items together, with what conscience dare he call the attention of the laws to the publications of others, be they what they may?

I say nothing of the cowardice of such a proceeding; its meanness speaks for itself; but I wish to touch upon the motive, which is neither more nor less than that Mr S. has been laughed at a little in some recent publications, as he was of yore in the Anti-Jacobin by his present patrons. Hence all this skimble-scamble stuff' about 'Satanic,' and so forth. However, it is worthy of him-qualis ab incepto.'

If there is anything obnoxious to the political opinions of a portion of the public in the following poem, they may thank Mr Southey. He might have written hexameters, as he has written everything else, for aught that the writer cared-had they been upon another subject. But to attempt to canonize a monarch who, whatever were his household virtues, was neither a successful nor a patriot king,-inasmuch as several years of his reign passed in war with America and Ireland, to say nothing of the aggression upon France,-like all other exaggeration, necessarily begets opposition. In whatever manner he may be spoken of in this new Vision, his public career will not be more favourably transmitted by history. Of his private virtues (although a little expensive to the nation) there can be no doubt.

With regard to the supernatural personages treated of, I can only say that I know as much about them, and (as an honest man) have a better right to talk of them than Robert Southey. I have also treated them more tolerantly. The way in which that poor insane creature, the Laureate, deals about his judgments in the next world, is like his own judgments in this. If it was not completely ludicrous, it would be something worse. I don't think that there is much more to say at present.

QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS.

P.S.-It is possible that some readers may object, in these objectionable times, to the freedom with which saints, angels, and spiritual persons discourse in this Vision. But, for precedents upon such points, I must refer him to Fielding's Journey from this World to the next, and to the Visions of myself, the said Quevedo, in Spanish or translated. The reader is also requested to observe that no doctrinal tenets are insisted upon or discussed; that the person of the Deity is carefully withheld from sight, which is more than can be said for the Laureate, who hath thought proper to make Him talk, not like a school divine,' but like the unscholar-like Mr Southey. The whole action passes on the outside of heaven; and Chaucer's Wife of Bath, Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, Swift's Tale of a Tub, and the other works above referred to, are cases in point of the freedom with which saints, &c., may be permitted to converse In works not intended to be serious.-Q.R.

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Mr Southey being, as he says, a good Christian and vindictive, threatens, I understand, a reply to this our answer. It is to be hoped that his visionary faculties will in the mean time have acquired a little more judgment, properly so called: otherwise he will get himself into new dilemmas. These apostate Jacobins furnish rich rejoinders. Let him take a specimen. Southey laudeth grievously one Mr Landor,' who cultivates much private renown in the shape of Latin verses; and not long ago, the Poet Laureate dedicated to him, it appeareth, one of his fugitive lyrics upon the strength of a poem called Gebir. Who could suppose that in this same Gebir the aforesaid Savage Landor (for such is his grim cognomen) putteth into the infernal regions no less a person than the hero of his friend Mr Southey's heaven,-yea, even George the Third! See also how personal Savage becometh, when he hath a mind. The following is his portrait of our late gracious sovereign:

(Prince Gebir having descended into the infernal regions, the shades of his royal ancestors are, at his request, called up to his view; and he exclaims to his ghostly guide)

'Aroar, what wretch that nearest us? what wretch
Is that with eyebrows white and slanting brow?
Listen him yonder who, bound down supine,,

Shrinks yelling from that sword there, engine-hung.
He too amongst my ancestors! I hate
The despot, but the dastard I despise.
Was he our countryman?'

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