Nigh London's famous Bridge, a Gate more famed Stands, or once stood, from old Belinus named, So judged Antiquity; and therein wrongs A name, allusive strictly to _two Tongues_[10]. Her School hard by the Goddess Rhetoric opes, And _gratis_ deals to Oyster-wives her Tropes. With Nereid green, green Nereid disputes, Replies, rejoins, confutes, and still confutes. One her coarse sense by metaphors expounds, And one in literalities abounds; In mood and figure these keep up the din: Words multiply, and every word tells in. Her hundred throats here bawling Slander strains; And unclothed Venus to her tongue gives reins In terms, which Demosthenic force outgo, And baldest jests of foul-mouth'd Cicero. Right in the midst great Ate keeps her stand, And from her sovereign station taints the land. Hence Pulpits rail; grave Senates learn to jar; Quacks scold; and Billinsgate infects the Bar. [Footnote 10: _Billingis_ in the Latin.] PINDARIC ODE TO THE TREAD MILL (1825) I Inspire my spirit, Spirit of De Foe, That sang the Pillory, In loftier strains to show A more sublime Machine Than that, where them wert seen, With neck out-stretcht and shoulders ill awry, Courting coarse plaudits from vile crowds below-- A most unseemly show! II In such a place Who could expose thy face, Historiographer of deathless Crusoe! That paint'st the strife And all the naked ills of savage life, Far above Rousseau? Rather myself had stood In that ignoble wood, Bare to the mob, on holyday or high day. If nought else could atone For waggish libel, I swear on bible, I would have spared him for thy sake alone, Man Friday! III Our ancestors' were sour days, Great Master of Romance! A milder doom had fallen to thy chance In our days: Thy sole assignment Some solitary confinement, (Not worth thy care a carrot,) Where in world-hidden cell Thou thy own Crusoe might have acted well, Only without the parrot; By sure experience taught to know, Whether the qualms thou mak'st him feel were truly such or no. IV