The Amazoniad Or, Figure and Fashion: A Scuffle in High Life. With Notes Critical and Historical, Interspersed with Choice Anecdotes of Bon Ton. Second Edition, with Additions [by J. W. Croker] |
THE
AMAZONIAD;
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The Amazoniad | ||
THE AMAZONIAD;
OR FIGURE AND FASHION.
1. [FIRST PART]
FIRST CANTO.
ARGUMENT.
SUBJECT proposed—Invocation—Arrival of the
Duke and Duchess—Their great popularity—Joy of
the people—To gratify them a play is performed by
command—Liberality of the Manager on the occasion
—Eagerness of the people to obtain places in the
Playhouse—Compared to the eager application for
places on a change of ministry—The crowds in the
lobby besieging and beseeching Mr. M`Nally—
Dennira appears—Description of her person—
Apostrophe to the G******—Dennira's address to
Mr. M`Nally—He at first grants her request—Appearance
of a competitor—Surprize of every body
How rivalship embroils ambitious dames,
Whose valiant deeds eclipse the warlike praise
Of stoutest Amazons in ancient days,
And all that modern bards have sung or said,
Of bright Clorinda and the Gallic maid:
How female bosoms glow with love of place,
The General's truncheon clashing with the mace,
I tell.—Old Father Liffey hears the song;
His echoes shall the martial notes prolong.
And thou, whose waters emblematic crawl
Thro' dirt and darkness to the Castle wall,
Thou Poddle hear; and as they labouring flow,
Thro' many a sewer and aqueduct below,
Delay their march, attentive to the sound,
And irrigate each vault and kitchen round.
The simple mate of rustics on the plain,
Confin'd to themes that rural manners yield;
The match of ploughing in the furrow'd field,
The show of cattle, mighty bulls and boars,
Rams, ewes, and wethers, hoggets, lambs, and stores.
Or if to sing of warriors was her care,
She never rose beyond a country fair.
But how the feuds of polish'd life to sing!
The Poet's fingers tremble on the string.
He feels how rashly he pushed from shore,
In open bark, without a sail or oar.
What hand from ship-wreck shall preserve his fame?
What influence aid him in the daring aim?
The hereditary harp, O M*****, try,
And tune for me prelusive ministrelsy;
Then shall my numbers please each courtly ear,
And ev'n a Duchess shall vouchsafe to hear.
To thee, great arbiter of Elegance
In concerts, sermons, plays, and mazy dance,
The Muse appeals. With powerful aid support
This new attendant on a Viceroy's court.
Whether reclined in the viceregal coach,
Or thron'd more airy in the gilt baroach,
So may lawn sleeves the charity reward.
Meantime let oily Joe the bagpipe sound,
And Ord'nance stores re-echo all around.
Then shall a laureat's name the bard adorn,
And crown of bays by ancient Gorgey borne.
The very stones shall feel my tuneful pow'rs,
And move in ranks to form mortella Tow'rs.
Had prostrate Erin's faded sceptre won:
Our loud acclaims a people's hope confest,
And frantic pleasure hail'd the high-born guest.
With fond delight the partial croud descry
The nose heroic and commanding eye.
With fond delight thro' every line they trace
How Russell virtues animate his face.
Brisk as a fairy, volatile as air,
The bonny Duchess, blithe and debonnair;
Boast of the Highland clans, old Scotia's pride,
In youthful vigour grac'd the Viceroy's side.
Success to the Duchess wherever she goes.
What crowds prest forward as affection led,
And eager eyes with ceaseless gazing fed.
A comedy was ordered “by Command;”
That happy Teague might revel in delight,
And at the Viceroy stare a live-long night;
For, be it mentioned underneath the rose,
All savages are fond of raree shows.
The thrifty Manager, tho' cook profest,
Was poz'd to cater for the scenic feast.
For, sooth to say, full many a barn affords
A better company than tramp his boards.
Then Heaven enlarg'd, O J***s, thy frugal mind,
To glad with bounty all the vassal kind.
He added ten pence to their weekly pay,
And ev'ry spouter had two meals that day.
To work their horses well, and well to feed:
By different maxims human brutes we treat,
Man sorely toils and sparingly should eat.
This sage advice the manager retains,
And meagre diet through the green room reigns.
Than expectation travell'd o'er the town
On flapping wings, and call'd the grave, the gay,
To meet their new chief ruler at the play.
Sure never glow'd in opposition breast,
Such love of place as then the croud possest.
Say, hast thou levied in the changeful hour,
Some party leader, newly call'd to pow'r?
Say, hast thou marked how visages impart,
The greedy wishes and the throbbing heart?
Say, hast thou stood th' expectant crowd among,
That E******* anti-room, on Fridays throng;
And bar and army seen, and church and state,
With anxious awe their oracle await?
How hope and fear the public bosom storm'd.
Then might'st thou judge what eager, throbbing hearts,
What loud pretensions and what cringing arts,
The great, the little show'd, the high, the low,
The belle, the punk, the citizen, the beau.
There Corcorans, Keenaghans, Mullowneys came,
Burns, Killaughers, Shaughnessys well known to fame,
M`Laughlins, Dempsys, Murphys, Mooneys urged their claim.
Round Macanally prest a mingled croud,
Liberal in promise, in petition loud;
All begging places, for by heaven's decree,
The Castle Spectre of that house was he.
Amid the lobby he majestic stands,
The sheet portentous trembling in his hands:
He hears their claims, their merits he debates,
Inspects the mystic leaf, and sings their fates;
These grief o'erwhelms, those exultation swells.
Thus, on the bank of Styx when Charon stood,
And shades by myriads sought to pass the flood,
Some he rejected, some to pass allow'd,
And grief and joy alternate filled the crowd.
Let all the crowd superior claims allow;
And all confess in that portentous hour,
The sovereign sway of beauty's magic power.
From right to left ye beaus and belles recede,
Her high pretensions let Dennira plead.
What eastern harams brighter charms contain,
Than Liffey's banks can shew, and Erin's plain?
O, happy General, tho' the swarthy east
The prowess of thy conqu'ring arm confest;
How poor were all thy conquests to the last!
In her embrace more treasure he explores,
Than lacs uncounted and unnumbered crores:
Behold her eyes, and mark how dimly shine
Thine emeralds, Gani, and Golconda's mine;
Corn, wine, and oil her beauteous looks expand,
And seem to call us to the promis'd land.
Like Ceres rich, in gladsome triumph borne,
Or Plenty's Goddess, but without a horn:
What pow'r of words her tempting charms may reach,
Firm as an apple, juicy as a peach.
Like the full moon, her face resplendant shows,
Her breasts are hillocks crown'd with living snows.
------ the modest muse no farther pries,
The citadel is kept for soldier eyes.
With smiles that prefac'd ev'ry word she spoke,
From coral lips persuasive accents broke:
“Mac, honest fellow, I the box engage,
“That fronts the Viceroy's and adjoins the stage;
“Flame in the van or sparkle in the rear;
“This post, dear Devil, let thy care defend,
“And I, by Heav'n, for ever am thy friend;
“Thy next review shall own my fostering aid,
“To thy support I'll march a whole brigade.”
Such charms, such accents might a God have caught,
Much more, a man of fleshly substance wrought.
The sheet he view'd, he seized the ready quill,
And mark'd the station at the charmer's will.
The charmer curtsey'd with commanding grace,
And conscious triumph flush'd her lovely face.
But ah, how frail and transient man's delight!
How soon the fairest morn is clos'd in night!
Brief the possession of all human things,
Doubtful the fate of beauties and of kings.
Pass some few days, Dennira shall lament
The hour M`Nally gave his rash consent.
A mighty rival shall dispute the claim.
The stately mace th' astonished crowd confounds.
With winning smile, conciliatory grace,
Then gentle D***r display'd his pleasant face.
His Finger and his Thumb were still in play,
And nasal off'rings strew'd the slimy way.
Symbol of Justice, when the mace they saw,
The crowd retir'd with reverential awe.
Shrill menaces are heard, and words of ire,
With eyes indignant and with cheeks of fire,
A dame advanc'd impetuous to the charge;
In form not ample, but in spirit large.
Thus Tydeus in a narrow compass show'd
What mighty virtues in his bosom glow'd.
An high-born worth her conscious look exprest,
Th' astonished Box-keeper she thus addrest:
“Are Rules of Equity acknowledged here?
“For this Decree, do precedents appear?
“Let a Petitioner re-hearing claim.
“Philothemis my Name, in heaven enroll'd,
“The mace of justice in my grasp I hold.—
“Say, shall the truncheon with the mace contend?
“To Martial Law, shall Courts of Justice bend?
“To back my wishes I Papinian bring,
“He keeps the conscience of our Lord the King.
“His Irish conscience, for the Laws decide,
“He has a conscience on the other side,
“And Erskine keepsit; but what Fate allows
“To Teague and Pat is guarded by my spouse.
“When Æolus the wind in bags confin'd,
“To wise Ulysses he the charge assigned.
“Thus in a purse, our gracious King imparts,
“His seal'd-up conscience to some man of arts.
“Near should it's Keeper be; not day so clear.
“And what disloyal tongue shall dare to say,
“The King can ever from his conscience stray?
“Seditious is the wretch, who would divide,
“The conscience-keeper from the Sovereign's side.
“It tends to raise suspicions most unjust,
“It tends to fill the public with distrust.
“The purse and seal be ever full in view,
“That all may know the people have their due.
“I, as their keeper's half, should near be found
“To Sovereign's Delegate, on Irish ground.
“And she who would exclude me from my place,
“Would Law resist and Government disgrace.
“'Tis contumacy, 'tis contempt of Court.—
“Serjeant at Arms, my dignity support.—
“In such a Cause, I'll make a mighty stir,
“And call in M******, call in Major S***”
As at the appearance of some fiend of Hell,
Pale and aghast poor Macanally stands,
The pen and ink now glided from his hands.—
He tore the sheet, he vanish'd in a fright,
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
His flight so sudden, all the croud divides,
Perplex'd they range, the Door-keepers their guides.
The House was all before them, where to choose;
But who shall grant them Boxes or refuse;
A while they hesitate, a while they pause,
Then brutal force supplies the place of laws.—
Announc'd the rising of a fatal storm.—
Pease fell in torrents, Goblins danc'd in air,
With flashing Rosin, Stage and Green-Room glare.
Along the lofts ternific thunder roll'd,
The Catcall scream'd, the Bell of Jaffier toll'd.
Untouch'd by any hand the Basses roar,
Masques move, without their heads, along the floor.
From every trap-door Demons rise to view,
And Sisters weird th' infernal Chaldron brew.
Exulting Discord hail'd the loud alarms,
And all the combatants prepare for arms.
Another song shall bid the war proceed.
The River Poddle winds under ground from near the old Episcopal Palace to the Castle, not wholly unlike the course of some, who have been inmates of the aforeaaid Palace.
Mr. A*******, the preceding treasurer of the Ordnance retired on his full salary to make room for him.—The Gentleman is well known as Author of Love in a Blaze.
Imitated from Addison—
“In every stroke, in every line,“See some exalted virtue shine,
“And Albion's happiness we trace
“In every feature of his face.”
The culinary talents of this gentleman have been celebrated by other writers, much yet remains unsung.
Lest commentators should be in doubt an hundred years hence, why ten pence was the precise modicum added, you are to know it was on account of the most current coin at that time—ten penny tokens. The pittance allowed at present to performers in Dublin, is well calculated to qualify them for acting ghosts. The players are not unaptly called Vassal train, to express the sovereign authority exercised by his Most Despotic Highness the Manager.
A kind of Deity much worshipped by the wild Irish, and which is supposed to have the power of looking into futurity and telling fortunes. Its temple is situated between two banking houses and the Irish treasury.
Sheet—A large Chart on which the ichnography of the Boxes is deli eated, and according to which they are engaged from the box-keeper.
“Tendebantque manus Ripæ ulterioris amore.
“Navita sed tristis nunc hos, nunc accipit illos,
“Ast alios longe submotos arcet arenâ.”
Virgil.
Right to left—The author here shews consummate judgment, scit reddere convenientia cuique—when he comes to speak of a General's Lady, and describe the croud making way for her, he employs terms applicable to military evolutions.
I cannot sufficiently admire the discretion of the poet in drawing in the reins of imagination which else might have run away with him at full gallop, into the paradise of Mabomet and all the luxuriance of Asiatic description.—Gauts mountain passes to the hill country.
“Et servare modum, rebus sublata sccundis.
“Turno tumpus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum
“Intactum Pallanta; et cum spolia ista diemque
“Oderit.”
Virgil.
A gentleman of prepossessing looks and manners, of singular urbanity and singleness of heart. It must gratify the public to know, that he has accumulated an estate of four or five thousand a year, through the mere blessing of Providence on disinterested virtue, without any exertion of his own.
There is great beauty in this passage; the character is edmirably preserved. As Dennira had used military terms, so the fair and noble pleader shows much technical knowledge. Wheu a Decree has been obtained, an Injunction goes to put the party in possession. Before a decree is enrolled, a re-hearing is graned on petition. I refer the female reader to Mitford's Chancery practice, for information on this abstruse subject.
Such is the maxim of the law—the King can do no wrong. The argument of the Lady is close and unanswerable. The King can do no wrong, therefore is inseparable from his conscience, ergo, inseparable from the keeper of it, his C*********, ergo inseparable from the C*********'s wife, who is the better half of the C********* ergo, he who separates the C*********'s wife from the King would separate the King and his conscience, or insinuate that they may be separated, and is no good subject.—Q. E. D.
See the description of the prodigies that anounced the death of Julius Cæsar.—Virgil's Georgics, Book the first.
SECOND CANTO.
ARGUMENT.
INVOCATION—Doctor Y—.—His condescesstion and pious resignation in coming to this Country— Irruption of the Goths and Vandals into the Castle—They are chaced away by the prowess of Sir Charles, a gentle Knight—The Poet regrets the disgrace of some distinguished Characters—Rejoicings for the Victory—The Court determines to go to the Theatre—Catalogue of the Party and Order of their going—Company in the Boxes described—Battle commences—The military skill of Dennira commended— Her wise precaution in taking possession of the field of Battle in the disputed Box at the first opening of the Box Doors—Judicious disposition of her forces— Determined hostility of both Parties—Philothemis commences the attack—Great uproar.
The Blade of spirit, and the lively Belle,
To all the lounging, simp'ring, idle Crew,
That yawn and languish still for something new,
Or gape, like Oysters, in the Tide of Time,
For what it brings, the Author sends his Rhyme.—
Think not, dear Ladies, think not, gentle Squires,
That malice prompts him, or resentment fires;
Nor, while he paints, by wand'ring Fancy led,
Apply the Cap to any private Head;
Like wise Ulysses he for knowledge strayed,
And various Scenes and Characters survey'd.
Tho' living forms imagination warm,
Beshrew my heart if I intend you harm!
I seize the Harp, I call the ready Muse,
What Bard a Theme so tempting could refuse?
What Knights and Sages, from Britannia borne,
What peerless Dames a Russell's Court adorn!
See the Green Cloth forgotten cates expand.
On Castle Guard, to chear the Captain's toil,
And light each Ensign's features, with a smile.
While courteous Knights I consecrate to fame
And sing the triumphs of each courtly Dame.
Dear to the sovereign of the tuneful nine,
His sapient ear, may letter'd Y**** incline.
Could my poor Muse, like thee, O! Y****s indite
At once prescriptions and addresses write,
I should not then, thro' many a street and lane,
With strolling minstrels pour an abject strain:
My song might hope to reach a viceroy's ear,
Smooth chaplains sing, and future bishops hear.
Grac'd with square cap, and aldermanic gown,
In solemn token of thy twofold station,
High plac'd in P*an's hall, and corporation:
Oh, could he light, like F**ns, his visage up,
And tinge his features in a double cup;
For thee the poet to the pipe should dance.
Mean time from us, indulgent sage, receive
Such humble honours as the land may give:
Thrice welcome from the joys that Bedford yields,
To deep potations and potatoe fields:
Thrice welcome, to the land of drizzling fogs,
Bulls, blunders, Galilœans, and mad dogs.
Oh pious soul, in meek submission, he
Bows to high heaven's omnipotent decree:
Oh say, what station shall his wand'rings close?
In what snug corner shall his age repose?
Whether his talents Providence may call,
To shine the ranger of Lock Hospital;
Or president of Digital collection.
For thee the College honours due prepare,
Install thee high in their professor's chair;
Diplomas they in pill-boxes bestow,
And hemlock garlands wreath, to crown thy brow.
For thee, they meditate such civic feast,
As sons of Pœan only can digest:
For thee, with castor oil, their sallads brew,
With asafœtida enrich the stew:
With manna, squills, they mix nectarious hoard,
And draughts of ether circle round the board.
For thee, mephitic gas in clouds shall roll,
And vital air shall impregnate the bowl:
For thee ****** but turn my muse, recount the fray,
The ladies chide thee for thy long delay.
Vandals, and Alans, Lombards, Goths, and Huns;
Delicious climes invite the savage mind;
They come like locusts, warping on the wind.
An uncouth deluge o'er the castle spread,
A desperate Town Clerk these invaders led:
Grocers and cooks were there, a rabble rout,
With sturdy vintners, as their liquor stout;
There fierce attornies struck with wild affright
The peer insolvent and the bankrupt knight;
For Castle suppers they so keen were set,
Ev'n cutlers came, their appetite to whet.
Not more tumultuous take their noisy way
Voters to hustings, on election day.
With greater rage the Poddle never rose,
With filth and foam redundant as it goes,
And swept the cates and delicates away.
The Castle dames in tender accents moan'd,
The Castle chaplains in the spirit groaned.
Then bold Sir C*****s was roused with holy zeal,
The wounded honour of the state to feel;
Sir C*****s, distinguish'd for equestrian feat,
From horsemanship yet aching in his seat;
For there had Y**** his healing hand apply'd,
And loss of skin, diachylon supply'd
Not greater zeal the christian knight inflam'd
At Acre, when the Corsican he tam'd.
Th' enchanted spear he seized with puissant hand,
And drove th' unhallow'd crew from holy land.
Some that ev'n regal drawing-rooms had grac'd.
Merchants themselves are chac'd incongruous thought,
From scenes where thousands have been sold and bought.
Accomplish'd Scriv'ner, is thy worth unknown?
Art thou excluded? let the Viceroy look,
Mark thine establishment, thy Gallic cook.
'Tis piteous, Oh! thee G******th I bewail.—
Are brilliant buckles then of no avail?
Thy mein so sweet, demeanour so polite,
Thy wig so flaxen, and thy face so white!
Dress and address like thine might well comport
With silken circles in the crowded court.
Ev'n F****ng was rejected, form'd by fate,
A Tuscan column to sustain the state;
Th' attorney's pen is with a laurel twin'd!
He bids discordant aims in one agree,
Captain, philosopher, and agent he:
Now great tactician marches to the Park,
Now, like Sir Isaac, solves some problem dark,
Now lifts his eye to count the starry host,
Now pores discreetly on a bill of cost:
The range of science there his cares enlarge,
He swells the catalogue, augments the charge.
Trophies are rais'd, the vaulted roofs rebound:
And while the victors revell'd in delight,
A galaxy of lamps emblaz'd the night.
In solemn pomp, their triumphs to declare,
Now, for the theatre the crowd prepare.
Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
To Crow-Street, with the Castle Spectre past.
Brings with him “airs from heav'n and blasts from hell.”
Pale tho' he glares, yet him you never meet
Burst from his cerements in a winding sheet.
Nor yet with saucer eye the crowd he daunts,
In silks and sattins drawing-rooms he haunts.
His wardrobe lilac velvets can afford,
The star-bright buttons, and the studded sword;
Far other weeds than deck the shadowy host,
Or furnish out the toilet of a Ghost:
With plumage nodding, and with fans display'd,
The gay seducer led the cavalcade.
When thro' the streets his daily walk he takes,
Each female heart with tender tumult akes,
The Balconies are throng'd with fond delight,
And ladies call the youth the pavement knight.
A coat of blazon on his back he bears.
Then came Sir C******, by nature form'd in sport,
The harmless Zany of a merry court.
O heav'n-taught chamberlain, so born and bred,
With grace to light the ladies up to bed;
To see their secrets with no tell-tale eye;
Lay on their rouge, and their cosmetics buy:
Some forty birth-days added let him see,
And what Polonius was, shall V***** be.
Next good Sir G*****, ordained Sir C******'s aid,
In doing nothing, (as by Teague 'tis said).
In second childhood, of a green old age,
In years like Nestor, but not quite as sage.
His own anility of ceaseless noise.
There H--- was found, from the seraglio drawn
By love of Novelty and love of Lawn.
No fairer youth the Bosphorus survey'd,
No fairer youth with Saint Sophia stray'd;
Soft was his speech, seducing were his airs,
Most meet for bedchambers or state affairs.
His predecessor was no vulgar Scot,
Called from the Castle to a fairer lot,
With thrifty grace the lawn unstain'd to keep,
Saint Peter fed, but L****** shears his sheep.
Cares truly pastoral his mind employ,
Fines to demand and tenants to destroy;
To plant potatoes, watch and ward maintain;
For sleep is murder'd thro' the fair domain:
Should midnight prowlers sacrilege commit,
With bell and book he'll send them to the pit.
And warriors arm'd protect the hallow'd ground.
C*******h, entitled by paternal strain,
To tell th' Exchequer, nor to tell in vain,
Was there, more proud of Ensign's novel rank,
Than were he made Director of the Bank.
Next M******* who bewails, with tearful eye,
That dying Prelates will not wholly die.
May'st thou no second disappointment know,
But live to bury Limerick or Raphoe:
Then might'st thou shine in mitred carriage borne,
And grace lawn sleeves, as thee lawn sleeves adorn.
Intent to seize our blunders as they rise,
The vanity, the stupid admiration,
And aukward flattery, of our foolish nation;
And food purvey for hourly ridicule,
From tones and gestures of each Irish fool.
Now simp'ring, now with sly sardonic grin,
That spoke the movements of contempt within,
Came S--- F--- tempting to the view,
Of Sphynx the features, with an Æthiop's hue.
A bouncing charmer, fit to deal with man,
And wrestle fairly on the Spartan plan.
With these a bevy of alluring Dames,
'Twould ask a Maro's muse to sing their names.
Cornets and Chaplains, shallow, pert and vain,
The living lumber of a Viceroy's train.
All these and more in state to Crow-Street haste,
The swinish many wonder'd as they past:
They had not seen a cavalcade so gay;
Henchmen, and Pages, Footmen all a-row,
With gentlemen at large, a goodly show;
Coaches and chariots, gorgeous liveries,
Oh 'twas a sight to rennovate sore eyes.
In every Box, above, below, around,
Beauty and fashion, all was fair and fine,
The muslins flutter and the jewels shine.
Some of the Names the muses can rehearse,
The rest to mem'ry dead, are lost to verse.
There like horn'd beetle, **** they spy,
With sharp proboscis and with staring eye.
Bulky and huge, beside her sate my Lord,
With chops yet wat'ring from the sumptuous board.
Large as some porpoise cast upon the strand,
Or Tityus stretching o'er a length of land.
A slobbering bib around his neck was dight,
Drops to receive, that savoury smells excite.
Behold their hope, the C***** too advance,
With arts of dress, imported new France.
No youth exists of base or noble race,
So nice a judge of muslin and of lace.
No youth a neck-cloth ties with air so smart,
But dear he purchased that important art.
On Gallic shores a Virtuoso taught,
The precious secret fifty Pieces bought.
Her Cards awhile fair M---h resigns
And ancient J--- from the Austrian lines,
And fam'd in annals of the four great Kings.
With air affected, and with soften'd tone,
She too was there with spirit all her own,
Who lisps invectives with so mild an air,
The bitter words might seem a lover's prayer:
Who twice a wife, and yet almost a maid,
By foolish trust in outward form betray'd;
To lose at cards, the memory contrives,
Of short discomforts matrimony gives.
And buxom *****, with a jolly grace,
Beside her sister shows a lion face.
And homely M***n lab'ring to support
Th' imposing airs that suit a place at Court;
To chace the goody from her air and gait
For statesmen's wives should ever keep their state.
For ten Olympiads from the sun conceal'd.
Silks, velvets, tabbinets, were all display'd,
Points, lace, fringe, embroidery, and brocade.
All hues that in a bed of tulips glow,
And garments more than Monmouth-Street can show.
Raptur'd he gaz'd—joy elevates his crest—
A lively dress he singled from the rest.
Pea-green the coat—the vest was saxon blue—
The sattin small-cloths were of sable hue.
With golden clocks the gazer's eye delight.
His stuccoed head would make a Stoic smile,
Of pins an armoury—of curls a pile.
His downy chin the pummice double smooth'd,
Precipitate the pang from creepers sooth'd.
But why should I attempt in humble rhymes,
To paint the finery of other times?
Of H---d stem Stuarta there appears,
A noble virgin of twice twenty years.
Old R--- too that night her cards resigned,
Of manners vulgar, but of jolly mind.
She too was there, who left each wond'ring guest,
To seek Viceregal notice at the feast.
To pick cold bones with Van and quality:
Her husband bowing cries, (poor civil man)
“My lady wife is fled to lady Van.”
The mendicant of peerage there they found,
In snows of age, with youthful vices crown'd,
Who kept no promise, serv'd no useful end,
Spent princely fortunes, never had a friend.
There too, with solid everlasting grin,
And all the phlegm of Holland, Van was seen,
A sober youth—but haste! what dire alarms,
Prelusive sound a symphony for arms.
Lament, and menace, now all ears engage.
No trivial causes hostile fury move,
No vulgar combatants their valour prove.
Precedence, potent cause, to warfare brings,
Ambitious Females, and contending Kings.
She knew how much by vigilance is gained.
Scarce her Videts the doors had open found,
She came and seized on the disputed ground.
In books of tactics, and reports she saw
“Possession makes eleven points of law,”
For conversant was she, with modern entries,
And puzzled Lawyers, with black letter ventries.
Her plumy females in the van appear,
Her garrison battalions guard the rear.
The silken general wisely stay'd away,
But sent his lady to partake the fray;
No dame like her can shake the guiding rein,
Or tame the courser on the dusty plain:
To thee, Dennira, scarce she yields in charms,
And scarcely yields pre-eminence in arms.
Sate with her flank supported by a post.
A countenance imposing to the foes.
Nor waited long—for hostile tongues are heard,
And fierce Philothemis in force appear'd.
In ancient days, as 'tis by Homer sung,
The Trojan Bands came on, with clam'rous tongue.
Th' assailants war proclaim, in wrathful tones,
“Where is the Box-keeper? say where is Jones?
“Turn out the bold intruder with disgrace;
“We'll teach the lady to usurp a place.”
Never before such balanc'd forces met,
For warlike Rubbers so complete a set.
Nor proud Dennira to the claim will yield,
Nor will Philothemis resign the field.
The fair each moment in their anger rose,
Words lead to words, and blows elicit blows.
The Gods above, tho' far from sight remov'd,
With shrilly cat calls aid the din they lov'd.
The powers of discord ruled in frantic mood;
And stern Erinnys dipt her torch in blood.
Let not the author be misunderstood—He means no unclean allusion to the professional pursuits and applications of the Doctor, as though the poet of his praise should be put in sudden motion by the operation of a C*****r Pipe, that would be a silly, preposterous, unsavoury and misplaced joke, a joke a posteriori—minus aptus acutis naribus horum hominum.
“With submissive resignation to the sovereign comp- “troller of events,” could the pious M--- say more when he was appointed at last to the twice promised and long expected Bishopric? I am happy at having an opportunity of congratulating this evangelic character, on the reward of his patience and long suffering,
Gathering Digitalis or Fox glove—The apothecaries of Dablin assemble for the purpose, at a certain time of the year, and repair to a pass in the mountains called the Scalp, where the plant is found.
As there was a great round of cabinet dinners, on a certain late change, to drink success to the new administration, so, there was a great round of medical, surgical, and apothecarial dinners, to welcome the Doctor to Ireland, and drink a feverisb spring, a sickly summer, and aguisb autumn,—pia vota! they had all the good things above enumerated, with many other dainties prepared according to the London Art of Cookery—Pbarmacopœia Londinensis.
“Poured never from her frozen loins, to pass
“Rbene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
“Came like a deluge on the south, and spread
“Beneath Gibraltar to the Lybian sands.”
Milton.
Sir Cbarles Vernon blunted the edge of their appetite, not with a billet doux, but billet amer, or lettre de cachet, apprising them that at the Castle they would be considered as persons of an agreeable absence—Anglice, their room would be more pleasing than their company.
The Dutchess insisted that Sir C****** should attend her on horse-back on an excursion. He remonstrated, and declared on the faith of a true knight, he had never rode in his life. Her Grace answered, it was time he should begin.— No excuse would be admitted. He was set on a fiery charger.—But this adventure deserves a separate poem.
“Who can be wise, amazed, temperate, and furious, loyal, and neutral in a moment?—No man.” Shakespeare.
This is a just anticipation, generally adopted, and indicatory of the public sense of this accomplished and polite attorney's high deserts and pretensions. He is not yet knighted, but he has long been the companion of the great and noble. He is truly a consequential man. The term scrivener seems to have been admitted for the sake of the rhyme, not in contempt of this most important attorney.
A Belle Esprit of an uncommon ease and elegance in his manners. He had fair pretensions to be received at the Castle by prescription, as he was formerly a member of the Irisb Parliament and must have dined at the alphabet dinners.
The admirable Creighton of the Attorney's Corps. I have seen him preside at a court martial with real dignity.
The Secretary is considered as the domestic genius, the Lar or household God of the Castle, therefore, the crowd is with peculiar propriety made to follow him, particularly as there was a great demand for places at this juncture.
I need not dwell on the character here introdnced, not to know him would argue my Reader unknown, no visitant at the Castle, no inmate of polite houses—But if this poem should fall into the hands of the vulgar and ignorant, contrary to my intentions, I will condescend to refer them for further information to a publication, called Familiar Epistles, and ascribed to one hundred different authors.
Ulster King at Arms, a necessary person on this occasion to marshal the triumphal procession, to proclaim the victory over the Gotbs and Vandals, and to declare war with them according to the terms and stipulations of the red and black lists and Joyeuse Entree of the Castle. Sir C********* keeps his shop of honours and College of arms in the house formerly occupied by Mrs. Mayne, better known by the name of Sally M`Laine.
The term Grace here most happily admits of a double sense to denote not only the elegance of manner, but the purity of intention, with which this carpet knight, dubb'd with un-hack'd rapier, performs his various and confidential carnival functions.
So Grey in his Elegy—
“His listless length at noon tide would he stretch,“And pore upon the brook that babbles by.”
Commentators conjecture that this passage is descriptive of a young Abbe of fair hopes, who had formerly a situation in the Embassy to Constantinople. Quere—Whether lawn here means lawn Sbifts or lawn Sleeves? Perhaps the young gemman may make a shift to combine them.
That the reader may comprehend this passage, I must inform him that on various turnpike gates and—posts in the vicinity of Dublin a programma or affiche has appeared, denouncing death and destruction to all “who may trespass on the demesne late the propetty of Mr. Maber, and now the residence of the Lord**** &c.” and apprising them that men in arms are stationed all night in said demesne! I do not find that other Noblemen and Gentlemen in the County of Dublin are driven to adopt similar measures.
There was in former ages, when Pigs were Swine, a certain Sir Henry who had a finger in the Treasury pie. In his accounts was a certain Hiatus valde deflendus. I would recommend the history of the business to Mr. Cobbet.
Omnia suspendens naso adunco, is the motto of these witty Ladies, who cut and carve the foolish, blundering Irish, at an unmerciful rate.
More foolish in nothing than in their indiscriminate Hospitality to Strangers, who laugh at them and their disregard of their own country.
That fiction is the soul of Poetry, the honest Author in the abundance of his love for Truth, must acknowledge, that it is only by poetic licence that he has made Major B. and Sir C. inseparable companions in the Viceregal train.—Truth is, let them scent and essence themselves, as they will, they are in bad odour with the bonny Lass. Sir C. has incurred her incurable displeasure by his pious love of Castle etiquette, and manful resistance to the dancing propensity of the fair and noble Lady, in defence of ancient ceremonial. She seems to regard him much as Sancbo did the dread Doctor, with his wand, or rather as a kind of male Duenna, stationed to be a restraint on mirth, a damper of pleasures. She looks upon him, as a man of an agreeable absence, whose presence may well be dispensed with at the private parties where mirth and jollity—
“Trip it, as they go,“On the light fantastic toe.”
Poor B. poor C. virtuous martyrs to the righteous love of forms. Ye are laid under an interdict—no coach allowed to carry you—ye are excluded from the private parties, amerced of the joyous suppers, forced to wear livery; but to us— “Quis talia fando temperet a Lachrymis?”
Before the introduction of wigs, (a fashion which has conduced much to cleanliness) the use of white precipitate was well known to ladies who were blest with fine heads of hair.
It is a most delectable story how the company were invited on a long notice, by my Lady J—y—how they all expected a ball and supper, took their measures accordingly, and sent off their carriages and servants, desiring them to return at three in the morn—How Lady J—y marched off to Lady Van's ball, to see the Duchess, and left her caro sposo to bow the company out of the house supperless as well as he could.
Commentators are in great doubt who is meant by Van, some think Vanhomrigh, others Vansittart, some Vanneck, some Vanbutchell, some Vandeput, &c. &c.
I am in doubt as to the person here meant, perhaps it may mean some wealthy merchant, or thriving haberdasher, perhaps some clerk in a public office, who possesses a comfortable opacity of intellect, and a moderate knowledge of vulgar arithmetic.
It is highly in character that the daughter of an Attorney and the wife of a General should be trained in the science of offence and defence, should know all the value of anticipation, and be ready to seize on every advantage.
This was her Point D'Appui, to speak in the military phrase. But quere, what post? a military or an architectural post? a post in the army, or a post under government?
THIRD CANTO.
ARGUMENT.
AUTHOR regrets that the days of Chivalry are no
more, and that Ladies are obliged to fight their own
battles when questions of Precedence occur.—Fight
begins—Philothemis attempts to pull Dennira from
her seat, is foiled in the attempt, throws a bowl of
tea in her face—Dennira's brave resistance; She
drives a half-sucked orange into the mouth of Philothemis,
who returns discomfited—Themis observes
this, assumes the semblance of a Six-Clerk, and flies
to the Four-Courts for reinforcements—The names of
some who came at the call of Themis—The battle
renewed—Bellona, alarmed for the safety of Dennira,
flies to the Barracks and brings the General himself
From him who sung Belinda's ravished hair!
Oh might he borrow Forteguerri's verse,
And beauty's power and knightly deeds rehearse!
Or rival him, the banks of Seine along
Who told of Cleric feuds in lofty song,
The fatal Desk, that dire contention bred,
What hosts the Prelate and the Chanter led.
Attend, fair dames, and, courtly lovers, hear,
If martial scenes may captivate the ear.
Oh could the days of chivalry revive,
And champions bold to warring females give!
Then should the knights in listed fields decide
Claims of precedence—rival beauties' pride—
With burning hearts the soft aspiring sex:
But flow'rs of chivalry no longer bloom;
Or flourish only on the silent tomb.
The courteous knights are vanished from our ken,
In lounging days we live of little men.
What lady now may boast a courteous knight?
What errant champions now for beauty fight?
To whom shall dames their wounded pride impart?
Who slights avenge, that agonize the heart?
Election quarrels, or a cast at dice
Can rouse contending champions in a trice;
But none, like true-born knights, will take the field
When injured females must precedence yield.
Our youths are all of courtesy bereft,
Our females all to fight their battles left.
Their snow-white hands the pond'rous lance sustain,
Their shoes embroider'd tread th' embattl'd plain.
Yet some exceptions, with delighted mind,
Ev'n in degen'rate times the muse can find.
Our females yet exhibit noble rage,
When cards and dice their anxious thoughts engage.
The rival dames commenc'd their cruel fray.
This canto brings their combat to a close.—
Then let my weary Pegasus repose.
Pretensions high inflam'd each haughty mind;
Thrice with Dennira had the Duchess dined;
Philothemis recounts her noble race,
Her husband's merits and exalted place.
In force so match'd were never heroines yet,
Since Bradamantè and Marfisa met.
The Box-keepers aghast their fury view,
Then wisely cautious from the fight withdrew.
Three times Philothemis renew'd th' attack,
As oft Dennira's legion drove her back.
But wounded honour so the fair sustain'd,
She pierc'd the lines, the leader's station gain'd.
And thrice she strove to pull her from her seat,
But ev'n to raise her was no trifling feat.
Endow'd with strength and weight her place to hold,
The dame was cast in nature's solid mold.—
So, when contending parties vex a nation,
Sits firmly fix'd some broad administration.
A waiter with a bowl of tea she spies,
Fragrant the tepid steam arose, and bland;
She caught the bev'rage from the bearer's hand;
Full in Dennira's face the bowl she threw,
The tea meand'ring down her bosom flew.
On the smooth orbs the milky currents glide;
Thus thaws bedew the snow-crown'd hillock's side.
So, when her ample breast a wet-nurse shows,
The milk spontaneous from the nipple flows,
The spouting streams confess the source within,
And balmy currents irrigate her skin.
Lest pointed fragments should offend the fair,
The bowl of china was, by Venus' care,
And, as a shield, that orb of beauty prest,
Adorn'd and guarded see the fair appear,
Thus eastern dancers bosom-cases wear.
Astonish'd, not dismay'd, Dennira stood,
And soon she dried away the milky flood.
Sternly she frown'd, as when with rage possest,
She drove unbidden youngsters from the feast.
The foe came open-mouthed with rage impell'd;
An half-sucked orange as Dennira held,
Large as a cannon ball, not quite so hard;
With stedfast courage and with sharp regard,
There, where the portals of her face stood wide,
Forceful she drove her instrument of death,
And stopt at once her triumph and her breath.
Sputt'ring she fell, the Tipstaffs came in aid,
Sped their commission, and the fair convey'd
To safe retreat, with small remains of life;
Then all her partizans desert the strife.—
And now Dennira had the triumph gain'd,
And firm possession of the box retain'd:
But Themis sorrowing, mark'd her fav'rite's fate,
And new assailants join the fierce debate.—
Drest like a Six-clerk to the Courts she flew,
And summoned to the fight a motley crew.
Masters, and barristers, attorneis came,
With meek solicitors, an humble name;
Some flaunt in silks, and some in tatter'd rags;
Some were slight armed, and some with loaded bags.
Ev'n ermin'd sages came to join the fray,
Who spread her rule with delegated sway.—
The noble Eolist obeys her call,
And as he vented forth each spell of wind,
He gave a piece and parcel of his mind.
Next smooth ****, sly and sneering still,
Came, more for love of mischief than good will.
He cared not who might victory obtain,
And only wish'd that he himself should gain.
An Elephant in size, without dispute,
And ev'n in sense, a wise, half-reasoning brute,
Came solemn ****'s gigantic form and vast:
The very pavement labour'd as he past.
Then G---, in simple, plain exterior join'd
With sordid cunning of a vulgar mind:
Mild as the north wind, civil as the bear,
Half in judicial robes was Wormwood there.
With surly pride his downcast eye-ball scowl,
In deep long notes he does not speak, but growl:
Oh may he soon be placed at N---'s side
And all his sweetness to his ear confide.
The bellowing B*****, for ever forward, came.
Not him I mean in equity profound,
But him more frequently in Green-street found.
Of Macs a pair I mark'd among the croud,
Elate in hope, of courtly favour proud.
At Levee too I mark'd them in the press,
With gay pretensions, splendid as their dress.
Oh just pretensions, happy is the wight,
That Princes can approach, or Farces write!
Grim as a collier, with precursive roar,
Foaming and sweating like a hunted boar,
Axungia came, and B***** was in his wake,
Ye reeking warm his vacant chair to take.
There shall he shine another and the same,
With equal dignity and equal fame.
A dingy mist ascended as he went,
With flagging wings the breeze received the scent,
The ducklings quak'd, the sky was overcast,
The weather-glasses fell where'er he past.
He too was there, who double worth display'd,
In Chanc'ry solemn, martial on parade,
And master named for mastery in war.
With scowling brow pedantic **** goes,
Hibernian Garret, fam'd for length of nose.
Sober and prim as any ancient maid,
The thrifty ***** marches to their aid.
They claim his presence in a double right,
Master by day, Policeman in the night.
Such promptitude must win Papinian's grace,
Too long repugnant to the sale of place.
With cuffs of scarlet and with coat of blue,
Then prating M****** waddled with the crew;
“Silence and order,” D***** full oft exclaim'd,
But his and N*****'s tongues would not be tam'd;
Ambitious stationer, on objects high
Of twofold kind he squints with leering eye;
To conservator's chair at once he looks,
And pompous A*****'s shop and gilded books,
High-minded man, who scarce a nod affords
To commoners, and keeps his bow for lords.
