Now let the full Buzaglo glow!
Spread wide the flame above, below :
Now Montesquieu, thy wisdom shines ;
Thy system's true, 'tis heat refines :
It's genial influence all adore ;
And opposition is no more.

From bench to bench, in spite of gout, The soften'd Chatham moves about: "My good Lord Sandwich, how d'ye do ? "I like the speech; 'twas penn'd by you. "America has gone too far;

"We must support so just a war : "It's better than to put a curb on

"The Spaniard, or the House of Bourbon. "Good-day, my lord! I could say more ; "But I must talk to dear Lord Gower.” Chac'd is the cloud from Shelburn's brows; How graciously to Bute he bows! See Camden sitting as a friend by

Mansfield! see Richmond close to Denbigh ;
Ev'n hardy Devonshire relents;

He smiles and votes with the Contents;
While Abingdon, at Markham's nod,
Kisses the magisterial rod.

Their leaders gone, it follows duly, The plastic minds of Corke and Beaulieu,

With half a score of silent votes,

Obey the times, and change their notes.
And ah, if Fitzroy's whim requires,
Ev'n Hinchliff's eloquence expires!
What wonder then their lordships press,
Without division, the Address?

Now haste my Muse, at Fancy's summons, To try thy Project on the Commons.

A secret sympathy espouses

The upper and the lower houses;

Thus half thy work 's already done;
Where Chatham hobbles, Granby 'll run.
If Rockingham became a Turk,

How Mahomet would shine on Burke ?
He'd send him his enlight'ning pigeon:
For party zeal is Burke's religion.

But some there are of firmer frame;
For them must the Buzaglo flame :
Grenville's with stubborn sense endued;
Saville but lives for public good.
Yet if ambition, or the weather
Some gloomy discontent should gather,
The temper'd air shall chase offence;
And blend good humor with good sense.
Behold at length ev'n Barre soften!
"I rise to oppose," He murmur'd often :
But finding that, he knows not how,

Reluctant praise his words allow,
The hardy veteran sits him down;
Yet gives the Treasury Bench a frown.
Now mark the Statesmen of the City!
Hark, Wilkes grows civil! Hayley witty I
Sawbridge, so chang'd the scene appears,
Consents to keep his seat, seven years;
Ev'n Bull, the savage Bull, looks tame!
And melts before the conq'ring flame.

Not so the Luttrels; in despair The clamorous band besiege the chair. “I burn, I burn,” old Irnham cries: The Colonel thinks the Proje wise; But Jack and Jemmy jointly pledge. Themselves, 'tis breach of privilege; And Temple, Greece and Rome can hawk in, Against this barb'rous stop to talking— In vain; the House enjoys the effect And the Buzaglo all protect.

But Fox, more warily, to gain

His dear delight to speak again,

Most humbly moves, since they approve
This potent wonder-working stove,
Lest some unseen mischance ensue,

They'd have a Ventilator too.
Tho' plausible, his Project fails;
Thine, happy Muse, alone prevails.

The vanquish'd Charles to Almack's fled, The Speech is prais'd: th' Address is read: The Question carried nem'ne con:

The House is up: the business done.

EPISTLE XII.

THE

PLEASURES OF THE MIND.

KIND NATURE, with a mother's joys
Her every art to charm employs,
For man-The golden King of day
Pours light, health, beauty, in his ray.
The Morn in silver tresses bright,
With milder charms salutes his sight,
And Night her shadowy curtain draws,
Indulging sleep's refreshing pause:
For man the purply finger'd Hours,
Dress beauteous Spring in new-blown flow'rs;
Teach her to breathe a rich perfume,
And smile with eye-enchanting bloom.
Then, ripe in beauty's glowing pride,
Blithe Summer, Sol's refulgent bride,

Bids Plenty revel o'er the plains,
And carol heart enlivening strains.
Next, Autumn calls the sylvan pow'rs,

To lay him soft in shady bow'rs,

Where grape and nectarine, plum and peach,

May tempting hang within his reach!