The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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INCANTATION.
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
36
INCANTATION.
FROM THE NEW TRAGEDY OF “THE BRUNSWICKERS.”
1828.
SCENE.—Penenden Plain. In the middle, a caldron boiling. Thunder.—Enter three Brunswickers.
1st Bruns.
—Thrice hath scribbling K---ny---n scrawl'd,
2d Bruns.
—Once hath fool N---wc---stle bawl'd,
3d Bruns.
—B---xl---y snores:—'tis time, 'tis time,
1st Bruns.
—Round about the caldron go;
In the pois'nous nonsense throw.
Bigot spite, that long hath grown,
Like a toad within a stone,
Sweltering in the heart of Sc---tt,
Boil we in the Brunswick pot.
All.
—Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
Eld---n, talk, and K---ny---n, scribble.
2d Bruns.
—Slaver from N---wc---stle's quill
In the noisome mess distil,
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Both with venom and with froth.
Mix the brains (though apt to hash ill,
Being scant) of Lord M---ntc---shel,
With that malty stuff which Ch---nd---s
Drivels as no other man does.
Catch (i. e. if catch you can)
One idea, spick and span,
From my Lord of S---l---sb---y,—
One idea, though it be
Smaller than the “happy flea,”
Which his sire, in sonnet terse,
Wedded to immortal verse.
Though to rob the son is sin,
Put his one idea in;
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Let that conjuror W---nch---ls---a
Drop but half another there,
If he hath so much to spare.
Dreams of murders and of arsons,
Hatch'd in heads of Irish parsons,
Bring from every hole and corner,
Where ferocious priests, like H---rn---r,
Purely for religious good,
Cry aloud for Papist's blood,
Blood for W---lls, and such old women,
At their ease to wade and swim in.
All.
—Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
B---xl---y, talk, and K---ny---n, scribble.
3d Bruns.
—Now the charm begin to brew;
Sisters, sisters, add thereto
Scraps of L---thbr---dge's old speeches,
Mix'd with leather from his breeches.
Rinsings of old B---xl---y's brains,
Thicken'd (if you'll take the pains)
With that pulp which rags create,
In their middle, nympha state,
Ere, like insects frail and sunny,
Forth they wing abroad as money.
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Now but one thing more is wanted.
Squeeze o'er all that Orange juice,
C--- keeps cork'd for use,
Which, to work the better spell, is
Colour'd deep with blood of ------,
Blood, of powers far more various,
Ev'n than that of Januarius,
Since so great a charm hangs o'er it,
England's parsons bow before it!
All.
—Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
B---xl---y, talk, and K---ny---n, scribble.
2d Bruns.
—Cool it now with ---'s blood,
So the charm is firm and good.
[Exeunt.
Alluding to a well-known lyric composition of the late Marquis, which, with a slight alteration, might be addressed either to a flea or a fly. For instance:—
“Oh, happy, happy, happy fly,
If I were you, or you were I.”
Or,
If I were you, or you were I.”
“Oh, happy, happy, happy flea,
If I were you, or you were me;
But since, alas! that cannot be,
I must remain Lord S---y.”
If I were you, or you were me;
But since, alas! that cannot be,
I must remain Lord S---y.”
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |