Leigh Hunt

Anonymous, "Horace to Barine; or the Ed—r of the Old T—s to H—nt" The New Times (20 September 1819).

Dear H—NT, if e'er the offended law
Had marked thee with its iron claw,
If Beadle's whip, or hangman's brand
Had crossed thy shoulders, or thy hand,
I could believe thee not quite callous,
To dread of Whipping-post, or Gallows.
But thou improvest in condition,
At each new treason or sedition;
Indictments found in Lancashire,
Serve thee as claims to glory here;
Worthy in car (or cart) to ride,
The public wonder of Cheapside!
'Tis thine in speech, or resolution,
To stab old Mother Constitution;
'Tis thine the Rumpsmen all to fright,
Who meet in silence ev'ry night;
'Tis thine to care the dull Committee,
That toils for W—TH—N in the City.
On thee smile all the Nymphs of Drury,
On thee smiles C—BB—T in his fury,
Though fiercer and more fretful far,
The Porcupine prepared for war.
Thy train of Slaves grows ev'ry day,
Infants are rising to thy sway,
Female Reformers, spite of warning,
Croud to thy Councils night and morning.
W—TS—N and PR—ST—N fear to lose thee,
And I, the boldest of the clan,
Assert thee now, deny't who can,
A Hero, Martyr, Gentleman!