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LXXXI-XC
LXXXI
I don`t see wherefore letters should not be
Written without hands, since we daily view
Them written without heads; and books, we see,
Are fill`d as well without the latter too:
And really till we fix on somebody
For certain sure to claim them as his due,
Their author, like the Niger`s mouth, will bother
The world to say if there be mouth or author.
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 allege
Aught further?` Junius answer`d, `You had better
First ask him for his answer to my letter:
LXXXIII
`My charges upon record will outlast
The brass of both his epitaph and tomb.`
`Repent`st thou not,` said Michael, `of some past
Exaggeration? something which may doom
Thyself if false, as him if true? Thou wast
Too bitter — is it not so? — in thy gloom
Of passion?` — `Passion!` cried the phantom dim,
`I loved my country, and I hated him.
LXXXIV
`What I have written, I have written: let
The rest be on his head or mine!` So spoke
Old `Nominis Umbra`; and while speaking yet,
Away he melted in celestial smoke.
Then Satan said to Michael, `Don`t forget
To call George Washington, and John Horne Tooke,
And Franklin;` — but at this time was heard
A cry for room, though not a phantom stirr`d.
LXXXV
At length with jostling, elbowing, and the aid
Of cherubim appointed to that post,
The devil Asmodeus to the circle made
His way, and look`d as if his journey cost
Some trouble. When his burden down he laid,
`What`s this?` cried Michael; `why, `tis not a ghost?`
`I know it,` quoth the incubus; `but he
Shall be one, if you leave the affair to me.
LXXXVI
`Confound the renegado! I have sprain`d
My left wing, he`s so heavy; one would think
Some of his works about his neck were chain`d.
But to the point; while hovering o`er the brink
Of 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.
LXXXVII
`The former is the devil`s scripture, and
The latter yours, good Michael: so the affair
Belongs 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.`
LXXXVIII
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 fold
Such trash below your wing, Asmodeus dear:
We had the poor wretch safe (without being bored
With carriage) coming of his own accord.
LXXXIX
`But since he`s here, let`s see what he has done.`
`Done!` cried Asmodeus, `he anticipates
The 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 to say;
You know we`re bound to that in every way.`
XC
Now the bard, glad to get an audience which
By no means oft was his case below,
Began to cough, and hawk, and hem, and pitch
His voice into that awful note of woe
To all unhappy hearers within reach
Of poets when the tide of rhyme`s in flow;
But stuck fast with his first hexameter,
Not one of all whose gouty feet would stir.
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