The mob turn'd tail, and he pursued,

Till they with heat and fright* were stew'd,
And not a chick of all this brood

But had his belly full.

XIII.

Old Nick's astride the beast, 'tis clear—

Old Nicholas, to a tittle!

But all agree, he'd disappear,

Would but the Parson venture near,

And through his teeth,† right o'er the steer,
Squirt out some fasting-spittle.

XIV.

Achilles was a warrior fleet,

The Trojans he could worry-
Our Parson too was swift of feet,
But shew'd it chiefly in retreat :
The victor Ox scour'd down the street,
The mob fled hurry-scurry.

XV.

Through gardens, lanes and fields new-plough'd,
Through his hedge, and through her hedge,

He plunged and toss'd and bellow'd loud,
Till in his madness he grew proud

To see this helter-skelter crowd

That had more wrath than courage.

* With fright and fear-1798.

† According to the superstition of the West-Countries, if you meet the Devil, you may either cut him in half with a straw, or force him to disappear by spitting over his horns.

XVI.

Alas! to mend the breaches wide
He made for these poor ninnies,
They all must work, whate'er betide,
Both days and months, and pay beside
(Sad news for Avarice and for Pride),
A sight of golden guineas!

XVII.

But here once more to view did pop
The man that kept his senses;

And now he cried,-" Stop, neighbours! stop;
The Ox is mad! I would not swop,
No! not a school-boy's farthing-top
For all the parish-fences."

XVIII.

"The Ox is mad! Ho! Dick, Bob, Mat!"

"What means this coward fuss?

Ho! stretch this rope across the plat

"Twill trip him up or if not that, Why, damme! we must lay him flat

See, here's my blunderbuss.

XIX.

"A lying dog!* just now he said The Ox was only glad—

Let's break his presbyterian head!"

"Hush!" quoth the sage, "you've been misled ; No quarrels now-let's all make head

YOU DROVE THE POOR OX MAD."

* A barefaced dog!—1798.

XX.

As thus I sat in careless chat *

With the morning's wet newspaper,
In eager haste, without his hat,
As blind and blundering as a bat,
In came that fierce aristocrat,
Our pursy Woollen-draper.

XXI.

And so my Muse perforce drew bit;
And in he rush'd and panted—

"Well, have you heard ?"

66

No, not a whit.

'What, ha'nt you heard ?"

Come, out with it!

"That Tierney votes for Mister Pitt,

And Sheridan's recanted!"†

TALLEYRAND TO LORD GRENVILLE. A METRICAL EPISTLE.‡

[AN unmetrical letter from Talleyrand to Lord Grenville has already appeared, and from an authority too high to be questioned: otherwise I could adduce some arguments for the exclusive authenticity of the following metrical Epistle. The very epithet which the wise ancients used, aurea carmina, might have been supposed likely to have determined the choice of

* But lo! to interrupt my chat-1798.
"That Tierney's wounded Mr. Pitt,

And his fine tongue enchanted?"-1798.
Morning Post, January 10, 1800; Coleridge's

on his own Times," vol. 1. pp. 231-237.

"Essays

the French minister in favour of verse; and the rather when we recollect that this phrase of "golden verses is applied emphatically to the works of that philosopher who imposed silence on all with whom he had to deal. Besides is it not somewhat improbable that Talleyrand should have preferred prose to rhyme, when the latter alone has got the chink? Is it not likewise curious that in our official answer no notice whatever is taken of the Chief Consul, Bonaparte, as if there had been no such person existing; notwithstanding that his existence is pretty generally admitted, nay that some have been so rash as to believe that he has created as great a sensation in the world as Lord Grenville, or even the Duke of Portland? But the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Talleyrand, is acknowledged, which, in our opinion, could not have happened had he written only that insignificant prose-letter, which seems to precede Bonaparte's, as in old romances a dwarf always ran before to proclaim the advent or arrival of knight or giant. That Talleyrand's character and practices more resemble those of some regular Governments than Bonaparte's I admit; but this of itself does not appear a satisfactory explanation. However, let the letter speak for itself. The second line is supererogative in syllables, whether from the oscitancy of the transcriber, or from the trepidation which might have overpowered the modest Frenchman, on finding himself in the act of writing to so great a man, I shall not dare to determine. A few Notes are added by

Your servant,
GNOME.

To the Editor of The Morning Post.

P.S.-As mottoes are now fashionable, especially if taken from out-of-the-way books, you may prefix, if

you please, the following lines from Sidonius Apollinaris :

Saxa, et robora, corneasque fibras

Mollit dulciloquá canorus arte !]

TALLEYRAND, MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS AT PARIS, TO LORD GRENVILLE, SECRETARY OF STATE IN GREAT BRITAIN FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS, AUDITOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, A LORD of Trade, an ELDER BROTHER OF TRINITY HOUSE, &c.

MY

Y Lord! though your Lordship repel deviation
From forms long establish'd, yet with high
consideration

I plead for the honour to hope that no blame
Will attach, should this letter begin with my name.
I dared not presume on your Lordship to bounce,
But thought it more exquisite first to announce!
My Lord! I've the honour to be Talleyrand,
And the letter's from me! you'll not draw back
your hand

Nor yet take it up by the rim in dismay,

As boys pick up ha'pence on April fool-day.
I'm no Jacobin foul, or red-hot Cordelier
That your Lordship's ungauntleted fingers need
fear

An infection or burn! Believe me, 'tis true,
With a scorn like your own I look down on the crew
That bawl and hold up to the mob's detestation
The most delicate wish for a silent persuasion.
A form long-establish'd these Terrorists call