SIR,—I saw, with strong approbation, your specimen of ancient Sapphic measure in English, which I think far surpasses all that Abraham Fraunce, Richard Stanyhurst, or Sir Philip Sidney himself, have produced in that style—I mean, of course, your sublime and beautiful _Knife-Grinder_, of which it is not too high an encomium to say, that it even rivals the efforts of the fine-eared democratic poet, Mr. Southey. But you seem not to be aware, that we have a genuine Sapphic measure belonging to our own language, of which I now send you a short specimen. THE JACOBIN. I am a hearty Jacobin, Who own no God, and dread no sin, Ready to dash through thick and thin For freedom: And when the teachers of Chalk-Farm Gave Ministers so much alarm, And preach’d that kings did only harm, I fee’d ’em. By BEDFORD’S cut I’ve trimm’d my locks, And coal-black is my knowledge-box, Callous to all, except hard knocks Of thumpers; My eye a noble fierceness boasts, My voice as hollow as a ghost’s, My throat oft washed by factious toasts In bumpers. Whatever is in France, is right; Terror and blood are my delight; Parties with us do not excite Enough rage. Our boasted laws I hate and curse, Bad from the first, by age grown worse, I pant and sigh for univers-[187] al suffrage. WAKEFIELD[188] I love—adore HORNE TOOKE, With pride on JONES[189] and THELWALL[190] look, And hope that they, by hook or crook, Will prosper. But they deserve the worst of ills, And all th’ abuse of all our quills, Who form’d of strong and _gagging Bills_[191] A cross pair. Extinct since then each speaker’s fire, And silent ev’ry daring lyre,[192] Dum-founded they whom I would hire To lecture. Tied up, alas! is ev’ry tongue On which, conviction nightly hung,[193] And THELWALL looks, though yet but young, A spectre.[194] B. O. B. [Illustration] No. XXIII. April 16, 1798.