Royalty fog-bound or, the Perils of a Night, and the frolics of a fortnight. A poem. By Peter Pindar, esq. [i.e. John Wolcot] Sixth Edition |
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 | Royalty fog-bound |  |
“If we must perish, we thy will obey,
“But let us perish in the face of day.”
POPE'S HOMER.
“But let us perish in the face of day.”
POPE'S HOMER.
5
ROYALTY FOG-BOUND.
1
I sing the mischiefs which ariseFrom muddy streets and foggy skies,
When thicker mists the world o'er spread,
Than that which Jove round Ajax shed.
2
I sing the perils of the street,When mortals jostle as they meet;
And silly elves, to blindness prone,
Tremble to step across a bone.
3
I sing the fearful ills—Good God!Which hover round the turnpike-road,
When all around is veil'd from sight,
And all before is thickest night,
6
4
And, last of all, with creaking note,As tho' vile quinseys stopp'd my throat,
And as the tones began to play,
Repell'd, or stifled them half way—
5
I strike the lyre to notes of pain,And as I sweep the aguish strain,
Relate how Britain's kingly bud,
Befoul'd his royal knees with mud:
6
Then with a livelier grace I'll sing,And tell a fortnight's frolicking,
When Jove the fiftieth kindly bent
To mix in mortal merriment.
7
Apollo, if to thee belongThe sceptre and the crown of song;
If, like the monarchs of the day,
Thy empire has not passed away—
8
Depute some muse to aid the line,Or send, great lyrist, all the nine;
For lays of mighty sort require
The heav'nly groupe's united fire.
7
9
The eve was damp and cloth'd in fog,The moon rov'd thro' the skies incog.
When thro' the streets, with rumbling roar,
Rattled the R---s coach and four.
10
In vain had Mac, with modest tongue,Suggested that his P--- was wrong;
The shiv'ring footmen curs'd in vain
The whimsies of their master's brain.
11
Page and postillion, sadly loth,Receiv'd the summons with an oath,
And swore that Beelzebub had ne'er
Travell'd in night so dark and queer.
12
But like the king, whose tow'ring prideAspir'd to rule the rebel tide,
The modern Canute greatly soar'd
To govern, Nature's tyrant lord.
13
A train of flambeaux led the way,Beaming an artificial day,
Yet scarce the struggling gleams could make
Their passage thro' the dull opaque.
8
14
Twice round its plate, in march sublime,Had mov'd the herald hand of Time;
Twice had the bell with sonorous power
Toll'd the departure of the hour;
15
Twice had the R---'s gold repeaterChaunted in shrill and measur'd metre,
Ere to the road, with cautious fear,
The post-boys led their slow career.
16
The dæmon of the fog bestrode,With despot stride, the darken'd road;
The torches shed a ghastly light,
And lent new horror to the night.
17
The snorting steeds, half-starv'd, Got wot!Now mov'd along in shuffling trot.
Cheer'd by the driver's echoing smack,
Each flambeaux-bearer spurr'd his hack.
18
But fortune, in a wanton hour,Destroy'd the glory of the tour,
Gave the poor outride's jade a twitch,
And flung the horseman in a ditch.
9
19
Then from the bag of winds she choseThe keenest blast that Boreas blows;
True to her will, it wing'd its flight,
And buried ev'ry torch in night.
20
Hard lot! that he who rul'd the stateShould thus become the sport of fate!
And, spite of all his regal sway,
Be hamper'd on his own highway!
21
The coachman stopp'd—“Dread Sir, indeed,”Said Mac—“'tis folly to proceed;
“The Devil himself can't find the way,
“So pray return, and wait for day.”
22
The P--- with sore vexation sigh'd—“Oh, d---n the fog!” his H---ss cried,
“Must all my pleasures be defeated,
“And I be like a subject treated?
23
“Open the door and let me out,“And, d---me, turn the coach about.
“Old E---, that surly dog,
“And G---w, shall indict the fog.”
10
24
Indict the fog! thrice happy thought,With more than mortal wisdom fraught,
That stemm'd at once stern passion's tide,
And smooth'd the brow of haughty pride.
25
Well might the royal mind be flurried,To see its lovely empire buried,
Hill, wood, and valley, copse and glade,
Envelop'd in unnatural shade.
26
But vainly did his anger break,Vain was the hue that flush'd his cheek,
In vain poor horses, coach, and weather,
Were promptly wish'd at hell together.
27
Out stepp'd the P---,—the fog stood still,Regardless of the royal will;
But rather, royalty to spite,
Thicker and thicker grew the night.
28
Incroaching on the dark footway,Unseen, a miry mountain lay;
What pity that the tongue were mute,
Which should have warn'd the P---'s foot.
11
29
Heedless of ill the R--- stood,First, on the margin of the mud;
What pity that no angel strove
To save the man whom all men love!
30
But oh! no guardian sprite was near,To whisper caution in his ear:
Deep in the mire, at step the third,
Flounder'd the fav'rite of the Lord.
31
Not greater panic strikes the wretch,Who leaves the bar to meet Jack Ketch,
When the stern foreman's ruthless jaws
Utter the thunders of the laws.
32
Not more could pious Draper stare,When curses broke his ev'ning pray'r,
And lewdness gave his ears a dressing,
And check'd his tongue's unfinish'd blessing.
33
Not more was Lucifer astounded,As from the skies he fell confounded,
When angry angels kick'd him out,
For filling heav'n with hellish rout.
12
34
Deep bedded on the miry rug,He lay most comfortably snug,
'Till, with no common share of pain,
His footmen pick'd him up again.
35
A train of curses loud and long,First stammer'd from the royal tongue:
Poor Mac was damn'd to ease his ire,
While he as warmly damn'd the mire.
36
This was an admirable plan,And shew'd the breeding of the man,
To bow before the rod, not spurn it,
And pass the oath, but not return it.
37
Men of mean parts and shallow senseHad answer'd with impertinence;
And as the R--- swore, not loth,
Had quick return'd the royal oath.
38
But not so, Mac: with eyes of fire,He simply damn'd the fog and mire;
Aware 'twould second madness prove,
To execrate the son of Jove.
13
39
Aside his shiv'ring prince he stood,Encircled both his knees with mud,
Regardless of the near approach
Of flambeaux, postboys, page, and coach.
40
Engross'd in thought, while Mac survey'dThe havoc which the fall had made,
The carriage pole, unheeded foe,
Laid the poor Secretary low.
41
The faithful courtier humbly press'dThe very spot his Prince had bless'd,
And there, with many a strange grimace,
Hid his right honourable face.
42
Half dead, half smother'd, swearing, bawling,Loudly on all around him calling,
The luckless wight lay grimly grinning,
And stammer'd oaths with double meaning.
43
The man's mishap enjoy'd the master,And soon forgot his own disaster;
Laugh'd loud, and relish'd much the joke,
Then thus in merry accent spoke.
14
44
“Good, very good, poor Mac, poor Mac!“Come, get thee up, and let's go back,
“Now both alike may d---n the weather,
“And sympathize, my boy, together.
45
“Well, thanks to God, and to the dirt,“My poor sprain'd ancle is unhurt;
“So d---n all satirists and sorrow,
“We'll drink to night and drive to-morrow.”
46
'Twas wisely plann'd; the mud-mark'd pairStepp'd in the coach so debonnair;
Back to the palace grop'd their way,
And drown'd the memory of the day.
47
Next morn the sun had reach'd his noon,Gliding unseen thro' Heaven's saloon,
When Jove again left his abode,
To tempt the perils of the road.
48
Again along the streets he rattled;Again the dusky vapour battled;
Pass'd the mud heap, devoid of fear,
And laugh'd to see his image there.
15
49
From Mac to P---, from P--- to Mac,The sarcasm flew, and travell'd back,
Footman to footman pass'd the jeer,
And postboys join'd in harmless sneer.
50
From town to village unimpeded,The noble travellers now proceeded;
The townsmen left their shops to view
The royal star in transitu.
51
Hodge left his team without a guide,And, gaping, thro' the hedge-gap pry'd;
Her mop, half-trundled, Betty stay'd,
To gaze upon the gay parade.
52
Each country mayor cast off his shyness,And hobbled out to meet his H---,
In worn out wig and rusty gown,
To pay due rev'rence to the crown.
53
In humblest guise their worships stroveTo paint their loyalty and love,
Bow'd to the ground their foreheads bare,
To give a finish to their pray'r.
16
54
And when the carriage stopp'd a minute,Good Lord, to see the wonders in it,
How rush'd the mob, brimful of glee,
To get a stare at royalty.
55
But royalty, shame-fac'd, I ween,Chose very little to be seen,
Or fear'd lest some (perhaps with reason)
Might feel a hankering after treason.
56
Not that his H---, as Heaven knows.Has added to the people's woes,
But, like a good and tender father,
Has labour'd to abridge them, rather.
57
But to proceed—when mobs and mayorsHad paid their rev'rence and their pray'rs;
And all the prying race of Bull
Had staid and yawn'd their bellies full,
58
His H---, tir'd of bows and cheers,Anxious to rest his eyes and ears,
Stopp'd at a mansion on his way,
And made a kind ephemeral stay.
17
59
Then breaking out, with gentle forceTo Belvoir Castle steer'd his course,
Anxious to broach the Rutland wine,
And gratify the castle swine.
60
With thundering tones which shook the coach,The cannon bellow'd his approach.
Warn'd by the hoarse artillery's tongue,
On massy hinge the portals swung.
61
The drawbridge stretch'd its length'ning chain;The tenant tribe and R---d's train
With mean obsequious homage prest,
To welcome in the royal guest.
62
The R--- trembled to surveyThe gloomy awe which mark'd the way,
While mem'ry render'd him less bold
By calling up some tale of old.
63
“D---n'd dark!” says Mac. A deep drawn sighWas all his H--- could reply:
“D---'d dull!” says Mac, a second time—
“Fitted for every sort of crime,”
18
64
Long strove the puny stuttering noteBefore it left the royal throat,
And whisper'd in its listner's ear,
“Strange things, they say, have happen'd here!”
