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HEROIC EPISTLE

TITUS GATES,

TO HIS LINEAL DESCBNDAXT,

AGAG GATES,

AT OXFORD.

O quanto mi diletta
Di veder finalraente
Un di mia famiglia
Si grande e si potente! — Bertola.

LONDON :
PUBLISHED BY C. EDMONDS, 154, STRAND.
1845.

Price Sixpence.

HEROIC EPISTLE.

Prom Limbo's glimmering shades and twilight cells.
Where many a ghost of wit abortive dwells.
And keen kind souls, renown'd on earth of yore.
Who witness'd what they knew, and something more,
Old Oates, the father of thy pedigree.
Sends his best blessing, young wild Oates, to thee !
Live, Agag, live, and take the ancestral pride
To worth like thine by right of birth allied ;
Live, and like me from dull oblivion pass.
With spectral eyes, and goggles of green glass, 10
And that recoiling tread, that bids thee go
As though Guy Pawkes had mined thy path below.
To watch at Mary's porch, and well count out
Those bad young Sophs, that dare to be devout ;
a2

Thence hastening to inform, with busy pains.
Those reverend Heads, so destitute of brains.
Who know not yet, that all at dawn who rise
To matin prayer, are Jesuits in disguise : —
Live long, and be thy painful toils repaid ;
And, Oxford, live, while Agag lives to aid ! 20
It joy'd my spirit, when the blazing star
Of grim George Gordon led his dupes to war.
And flaming Bridewells for their sins were sent.
Like Roman candles, to the firmament ;
It sooth'd my scarr'd remembrance of the scourge.
When voices deep as the loud-sounding surge
Hail'd the red fires, and rais'd the gladd'ning yell.
As one by one the Pope's vile gin-shops fell :
But poor that triumph ; dim that star would shine.
If power half equal to thy wiU were thine ! 30
Awake, arise, and rouse the slumbering might
Of plundering Protestants to march by night.
And scare each Roman wizard where he dwells.
Break his weird wand, and scatter all his spells,
His books o'erthrow, and make full end at once
Of Bellarmine, new Mohler, and old Duns ;

As when stern Mansfield felt his arts o'erturn'd.
When his wise wigs and cunning books were burn'd.
And the bold Gordon saw, or dreamt he saw,'
An end of Popish Lyttleton and Law. -iO
Think what a soul was his, that dar'd defy
Dull Reason, active Zeal's worst enemy ;^
Or his, who counted all his toil but loss,
Till he had drawn and quarter'd Charing Cross ; —
Immortal deed ! — when Oxford's darling son,
Cornelius Burgess, led his ban-dogs on.''
Dear Agag, learn of me true Virtue's pains.
Fortune from others :* — yet I had my gains.
When pious Wharton taught King William bold
To recompense my smarts with Treasury gold. 50
Thou too, perchance, shalt win ; but falter not.
Denounce aloud those " stiflers of the plot,"
Who speak of peace, when war thy zeal would bring.
And plead that Conscience is a sacred thing.
Go, arm thy front with brass, and from thy heart,
(Heart sure thou hast,) bid modest shame depart ;
(1) " Aut videt, aut vidiase putat." — Virg. It is the privilege of such minions of the
Moon to see more than other folk.
(2) " De tous nos maux la Raison est le pire." — Boileau. It is an old complaint.
(3) See his Life in Antony Wood.
(•*) ¦ " Disce, puer, virtutem ex me, icrumque laborem,
Fortunam ex aliis." — Virg,

Take each prov'd comrade, whose plebeian mind
Bids him be coarse, because he can't be kind,
Falsetto hot and heavy, — Simcox rash.
Whose great-great-grandsire felt Duke Humfrey's lash,* — 60
The buU-form'd veteran, waiting long forlorn
For good Don Martin's shoes, — his own outworn, —
And all who preach, and teach, and rail, and write,
Against each gleam of ancient Truth and Light ;
And shew the world how Protestants should prove
Their Faith, by hating him whom all men love !
Woe to the few whose brains are yet un-turn'd,
Who scorn to live and learn what thou hast learn'd ;
The sceptic ones, who say that wounded pride
Has been the spur to goad thyjaded side, 70
And hint in terms obscure, as if they knew,
" Had Jaffier's friends been kind, he'd still been true :''
That all were just the Tracts have sung or said.
Had they but march'd with Agag at their head ;
Nor once remorse had tingled through thy veins,
Or paled thy cheek, hadst thou but kept the reins.
Poor scandal ! Know they not what dext'rous art
Taught thee, like me, to play the patriot's part ;
( I ) See the stoiy ia Shakspeare's Henry VI.

