FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER. A WAR ECLOGUE.* The Scene a desolated Tract in La Vendée. to her enter FIRE and SLAUGHTER. Fam. SISTERS! sisters! who sent you here? Spirits hear what spirits tell : 'Twill make a holiday in Hell. Myself I named him once below, Clapp'd their hands and danced for glee. They no longer heeded me; But laugh'd to hear Hell's burning rafters Spirits hear what spirits tell : *First printed in the Morning Post, January 8, 1798. Reprinted in the second volume of the Annual Anthology, Bristol, 1800. † Depopulated-1798. Stretched-ib. § I will name him in your ear.—Ib. Fam. Whisper it, sister! so and so! In a dark hint, soft and slow.* Slau. Letters four do form his name-t And who sent you? Both. The same! the same! Slau. He came by stealth, and unlock'd my den, And I have drunk ‡ the blood since then Of thrice three hundred § thousand men. Both. Who bade you do 't? Slau. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried Halloo ! To him alone the praise is due. Fam. Thanks, sister, thanks! the men have bled, Their wives and their children faint for bread. I stood in a swampy field of battle; With bones and skulls I made a rattle, Both. Whisper it, sister! in our ear. * Then sound it not, yet let me know; Darkly hint it-soft and low !—1798. (And so throughout + Four letters form his name-ib. the poem as it appeared in the Morning Post.) Spill'd-1798. § Thrice ten hundred-Ib. Fam. A baby beat its dying mother: I had starved the one and was starving the other! Both. Who bade you do't? Fam. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried, Halloo ! Fire. Sisters! I from Ireland came ! I flung back my head and I held my sides, To see the swelter'd cattle run With uncouth gallop through the night,† By the light of his own blazing cot The house-stream met the flame ‡ and hiss'd, On some of those old bed-rid nurses, Fire. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried Halloo ! To him alone the praise is due. * As on I strode with monstrous strides-1798. † All the night—-il. The fire-il. All. He let us loose, and cried Halloo ! How shall we yield him honour due? Fam. Wisdom comes with lack of food. I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude, Till the cup of rage o'erbrim: They shall seize him and his brood— Slau. They shall tear him limb from limb! Fire. O thankless beldames and untrue! And is this all that you can do For him, who did so much for you? [To Slaughter. For you he turn'd the dust to mud With his fellow-creatures' blood! To Famine. And hunger scorch'd as many more To make your cup of joy run o'er. To Both.] Ninety months he, by my troth! Hath richly cater'd for you both; And in an hour would you repay An eight years' work?*-Away! away! Cling to him everlastingly. THE DEVIL'S THOUGHTS.† I. FROM his brimstone bed at break of day * An eight years' debt?-1798. + Printed in The Morning Post, Sept. 6, 1799 (with the stanzas in a somewhat different order). To visit his snug little farm the Earth, II. Over the hill and over the dale, And he went over the plain, And backward and forward he switch'd † his long As a gentleman switches his cane. III. And how then was the Devil drest? Oh! he was in his Sunday's best : [tail His jacket was red and his breeches were blue, And there was a hole where the tail came through. IV. He saw a Lawyer killing a viper On a dunghill hard by his own stable; V. He saw an Apothecary on a white horse ||Ride by on his vocation; *To look at his little snug farm of the earth, And see how his stock went on.-1799. + Swish'd-Iv. Swishes-lb. § On the dunghill beside his stable; · 'Oh oh,' quoth he, for it put him in mind Of the story of Cain and Abel.—Ib. An Apothecary on a white horse Rode by, &c.-Ib. |