Which Virtue warm'd with pure and gen'rous heat,
Which to each checquer'd scene could joy impart,
Nor ceas'd to love until it ceas'd to beat.

Yet, gentle spirit! o'er thine early grave
Shall Consolation, like a seraph, prove,
When Sickness clos'd thy faultless life, she gave
Another angel to the realms above!

STATE TRICKS

_Or a Peep into the Cabinet of the Premier Consul_,

AT ST. CLOUD,

ON THE NIGHT OF THE 26th OCT. 1803.

--"they show an outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all."

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, Act V. Scene 4.

FIRST CONSUL.

My dear Talleyrand! I am sorry to send
For you out of your bed; but you know you're my friend:
No secret I hide from your generous breast;
This invasion is always _invading my rest_:
My soldiers, poor devils! are ready to start,
But to stay where I am is the wish of my heart;
And yet I have sworn at their head to appear:
I am puzzl'd to act 'twixt my threats and my fear;
If I go, I am lost!--say, what shall I do?

TALLEYRAND.

Why I think I've a snug little project in view:
I have felt for you long, and have ransack'd my brain
To relieve you from so much embarrassing pain.
To-morrow our principal tools shall repair
To this spot, to implore you to stay where you are:
Little Jancourt, you know, has a tear at command,
The rest shall have muslin-wrapp'd onions in hand;
An expedient which you, my good Consul, must try,
For a drop never yet wag observ'd in your eye!
And therefore I think 'twould be better for you
The largest to pluck from the beds of St Cloud.
When these fellows appear, they shall fall at your feet,
Portalis shall pen a few words to repeat;
He shall state 'tis the nation's imperial will
That you do not your _dangerous promise_ fulfil;
But snug in this closet put all into motion,
Nor hazard your life with these sons of the ocean.
_You_ shall say, "I have sworn by my glory to go;" }
_They_ shall all of them blubber out "No, no, no, no!}
It must not, thou world's second saviour! be so. }
If you go, mighty Chieftain! and should not escape,
All Gallia, the world, will be cover'd with crape[A]!
Oh! stay where you are; on our knees we implore!"
Then, apparently chok'd, they shall utter no more.
When thrice sixty seconds have nearly expir'd
(Now mind, my dear Consul, and do as desir'd),
You must mimic some hero you've seen at the play,