The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
 | VI, VII. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
166
LINES ON THE DEPARTURE OF LORDS C---ST---R---GH AND ST---W---RT FOR THE CONTINENT.
At Paris
et Fratres, et qui rapuêre sub illis
Vix tenuêre manus (scis hoc, Menelaë) nefandas.
Ovid. Metam. lib. xiii. v. 202.
Vix tenuêre manus (scis hoc, Menelaë) nefandas.
Ovid. Metam. lib. xiii. v. 202.
Go, Brothers in wisdom—go, bright pair of Peers,
And may Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have—of his years,
And the other Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.
And may Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have—of his years,
And the other Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.
Go, Hero of Chancery, blest with the smile
Of the Misses that love, and the monarchs that prize thee;
Forget Mrs. Ang---lo T---yl---r awhile,
And all tailors but him who so well dandifies thee.
Of the Misses that love, and the monarchs that prize thee;
Forget Mrs. Ang---lo T---yl---r awhile,
And all tailors but him who so well dandifies thee.
167
Never mind how thy juniors in gallantry scoff,
Never heed how perverse affidavits may thwart thee,
But show the young Misses thou'rt scholar enough
To translate “Amor Fortis” a love, about forty!
Never heed how perverse affidavits may thwart thee,
But show the young Misses thou'rt scholar enough
To translate “Amor Fortis” a love, about forty!
And sure 'tis no wonder, when, fresh as young Mars,
From the battle you came, with the Orders you'd earn'd in't,
That sweet Lady Fanny should cry out “my stars!”
And forget that the Moon, too, was some way concern'd in't.
From the battle you came, with the Orders you'd earn'd in't,
That sweet Lady Fanny should cry out “my stars!”
And forget that the Moon, too, was some way concern'd in't.
For not the great R---g---t himself has endur'd
(Though I've seen him with badges and orders all shine,
Till he look'd like a house that was over insur'd)
A much heavier burden of glories than thine.
(Though I've seen him with badges and orders all shine,
Till he look'd like a house that was over insur'd)
A much heavier burden of glories than thine.
And 'tis plain, when a wealthy young lady so mad is,
Or any young ladies can so go astray,
As to marry old Dandies that might be their daddies,
The stars are in fault, my Lord St---w---rt, not they!
Or any young ladies can so go astray,
As to marry old Dandies that might be their daddies,
The stars are in fault, my Lord St---w---rt, not they!
168
Thou, too, t'other brother, thou Tully of Tories,
Thou Malaprop Cicero, over whose lips
Such a smooth rigmarole about “monarchs,” and “glories,”
And “nullidge ,” and “features,” like syllabub slips.
Thou Malaprop Cicero, over whose lips
Such a smooth rigmarole about “monarchs,” and “glories,”
And “nullidge ,” and “features,” like syllabub slips.
Go, haste, at the Congress pursue thy vocation
Of adding fresh sums to this National Debt of ours,
Leaguing with Kings, who, for mere recreation,
Break promises, fast as your Lordship breaks metaphors.
Of adding fresh sums to this National Debt of ours,
Leaguing with Kings, who, for mere recreation,
Break promises, fast as your Lordship breaks metaphors.
Fare ye well, fare ye well, bright Pair of Peers,
And may Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have—of his years,
And the other, Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.
And may Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have—of his years,
And the other, Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.
This and the following squib, which must have been written about the year 1815–16, have been by some oversight misplaced.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |