An Heroic Epistle to the Right Honourable the Lord Craven (3rd Ed.)

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Title: An Heroic Epistle to the Right Honourable the Lord Craven (3rd
Ed.)
Author: William Combe
Release Date: September 2, 2007 [EBook #22490]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
0. START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEROIC
EPISTLE ***
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AN
HEROIC EPISTLE
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LORD CRAVEN.
[PRICE ONE SHILLING.]

AN
HEROIC EPISTLE
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LORD CRAVEN,
On his delivering the following SENTENCE at the COUNTY
MEETING at ABINGDON, on TUESDAY November 7, 1775.
"I WILL HAVE IT KNOWN THERE IS RESPECT DUE TO A
LORD."

"_Room for my LORD! Virtue stand by and bow._"
Churchill.

THE THIRD EDITION.

_LONDON:_
Printed for JOHN WHEEBLE, No. 22, Fleet-Street.
M,DCC,LXXVI.
AN
HEROIC EPISTLE
TO
LORD CRAVEN.
Too long have Britain's sons with proud disdain
Survey'd the gay

Patrician's titled train,
Their various merit scann'd with eye severe,

Nor learn'd to know the peasant from the peer:
At length the Gothic
ignorance is o'er,
And vulgar brows shall scowl on LORDS no more;

Commons shall shrink at each ennobled nod,
And ev'ry lordling
shine a demigod:
By CRAVEN taught, the humbler herd shall know,

How high the Peerage, and themselves how low.
Illustrious Chief,
your eloquence divine
Shall raise the whole right honourable line;

All shall with joy your bright example view,
And love the tribe that
boasts a son like you;
While Liberty shall lead you to her throne

With jocund hand, and claim you for her own.
When warm in youth, on Isis' learned shore,
You early listen'd to her
sacred lore;
Abhorr'd the dull confinement of the schools,

Contemn'd their statutes, and despis'd their rules.
Ev'n when to burst
their bonds your ardor fail'd,
And law, tyrannic law, at last prevail'd,

Tho' forc'd a while to bend beneath the yoke,
Its weight your
dauntless spirit never broke,
Still rankled in your breast the fatal
wound,
Tho' years had o'er it roll'd their circling round,
On
[A]SCROPE, tho' late, you rear'd your threat'ning arm, And shew'd the
will without the pow'r to harm.
With Freedom's warmth, tho' thus your bosom glow'd,
From no
licentious heat the ardour flow'd
When peaceful leaders rul'd with
gentle sway,
Still were you first their mandates to obey;
Tho'
Proctors, arm'd with all th' insulting pride
Of legal pow'r, your daring
soul defy'd,
Yet to the ruler of the festive band
You bow'd, nor
scorn'd the toast-master's command;
Obedient drank each penal draft
of wine,
And only fear'd a salt and water fine.
So burn'd your youthful heart with Freedom's flame,
Such the fair
dawning of your future fame;
But when by time matur'd, the Peerage
spread
Its dazzling lustre round your honor'd head,
The sacred fire
that warm'd before your breast,
Blaz'd boldly forth to all mankind
confess'd,

Immortal Liberty with blooming charms,
Woo'd you so

strongly to her heavenly arms,
So fierce your passion, that you could
not bear
Another vot'ry should her favors share;
For still your heart
Othello's plan approves,
Nor keeps a corner in the thing it loves
For
others uses; those who madly brave
Attack the rights you have, or
think you have,
Shall weep their rashness, that in luckless hour,

Oppos'd th' omnipotence of lordly pow'r.
When SEYMOUR
insolently dar'd invade,
Manors by your possession sacred made,

From feasts you deign'd to grace, you wip'd his name,
And gave him
o'er to infamy and shame:
And when, tho' late, he made a bold appeal

To arms, from frowning Peers and fawning zeal,
And dar'd attempt
with sacrilegious sword,
To offer equal combat to a LORD,
Sudden
your noble limbs your coursers bore,
From Berkshire's hills to Avon's
distant shore:
And eager to preserve from foul disgrace,
Th'
unsullied honors of a noble race,
Rather than have it said you meanly
stood
To stain your faulchion with Plebeian blood,
You yielded
bravely to a harsher fate,
And made submissions to the man you hate.

To save their dignity from scandal's breath,
Thousands have
fearless fac'd approaching death;
Your dauntless action merits more
applause,
Who courted infamy in honor's cause.
Proceed! proceed! and still our wond'ring eyes
With deeds
magnanimous like these surprize,
And lest some wretch, phlegmatic,
dull, and cold,
Without applause such actions should behold,
Aloud
to list'ning crowds your worth proclaim,
Yourself the herald of your
deathless fame.
To spacious Berks your dignity avow,
From
Buscot's meads, to Windsor's lofty brow,
Till LOVEDEN's daring
insolence is o'er,
And POWNEY cross your fav'rite schemes no more;

Your sacred game, till lawless SEYMOUR spare,
Nor hot-brain'd
PYE another challenge bear.

Shall humble Squires presume, by act or
word,
T' oppose the wishes of a mighty LORD;
On high affairs
attempt to give their voice,
Or in