366 CRITICAL STUDIES The hand is freedom's in a glove of sin, Peace tipped with steel : Thou feel'st its point moving within, Thy strength doth reel. Thou art a gamester where thou sittest ; Thy dice, men's bones : Thou candleman ; ne'er yet thou littest The light of thrones I I see thy funeral procession all, White chanting priests ; Thou art an ox within the priestly stall, — No king of beasts Destruction fattens thee for morrow's dinner, Bastes thee with money ; The meat upon thy bones to many a sinner Shall yet be honey. Great arbiter of elegancies fine, Lord of the fashion, Within thy veins runneth no better wine Than Ego^s passion. France, when full drest for her next party. Shall brush her boots of thee : And have a ruler fatter and more hearty, And with some human glee." In much the same strain of uncouth, but keen and vigorous invective, Blake-Uke, Orsonic, are "The Pope," "Napoleon I.: What of him?" and "The Lawyers : What of them ? " I select the last, p. 215, for citation ; just observing that " Men of the Time" informs us that Dr. Wilkinson's father was a special pleader, and author of several well-known law-books.
