So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, Poets themselves must fall like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays, Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart; Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more! VIII.-WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. ; Wol.-Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! More pangs and fears than war or women have; Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Crom.-How does your Grace ? Wol.-Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. A still and quiet conscience. The King has cur'd me, A load would sink a navy, too much honour. I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Crom. O my Lord! Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Wol.-Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Lead me in, and take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny, 'tis the King's. My robe, And my integrity to Heav'n, are all I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal IX. ON THE DEATH OF HENRY KIRKE WHITE. UNHAPPY White! while life was in its spring, Oh! what a noble heart was here undone, She sowed the seeds, but Death has reap'd the fruit. He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel; X.-UNHAPPY CLOSE OF LIFE. How shocking must thy summons be, O Death! Oh, might she stay to wash away her stains; HUMOROUS, SATIRICAL, AND COMIC PIECES. I. ON FEMALE ORATORY. We are told by some ancient authors, that Socrates was instructed in eloquence by a woman, whose name, if I am not mistaken, was Aspasia. I have indeed very often looked upon that art as the most proper for the female sex; and I think the universities would do well to consider whether they should not fill the rhetoric chairs with she-professors. It has been said in the praise of some men, that they could talk whole hours together upon any thing; but it must be owned, to the honour of the other sex, that there are many among them who can talk whole hours together upon nothing. I have known a woman branch out into a long extempore dissertation upon the edging of a petticoat, and chide her servant for breaking a china cup, in all the figures of rhetoric. Were women admitted to plead in courts of judicature, I am persuaded they would carry the eloquence of the bar to greater heights than it has yet arrived at. If any one doubts this, let him but be present at those debates which frequently arise among the ladies of the British fishery.l The first kind, therefore of female orators which I shall take notice of, are those who are employed in stirring up the passions; a part of rhetoric in which Socrates's wife had perhaps made a greater proficiency than his above-mentioned teacher. The second kind of female orators are those who deal in invectives, and who are commonly known by the name of the Censorious. The imagination and elocution of this set of rhetoricians is wonderful. With what a fluency of invention, and copiousness of expression, will they enlarge upon every little slip in the behaviour of another! With how many different circumstances, and with what variety of The writer means the Fishwomen of Billingsgate. |