The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore :: :: University of Virginia Library

My dear Lady Bab, you'll be shock'd, I'm afraid,
When you hear the sad rumpus your Ponies have made;
Since the time of horse-consuls (now long out of date),
No nags ever made such a stir in the state.
Lord Eld---n first heard—and as instantly pray'd he
To “God and his King”—that a Popish young Lady

(For though you've bright eyes and twelve thousand a year,
It is still but too true you're a Papist, my dear,)
Had insidiously sent, by a tall Irish groom,
Two priest-ridden Ponies, just landed from Rome,
And so full, little rogues, of pontifical tricks,
That the dome of St. Paul's was scarce safe from their kicks.

Off at once to Papa, in a flurry he flies—
For Papa always does what these statesmen advise,
On condition that they'll be, in turn, so polite
As in no case whate'er to advise him too right—
“Pretty doings are here, Sir (he angrily cries,
While by dint of dark eyebrows he strives to look wise)—
“'Tis a scheme of the Romanists, so help me God!
“To ride over your most Royal Highness roughshod—
“Excuse, Sir, my tears—they're from loyalty's source—
“Bad enough 'twas for Troy to be sack'd by a Horse,
“But for us to be ruin'd by Ponies still worse!”

Quick a Council is call'd—the whole Cabinet sits—
The Archbishops declare, frighten'd out of their wits,
That if once Popish Ponies should eat at my manger,
From that awful moment the Church is in danger!
As, give them but stabling, and shortly no stalls
Will suit their proud stomachs but those at St. Paul's.

The Doctor , and he, the devout man of Leather ,
V---ns---tt---t, now laying their Saint-heads together,
Declare that these skittish young a-bominations
Are clearly foretold in Chap. vi. Revelations—
Nay, they verily think they could point out the one
Which the Doctor's friend Death was to canter upon.

Lord H---rr---by, hoping that no one imputes
To the Court any fancy to persecute brutes,
Protests, on the word of himself and his cronies,
That had these said creatures been Asses, not Ponies,
The Court would have started no sort of objection,
As Asses were, there, always sure of protection.

100

“If the Pr*nc*ss will keep them (says Lord C*stl*r---gh),
“To make them quite harmless, the only true way
“Is (as certain Chief Justices do with their wives)
“To flog them within half an inch of their lives.
“If they've any bad Irish blood lurking about,
“This (he knew by experience) would soon draw it out.”
Should this be thought cruel, his Lordship proposes
“The new Veto snaffle to bind down their noses—
“A pretty contrivance, made out of old chains,
“Which appears to indulge, while it doubly restrains;
“Which, however high-mettled, their gamesomeness checks
“(Adds his Lordship humanely), or else breaks their necks!”

This proposal receiv'd pretty general applause
From the Statesmen around—and the neck-breaking clause

101

Had a vigour about it, which soon reconcil'd
Even Eld---n himself to a measure so mild.
So the snaffles, my dear, were agreed to nem. con.,
And my Lord C*stl*r---gh, having so often shone
In the fettering line, is to buckle them on.

I shall drive to your door in these Vetos some day,
But, at present, adieu!—I must hurry away
To go see my Mamma, as I'm suffer'd to meet her
For just half an hour by the Qu---n's best repeater.

Ch*rl*tte.

This young Lady, who is a Roman Catholic, had lately made a present of some beautiful Ponies to the Pr*nc*ss.

Mr. Addington, so nicknamed.

Alluding to a tax lately laid upon leather.

The question whether a Veto was to be allowed to the Crown in the appointment of Irish Catholic Bishops was, at this time, very generally and actively agitated.