The political and occasional poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed Edited, with notes, by Sir George Young |
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A FREE TRANSLATION OF A LETTER FROM
PRINCE HILT TO A FRIEND AT PARIS. |
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 | The political and occasional poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
I. A FREE TRANSLATION OF A LETTER FROM PRINCE HILT TO A FRIEND AT PARIS.
4
From climate hot and hot campaign
I write, ma chère amie,
To let you know how nobly Spain
Agrees with France and me;
All folks misled by false pretences
Recover now their chains, and senses,
And all the crowds I see
Adore, without the slightest shyness,
The Inquisition, and my Highness.
I write, ma chère amie,
To let you know how nobly Spain
Agrees with France and me;
All folks misled by false pretences
Recover now their chains, and senses,
And all the crowds I see
Adore, without the slightest shyness,
The Inquisition, and my Highness.
Whene'er we meet a whiskered foe
He's sure to be defeated,
(My bulletins have told you so)
Yet corpses have retreated;
And every day the battle-slain,
Substantial ghosts, start up again,
And Hell and I are cheated,
And blade and ball begin to soften,
We kill the brutes so very often!
He's sure to be defeated,
(My bulletins have told you so)
Yet corpses have retreated;
And every day the battle-slain,
Substantial ghosts, start up again,
And Hell and I are cheated,
And blade and ball begin to soften,
We kill the brutes so very often!
5
We pass our time delightfully;
I like, as I'm a sinner,
My laurels after victory,
My claret after dinner;
Yet mirth and meat are very dear,
And pursuivant and pioneer
Are looking rather thinner;
And though I love the Spanish ladies,
I wish they'd let us into Cadiz.
I like, as I'm a sinner,
My laurels after victory,
My claret after dinner;
Yet mirth and meat are very dear,
And pursuivant and pioneer
Are looking rather thinner;
And though I love the Spanish ladies,
I wish they'd let us into Cadiz.
I also like Madrid nobility
Where Dons and Dames abound,
And patronize Madrid civility
Where drums and Vivas sound;
I also like the Friars and Nuns,
The cowls, the Canons—not the guns—
And look in rapture round
When all the Counts and all their wives
Damn the Guerrillas and their knives.
Where Dons and Dames abound,
And patronize Madrid civility
Where drums and Vivas sound;
I also like the Friars and Nuns,
The cowls, the Canons—not the guns—
And look in rapture round
When all the Counts and all their wives
Damn the Guerrillas and their knives.
The peasantry seem quite content;
The King has got the gout;
The Cortez seem securely pent—
The devil may drive them out!
Old Moncey has been often bit;
But he has length of beard and wit,
And knows what he's about;
While Mina swears in every weather,
And cuts his jokes and throats together.
The King has got the gout;
The Cortez seem securely pent—
The devil may drive them out!
Old Moncey has been often bit;
But he has length of beard and wit,
And knows what he's about;
While Mina swears in every weather,
And cuts his jokes and throats together.
6
You know O'Donnel's plot was blown;
And General Morillo
Might just as well have left alone
His little peccadillo.
They did not, sweetest love, amuse,
And were not of the smallest use;
And I must wear the willow,
And mourn that two such glorious traitors
Could only bring their grins and gaiters.
And General Morillo
Might just as well have left alone
His little peccadillo.
They did not, sweetest love, amuse,
And were not of the smallest use;
And I must wear the willow,
And mourn that two such glorious traitors
Could only bring their grins and gaiters.
Adieu! you'll understand my story
From this right royal rhyme;
I've gained a deal of ground and glory,
And lost a deal of time.
My uniform is much admired:
(I'm getting wonderfully tired)
My boots are quite sublime;
And I remember in my prayer
Paris—kid gloves—et vous ma chère!
From this right royal rhyme;
I've gained a deal of ground and glory,
And lost a deal of time.
My uniform is much admired:
(I'm getting wonderfully tired)
My boots are quite sublime;
And I remember in my prayer
Paris—kid gloves—et vous ma chère!
| The political and occasional poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |