The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
 | VI, VII. |
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| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
216
ODE TO THE SUBLIME PORTE.
1826.
Great Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions!
And oh, above all, I admire that Decree,
In which thou command'st, that all she politicians
Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.
And oh, above all, I admire that Decree,
In which thou command'st, that all she politicians
Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.
'Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster—
A maid, who her faith in old Jeremy puts;
Who talks, with a lisp, of “the last new Westminster,”
And hopes you're delighted with “Mill upon Gluts;”
A maid, who her faith in old Jeremy puts;
Who talks, with a lisp, of “the last new Westminster,”
And hopes you're delighted with “Mill upon Gluts;”
Who tells you how clever one Mr. Fun-blank is,
How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility;—
And assures you that even a gentleman's rank is,
In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.
How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility;—
And assures you that even a gentleman's rank is,
In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.
To see her, ye Gods, a new Number perusing—
Art. 1.—“On the Needle's variations,” by Pl---e ;
Art. 2.—By her fav'rite Fun-blank
—“so amusing!
“Dear man! he makes Poetry quite a Law case.”
Art. 1.—“On the Needle's variations,” by Pl---e ;
217
“Dear man! he makes Poetry quite a Law case.”
Art. 3.—“Upon Fallacies,” Jeremy's own—
(Chief Fallacy being, his hope to find readers);—
Art. 4.—“Upon Honesty,” author unknown;—
Art. 5.—(by the young Mr. M---) “Hints to Breeders.”
(Chief Fallacy being, his hope to find readers);—
Art. 4.—“Upon Honesty,” author unknown;—
Art. 5.—(by the young Mr. M---) “Hints to Breeders.”
Oh, Sultan, oh, Sultan, though oft for the bag
And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to call—
Though drowning's too good for each blue-stocking hag,
I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all!
And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to call—
Though drowning's too good for each blue-stocking hag,
I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all!
And, lest she should ever again lift her head
From the watery bottom, her clack to renew—
As a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,
I would hang round her neck her own darling Review.
From the watery bottom, her clack to renew—
As a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,
I would hang round her neck her own darling Review.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |