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LXI-LXX
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
In some old abbey, or a trout not stale,
Or distant lightning on the horizon by night,
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 —
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 personal foe;
Our difference is political, and I
Trust that, whatever may occur below,
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;
`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
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
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
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;
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
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
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,
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
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
`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
Give licence to the humblest beggar`s head
To lift itself against the loftiest.` — `Some,`
Said Wilkes, `don`t wait to see them laid in lead,
For such a liberty — and I, for one,
Have told them what I though beneath the sun.`
LXX
`Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast
To urge against him,` said the Archangel. `Why,`
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
His conduct was but natural in a prince.
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