Taught thee, as Dogberry says, " the eftest way "
To spoil Rome's plots, the traitors to betray ?' 80
Go on, hunt out the thieves that walk the fold.
And Fortune pay thy pains with Treasury gold.
Why shouldst thou doubt ? Thou hast my virtues all.
True likeness of thy great original ;
And where the vulgar say, thy zeal mistook.
Sure, though the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke.'
Who dares assert that Agag e'er did lie 1
He tracks the coverts of futurity ;
And if not yet the Romish fox appear.
No matter, — 'twill be there another year. 90
Hearts that not yet to mischief feel inclin'd,
Like the bold pirate's, will, if put in mind f
And each new convert helps the crowd to bless
Thy pious rage, and herald thy success.
So one more deep than thou his victim found.
And watch'd his time, and fix'd his words to wound,
" When struggling Virtue scarce maintain'd her ground."*

(1) See the words of old Titus to Bishop Bumet, in his Hist. i. 128.
(2) Dryden's words, of Titus's evidence. — Absalom and AcJiitophel.
(3) "We were not thinking of mischief, and why should you put us in mind of itT'
Captain Goffe to Triptolemus Yellowley.
(4) Shaftesbury and Monmouth. See Absalom and Acltitophel.

Be bold, dear Agag, like thy sire of old ;
But keep his warning too. Be not too bold.
The stage of old promotion down is cast, 100
The pillory number'd with the things o'erpast ;
Else might we see thy wond'rous wit and sense,
" By merit rais'd to that bad eminence."
But Law yet lives. E'en Gordon found his date, —
Truth needs must own, — a century too late,
Sav'd the dark doom of many a witless thing,
For Mercy reigned, and George the Third was King.
Let thy good plot hold on without a flaw ;
Rail on, — but rail to windward of the Law ;
Let Malice creep, where Malice may not go j 110
Lear's Fool said well, " Speak less than thou dost know ;"
Still point thy speech with morals, such as grave
Gil Bias' old clothesman, or sweet Needham gave ;
Speak kind advice to each rash foe you slay.
As pitying wolves howl meekly o'er their prey ;
And my poor gibbering ghost shall joy to see
Its deeds, and sufferings, all outdone by thee !

And now, farewell ! Thy useful pains o'erpast,
rieas'J luayst thou rest amidst our crew at last.

Congenial spirits here aloft up-whirl'd, 12 (J
Flit round the windy backside of the world ;'
Old Torquemada, grisly yet in death.
With frown of burning Zeal and boisterous Faith ;
And that grim architect, whose work lives on
In the dark tower of smiling Avignon ;
Stout Bonner with his visage still on flame ; —
Our game was different, but our hearts the same ; —
Mild Matthew Hopkins, — when he walk'd his round.
No witch or wizard breath'd on English ground ;
John Endicott, New England's boast and praise, 130
Who taught the Transatlantic fixes to blaze.
And when the Assize of witches seem'd to fail.
Threw in four Quakers to make up the tale ;—
All these and more, names long to earth unknown.
From foggy clouds have mark'd thee for their own ;
All these and more, who vex'd the public weal
" With painful superstition and blind zeal,"
(1) See Milton's description of this Limbus Patrum, Par. L. iii. 494 ; —

¦ and now at foot

Of Heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when lo !
A violent crosswind from either coast
Blows them transverse, ten thousand leagues awry,
* * * *
The sport of winds : all these, upwhirled aloft.
Fly o'er the backside of the world far ofF,
Into a limbo large and broad, since called
The Paradise of Fools.

10

For thy brave worth shall yield a passage wide
As Virgil's Scorpion vow'd, when CaBsar died. '
But peace, my soul ! that kindred wish resign : 140
Late be thy flight, for Oxford's sake and thine !

( 1 ) " Ipse tibi jam brachia contrahit ardens
Scorpios." — Virg.

B. OLAY, PRINTER, BREAO STREET JIILE.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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