The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
185
EPITAPH ON A TUFT-HUNTER.
Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard,
Put mourning round thy page, Debrett,
For here lies one, who ne'er preferr'd
A Viscount to a Marquis yet.
Put mourning round thy page, Debrett,
For here lies one, who ne'er preferr'd
A Viscount to a Marquis yet.
Beside him place the God of Wit,
Before him Beauty's rosiest girls,
Apollo for a star he'd quit,
And Love's own sister for an Earl's.
Before him Beauty's rosiest girls,
Apollo for a star he'd quit,
And Love's own sister for an Earl's.
Did niggard fate no peers afford,
He took, of course, to peers' relations;
And, rather than not sport a Lord,
Put up with ev'n the last creations.
He took, of course, to peers' relations;
And, rather than not sport a Lord,
Put up with ev'n the last creations.
Ev'n Irish names, could he but tag 'em
With “Lord” and “Duke,” were sweet to call;
And, at a pinch, Lord Ballyraggum
Was better than no Lord at all.
With “Lord” and “Duke,” were sweet to call;
And, at a pinch, Lord Ballyraggum
Was better than no Lord at all.
186
Heav'n grant him now some noble nook,
For, rest his soul! he'd rather be
Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke,
Than sav'd in vulgar company.
For, rest his soul! he'd rather be
Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke,
Than sav'd in vulgar company.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |