I say that I can tell – ’twas half a minute: | |
I know the solar beams take up more time | |
Ere, pack’d up for their journey, they begin it; | |
But then their telegraph is less sublime, | |
445 | And if they ran a race, they would not win it |
‘Gainst Satan’s couriers bound for their own clime. | |
The sun takes up some years for every ray | |
To reach its goal — the devil not half a day. | |
LV II | |
Upon the verge of space, about the size | |
450 | Of half-a-crown, a little speck appear’d |
(I’ve seen a something like it in the skies | |
In the Ægean, ere a squall); it near’d, | |
And, growing bigger, took another guise; | |
Like an aerial ship it tack’d, and steer’d, | |
455 | Or |
Of the last phrase, which makes the stanza stammer; – | |
LVIII | |
But take your choice); and then it grew a cloud; | |
And so it was – a cloud of witnesses. | |
But such a cloud! No land e’er saw a crowd | |
460 | Of locusts numerous as the heavens saw these; |
They shadow’d with their myriads space; their loud | |
And varied cries were like those of wild geese | |
(If nations may be liken’d to a goose), | |
And realised the phrase of ‘hell broke loose.’ | |
LIX | |
465 | Here crash’d a sturdy oath of stout John Bull, |
Who damn’d away his eyes as heretofore: | |
There Paddy brogued ‘By Jasus!’ – ‘What’s your wull?’ | |
The temperate Scot exclaim’d: the French ghost swore | |
In certain terms I shan’n’t translate in full, | |
470 | As the first coachman will; and ’midst the roar |
The voice of Jonathan was heard to express, | |
‘ | |
LX | |
Besides there were the Spaniard, Dutch, and Dane; | |
In short, an universal shoal of shades, | |
475 | From Otaheite’s isle to Salisbury Plain, |
Of all climes and professions, years and trades, | |
Ready to swear against the good king’s reign, | |
Bitter as clubs in cards are against spades: | |
All summon’d by this grand ‘subpoena,’ to | |
480 | Try if kings mayn’t be damn’d like me or you. |
LXI | |
When Michael saw this host, he first grew pale, | |
As angels can; next, like Italian twilight, | |
He turn’d all colours – as a peacock’s tail, | |
Or sunset streaming through a Gothic skylight | |
485 | In some old abbey, or a trout not stale, |
Or distant lightning on the horizon | |
Or a fresh rainbow, or a grand review | |
Of thirty regiments in red, green, and blue. | |
LXII | |
Then he address’d himself to Satan: ‘Why – | |
490 | My good old friend, for such I deem you, though |
Our different parties make us fight so shy, | |
I ne’er mistake you for a | |
Our difference is | |
Trust that, whatever may occur below, | |
495 | You know my great respect for you: and this |
Makes me regret whate’er you do amiss – | |
LXIII | |
‘Why, my dear Lucifer, would you abuse | |
My call for witnesses? I did not mean | |
That you should half of earth and hell produce; | |
500 | ’Tis even superfluous, since two honest, clean, |
True testimonies are enough: we lose | |
Our time, nay, our eternity, between | |
The accusation and defence: if we | |
Hear both, ’twill stretch our immortality.’ | |
LXIV | |
505 | Satan replied, ‘To me the matter is |
Indifferent, in a personal point of view: | |
I can have fifty better souls than this | |
With far less trouble than we have gone through | |
Already; and I merely argued his | |
510 | Late majesty of Britain’s case with you |
Upon a point of form: you may dispose | |
Of him; I’ve kings enough below, God knows!’ | |
LXV | |
Thus spoke the Demon (late call’d ‘multifaced’ | |
By multo-scribbling Southey). ‘Then we’ll call | |
515 | One or two persons of the myriads placed |
Around our congress, and dispense with all | |
The rest,’ quoth Michael: ‘Who may be so graced | |
As to speak first? there’s choice enough – who shall | |
It be?’ Then Satan answer’d, ‘There are many; | |
520 | But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well as any.’ |
LXVI | |
A merry, cock-eyed, curious-looking sprite | |
Upon the instant started from the throng, | |
Dress’d in a fashion now forgotten quite; | |
For all the fashions of the flesh stick long | |
525 | By people in the next world; where unite |
All the costumes since Adam’s, right or wrong, | |
From Eve’s fig-leaf down to the petticoat, | |
Almost as scanty, of days less remote. | |
LXVII | |
The spirit look’d around upon the crowds | |
530 | Assembled, and exclaim’d, ‘My friends of all |
The spheres, we shall catch cold amongst these clouds; | |
So let’s to business: why this general call? | |
If those are freeholders I see in shrouds, | |
And ’tis for an election that they bawl, | |
535 | Behold a candidate with unturn’d coat! |
Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?’ | |
LXVIII | |
‘Sir,’ replied Michael, ‘you mistake; these things | |
Are of a former life, and what we do | |
Above is more august; to judge of kings | |
540 | Is the tribunal met: so now you know.’ |
‘Then I presume those gentlemen with wings,’ | |
Said Wilkes, ‘are cherubs; and that soul below | |
Looks much like George the Third, but to my mind | |
A good deal older – Bless me! is he blind?’ | |
LXIX | |
545 | ‘He is what you behold him, and his doom |
Depends upon his deeds,’ the Angel said. | |
‘If you have aught to arraign in him, the tomb | |
Gives license to the humblest beggar’s head | |
To lift itself against the loftiest.’ – ‘Some,’ | |
550 | Said Wilkes, ‘don’t wait to see them laid in lead, |
For such a liberty – and I, for one, | |
Have told them what I thought beneath the sun.’ | |
LXX | |
‘ | |
To urge against him,’ said the Archangel. ‘Why,’ | |
555 | Replied the spirit, ‘since old scores are past, |
Must I turn evidence? In faith, not I. | |
Besides, I beat him hollow at the last, | |
With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky | |
I don’t like ripping up old stories, since | |
560 | His conduct was but natural in a prince. |
LXXI | |
‘Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress | |
A poor unlucky devil without a shilling; | |
But then I blame the man himself much less | |
Than Bute and Grafton, and shall be unwilling | |
565 | To see him punish’d here for their excess, |
Since they were both damn’d long ago, and still in | |
Their place below: for me, I have forgiven, | |
And vote his “habeas corpus” into heaven.’ | |
LXXII | |
‘Wilkes,’ said the Devil, ‘I understand all this; | |
570 | You turn’d to half a courtier ere you died, |
And seem to think it would not be amiss | |
To grow a whole one on the other side | |
Of Charon’s ferry; you forget that | |
Reign is concluded; whatsoe’er betide, | |
575 | He won’t be sovereign more: you’ve lost your labour, |
For at the best he will but be your neighbour. | |
LXXIII | |
‘However, I knew what to think of it, | |
When I beheld you in your jesting way | |
Flitting and whispering round about the spit | |
580 | Where Belial, upon duty for the day, |
With Fox’s lard was basting William Pitt, | |
His pupil; I knew what to think, I say: | |
That fellow even in hell breeds farther ills; | |
I’ll have him | |
LXXIV | |
585 | ‘Call Junius!’ From the crowd a shadow stalk’d, |
And at the name there was a general squeeze, |