The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
 | VI, VII. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
FABLE. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
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| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
243
FABLE.
When Royalty was young and bold,
Ere, touch'd by Time, he had become—
If 'tisn't civil to say old,
At least, a ci-devant jeune homme;
Ere, touch'd by Time, he had become—
If 'tisn't civil to say old,
At least, a ci-devant jeune homme;
One evening, on some wild pursuit,
Driving along, he chanc'd to see
Religion, passing by on foot,
And took him in his vis-à-vis.
Driving along, he chanc'd to see
Religion, passing by on foot,
And took him in his vis-à-vis.
This said Religion was a Friar,
The humblest and the best of men,
Who ne'er had notion or desire
Of riding in a coach till then.
The humblest and the best of men,
Who ne'er had notion or desire
Of riding in a coach till then.
“I say”—quoth Royalty, who rather
Enjoy'd a masquerading joke—
“I say, suppose, my good old father,
“You lend me, for a while, your cloak.”
Enjoy'd a masquerading joke—
“I say, suppose, my good old father,
“You lend me, for a while, your cloak.”
244
The Friar consented—little knew
What tricks the youth had in his head;
Besides, was rather tempted too
By a lac'd coat he got in stead.
What tricks the youth had in his head;
Besides, was rather tempted too
By a lac'd coat he got in stead.
Away ran Royalty, slap-dash,
Scampering like mad about the town;
Broke windows, shiver'd lamps to smash,
And knock'd whole scores of watchmen down.
Scampering like mad about the town;
Broke windows, shiver'd lamps to smash,
And knock'd whole scores of watchmen down.
While nought could they, whose heads were broke,
Learn of the “why” or the “wherefore,”
Except that 'twas Religion's cloak
The gentleman, who crack'd them, wore.
Learn of the “why” or the “wherefore,”
Except that 'twas Religion's cloak
The gentleman, who crack'd them, wore.
Meanwhile, the Friar, whose head was turn'd
By the lac'd coat, grew frisky too;
Look'd big—his former habits spurn'd—
And storm'd about, as great men do:
By the lac'd coat, grew frisky too;
Look'd big—his former habits spurn'd—
And storm'd about, as great men do:
Dealt much in pompous oaths and curses—
Said “d*mn you” often, or as bad—
Laid claim to other people's purses—
In short, grew either knave, or mad.
Said “d*mn you” often, or as bad—
Laid claim to other people's purses—
In short, grew either knave, or mad.
245
As work like this was unbefitting,
And flesh and blood no longer bore it,
The Court of Common Sense, then sitting,
Summon'd the culprits both before it.
And flesh and blood no longer bore it,
The Court of Common Sense, then sitting,
Summon'd the culprits both before it.
Where, after hours in wrangling spent
(As Courts must wrangle to decide well),
Religion to St. Luke's was sent,
And Royalty pack'd off to Bridewell.
(As Courts must wrangle to decide well),
Religion to St. Luke's was sent,
And Royalty pack'd off to Bridewell.
With this proviso—should they be
Restor'd, in due time, to their senses,
They both must give security,
In future, against such offences—
Restor'd, in due time, to their senses,
They both must give security,
In future, against such offences—
Religion ne'er to lend his cloak,
Seeing what dreadful work it leads to;
And Royalty to crack his joke,—
But not to crack poor people's heads too.
Seeing what dreadful work it leads to;
And Royalty to crack his joke,—
But not to crack poor people's heads too.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |