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themselves Pittites； not choosing to remember that Pitt made three motions
for parliamentary reform； and that； though he thought that such a reform
could not safely be made while the passions excited by the French
revolution were raging； he never uttered a word indicating that he should
not be prepared at a more convenient season to bring the question forward
a fourth time。 The toast of Protestant ascendency was drunk on Pitt's
birthday by a set of Pittites who could not but be aware that Pitt had
resigned his office because he could not carry Catholic emancipation。 The
defenders of the Test Act called themselves Pittites； though they could not
be ignorant that Pitt had laid before George the Third unanswerable
reasons for abolishing the Test Act。 The enemies of free trade called
themselves Pittites； though Pitt was far more deeply imbued with the
doctrines of Adam Smith than either Fox or Grey。 The very negro…drivers
invoked the name of Pitt； whose eloquence was never more conspicuously
displayed than when he spoke of the wrongs of the negro。 This mythical
Pitt； who resembles the genuine Pitt as little as Charlemagne of Ariosto
resembles the Charlemagne of Eginhard； has had his day。 History will
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THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES OF LORD MACAULAY。
vindicate the real man from calumny disguised under the semblance of
adulation； and will exhibit him as what he was； a minister of great talents；
honest intentions； and liberal opinions； pre…eminently qualified；
intellectually and morally； for the part of a parliamentary leader； and
capable of administering with prudence and moderation the government of
a prosperous and tranquil country； but unequal to surprising and terrible
emergencies； and liable； in such emergencies； to err grievously； both on
the side of weakness and on the side of violence。
。。。
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THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES OF LORD MACAULAY。
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS；
INSCRIPTIONS； ETC。
EPITAPH ON HENRY MARTYN。
（1812。）
Here Martyn lies。 In Manhood's early bloom The Christian Hero finds
a Pagan tomb。 Religion； sorrowing o'er her favourite son； Points to the
glorious trophies that he won。 Eternal trophies！ not with carnage red； Not
stained with tears by hapless captives shed； But trophies of the Cross！ for
that dear name； Through every form of danger； death； and shame； Onward
he journeyed to a happier shore； Where danger； death； and shame assault
no more。
。。。
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THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES OF LORD MACAULAY。
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF
PITT。
（1813。）
Oh Britain！ dear Isle； when the annals of story Shall tell of the deeds
that thy children have done； When the strains of each poet shall sing of
their glory； And the triumphs their skill and their valour have won。
When the olive and palm in thy chaplet are blended； When thy arts；
and thy fame； and thy commerce increase； When thy arms through the
uttermost coasts are extended； And thy war is triumphant； and happy thy
peace；
When the ocean； whose waves like a rampart flow round thee；
Conveying thy mandates to every shore； And the empire of nature no
longer can bound thee； And the world be the scene of thy conquests no
more：
Remember the man who in sorrow and danger； When thy glory was set；
and thy spirit was low； When thy hopes were o'erturned by the arms of the
stranger； And thy banners displayed in the halls of the foe；
Stood forth in the tempest of doubt and disaster； Unaided； and single；
the danger to brave。 Asserted thy claims； and the rights of his master；
Preserved thee to conquer； and saved thee to save。
。。。
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THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES OF LORD MACAULAY。
A RADICAL WAR SONG。
（1820。）
Awake； arise； the hour is come； For rows and revolutions； There's no
receipt like pike and drum For crazy constitutions。 Close； close the shop！
Break； break the loom； Desert your hearths and furrows； And throng in
arms to seal the doom Of England's rotten boroughs。
We'll stretch that tort'ring Castlereagh On his own Dublin rack； sir；
We'll drown the King in Eau de vie； The Laureate in his sack； sir； Old
Eldon and his sordid hag In molten gold we'll smother； And stifle in his
own green bag The Doctor and his brother。
In chains we'll hang in fair Guildhall The City's famed recorder； And
next on proud St Stephen's fall； Though Wynne should squeak to order。 In
vain our tyrants then shall try To 'scape our martial law； sir； In vain the
trembling Speaker cry That 〃Strangers must withdraw；〃 sir。
Copley to hang offends no text； A rat is not a man； sir： With schedules；
and with tax bills next We'll bury pious Van； sir。 The slaves who loved the
income Tax； We'll crush by scores； like mites； sir； And him； the wretch
who freed the blacks； And more enslaved the whites； sir。
The peer shall dangle from his gate； The bishop from his steeple； Till
all recanting； own； the State Means nothing but the People。 We'll fix the
church's revenues On Apostolic basis； One coat； one scrip； one pair of
shoes Shall pay their strange grimaces。
We'll strap the bar's deluding train In their own darling halter； And
with his big church bible brain The parson at the altar。 Hail glorious hour；
when fair Reform Shall bless our longing nation； And Hunt receive
commands to form A new administration。
Carlisle shall sit enthroned； where sat Our Cranmer and our Secker；
And Watson show his snow…white hat In England's rich Exchequer。 The
breast of Thistlewood shall wear Our Wellesley's star and sash； man： And
many a mausoleum fair Shall rise to honest Cashman。
Then； then beneath the nine…tailed cat Shall they who used it writhe；
sir； And curates lean； and rectors fat； Shall dig the ground they tithe； sir。
Down with your Bayleys； and your Bests； Your Gi