The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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| III, IV. |
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| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
 | X. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
187
ODE TO A HAT.
------ “altum
Ædificat caput.”
Juvenal.
Ædificat caput.”
Juvenal.
1826.
Hail, reverend Hat!—sublime 'mid all
The minor felts that round thee grovel;—
Thou, that the Gods “a Delta” call,
While meaner mortals call thee “shovel.”
The minor felts that round thee grovel;—
Thou, that the Gods “a Delta” call,
While meaner mortals call thee “shovel.”
When on thy shape (like pyramid,
Cut horizontally in two)
I raptur'd gaze, what dreams, unbid,
Of stalls and mitres bless my view!
Cut horizontally in two)
I raptur'd gaze, what dreams, unbid,
Of stalls and mitres bless my view!
That brim of brims, so sleekly good—
Not flapp'd, like dull Wesleyans', down,
But looking (as all churchmen's should)
Devoutly upward—tow'rds the crown.
Not flapp'd, like dull Wesleyans', down,
But looking (as all churchmen's should)
Devoutly upward—tow'rds the crown.
188
Gods! when I gaze upon that brim,
So redolent of Church all over,
What swarms of Tithes, in vision dim,—
Some pig-tail'd, some like cherubim,
With ducklings' wings—around it hover!
Tenths of all dead and living things,
That Nature into being brings,
From calves and corn to chitterlings.
So redolent of Church all over,
What swarms of Tithes, in vision dim,—
Some pig-tail'd, some like cherubim,
With ducklings' wings—around it hover!
Tenths of all dead and living things,
That Nature into being brings,
From calves and corn to chitterlings.
Say, holy Hat, that hast, of cocks,
The very cock most orthodox,
To which, of all the well-fed throng
Of Zion, , joy'st thou to belong?
Thou'rt not Sir Harcourt Lees's—no—
For hats grow like the heads that wear 'em;
And hats, on heads like his, would grow
Particularly harum-scarum.
Who knows but thou may'st deck the pate
Of that fam'd Doctor Ad---mth---te,
(The reverend rat, whom we saw stand
On his hind-legs in Westmoreland,)
The very cock most orthodox,
To which, of all the well-fed throng
Of Zion, , joy'st thou to belong?
Thou'rt not Sir Harcourt Lees's—no—
For hats grow like the heads that wear 'em;
And hats, on heads like his, would grow
Particularly harum-scarum.
Who knows but thou may'st deck the pate
Of that fam'd Doctor Ad---mth---te,
(The reverend rat, whom we saw stand
On his hind-legs in Westmoreland,)
189
Who chang'd so quick from blue to yellow,
And would from yellow back to blue,
And back again, convenient fellow,
If 'twere his interest so to do.
And would from yellow back to blue,
And back again, convenient fellow,
If 'twere his interest so to do.
Or, haply, smartest of triangles,
Thou art the hat of Doctor Ow*n;
The hat that, to his vestry wrangles,
That venerable priest doth go in,—
And, then and there, amid the stare
Of all St. Olave's, takes the chair,
And quotes, with phiz right orthodox,
The' example of his reverend brothers,
To prove that priests all fleece their flocks,
And he must fleece as well as others.
Thou art the hat of Doctor Ow*n;
The hat that, to his vestry wrangles,
That venerable priest doth go in,—
And, then and there, amid the stare
Of all St. Olave's, takes the chair,
And quotes, with phiz right orthodox,
The' example of his reverend brothers,
To prove that priests all fleece their flocks,
And he must fleece as well as others.
Blest Hat! (whoe'er thy lord may be)
Thus low I take off mine to thee,
The homage of a layman's castor,
To the spruce delta of his pastor.
Oh may'st thou be, as thou proceedest,
Still smarter cock'd, still brush'd the brighter,
Till, bowing all the way, thou leadest
Thy sleek possessor to a mitre!
Thus low I take off mine to thee,
The homage of a layman's castor,
To the spruce delta of his pastor.
Oh may'st thou be, as thou proceedest,
Still smarter cock'd, still brush'd the brighter,
Till, bowing all the way, thou leadest
Thy sleek possessor to a mitre!
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |