Crape, lifting up his hands and eyes, "Dulman—the loom-at Chippenham❞—cries ; "If there be pow'rs which greatness love,
Which rule below, but dwell above,
Those pow'rs united all shall join
To contradict the rash design.
Sooner shall stubborn Will lay down His opposition with his gown;
Sooner shall Temple leave the road
Which leads to Virtue's mean abode;
Sooner shall Scots this country quit,
And England's foes be friends to Pitt,
Than Dulman, from his grandeur thrown,
Shall wander outcast and unknown.
Sure as that cane, (a cane there stood
Near to a table made of wood,
Of dry fine wood a table made,
By some rare artist in the trade,
Who had enjoy'd immortal praise
If he had liv'd in Homer's days)
Sure as that cane, which once was seen
In pride of life all fresh and green,
The banks of Indus to adorn,
Then of its leafy honours shorn,
According to exactest rule,
Was fashion'd by the workman's tool,
And which at present we behold
Curiously polish'd, crown'd with gold,
With gold well wrought; sure as that cane
Shall never on its native plain
Strike root afresh, shall never more
Flourish in tawny India's shore,
So sure shall Dulman and his race,
To latest times this station grace."
Dulman, who all this while had kept
His eyelids clos'd as if he slept,
Now looking stedfastly on Crape,
As at some god in human shape-
"Crape, I protest you seem to me
To have discharg'd a prophecy :
Yes-from the first it doth appear,
Planted by Fate, the Dulmans here
Have always held a quiet reign,
And here shall to the last remain.
Crape, they're all wrong about this Ghost
Quite on the wrong side of the post-
Blockheads! to take it in their head
To be a message from the dead,
For that by mission they design,
A word not half so good as mine,
Crape-here it is-start not one doubt-
A plot-a plot-I've found it out."
"O God!" cries Crape,-"How bless'd the nation Where one son boasts such penetration!"
Crape, I've not time to tell you now
When I discover'd this, or how ;
To Stentor go-if he 's not there
His place let Bully Norton bear-
Our citizens to council call-
Let all meet-'t is the cause of all:
Let the three witnesses attend,
With allegations to befriend,
To swear just so much, and no more,
As we instruct them in before.
Stay-Crape-come back-What, don't you see
Th' effects of this discovery?
Dulman all care and toil endures
The profit, Crape, will all be your's.
A mitre, (for this arduous task
Perform'd, they 'll grant whate'er I ask)
A mitre (and perhaps the best)
Shall, thro' my int'rest, make thee blest:
And at this time, when gracious Fate
Dooms to the Scot the reigns of state,
Who is more fit (and for your use
We could some instances produce)
Of England's church to be the head
Than you, a Presbyterian bred?
But when thus mighty you are made,
Unlike the brethren of thy trade,
Be grateful, Crape, and let me not,
Like old Newcastle, be forgot.
But an affair, Crape, of this size
Will ask from conduct vast supplies;
It must not, as the vulgar say,
Be done in hugger-mugger way :
Traitors, indeed, (and that's discreet)
Who hatch the plot in private meet:
They should in public go, no doubt,
Whose business is to find it out.
To-morrow-if the day appear
Likely to turn out fair and clear-
Proclaim a grand processionade-
Be all the City-pomp display'd;'
Let the Trainbands"-Crape shook his head-
They heard the trumpet, and were fled—
"Well"-cries the knight" if that's the case
My servants shall supply their place—
My servants-mine alone-no more
Than what my servants did before-
Dost not remember, Crape, that day
When, Dulman's grandeur to display,
As, all too simple and too low,
Our City-friends were thrust below,
Whilst, as more worthy of our love,
Courtiers were entertain'd above?
Tell me, who waited then? and how?
My servants-mine-and why not now?
In haste then, Crape, to Stentor go-
But send up Hart, who waits below;
With him, till you return again,
Reach me my spectacles and cane)
I'll make a proof how I advance in
My new accomplishment of dancing."
Not quite so fast as lightning flies,
Wing'd with red anger, thro' the skies;
Not quite so fast as sent by Jove,
Iris descends on wings of love;
Not quite so fast as Terror rides,
When he the chafing winds bestrides,
Crape hobbled-but his mind was good-
Cou'd he go faster than he cou'd ?
Near to that tow'r which, as we 're told,
The mighty Julius rais'd of old;
* Where to the block, by Justice led,
The rebel Scot hath often bled;
Where arms are kept so clean, so bright,
'Twere sin they should be soil'd in fight;
Where brutes of foreign race are shown
By brutes much greater of our own;
Fast by the crowded Thames, is found
An ample square of sacred ground,
Where artless Eloquence presides,
And Nature ev'ry sentence guides.
Here female parliaments debate
About religion, trade, and state;
Here ev'ry Naiad's patriot soul,
Disdaining foreign base control,
Despising French, despising Erse,
Pours forth the plain old English curse,
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