Or did it come in Orders from above,
From her who sacrificed her Soul to Love?
Rigby whose Conscience is a perfect dice,
A just Epitome of every Vice,
Replete with what Accomplishments support
The empty Admiration of a Court,
Yet wants a Barony to grace record,
And hopes to lose the Rascal in the Lord.
His wish is granted, and the King prepares
A Title of renown to brand his heirs.
When Vice creates the Patent for a Peer,
What Lord so nominally great as Clare?
Whilst Chatham from his coronetted Oak
Unheeded shook the Senate with his Croak:
The Minister too powerful to be right,
Laugh'd at his prophecy and Second sight,
Since Mother Shipton's Oracle of State
Forestall'd the future Incidents of Fate.
Grafton might shake his elbows, dance and drea
"Twere labor lost to strive against the stream.
If Grafton in his juggling Statesman's game
Bubbled for Interest, betted but for Fame,
The Leader of the Treasury could pay
For every loss in Politics and Play.
Sir Fletcher's noisy Eloquence of tongue,
Is on such pliant oily hinges hung,
Turn'd to all points of politics and doubt,
But tho' for ever worsted, never out.
Can such a wretched Creature take the Chair
And exercise his new made Power with air?
This worthy Speaker of a worthy Crew,
Can write long Speeches and repeat them too,
A practis'd Lawyer in the venal Court,
From higher Powers he borrows his report;
Above the scandalous aspersion Tool,
He only squares his Conscience by a Rule.
Granby too great to join the hated Cause,
Throws down his useless Truncheon and withdraws,
Whilst unrenowned for military deeds,
A youthful branch of Royalty succeeds.
Let Coventry, Yonge, Palmerston and Brett
With Resignation pay the Crown a debt;
If in return for Offices of Trust,
The Ministry expect you'll prove unjust,*
What Soul that values Freedom could with ease,
Stoop under Obligations such as these.
If you a Briton, every Virtue dead,
That would upon your dying Freedom tread,
List in the Gang and piously procure,
To make your calling and Election sure;
Go flatter Sawney for his Jockeyship,
Assist in each long shuffle, hedge and slip,
Thus rising on the stilts of Favour see
What Grafton was, and future Dukes will be.
How Rigby, Weymouth, Barrington began
To juggle into Fame and play the Man.
Amidst this general rage of turning out,
What Officer will stand, remains a doubt.
If Virtue's an Objection at the Board,
With what Propriety the Council's stor`d;
Where could the Caledonian Minion find
Such striking Copies of his venal mind?
Search thro' the winding Labyrinths of Place,
See all alike politically base.
If Virtues, foreign to the Office, Shine,
How fast the Prodigies of State resign!
Still as they drop, the rising race begin
To boast the infamy of being in.
And generous Bristol, constant to his friend,
Employs his lifted Crutches to ascend.
Look round thee, North! see what a glorious sceneO let no thought of vengeance intervene :
Throw thy own insignificance aside,
And swell in self-importance, Power and Pride.
See Holland easy with his pilfer'd store,
See Bute intriguing how to pilfer more,
See Grafton's Coffers boast the wealth of Place,
A provident reserve to hedge a Race.
New to Oppression and the servile Chain,
Hark how the wrong'd Americans complain.
Whilst unregarded the Petitions lie,
And Liberty unnoticed swells her cry;
Yet, yet reflect, thou despicable thing,
How wavering is the favour of a King;
Think, since that feeble fence and Bute is all,
How soon thy humbug Farce of State may fall,
Then catch the present moment while 'tis thine,
Implore a noble Pension and Resign.
JOURNAL 6th, Saturday, Sept. 30, 1769.
Copied from a Poem in Chatterton's hand-writing in the British Museum:
"Tis Myst'ry all, in every Sect
You find this palpable defect,
The Axis of the dark machine
Is enigmatic and unseen.
Opinion is the only guide
By which our Senses are supply'd,
Mere Grief's conjecture, Fancy's whim,
Can make our Reason, side with him.
But this Discourse perhaps will be
As little lik'd by you as me,
I'll change the Subject for a better,
And leave the Docter, and his Letter.
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