Papinian takes his station in the rear;
The post of danger wisely he declined,
Good generals still in safety should we find.
All these and countless more to Crow-street throng,
Old Liffey wonders as they march along.
All strength and courage that her stars allow'd;
But heav'n, that always makes the brave its care,
Brought new assistance to sustain the fair.
Bellona mark'd the foe's approach from far,
And sought the General to support the war;
Her the slow cart-horse, and the scarlet cloak,
A private trooper of the guards bespoke.
She trotted slowly, 'twas her swiftest rate,
And timely enter'd at the Barrack gate.
She called as shrill as cock announcing morn,
She called as loud as loudest bugle-horn.
“Turn out the picket, and to Crow-street haste.”
—She added not, but to Kilmainham past,
The Templar's cross when streaming banners bore;
Now invalids their frugal porridge eat,
While gay Dennira spreads the sumptuous treat.
The general in the surgeon's hands she found,
On either shin appear'd a desp'rate wound;
While R***y, a Machaon in his art,
With fomentations sooth'd th' offended part:
The scars of honour on his front appear,
Tho' foil'd in fight with ambush'd tubs of beer.
So, when Achilles war with Xanthus wag'd,
The splashing fight in foaming liquor rag'd.—
His wig uncurled with amber current swims,
A petticoat invests his mighty limbs;
His small-cloaths in the conflict wet and torn,
Left his posteriors naked and forlorn.
Thy breeches, Peter, were by half too small.
That good Petrina, gentle as she's fair,
Wears not the breeches, let the muse declare.
An highlander you might the Gen'ral vote,
But dimity compos'd his petticoat,
Far happier function it perform'd of old,
Petrina's beauteous members to enfold;
Now it conceals, puff'd out in high relief,
The great posteriors of the valiant chief.
“Gen'ral arise, for this important now,
“Is fraught with ornaments to crown thy brow;
“To Crow-street haste, where laurels may be found;
“And desp'rate foes thy better half surround.”
The dangers that await his dearest dear,
He stays not to prepare his good grey steed;
(For soldiers double ride, in case of need,)
His trim forgotten and his wounds unfelt:
Behind Bellona on the crupper plac'd,
In martial mood this pair to Crow-street pac'd.
Nor helm, nor hawberk, nor the shining brand
The warrior took—a truncheon arm'd his hand.
Thus, when Albracea's beauteous maid they sought,
One steed with Ferräü, Rinaldo brought.
And mutual rancour at the prospect grew.
A pass from Crow-street leads to Temple-bar,
There light and heavy bands commence the war;
Unguarded this Papinian hop'd to find,
No 'vantage ever scap'd his wary mind;
A soldier old, in senate and in field,
Well practis'd when to strike, and when to yield.
At this eventful time the Gen'ral came;
His presence fill'd his troops with warlike flame:
The pavement trembled with his solid course,
The mud of Temple-bar a vortex rose,
Then fell in sable torrents on his foes,
Papinian stepp'd aside, and 'scap'd unhurt,
But fat M****** was tumbled in the dirt.
As o'er some steepy bridge of single arch
The warriors o'er his mountain-belly march.
The waiters mark'd him as he groaning lay,
And to a chop-house bore the chief away.
“Order, decorum, gentlemen,” he said,
“Ev'n in a battle let politeness reign.”—
Then N--- chaunted forth an Orthian strain,
“Britons strike home”—The martial sound imparts
Redoubled energy to warlike hearts.
Shoving and thrusting, furious blows and knocks.
The Deities among the crowd appear;
There Thcmis urg'd the fight, Bellona here.
But Themis ever should resistless sway;
Her bands to Crow-street cut their furious way.
In lobby and in box was fight renew'd,
Porter and blood the valiant hands embrew'd.
Tea, coffee, negus, on the ground were spilt;
And warriors sunk, not wholly dead, but kilt.
Unarm'd and naked fly the female bands;
The men pursue them, with rapacious hands.
We read in chronicles of ancient fame,
To Roman plays when Sabine ladies came,
On trembling dames impetuous warriors flew,
And every Roman blade his rapier drew.—
Oaths, shrieks, screams, scolding, groans, are heard afar,
The house presents a dreadful form of war,
Torn waistcoats, tatter'd kerchiefs, wigs and gowns.
Such beauteous wigs as Grecian ladies drest,
Such curls as flow'd o'er Agrippina's breast;
Muffs, tippets, ruffs, and pads are scatter'd round;
Divorces, purgatories, strew the ground;
Beads, bugles, tassels, ribbands, fringes, lace,
Pennaches, turbans, hats are scatter'd through the place.
And locks, that vied in blackness with the crow,
Long in alliance with Dennira tied,
A lively Amazon was at her side;
Whose hue tho' dark might shame the fairest fair;
Her form was elegance and grace her air:
In mystic rites of Cl---e a priestess fam'd,
Her sov'reign sway ferocious care had tam'd;
She curs'd, she swore, she gam'd, she drank, with ease.
The Heroine shone conspicuous in the van;
For never had she turn'd her back to man.
In ev'ry glance pernicious lightning flew,
And kill'd the victim that her arm o'erthrew:
The pride of warriors to the ground she cast,
Then spurn'd the dead, and to new triumph past.
Her fatal march a chief undaunted ey'd,
His crest was haughty and his chest was wide;
His ample jowls that red and white display'd,
Seem'd for the stalls of some cathedral made;
His mouth was form'd with an expression meet
Good things to utter, and good things to eat:
More apt he seem'd for Cytherea's war
Than wordy contests of the brawling bar.
Serene he rear'd, amid the howling storm,
His comely visage, and his portly form.
His twinkling eyes he roll'd, his smile confest
The bosom pregnant with a coming jest.
“Thyself my captive, and thy spoils my pride,
“Thou shalt in triumph to my tent be led,
“Preside at breakfast, and partake my bed;
“Thy skirt a night-cap on my head be worn:
“Thy robe a curtain shall my couch adorn;
“Thy Recamier I seize, heroic dame,
“To hold my briefs a trophy of my fame.”—
“Never, by heavens (th' indignant heroine cry'd)
“This faithful Recamier shall quit my side;
“Or blessed sun while vital air I draw,
“Shall see me captive to a man of law.
“Have I not met embattled, face to face,
“At golden hazard, a superior race;
“Youths that would stake upon a single die,
“More than whole terms to such as thou supply.
“Oh mirthful orgies, never to return!
“Oh chiefs that rest within the silent urn!
“Begone,—I fly to Albion's happy strand,
“I scorn to rest in this degraded land.”
She turn'd with sorrowing yet contemptuous mind,
The chief impetuous seiz'd her fast behind;
But light as air she disembody'd flies;
Nor stay'd her course on Erin's hated plains
While her rear-admiral the foe detains.
Not Phœbus felt more sorrow or amaze,
When, Daphne lost, he fill'd his hand with bays.
Philothemis beheld in wrathful mood;
She springs like light'ning to the foremost rank,
She smote his brows with steaming porter dank;
Then from his head the dripping wig she tore
And stamp'd contemptuous on the dusty floor;
And were it laurel it had been the same,
So full of fury was the warlike dame:
Frowning he stood with head expos'd and bare;
To guard and grace it was Dennira's care.
But whence or how?—Lo where Papinian stands,
With waving curls that equity demands;
And crowns her husband with the glorious prize.
Not with more pride did chief of ancient Rome
In triumph bear the opima spolia home
Than did the Gen'ral.—As he past the crowd,
The tipstaffs to the wig official bow'd;
The mace the wig omnipotent obey'd;
The purse before him was in state display'd:
The lawyers made obeisance as he went;
Th' attornies all in adoration bent.—
'Tis not the man that can attention call;
Symbols of pow'r, be sure, are all in all.
The crown, the sceptre, and the purple robe,
Will veneration claim around the globe.
Who cassoc short and sleeve of cambric wears,
In God right reverend to the crowd appears.
All Crow-street rung and Drury-lane replied.
From ev'ry avenue the footmen bawl,
And orange-wenches scream from ev'ry stall;
The butchers dogs are heard with open throat,
And curs and turnspits join their treble note;
Carmen and porters, to partake the sport,
Mount their gall'd jades and gallop to the court.
The barristers and agents join the race;
Such hunting ne'er was seen since Chevy Chace.
Papinian found his trusty hunter nigh,
He led the jolly train with potent cry.
O'er squeaking beldams in their haste they rode,
On sprawling pigs the fiery courser trode;
They splash'd, they dash'd, with frantic fear possest,
The mothers snatch'd their infants to the breast.
Drew off the hunters in a badger's form:
Th' attractive scent the sportsmen keen pursue,
O'er the green hills, and vanish from the view.
The Gen'ral to the courts of justice went,
For to his brain the wig some crotchets lent.
His triumph o'er the foe seem'd incomplete,
If to the wig he added not the seat.
Some plodding lawyers at their briefs had stay'd,
They read, and wondered why the court delay'd;
They made obeisance when the wig they saw,
The Gen'ral sate and gave them martial law;
Then bade the Master-adjutant report,
And so manœuvred fairly out of court.
The storm of battle raged with frightful din.
Tho' many from th' embattled field retir'd,
Those who remain'd, with double fury fir'd,
Bit, scratch'd, and tore.—their shouts spread far and wide
And what their numbers lost their rage supplied.
The lovely Duchess from her seat arose,
With looks and accents that might well controul
The wild disorder of a maniac's soul.
“Now ken you weel, (the bonny Duchess cries)
“These cheels wull mak a muckle din arise.
“What gars them thrang to sic envenom'd fra?
“Ca' the poleese and let them gang awa;
“Fou sair it makes me greet, 'tis unco strange
“Sae wild disorder thrae the hoose shad range.”
Still, still they roar'd, and still the combat glow'd;
And such the furious appetite for fight,
The play-house had been sack'd that very night,
Had not Apollo heard in gentle tones
The rising orisons of pious Joncs.
Not with more piety or more despair,
To father Jove, Eneas breath'd his prayer,
When Trojan matrons, urg'd by Juno's ire,
Or potent stingo, set his ships on fire.
In A****'s shape the God from heaven descends,
Athwart his breast the ribband blue extends;
A brisky juvenile, not quite fourscore.
He held the fiddle, and the bow he ply'd;
Like L---h, Mercury was at his side;
And sooty Vulcan with a limping pace,
Behind them carried an enormous bass.
That has not concord of sweet sounds confest!
“Hush ev'ry breeze” th' immortal fiddler play'd;
The din subsided, and the fight was stay'd.
A sweet Adagio to the tune succeeds,
A tender strain, that melancholy feeds,
Then, Siciliano, innocent and kind,
To mutual fondness sooth'd the hostile mind.
The warriors to the ground their weapons threw,
To clasp each other in embrace they flew;
By mutual aid they recompose their hair,
And all disorders of their dress repair.
Those who so late were interchanging blows,
Sate amicable now, in peaceful rows:
Discord was dumb, and Emulation dead,
All contests now, but of politeness fled,
The next Dennira quietly retain'd;
And all the rest without a murmur sate
As Macanally pleas'd, or ruling fate.
The curtain rose—the silence was profound.
Thus harmony the power of music crown'd.
There are some vile, vulgar words adopted in modern politics—Budget and Broad-bottomed administration—Budget is borrowed from the avocation of a tinker: It supposes the minister to be an itinerant hireling, who deals in the basest metal, proposes more than he can do, and undertakes to stop the chinks and cracks of the leaky state, ruinous and rusty as an old kettle.—Broad bottomed administration is a vile phrase, it is meant to express an administration of weight, pondere fixa suo, but it may be turned to denote one that shews its a—, according to the passage in Shakspeare (Measure for Measure) “Esc. What's your name, master Tapster? Pom.—Pompey. Esc.—What else? Pom.—Bum, sir. Esc. —Troth and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the great.”—No bad description of a broad-bottomed administration.
The reader will find a very luxurious description of the dancing girls in Abbe Raynal's book. The good Abbe sometimes indulged himself, like his brother philosopher Darwin, in a strain of grave philosophical pruriency. He is truly cloquent on the subject of those bosom cases.
Alluding to a curious story of Dennira's ejecting certain beaus from a party at a late entertainment given by her to their Excellencies, she went up to two Gentlemen, (one a Mr. C—n, the name of the other I have forgot) and expressed her surprise, how Gentlemen would come uninvited: they asserted they got Tickets; she said she wrote all the Tickets herself and sent them, and that they were not of the number. The Gentlemen retired, and enclosed their Tickets the following day to her Ladyship, when she recollected she gave six Tickets to Sir C— V—, for his friends, and supposed these two were of the number.
Instrument of death.—Let not this expression be thought hyperbolical, when applied to an Orange.—We are told that Anacreon was choaked by a much smaller substance, a grape stone. The Poet has very properly adapted the weapons with which his Ladies fought to the delicacy of the female frame.
Eolists, a sect of ancient philosophers, who dealt much in puffing and ventosity.—See Swift's Essay on the mechanical operation of the spirit.
Hogs-lard, or the grease of a Cartwheel—it may be applied, to signify any thick black, gross, fetid, unctiuous substance.
I believe we should read plaice here, in allusion to some obscure story about Fishmonger's contracts.
He was peculiarly fit for the ranks of Themis, both as having a shop in the Four Courts, and being a conservator.
Kilmainbam, now an hospital for invalids, and also the residence of some general officer, was formerly a commandery of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
A famous army surgeon and member of the medical board and hospital staff, in the time of the Trojan war. See Gazette d'Homere.
This alludes to an incident which actually took place at Mrs. Peter's collation.—The worthy General fell over some tubs of beer or porter and spoiled his uniform, particularly his small-cloaths.
Some copies read, “anterior,” Baudius Arsenius prefers it, and it is sanctioned by the Toledo manuscript; I should therefore be inclined to let it stand in the text.
“Ornaments to crown thy brow.” That was calculated to excite a variety of ideas, and applied equally to his hopes of honour and his fears of disgrace. The abruptness of the address has great energy and spirit.
Angelica, the daughter of Galafron—See Orlando Furioso.— Book the first.
“Con prieghi invita, & al fin toglie in groppa,
“Eper l'Orme d' Angelica galoppa.”
Something is here omitted.—The author has not expressed himself clearly. Quere; for what purpose Mr. M— was conveyed to the chop-house? was it to eat, or to be eaten? I suspect the latter.—I have heard it whispered, that his Calipash or Calipee were made into Turtle soup.
The composed and dignified character of the judge, so fond of order and decorum, so full of phlegm on every occasion, is well delineated here.
An Hibernicism.—The combatants were not killed dead; but destined to live a little longer, more Hibernorum.
“Luctus, ubique pavor, & plurima mortis
“Imago.”
Virgil.
Divorces, so called in the nomenclature of female dress, are certain articles or instruments, stiffened with iron and steel, which are applied to the Ladies breasts, to give them a proper degree of consistency and projection, by preventing their collapsing, or coming too closely in contact with each other.— The Purgatory is a part of female dress, worn lower down.— Various conjectures may be formed as to the origin of the name.
This episode is in the true Homeric spirit. The man-ners of the heroic ages are well observed in the conversation which takes place in the heat of battle, in the idea of stripping the spoils, and in the employments destined for captive ladies.
A part of female dress which has superseded the use of petticoats, and somewhat resembles a pair of small-cloaths. It is usually made of some very elastic materials.
Also a part of female dress or rather of the embodied female substance; something like it was formerly used under the name of mont en ciel; it is stationed in the rear, as the term imports.
Let not the malicious reader take an improper meaning from this line, as if the fair Dennira ever thought of adorning or fortifying the brows of her husband in a manner contrary to the Articles of War, with Hornworks, Halfmoons or the like, introduced by French engineers.
This is highly in character.—Papinian, who is a mighty hunter before the Lord, has a view hollow of his wig breakng cover, and very properly pursues it in a grand style, as is here described.
The going off thus in the middle of the fight was a truly politic stroke; this is what is called backing one's friends—as Falstaff says. This passage deserves to be studied, as containing a most excellent and instructive moral lesson.
Observe here a dignus vindice nodus, To make the triumph of her favorite complete Bellona contrives to draw off the hunters.
Thus happily ended this great contest for the present; but as the ladies are so apt to put themselves into heats, I would advise, in order to keep them cool, that to the present refreshments at the drawing-rooms of the Duchess, such as lemonade, orangeade, and orgeat, ices may be added.
II. SECOND PART.
BEING A CONTINUATION OF PART I.
Ha!—art thou there, old Truepenny.
CANTO IV.
ARGUMENT.
INVOCATION—The Poet's desire of fame—The
Action is resumed—Indignation of Eris, or Discord, at
the cessation of hostilities between the belligerent powers
—The means chosen by her to revive the contention—
Strong claims of Discord on the Irish Government—
She repairs to the Castle-spectre, demands performance
of an Union-promise—He feels the justice of her claims
—Finds her booked for some favour, and resolves to
gratify her—For the purpose of procuring a scuffle, he
determines, as the most effectual means, to give a general
Fete Champetre—Indiscriminate invitation of guests
I seek the martial dames near Liffey's stream;
I hail the military pomp from far,
The waving plumes, and dazzling files of war.
Heroic Amazons, the combat wage!
And let your Bard partake the noble rage.
Her Grace will plaudits to the strain allow;
And courtly W*******n his mitre bow.
R**n**h shall praise; and all the Castle train
Cry—“Bravo, bravo: let him sing again.”
It throws a sun-shine o'er his wintry days;
It steals him from the nameless ills of life,
The duns importunate—the scolding wife;
It bids him at his betters curl his nose;
While Admiration whispers—“there he goes!”
If great the suff'ring, great is the reward
That waits the fasts and vigils of the Bard
And Pipes and Bishoprics I can resign;
Untir'd I sing.—I feel the tuneful sport
Can make the weary path of Being short.
The work I plan, the monument design,
Doom'd to survive this flitting form of mine.
The great Extinguisher of Time ere long
Must quench the Bard, and subjects of his song:
But Phœbus whispers, that my lofty rhymes
Shall please the Belles and Beaux of distant times.
But vain and fleeting are the hopes of life.
Axungia hop'd—but now he mourns in sprite,
The furs bestow'd on Wormwood the polite.
Discord with anguish from the scene retir'd,
She saw the truce with indignation fir'd.
“Be stunn'd with harmony, with concord curst!
“In Church and Senate have I kindl'd war,
“Yet fail with women and the brawling bar!
“With off'rings feed, or at my altars bend!
“'Tis told in Scripture, and by bards 'tis sung,
“What direful ills have from an apple sprung.
“Pernicious gift! an apple could deceive
“Contending goddesses, and mother Eve.
“Now, to th' occasion I the measure suit,
“And tempt these females with a meal of fruit.
“The Castle-Spectre to my aid I call,
“This vaunted Union shall to discord fall.”
Nor was she slow the Spectre's lodge to find,
And glorious mischief brooded in her mind.
The doors flew open, onward as she prest.
The paly phantom eager she addrest.
“The boasted Union—is it not my own?
“Divide and Govern was the maxim still.—
“I shap'd your measures with informing skill.
“What lawyers scribbled, what old Corney paid.
“I taught the zealots of the Church to roar;
“I dy'd the zealots of the Cross in gore.
“I party Symbols gave, and party Names,
“And fill'd fraternal hearts with stygian flames.
“For such deserts, I should to thee be dear;
“For such deserts, be to the Palace near.—
“Of Momus now I shall become the sport.
“A truce inglorious chases me from Court.
“O shame! confusion! never be it said,
“That Discord fail'd where British counsels sway'd!
“Convoke th' attendant Belles and Beaux from far,
“Mine be it—to disperse the seeds of war.”
Her aid his friends had prov'd in former years.
Her recent Union services he own'd:
And Union-promises have all been crown'd.—
He plann'd a breakfast; sent his cards abroad;
Full fifty porters sweated with the load.
O glorious rout, that cause of Discord prov'd,
Such Dejeuner, as ancient chaos lov'd!
The doom severe, that thinn'd St. Patrick's hall.
All hues of party in the list were seen—
Red, white, and Orange, purple, blue, and Green.
Sects various, as the party-colour'd hues,
Churchmen, and Romanists, with Turks and Jews.
For much delight he felt, or chose to feign,
To see the general Saturnalia reign.
Gamblers and Statesmen, Churchmen, men of Law;—
No Lord-May'r's feast a greater medly saw.
United Brethren posted to the board.
And Orange Lodges rush'd, a furious horde.
Moravians, Swaddlers, Anabaptists came;
A Walker walk'd, a non-descript of fame.
More pied assemblage never charm'd her view.
The proud encampment rose, the streamers play,
Bright as the pheasant's plume, or popinjay.
Near crowded Cairo thus, of various dies,
And various forms, the proud pavillions rise:
Intent to mingle merchandize and pray'r.
The feast was suited to the public taste;
Ten thousand cates in jellies and in paste.
Earth, water, air, to crown the board purvey'd;
Apicius never such a treat display'd.
Each fam'd alembic, and each noblest vine,
Combin'd to furnish the liqueurs and wine.
But what distinguish'd most the sumptuous fete,
The master look'd as if he never ate.
For Hecate how suppers were kept cool.
If suppers waited thus the queen of hell,
A ghost might sure a breakfast give as well,
Some, who such ghostly converse ill enjoy,
Might well a spoon of double length employ.
So well the cook and traitcur play'd their part,
That all the produce seem'd of magic art.
And distant climates were together brought.
And, rang'd in order, at the board we find,
Thy caviar, Moscow, with the spice of Ind.
Along the board had Y****s employed his skill,
Near every cover was a gilded pill,
Soap of Castile and Calomel combin'd,
From bile the bowels free, from grief the mind,
Were there conven'd, and countless myriads more.
Chief in the train our eyes a couple strike
Alike in principles, in wigs alike,
Fierce in polemics, and of zeal untam'd,
In person squat, but for politeness fam'd,
As arm in arm they came, loquacious, bland,
One coil'd a clew of packthread round his hand.
And much he talk'd with deep discerning look
Of Councils, Fathers, and Sir Edward Cook.
Eblana's double pontiff there I saw.
Alike their stature, and alike their port,
They pace the streets, and haunt the viceroy's court,
The stunted twins, of mother church in age,
Their busy heads intrigues of state engage.
That they are two, by sportive Chance was done,
For Nature had design'd to make them one:
And Chance, to consummate the jadish trick,
Gave one to Paddy, one to Dominick.
There too, of young divines I mark'd a croud,
Unheard in pulpits, at a fox chase loud.
To doxies they in the Bordellos preach,
Or newest creeds of boots and breeches teach.
Yet mitres strangely on such heads may light.
By means inscrutable to human sight.
Ere while an ornament of Rutland's court.
Experienc'd judge of measures and of men.
Tho' vig'rous sage, and mellow ripe, tho' fresh,
And fat, as if she fed on human flesh.
Forward she push'd her daughters, train'd with art,
In active life to take the manly part.
Papinian, stationed at the phantom's side,
Prepar'd the loaves and fishes to divide.
Chief Justice Joker, with some jovial souls,
Snug in a corner took his butter'd rolls,
And Mac--- in his birth day pride,
Fine as a daw, was at his comrade's side.
There China's emperor, with a courtly air,
Grimace important, and a vacant stare,
And motion, as if made of brittle ware,
Where rank and fashion filled the foremost place.
Cares of politeness all his thoughts employ,
His bottle he produc'd—dispens'd his soy.
The fan he spreads, the gentle labour plies,
To guard the ladies from intruding flies.
Some laugh'd, some sung, and others bargains sold:
The point of converse fashion loves to hit,
Where ribbald grossness bears the palm of wit.
The ladies eat and drink, and drink again,
While copious draughts of perfect love they drain,
And as the cups of nectar circled round,
The potent fumes their upper regions found.
It seem'd the crash of elemental war;
So shrill, so harsh, that never did I hear
A burst of mirth so painful to an ear.
Oh! 'twas a Doctor, loudest of the loud,
Or in the mirthful, or the brawling croud.
While with the circling glass the clamour grows.
Perplex'd attention thousand tongues divide,
A thousand sounds are wafted far and wide,
The glasses, salvers, and decanters ring.—
Some lead the dance, and some prepare to sing.
The martial ministrels, station'd on the plain,
Alternate wak'd the spirit-stirring strain.
The prescient God of harmony and day,
Perceiv'd what lurking seeds of mischief lay.
Again he tried, if concord of sweet sound
Might banish discord from the chosen ground,
In vain the God essays his tuneful pow'r,
Fell Discord waits to seize th' appropriate hour.
What Stygian trumpet brays the note of war.
Death and damnation! fury and despair!
Cries, groans and hisses fill the troubled air,
Sobs, wailings, weepings, menace, martial clang,
Envenom'd stab, reiterated bang.
The clarion shrill, the bagpipe's drowsy hum,
The dull incitement of the double drum.
The bugle horn—the hautboys varied breath,
Come on, Bellona, mingle in the roar.
Come, all ye Furies, lap your fill of gore,
Tables were overthrown and jars o'erturn'd,
And leaves of gooseberries were in porter churn'd.
As caution guided, or adventrous rage,
Some darts employ—some hand to hand engage,
With brandy, and the rage of combat warm'd,
Some brandish'd knives, and some with forks were arm'd.
Gnaw'd pippins, orange skins, and bones they threw;
Like patt'ring hail the show'rs of walnuts flew.
The Battle of the Boxes was a fray
Of cranes and pigmies, to this dreadful day;
Plates, dishes, jugs, decanters, glasses hurl'd,
It seem'd the last convulsion of the world.
The sky was darken'd with the missile storms,
And slaughter wore ten thousand hideous forms.
Oh! have you seen by skilful artist wrought,
How valiant Laphithœ with centaurs fought?
How some carous'd, and some the foe assail'd,
And death and riot thro' the scene prevail'd?
Cars, Chariots, Berlins roll'd promiscuous round.
Two causes chief awak'd the murd'rous flame.
From Saltees never came so vast a fish.
Long had the tyrant rul'd with griping claw,
And ship-wreck'd sailors fill'd his ample maw.—
So, when some prelate yields to feasts and fate,
With purple pall the monster lies in state,
Preserving ev'n in death the priestly red,
Doom'd to feed others who so largely fed.—
Majestic Lobster! how the Doctor gloats!
Thy tail Axungia to his paunch devotes.—
C***side-long view'd thee with enamour'd eye:
But could not bear to leave a partridge-pye.
With truffles fill'd, the viand came from far:
He seiz'd it, as a contraband of war.
C*l the fish in right of kindred claim'd,
Whose ample face with hue congenial flam'd:
Her tott'ring legs th' incumbent weight betray'd.
The Cape she visited, she came to Port,
But tumblers of Madeira were her forte.
And twin'd the packthread, as he wagg'd his jaw.—
“Who claims this fish, this monster of the main?
“It is a deodand, I will maintain.
“If Flotsam jetsam ligan it was taken,
“'Tis droit of Admiralty, I find in Bacon.
“I've search'd for precedents:—in Styles we read,
“Who lobsters dress, to crack the claws proceed.
“But then, on principle, it must appear,
“The task belongs to any person here.—
“I have a manuscript of Serjeant Bish,
“Reports from Billingsgate, and title Fish.—
“On Midland Circuit,—no, it was the Home.—
“A case of Lobsters did to trial come.—
“The point was sav'd, by Lord Chief Justice Ryder.
“But, apropos! I hate your Irish Cyder,
“Too much of apple flavour it retains.”
Here--- bellow'd out indignant strains.—
An hundred fish-women, at Oyster-change.
In form diminutive, in face a Jew.—
Such as he was, he flourish'd in his day;
And led the files of war in proud array.
His oratory seem'd almost the moan
Of those who cry “Cast Clothes” in plaintive tone,
“In truth, my lord, and greatest verity,
“No principle to meet the case I see.
“Before we dress the fish, or touch a claw,
“Consult the judges, learned in the law.
“Or let the proper officer report,
“Meantime, the lobster may be lodged in court.
“With humble deference I do insist— —”
A doctor fell'd him with his brawny fist.
Two chiefs, who seldom in their views agreed,
From different parts the rival doctors came,
Axungia's stronger arm enforc'd his claim.
With chairman's action should'ring to the dish,
He stretch'd his mutton paw—he grasp'd the fish.
He grinn'd with pleasure—stript the coat of mail,
And to his ample chops applied the tail.
Grim as the Cyclops, in old Homer's song,
When one he seis'd among the Grecian throng,
The body to his spacious mouth applied,
And crack'd the bones, and suck'd the vital tide.
The Doctor saw in wrath, and ireful mood,
Churchman profest, but Romanist in blood.
Oh! have you heard the loud tremendous roar?
When rustics ring the snout of sturdy boar.
“Did ever scoundrel gobble in such haste,
“A popish thief!—on lobsters he must fast!
“On Fridays, when I spy a fellow feeding,
“I quickly trace his principles, and breeding.
“He in his belly has the Pope of Rome,
“Rebels and Papists all from Wexford come,—
“Who thinks to eat the lobster I design'd—
“I meant to put him in the Bishop's Court,
“A dang'rous recusant, of Popish sort.”
His upper end smoak'd like a house on fire.
Exuding poison of a toad or asp,
The lobster yet remain'd within his grasp.
Pond'rous and large and thorny were the claws,
The doctor smote the doctor on the jaws.
Clatt'ring the weapon fell, like pond'rous mace.—
All arm'd in leather was the doctor's face:
Yet, punctures sore projecting thorns imprest,
And spouting blood bedew'd his sturdy breast.
Not unreveng'd—a vase both large and sweet,
Of bronze stood near, for ladies' uses meet.
Nor had this useful vessel stood forlorn,
The fair had oft replenish'd it, that morn.
'Tis strange how ladies will agree in that,
At other points, in contradiction flat!
Such with our rlval heroines was the case,
That very morn they both enjoy'd the vase.
But, as the bard was not allow'd to look,
He cannot tell you which precedence took.
Their contributions bath'd Axungia's head.
The doctor heav'd—he turn'd it upside down,
O'erwhelm'd with spray, his rival bears the crown;
With equal grace, though not so plump, of yore,
La Mancka's knight Mambrino's helmet wore.
As boots or cloth, that water-proof are held,
A greasy face the gushing streams repell'd,
In copious rills a tide of amber flow'd,
The vase above, a crown pontific shew'd.—
With brow of menace came a chieftain hoar,
And from the field his baffled brother bore.—
Two mitred veterans met amid the croud.
As creeps the wily fox, with looks askance,
When some fat goose allures an am'rous glance;
Bold, yet suspicious, rolls his felon eyes,
Keen for advantage, fearful of surprise.—
As, when the venal fair at close of day,
To seek adventures takes her devious way,
Her reconnoitring eyes incessant rove,
To catch the votary of wine and love.—
As in confessional the friar leers,
When, towards his box some tempting damsel steers.
So leer'd O'---;, while M--- secm'd to show
Half buck, half priest, half Pre---e and half beau.
Smooth as the silk, he in his cassock wears.
For who, like him, by flatt'ry could prevail?
Who messages convey, or bear a tale?
Yet supple to the great, and crouching low;
He to the little, decent pride could show.
Each at his brother's goodly trim amaz'd.
And first, O'B---“What, thou a B---p” cries.
“What, thou a B---p,” W--- replies.—
“Thou, from Parisian cloisters wear the lawn!”
“And thou from a collector's office drawn!”
“But watch the chance that may translation bring.
“Fierce thro' the combat let archbishops range,
“While we confer, and friendly gifts exchange.”
And W--- began, with aspect bland.
“That bids us meet in Fortune's masquerade?”
“By nature form'd in politics to shine.
“And cultivated, by a Jesuit's care,
“To turn to profit her endowments rare.
“In daily Journals paragraphs to write;
“A pamphlet pen, or an address indite;
“By whispers to cement or break a league,
“And oil the hinges of some dark intrigue.”
“Domestic services I claim as mine:
“My solid merits patriots will allow—
“Venus and Mars high-priesthoods can bestow.
“No common art their appetite can feed.
“Each wincing great one has some private sore:
“No common art can touch that tender core.
“Nor is the knowledge granted to the crowd,
“To cringe in season, timely to be proud.
“Let this suffice.—Hark, in your private ear—
“But do we not descry old D--- here?
“Say, should he fall amid the hostile press,
“What child of Fortune shall his spoils possess?”
“Mine, (said O'B---) if seniors may prevail.”
“Mine, (M--- cry'd) if vigour turns the scale.”
Eris, unseen, to fan the flame attends.
Like rival cats they rag'd, like troopers swore.
They bit, they scratch'd, they pummell'd, and they tore.—
Their beavers large were trampled on the ground.
Their powder'd curls were scatter'd piece-meal round.
And ev'n their small-clothes vanish'd in the fray.
Like Sans-Culottes, they rag'd in direful mood.
And now their desperate claws were dy'd in blood,
The hue appropriate to their rank supplied,
And streams empurpled each right reverend hide.
Like wights, whom larceny compels to strip,
Or novices beneath monastic whip.
Or as John Bull, to buy heroic deeds,
At ev'ry vein his life-blood money bleeds.
And mortal combat for a pullet wage.
Two swine obscene advance with piereing cries,
In sturdy conflict, for less noble prize.
The savage multitude—the waggish boys,
Enjoy the triple fight, with mingled noise.
And scarce the human from the brute is known;
So bruis'd to mummy, so transform'd with ire,
So painted, so disguised with gore and mire.
Pigs, dogs, and Pr---s, roll'd in dust and blood,
In social discord scramble to the flood.—
Old Liffey opes his arms, and on his breast,
With froth and offals wafts them from the feast.—
But let me not attend them on their way;
Lest I, perhaps, beyond my depth should stray.
What life-boat then might save the bard from death?
What apparatus could restore his breath?
Here will he pause, nor venture from the shore,
Ere rest and sleep his failing strength restore.—
So, Reader, whether 'Squire, or Beauty bright,
I wish thee fair companion for the night;
And fair adventure, till the morning beams
In waking pleasure, or propitious dreams.
Meaning only of the contending parties, mentioned in the former Cantos; not insinuating that the legislative Uxien between England and Ireland is likely to end in discord.
The effects of certain colours on the organs of certain animals is truly surprising. We know what paroxysms scarlet excites in the turkey-cock; certain brutes are equally annoyed by the colour—Green.
εκατης Δειπνον This was a very public kind of entertainment, being usually laid out at a placè where three roads met.
Beware, reader, not to read this word amiss—Traitor. It is a French word, and means a furnisher of entertainments. By a false pronunciation you might make me say that traitors were employed at the secretary's breakfast.
Wigs.—The near connexion between wigs and the principles which fill the head of the wearer, has been already noticed by Pope in these lines:
“A joke on Fekyll, or some odd old Whig,“Who never changes principles or wig.”
Made Paddy D. vicegerent of the one—made the other a Dominican friar. They are short and zealous, though unlovely in their lives; in their deaths they should not be divided.
This may surprize the reader, at first glance; but flesh to flesh is a natural principle of production and encrease. All systems of organized matter naturally coalesce with their like; it is therefore reasonable to presume that human flesh should be nutritious food to human creatures: and that a lady who has her belly full of it will be apt to encrease in size.
This gentleman was a conspicuous figure at the last birth day levee. The old Castle stagers were astonished at the apparition.
Quere. What Doctor?—I presume some physician. The author seems partial to the profession. It cannot be Doctor Plunket. He is rather sly and sardonic than noisy.
Saltees are islands near the coast in the county of Wexford, from whence great store of Lobsters is sent to Dublin.
Observe here some fine touches of nature, and beautiful delineations of character. The manly --- listens, with much patience, to the law arguments of his noble friend, but when he comes to asperse the character of Irish cyder, the patriotic feelings of the houest gentleman flame out, and he bellows with a becoming indignation.
The impatient character of the redoubtable doctor alluded to, is well preserved hers. It is a pity he interrupted the prosing discourse of the sober orator.
This meeting and familiar conference in the midst of a battle is perfectly Homeric. The reader, who is generally fond of indulging his ingenuity, at the expence of an author's reputation will perhaps endeavour to apply what is mere fiction, and the creation of the poet's brain, to some living characters, with whom the anthor is in habits of great intimacy, and for whom he feels the utmost reverence. But if he should, the fault is in the reader, not the writer, and my highly exalted, and much respected friends will know how to put the saddle on the right horse.
Interdum bonus domitat Homerus.---The author's memory seems here to have been somewhat treacherous; a few lines before he calls one of his interlocutors W---, and now, behold he terms him M---: verily, master poet here is a slip of the pen. But liars, they say, have need of good memories. Aristarchus.
This passage gives an admirable picture of human life and contains an excellent moral lesson. The friendships of courtiers are fleeting and transitory indeed.
Sans Culottes.—This comparison not only illustrates the appearance of the combatants, divested of a certain superfluity of dress, but also the rage, with which they were inspired, resembling that which possest the Parisian mob, or Sans-Culottes, as they affected to call themselves. The author might also wish to intimate, that his reverend champions had attained to eminence on the principles of Sans-Culotterie, the rule and principle of which has ever been to abase the Castle and the Palace, and exalt the pig-sty and the dung-hill. I yow to Jnpiter I mean no personal allusion.
CANTO V.
ARGUMENT.
SOLEMN invocation of Chance—Her supreme
power—Interlude of the Lady and the Doctor—The plot
thickens—Amazon of three tails, her prowess—She
leads her captives to visit the Dargle—The Jew and the
Justice, two other remarkable characters are introduced—Revenge
and Gormandize are gratified at
once—Feats of horsemanship—Final catastrophe approaches—The
pine apple—Eager longings of the ladies—Both
Philothemis and Dennira resolve to possess
this apple of Discord—Dennira, first lays hands
on it—Rage of Philothemis—She kills Dennira, and
Records thy wonders, and exalts thy praise.
Supreme disposer of this earthly ball,
At thy command the nations rise and fall.
Thy nod propitious human glory brings,
The sage's wisdom, and the pow'r of kings.
Thine influence first the dancing atoms drew,
And beauteous order from confusion grew.
And still, when factions rage, with mutual hate,
Thou bidst them join, and ministries create.
Thee chief the heaven-born minister ador'd,
Inspir'd by thee, he sheath'd, or drew the sword.
Inspir'd by wine and thee, in midnight gloom,
The Polar sov'reigns swore at Frederic's tomb.
They swore eternal friendship, nothing loth,
But left to thee fulfilment of their oath.
Crowns, mitres, laurels, in thy path lie strown,
Fame, pow'r, and wealth—ev'n virtues are thine own.
Gives rebel infamy, or patriot fame;
And, in a moment, hostile or benign,
Can halters, exile, or the seals assign.
Almighty Chance, thine empire all revere,
The prelate's lawn O---e and M---n wear,
The greatest sceptic must thy sway confess,
When place and pow'r a thing like N--- dress.
Sure, if my muse the future can survey,
Thou, Chance, shalt lead him on his devious way.
O'er his no-schemes thy wisdom shall preside,
His lavish prompt, or his retrenchment guide.
Confusion doubly shall his skill confound,
And Water-ford and Cork his praise resound.
And join with Y****s to mourn his ravish'd hair.
Not greater fury rag'd in Nisus' soul,
His purple lock when graceless Scylla stole.
A noise distinct the startled ear engag'd,
Pursuit and insult sounded in the rere.
Slender in form, and pallid to the view,
On legs of length a ghastly spectre flew.
A keeper meet he seem'd for Pharaoh's kine;
Or like the Prodigal, when tending swine.
A powerful dame pursued him, as he fled;
And cried for vengeance on his caitiff head.
No dame so meet for Amazonian praise,
Appear'd since Trulla, theme of Butler's lays.
In stature tall, and large of bone, she strode,
Like Tartar princess gorg'd with horses' blood,
Or gaunt as Hogress from her cruel treat,
With mangled parts of living men replete.
The phantom turning, oft his syringe plied,
In vain—the dame her puny foe defied.
A tiny tail, that dangled slim behind.
This late-born off'spring he had fed, for years,
With scented unguents, and the fat of bears.—
His Grace, in agriculture deeply read,
Had all manures employed upon this head.
From the nice beauty to the miry sow,
Each class of dung he tried to make it grow.
But vain had been the care of twenty lords,
The barren head a scanty crop affords.
Th' ungrateful soil just fifty hairs suppli'd,
With violet powder hoar, with ribband tied.
The dame observ'd—(the wish and pow'r to vex
Are the desire and patent of the sex.)
Poor stupid ignorants, untaught to bear
The mimick'd brogue, and ill-dissembled sneer,
Far from her haunts th' affrighted Irish roam,
And leave her ridicule, to prey at home.
Heav'n guard the viceroy from her wit say I!
An oath tremendous, by her beard, she swore,
This flimsy tail should wound her eyes no more.—
Now, with a demon's speed, and sheers in hand,
She chas'd the doctor thro' the martial band.
Not fatal Clotho makes a longer stretch,
To snip the thread of some expiring wretch.
And now she reach'd him with triumphant cries,
She seiz'd—she cropt—she bore away the prize.
Oh how his bowels yearn'd with grief and spite!
Not greater qualms could scammony excite.
He left the trophy to the victor lass,
And gave his griefs to the relenting grass.
Enrich'd with golden streams the grass appears,
And mourns his loss in aromatic tears.
The lady joins the merry-making rout,
And seeks new objects for the gibe and flout.
The warriors wonder at their bard's delay.
With inspiration, waits to crown me there,
Personified he stands, by nature's plan,
Display'd to give the picture of a man.
Fierce as when Python felt his arrows fly,
For him the ladies may be damn'd and die.
Might critics of the bard as highly deem,
As he stands rated, in his own esteem,
Few, few indeed, of old or modern time,
Could boast more signal honours to their rhyme.
Oh, were to him such self-applause decreed,
None other flatt'ry would the poet need,
A sneering town complacent he might view,
And read with smiles an Edinburgh Review.
How dismal were the groans! the shrieks how loud!
Not rival cocks are fill'd with greater rage,
Not quails with quails in deadlier fight engage.
Not brinded heroes thus in gutters fight;
While the shrill love-songs of their dames incite.
The standard of defiance high she rears.
A blaze of diamonds lighten'd on her breast,
The sparkling plunder of the weeping east.
The racy vintage in her colour flow'd,
A plenitude of form her keeping shew'd,
And with the hue her tinted cheek supply'd,
A wreath of rubies in her turban vied.
Her large capacities to combat call,
The gen'ral camp, the pioneers, and all.
She gaz'd around; nor was the challenge vain,
A knight sprang forward from th' embattled train.
A regal mantle o'er his shoulders spread,
His form robustious, perriwigg'd his head.
Or whines, or passions into tatters tears.
No part so highly soars, so low can fall,
But bustling vanity would shine in all.
He roars, the Bully Bottom of the stage;
Doleful in mirth, and ludicrous in rage;
Butcher of pathos, murderer of wit,
But sure the fustian and the flat to hit.
Nor yet to histrionic arts confin'd,
An author's name allures his lofty mind.
In Phœbus' and Minerva's wrath he writes.—
Gods!—He alone should act what he indites.—
Yet, if the muses leave the bard forlorn!
Theatric dames console him for their scorn.
Attempt to bind Lothario in their chain.
Wide o'er the green-room are his triumphs spread,
And ev'ry spouter feels a sprouting head.
Infuriate 'gainst this Amazon he flew;
Three chopping bantlings in his face she threw.
Unwonted weapons on the tragic stage,
Where bowl and dagger speak a heroine's rage.
The chieftain, by the strange assault o'erpower'd,
Bold as he was, to female prowess cow'rd,
While images of past his sense confound,
He sinks, a corse theatric, on the ground.
There where he sate with sages of the Law.
In wine and converse as the moments flow'd,
Two diff'rent sides his docile visage show'd;
Here, pond'ring mouth, and brow with thought o'erhung;
There wink'd an eye, and loll'd a waggish tongue.
Rejoic'd he saw the plumed chief o'erthrown,
And hop'd to make the conqu'ring dame his own.
Insatiate, restless, in pursuit of fame,
To shine the foremost ever was his aim.
O'er worth and virtue, talents may prevail.
Well-founded aim, the sail when party spreads,
And Vanity or Chance the current leads;
While speculation takes the helm to guide,
Where shifting islands float on ev'ry tide.—
He boasts the first an argument to hit,
Politeness, music, elegunee and wit.
But chief he boasts, with soft prevailing air,
A second Sedley, to seduce the fair.
He started—cast his wig and gown aside,
And stood a Beau Garcon, in fashion's pride,
He tun'd his fiddle, and he plied the bow
As if by music to subdue the foe.
“Bel idol mio,” cap'ring on he sung,
Fugue in his feet, Adagio from his tongue;
But peals of laughter from the hardy fair,
Compos'd his features to a graver air.
I, nor Antœus nor Alcides name,
No giant he, nor arm'd with club the dame.
But confident, and strenuous in her charms,
She clasp'd th' assailant, in no feeble arms.
Now closely prest—now dandled him on high.
Then cast him down with an insulting cry.
The haughty fair, the prostrate chief bestrode.
In attitude of Trulla, warlike lass,
When fierce she straddled o'er Sir Hudibras.
Another conquest, potent fair! remains,
Another captive must endure thy chains.
From the swart east propitious fortune brings,
The scourge and spoiler of barbaric kings.
Where British rapine bleeding millions wrung,
Prompt was his hand, and ready was his tongue.
But Fortune now, for oft she loves a joke,
Bids him the fair, in her career provoke,
Far diff'rent prowess, (let the major tell)—
Can Eastern chiefs, and tragic heroines quell,
Such net, as ancient gladiators spread,
With dextrous aim, round the Myrmillo's head,
But finer far, the dame around him cast,
The viewless meshes held the nabob fast.
Thus, Southy sings or says, a white witch won,
With subtle snares Hodeirah's fatal son.
From ancient records is not wholly clear.
Some authors think, she wore it at her side,
Like hawking bag, beneath her baldric tied.
Some, o'er her beauties, that a veil it flow'd,
And finest lace to vulgar optics show'd.
But generous fair, if any veil was thine,
It hid the blushes,—not of shame, but wine.
How guard the conquest, by her prowess gain'd?
But female wits are never at a stand;
Expedients still are ready at their hand.
The silken garters from her legs untied,
Commodious fetters for the slaves supplied,
And, what must sure her victory endear,
Her captives all rejoic'd her bonds to wear.
Alike the bar, the army and the stage,
Possess her beauties and her heart engage.
The triple husband, or the triple friend,
To please her all, to win her none contend.
Thus harmoniz'd in sentrmental ease,
They talk'd philosophy, and practis'd glees.
No vain regard of common fame controuls
This noble union of superior souls.
The moral painting of the German stage!
She march'd them off, in sociable parade,
Where mountains swell, and waves the Dargle's shade;
Where virtuous Hardy mourns in his retreat,
The blasted friendships of the little great.
If worth and honour might thine aim secure,
In manners gentle, as in morals pure.
If plighted promises might party bind,
Or past deserts engage a statesman's mind,
Did not preferment still at outrage aim,
Of decent feelings, and of common fame.
Thy just pretensions should not ask in vain,
What T---r, T---y, and M---y obtain.
To greet Papinian, bustled through the croud.
Active he vaulted,—wonders ne'er shall cease,
From lottery-office to preserve the peace.
Taught by experience to discover flaws,
They best enforce, who have infring'd the laws.
Why thus advanc'd, historians have not said,
But sure, some prudent aim Papinian sway'd.
With halting pace intrepid D**** came,
(For justice in this land is often lame.)
An ancient lady, but a countess young.
Usurp precedence in the house of God.
For there sits she in magisterial chair,
Protecting aristocracy in pray'r.
Such wrath the leech of magistracy thrill'd,
To find a Jew the chair of justice fill'd.
“Promoted to the bench, from surgeons freed!
“Shall I consort with Israelites indeed.
(The Jew his hand extended, nothing loath.)
“What brings thee from the land of Palestine?
“Hence, to Napoleon and his synod join.
“Some Jews are on the bench, I must confesh,
“But Jews in principle, not Jews in flesh.”
And down his throat impell'd a slice of pork.
Sputt'ring and raving fled th' affrighted Jew,
But F---s the morsel from his gullet drew.
To ------ the half-chew'd slice was thrown,
He call'd it perquisite and gulped it down.
With modest impudence the head it rear'd,
Most meet the stirrups of a prince to hold,
Or wear a Viceroy's livery seam'd with gold.
His goodly outside, with fallacious show,
Confirm'd the saying, “trust not to a brow.”
The pandar he of ev'ry public wrong,
Fraud in his heart, and falshood on his tongue.
Well-sounding phrases had he conn'd by rote;
The name of Virtue stuck not in his throat.
On jobbing oft the changes would he ring;
Foe to the word, but friendly to the thing.
He seem'd a serving-man of low degree.
He bore an empty pouch, which well he stor'd,
With crumbs and offals, from the public board.
Patriot a moment, and a place-man long,
With supple conscience, and an oily tongue,
Much of finance he talk'd, of order much;
And blam'd the rapine, which he hop'd to touch.
Thus grac'd, thus gifted, thro' the crowd he pli'd,
And bow'd, and begg'd for scraps, on ev'ry side.—
But not unmark'd, an Elfin warrior past
Shrill shrieking, as the spirit in the blast,
As pale as Mammon, when his head he rears,
From iron chest, where he has slept for years,
Him to confront, with scarcely human glance,
A spider weaving cobwebs of finance,
In darkness gender'd, flimsey as his form,
Things, all unfit to bear the warlike storm.
Oh what a face, and shape! and what a mein!
In him was Romeo's 'pothecary seen.
Empiric ne'er, from Galen down to Y---s,
Surpast this Quack, in charletanic feats.
To cure this vap'rish Island of her ills.
He boasted secrets, and with salves profest
To cure obstructions in a Nation's chest.
Onward he posted, with reforming rage,
The jills to measure, and the quarts to guage;
While Penury was station'd at his tail,
To weigh the loaves and fishes in her scale.
He chas'd the smooth Collector from the board,
And seiz'd his pouch, with all its treasur'd hoard.
“Hence, to the midnight mask, and mazy dance;
“More meet for coteries than for finance!
“Yet, (some retreat thine active service needs,)
“I make thee washwoman of Invalids.
“Go,—scrub and bleach; an office thine, by right.
“To white-wash was thy task full many a night.
“When Castle-hacks were foul from office mean,
“Thy servile tongue would lick the varlets clean.
“Go,—flounder in the suds, nor dare to budge;
“I would not wish to lose an useful drudge.”
He shrugg'd obedience,—made a graceful leg;
Able to delve;—nor yet asham'd to beg.—
With fangs of fury at Dennira flew,
“Recall, (she said,) and mourn th' ill-omen'd hour
“You drove me fasting from K*l****l*m's bow'r.
“And now, if force to this poor hand is giv'n,
“You fasting from your breakfast shall be driv'n”
With ham conjoin'd, her appetite to whet:
The lady from her grasp the viands tore,
And thro' the lawn the prize in triumph bore.
Encounter'd As*l with impetuous force.
Deeds had been wrought, of which the town had rung:
But N***y's nimble wit and flippant tongue,
“Come, Lady fair, suppose we ride a race.”
So said—so done, with all his art and strength;
The lady won the match by half a length.
Of matchless fragrance, and unrivall'd size.
No fruit like this within the tropic grows;
A verdant tuft upon the summit rose.
A crown imperial, that, without dispute,
Seem'd to announce the bearer king of fruit.
Sagacious gourmands cast their longing eyes,
And female bosoms throbb'd to win the prize.
Thy mouth, O C****, o'erflow'd with double streams.
Thy lady's eye-balls shot enamour'd beams.
Dennira felt reviving thrist of sway,
And swore an oath, she'd bear the palm away.
Rash oath! tho' half relenting fate inclin'd,
Half lost in “Levant and in ponent wind.”
Death hovers round thee, of the doom beware.
That handle tortoise-shell, the blade of gold!
But who shall guide a woman in the right,
When passion woos the prospect of delight.
By wild desire the fev'rish soul is tost,
Nor heeds the future, in the present lost.
Th' embroider'd mantle, and the precious arms.
Betray'd the warlike maid to mortal harms.
And thus Dennira, beautiful and brave,
The fatal apple lures thee to thy grave.—
Oh! mortals, thoughtless in this mundane gloom,
How short a step from breakfast to the tomb!—
Not mother Eve was in more longing mood,
When that old serpent at her elbow stood.
She stretch'd her hand—she seiz'd the fragrant prize.
The fierce Philothemis to vengeance flies.
She screams—she tears—the tufted crown she gains,
Dennira's grasp the solid fruit retains.
Her rage no more Philothemis supprest.
Deep, deep she plung'd the weapon in her breast
And perfect love her ample bosom fills.
Fair As--- caught the friend she lov'd so well,
From her fair hand the fatal apple fell.
“Oh! gen'ral I am slain.”—She faintly cries.
Her swimming eyes are seal'd—she sinks—she dies.
Farewell, Dennira, beautiful in death!
Might powers of minstrelsy recal thy breath.
To win thy charms th' enamour'd bard would go
To seek old Corney in the shades below.
But ah! the pow'rs of lofty song are fled.
It charms no more the living, or the dead.
Exulting seis'd, and hasten'd from the fray.
Not long the treasure her dominion own'd.—
Th' indignant gen'ral caught her from the ground.—
Say, has thou seen a rustic tall and big,
Beneath his arm convey a squalling pig.
Nor vain the terrors of approaching harm.
Was it thy fortune, strolling through the park,
A wat'ry spread, where cygnets sail, to mark?—
Hither he bore her, with a vengeful aim,
Deep, deep to plunge—but Heav'n preserv'd the dame.—
“Oh! consort dear, I cannot bid thee live!
“Yet to thy shade a sacrifice I give.”
See Pallas in the duchess' form appear,
To stop the gen'ral in his fierce career.—
“Nor thrae the tiny woman in the pond—
“Sma' creedit manfu' sogers maun obtain,
“Whane winsome feminine, and bairns lig slain,
“Anither dearie sall your scaith console,
“For marrow tint, nae langer ban or pine,
“The bygone handfu' droun in stoups o' wine.”
She sought her legions, with a nimble bound.
A shout of triumph echoed from her host,
But much their joy was damp'd—the fruit was lost.
Old L---s observed, and as a friend to peace,
Desir'd to make the cause of contest cease.
But whither she convey'd, or how conceal'd,
Not fully to the muse has Jove reveal'd.
But most believe, that o'er the seas it fled,
To grace a royal board, at Frogmore spread.
Oh! fair discretion, tried in scenes of strife,
Thou guardian pilot in the storms of life!
Honours and wealth await whom thou hast taught,
For self alone to feel and hide his thought.
Mid warring factions he his course may guide,
With none committed, yet, with all allied.
His flight from battle far Papinian steer'd,—
From care of self his conduct never veer'd.
To him unclouded as a polar star,
It bade him shun th' uncertain chance of war.
And knights and heroines to her prowess yield.
F********d and M---n by her fury fell,
The vet'ran B--- sought the shades of hell.
A chief, in cockpits skill'd his nest to fledge.
With bet sagacious, and ingenious hedge.
His mem'ry long shall weeping Ulster keep,
If pain and sorrow give impressions deep.
Where peace of dwellings sunk in midnight fires,
To light the graves of bleeding sons and sires.
For to the lists advanc'd a novel foe.
With mein alluring, and a Cyprian air,
And ugliness, that told she once was fair,
A faded dame approach'd in martial pride,
And fierce Philothemis to death defied.
Sorro wing she came—remindful of the days,
When F**e was viceroy, and when vice was praise.
In grateful change of play, and love's delight.
Decorum vanish'd—modesty was fled,
Despairing Hymen hung his beauteous head.
Triumphant folly gave an honour'd name,
And Fashion term'd what vulgar crouds call'd shame.
Her house the temple of dame Venus seem'd,
The torch of Anteros for ever gleam'd.
Abroad so atrabilious and severe,
The magistrate appear'd a pander there.
Such midnight scenes the conscious dames unfold,
As Romans acted, and Arpinum told,
He seem'd purveyor to his lib'ral spouse,
And call'd the croud to revel and carouse.—
She view'd, but undelighted view'd the feast,
And grief and envy rankled in her breast.
The furies took possession of her soul,
And thought presents the dagger and the bowl.
She meets the lady of th' Hibernian mace.
“Oh scenes, (she cried) of sport and revelry,
“For ever fled—or fled, at least, from me!
“And art thou thus extinguish'd in thy prime,
“Friend and companion of my happier time?
“Consign'd for ever to the Stygian gloom,
“And shall the murderess triumph o'er thy tomb?—
“Poor short-liv'd triumph! she is doom'd to bleed.
“For blood must expiate such a bloody deed.
“That sacrifice will sooth my grief profound,
“The blood of foes is balsam to the wound.”
The nearest weapon, that the place supplied.
The curls she seizes, that luxuriant flow;
The taper neck she severs at a blow.—
Then holds aloft the trophy of her force—
The weeping fairies bore away the corse.
A bust they gave it, painted white and red,
It drives about the streets without a head.
But pitying Jove dispatch'd the blessed Night;
That universal messenger of peace,
Who bids the matrimonial quarrel cease;
Hoods with extinguisher the flames of war,
And stops the brawling of the noisy bar.
From the near barrack sounds the curfew drum.
From far the bugle's shrilly note was born,
Mail-coaches answer'd with the hoarser horn.
With drowsy pace, patroles were sent abroad,
And footpads took their stations on the road.
The careful watchman hasten'd home to sleep,
While am'rous cats their noisy vigils keep.
The rooks and pigeons now to hell repair,
To mother Midnight posts the venal fair.
And coiners labour with unclosing eye,
Our circulating medium to supply.
The Castle Spectre faded from the glance,
The bonny duchess led the mazy dance.
And crumbs collected underneath the board,
Cheese parings to preserve and candle ends.
And officers of hanaper repair
With baskets to collect the broken fare.
Py farthing rushlight they perform the deed,
Their works nor torch nor ostentation need.
The living and the dead promiscuous laid.
In various attitudes the ground they strew'd,
Some drench'd in wine, and some with blood imbru'd.
Some curst the hostile gods, in frantic tones,
Some snor'd responsive to the dying groans.
Some clasp'd in death those objects lov'd in life,
A purse, a pie, a mistress; or a wife.
Some, ev'n in death, prolong'd the dire debate,
And gnaw'd, like Ugolin, the foeman's pate.
No pain to teeth, for many of the dead
Had hearts, I ween, much harder than their head.
The living from the carnage stole away,
Pledged to renew the fight another day.
The drivers roar—conflicting chariots crash,
Along the roads infuriate horsemen dash.
With waggons for the wounded and the slain.
Now, reader, now a prodigy behold,
More wond'rous things Boiardo never told.
The tale from Mountey comes, and must be true.
Hast thou beheld, how from their mortal trance,
The troops of Bayes by signal rise and dance?
So rose the dead, at Discord's powerful call,
And danc'd, to close the night—a merry brawl.
Not more grotesque, in attitude or mein,
The forms of death in Holbein's tablets seen.
By divers routes they posted thro' the gloom,
Recruits on furlough absent from the tomb.
Though not in hearses borne, nor wrapt in sheets,
Both dead and rotten they pollute the streets.
Their forms may fill a bench, or hold a place,
But trust them not—they are a Vampire race.
Of brains—of heart—of sense—of feeling reft,
The human shape remains, and speech is left.
Among the living, tho' they claim to dwell,
Say what they will, their spirits are in hell.
Peace to devise, that warfare shall renew.
The Scotch philosopher shall own her skill,
And metaphysics all the treaty fill.
Or, haply, hopes of peace may fade away,
Like all the ideal subjects of my lay.
But, now, perforce, the tedious song I close,
The bard is hoarse—his hearers need repose.
Farewell, good reader, when sweet dreams and rest,
Recruit thy spirits, thou shalt hear the rest.
And, trust my promise, the succeeding rhyme,
With wond'rous things shall pay thy loss of time.
For thirst of poetry my soul inflames,
And sages, courteous knights, and beauteous dames
Entreat the muse to raise them o'er the throng,
Borne on the pinions of heroic song.
Nor need I in the wilds of fiction range,
For forms grotesque, and transformations strange.
Not Circe's isle assembled such a crew,
As Erin offers to th' astonish'd view.
Important stalk, or flit before our eyes.
Nor shall their merits want their due reward,
If heav'n with length of days indulge the bard.
But I am summon'd to the festive rites,
The duchess calls—the midnight mask invites.
Inter honoratos medio de vertice canos,
Crinis inherebat magni fiducia regni.
Ovid. Metam. lib. 8. li. 8.
Let it not be supposed that the poet here means to allude to Miss F. although that very facetious and satyrical young lady assumed the appropriate dress and character, at a late fancy ball, which (proh pudor) was very thinly attended. The bard has too much reverence even for a broomstick from the Castle stables.
Hogress.—A ferocious being described in the Arabian tales, who fed upon young men; and what added to her cruelty, gobbled up their members a live.
This passage is supposed to allude to an incident which took place in a certain great house, not a mile from the course of the Poddle, where the rape of the lock was travestied.
The author does not mean to insinuate, by the term of Picture, that the ingenious Gentleman who has deservedly obtained the appellation of the Belvedere Apollo, is a mere picture—a thing only to be looked at. He may resemble his namesake at all points—and Apollo was not only a male beauty, but a csnjurer.
Some superficial critics will be apt to exclaim “here is a Hysteron proteron—can these ladies be damned before they are dead?” Yes, my good sir, that is the very thing, They are to be tantalized, and suffer the torments of the damned, and at last to pine away, and die of hopeless love.
Bully Bottom. Nay, reader, I mean not any Judge or Cbairman—Bully Bottom was manager or deputy manager of a company of Atbenian clowns, and, as you may read in Sbakespeare, ambitiously aimed at shining in every character, and would, if he could, have engrossed them all to himself. He would have played Pyramus and Tbisbe both, and even Lion, Wall, and Moonsbine. I saw our Bully Bottom, play part of one character naturally. It was in the part of Moneses, where the poor Christian is to be strangled. The part of the mutes was assigned to two soldiers, and it being their first appearance, they fell to work with the bowstring in good carnest.
Sings or says. It is hard to determine which, for Tbalaba the Destroyer is written in a new manner, in a sort of periods or stanzas of measured prose, or irregular blank verse.
Such a partie quarree! The lady—the sage of the law —the dramatic hero—the caro sposo—all loved and loving. Amandas he—Amanda she! O rare instance of the liberal philosophy, and enlarged notions of our modern times! but there is something odd here. I cannot, for my life, guess why this philosophical party should visit the neighbourhood of the Dargle.
Mr. Hardy had adhered to the present ministry, while it was an opposition, and devoted his time, and his respectable talents, to their service, in the most honourable manner; and they were bound by positive promises to provide for him when they should come into power; but what then? There were fifty good reasons against his promotion. First, his friends—I will not call them, but his college of professions. were bound in honour to promcte him, so the doing it, they thought, would excite no surprise, nor extort no gratitude. Again—He was a gentleman.—Moreover, he was a man incapable of meanness.—Add to this, he was a man of pure morals and unblemished reputation. Lastly, the appointment of Mr. Hardy to some distinguished office would not have excited any outcry, any indignation, or disgraceful eclat.
The reader must understand, that in a certain collegiate church, not far from Winetavern-street, care was taken by our sapient antestors, to maintain the aforesaid aristocracy of prayer; for there is there a seat called the peeresses' seat, appropriated for the wives and daughters of our truly devout and virtuous nobility. The lady, so deservedly commemorated by the poet, who is now herself of the privileged cast, and was the daughter of an eminent wine-merchant, takes her station on a throne, assigned exclusively to herself, and keeps her eyes, like as Grimalkin does on the mouse's hole, on this sanctum sanctorum of nobility. Woe to the unwary female, who intrudes there, without a patent of nobility in her pocket. Shame awaits her. The vergeress is dispatched to dislodge her, without mercy, or remission.
How the learned justice was emancipated, or removed from the college of surgeons, is a story, fittest to be told by himself, and will be told by him, in the course of his being produced on the table—not for dissection (he is not dead yet,) but for examination. Feeling the great importance and obligation of an oath, he was willing to apply that test to his brother justice, whom he suspected of Fudaism. Foiled in his hope there, he was willing to resort to another and more certain criterion—a bit of fat.
He has convened a grand sanhedrim of the circumcised, with an intention of making all their Rabbins justices of the peace.
The editor confesses himself at a loss as to the person here meant. He finds no data, on which he may found conjecture. The word perquisite is taken, in a large sense, the thing itself is taken in a larger manner, by various classes of the community. Clerks in office.—Guagers, excisemen and other gentlemen of the Cuftom-bouse—menial servants—whoever ********* may be, or to whatsoever description of active citizens he may belong, it is plairt that he must be some person of no very nice palate, of greedy appetite, strong stomach, and powerful digestion. The editor would be inclined to suppose him an Israelite indeed, were it not that be manifests no kind of antipathy to the swinish multitude.
Fronti nulla fides. This character, by a holiday speech and a smooth exterior, recommended himself to the parliamentary opposition. He afterwards turned and vamped his coat, and made a figure at court.
The fair Dennira was sometimes fond of showing her arbitrary power. There is a distinction, between an invitation to Cards, and one to Spend the evening: the one is exclusive, the other inclusive of Supper. It so happened, that old lady R******b had received an invitation to Cards at K*l****l*m, and, not having a carriage of her own, accepted of a seat from a lady who was invited to spend the evening. The night became wet; Lady R. was unable to get away, until the carriage of her companion arrived: in the interim, she ventured to place herself at a supper table; but was reprimanded by Dennira.
From the expressions—vital stream—perfect love, let not the malicious reader suppose, that the wounded Dennira bled aqua vitæ or parfait amour. No, no—the meaning is, that her heart was formed for love, that it flowed through her veins with the vital blood.
As Spenser contrives to introduce Gloriana occasionally, and shews her. as the principal figure in his poem, though she does not constantly appear; so has our author, with great propriety, contrived to make the beautiful duchess occupy the place of honour in his poem, by setting her in the most favourable point of view, and making her appear, as the benevolent patroness of peace and good humour.
Quere. What Hell? Whether metaphorical or literal? There is actually in Dublin a place of nightly resort, called Hell, with which the person here alluded to may not be unscquainted.
The birth place of the satyrical slave, Fuvenal, as Sbakespeare calls him. He describes the vicious excesses of the Roman ladies, with an honest indignation, but a colouring muck too warm.
Reader, I beseech thee, let not this expression excite any improper or irreverent idea—in one sense, the Amazon might be so called.
Observe here, I pray thee, reader, what a fine picture is given of a good and faithful steward, ever vigilant— ever saving of the public scraps and crumbs (whatever he may be of the large joints of meat, or the purse.) He is always attentive—always at his post, to detect and punish petty pilfevers (whatever may become of the big wholesale robbers.) He no sooner hears, that the dogs of office were prowling, to look for crumbs, than out he turns to protect the cheese parings and candle ends. While he was thus laudably employed, bowever, it unluckily happened, that the pet cats, the baboon, the lap dogs, and some other favourite animals not into the larder, and devoured, without interruption, a delicate loin of veal, a dozen of capons, a haunch of venison, and a baron of beef.
Hanaper. The Hanaper, Anglice Hamper, was a large basket, which, in the ancient times of laudable simplicity, sometimes contained the king's papers and records, and sometimes his provisions; and sometimes conveyed writings to his courts of justice—sometimes conveyed away the soiled dishes and plates from the royal table. The custody of this utensil was often entrusted to one of the king's fools.
Author of a book full of gross improbable lies, called, if I remember, the Seven Cbampions of Cbristendom, He is often quoted by Mr. Roscoe.
This noble lord here alluded to, seems to have been in a somewhat aukward situation at Paris. I am glad to find that he will again be at leisure to employ his metaphysics in the praise of prodigality.
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