256
BYRON'S WORKS.
LXXVII.
Another that he was a duke, or knight,
An orator, a lawyer, or a priest,*
A nabob, a man-midwife; but the wightMysterious changed his countenance at leastAs oft as they their minds: though in full sightHe stood, the puzzle only was increased;
The man was a phantasmagoria inHimselfhe was so volatile and thin.
LXXVIII.
The moment that you had pronounced him one ,Presto 1 his face changed, and he was another ;And when that change was hardly well put on,
It varied, till I don’t think his own mother(If that he had a mother) would her sonHave known, he shifted so from one to t'other;Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task,
At this epistolary “ Iron Mask.”
I/XXJX.
For sometimes he like Cerberus would seem—
“ Three gentlemen at once” (as sagely saysGood Mrs. Malaprop); then you might deemThat he was not even one ; now many raysWere flashing round him ; and now a thick steamHid him from sight—like fogs on London days:Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people’sfancies,
And certes often like Sir Philip Francis .lxxx.
I’ve an hypothesis—’tis quite my own;
I never let it out till now, for fearOf doing people harm about the throne,
And injuring some minister or peer,
On whom the stigma might perhaps be blown;
It is—my gentle public, lend thine ear!
Tis that what Junius we are wont to callWas really, truly , nobody at all.
LXXXI.
I don’t see wherefore letters should not beWritten without hands, since we daily viewThem written without heads; and books, we see,Are flll’d as well without the latter, too •
And really till we fix on somebodyFor certain sure to claim them as his due,
Their author, like the Niger ’s mouth, will botherThe world to say if there be mouth or author. 1
LXXXII.
“ And who and what art thou ?” the Archangel said.
“ For that you may consult my title-page,”
Replied this mighty shadow of a shade :
“ If I have kept my secret half an age,
I scarce shall tell it now.” “ Canst thou upbraid,”Continued Michael, “George Rex, or allegeAught further?” Junius answer’d, “You hadbetter
First ask him for his answer to my letter.”
LXXX nx.
**Wy charges upon record will outlastThe brass of both his epitaph and tomb.”
4 ‘ Repent'st thou not,” said Michael, “ of some p^sfcExaggeration ? something which may doom
Thyself if false, as him if true ? Thou wastToo bitter—is it not so ?—in thy gloomOf passion?”—“Passion!” cried the phantom dim?“ I loved my country and I hated him.”
LXXXIV
“ What I have written, I have written: letThe rest be on his head or mine!*’ So spokeOld “Nominis Umbra;" and while speaking yet,Away he melted in celestial smoke.
Then Satan said to Michael, “Don't forgetTo call George Washington , and John Horn®Tooke,
And Franklin—but at this time there was heardA cry for room, though not a phantom stirr'd.’
LXXXV.
At length, with jostling, elbowing, and the aidOf cherubim appointed to that post,
The devil Asmodeus to the circle madeHis way, and look’d as if his journey costSome trouble. When his burden down he laid,
“ What’s this?” cried Michael; “why, ’tis not ftghost!”
“I know it,” quoth the incubus; “but heShall be one, if you leave the affair to me.
lxxxvi.
“ Confound the renegado! I have sprain’dMy left wing, he’s so heavy; one would thinkSome of his works about his neck were chain’d.
But to tbe point: while hovering o’er the brinkOf Skiddaw (where as usual it still rain’d),
I saw a taper, far below me, wink,
And stooping, caught this fellow at a libel—■
No less on history than the Holy Bible .
LXXXVIf.
“ The former is the devil’s scripture, andThe latter yours, good Michael; so the affairBelongs to all of us, you understand.
I snatch'd him up just as you see him there,
And brought him off for sentence out of hand:
I’ve scarcely been ten minutes in the air—
At least a quarter it can hardly be;
I dare say that his wife is still at tea.”
Lxxxvm.
Here Satan said, “ I know this man of old,
And have expected him for some time here •
A sillier fellow you will scarce behold,
Or more conceited in his petty sphere:
But surely it was not worth while to foldSuch trash below your wing, Asmodeus dear.
We bad the poor wretch safe (without being boredWith carriage) coming of his own accord.
LXXXIX.
“ But since he’s here, let’s see what he has done.”
“Done!” cried Asmodeus , “he anticipatesThe very business you are now upon,
And scribbles as if head clerk to the Fates.
Who knows to what his ribaldry may run,
When such an ass as this, like Balaam ’s,prates?”
“Let’s hear,” quoth Michael, “what he has tosay;
You know we're bound to that in every way.”