65
“Yes, sir,” said Mac; “the London Taverns,“I should prefer to yon d---d caverns,
“For there they say, on murder'd sinners
“The worms have made some hearty dinners.”
66
The palsied P---, with terror mute,Shook like a leaf from head to foot;
And some have said, amidst his fear,
He d---d the castle and its heir.
67
And some have said, his H---ss sworeHe'd venture near such caves no more,
But if kind heaven would spare his life,
Would take again his slander'd wife.
68
Vows of reform, 'tis very true,Rise swift when danger is in view,
And, spite of all the gorgeous train,
Terror had seiz'd the royal brain.
19
69
But seated at the festive board,With every delicacy stor'd,
His H---s soon his fears forgot,
Or drown'd them in the wine, I wot.
70
Such homage all around him flow'd,He might have dreamt himself a god,
And thought the first of man's employments.
It was to further his enjoyments.
71
“And please your H---s,” said his Grace,Who was the master of the place,
“As you stand sponsor to my son,
“I give the week to feast and fun.
72
“Such stingo will I tap to morrow,“That one half pint shall cure all sorrow;
“And the next age shall hear the tale
“Of this glad day, and Belvoir ale.
73
“And then, great sir, to shew my care“To give your household better fare,
“The castle cistern, so immense,
“I've fill'd with punch, and d---n expence.
20
74
“Yes, sir, so please your H---ss, now,“To hear and sanction this my vow,
“I swear that not one sober wight
“Shall leave these gates tomorrow night.
75
“I swear the country ten miles round“In ale and spirits shall be drown'd;
“Thus my dear infant well we'll leav'n,
“And make the brat a heir of heav'n.”
76
Applauses loud, applauses long,Spontaneous burst from ev'ry tongue,
Such rhetoric gain'd on ev'ry ear,
And won the universal cheer.
77
Up rose his Grace again, and cried,“Charge, gentlemen, on ev'ry side!”
The sparkling goblets, arm'd with wine,
Inspir'd an energy divine.
78
His Grace resum'd—“This be the toast,“The P---e, Great Britain's proudest boast!
“Long may he live, long may he guide
“Power's helm, and honour's glitt'ring tide!”
21
79
Scarce were the ravag'd goblets dry,'Ere peals of thunder shook the sky,
The echoing vaults with terror shiver'd,
The castle to its basis quiver'd.
80
Well pleas'd, the P--- jump'd from his chair,And thank'd his landlord for his care;
For flattery to his ear was sweet,
As to the glutton store of meat.
81
“I pledge your Grace!” his H---ss cried;Quick pass'd the word from side to side;
Next came the Duchess, then the son,
And midnight found the toasts half done.
82
The morning star's congenial rayHad half unclos'd the gates of day,
'Ere muddled Jupiter, half shed,
Could stammer out, “Take me to bed!”
83
While yet the P--- his pillow prest,And woo'd in vain the smile of rest,
Each menial boy and rustic loon
Made ready for the festive noon.
22
84
At length the P---e cut short his doze,Rang for his valet and arose,
Seiz'd his unrelish'd meal, and went
T'unlock the stores of merriment.
85
And first his grace's boasted aleThe tapster's strenuous arts assail;
The barrel broach'd, the well-bred man
To royal lips first gave the can.
86
Prompt to oblige, the royal guestKindly the potent beverage blest;
His goodness fill'd each breast with glee,
And each eye beam'd hilarity.
87
The startled flocks forsook the lawn,And wondering gaz'd th'affrighted fawn,
As scatter'd music urg'd the throng
To mix in merry dance and song.
88
When ev'ning shadows veil'd the scene,The happy rustics left the green;
Homeward the dames and damsels went,
To sport in social merriment.
23
89
The peasants thro' the castle-gateStagger'd in rude unpolish'd state,
Where torches lent a dazzling ray,
Which sham'd the meagre blaze of day.
90
The caverns now, disrob'd of gloom,A face of gaiety assume;
The walls, which oft gave horror birth,
Now echo'd to the voice of mirth.
91
Meanwhile, the P---, at table seated,With nobler luxuries was greeted;
The realms of fish, and fowl, and beast,
Were ravaged for the royal feast.
92
The richest and the rarest winesThat spring from Europe's choicest vines,
For years in bins and bottles stor'd,
Were called to ornament the board;
93
And none, lukewarm at Bacchus' shrine,Refus'd due homage to the wine;
None, by poor puling temperance pinch'd,
A moment from the bottle flinch'd.
24
94
The prelate, warm in Heaven's dread cause,Who snatch'd the babe from Satan's claws,
Forgot the scripture exhortations,
And now indulg'd in large libations.
95
The R---, with a solemn phiz,The mellow primate strove to quiz,
And swore 'twas nothing more than right,
His Grace should preach the christ'ning night.
96
In vain the pos'd A---p look'dHalf angry, and his P--- rebuk'd;
The more he begg'd, so much the more
He would be pleas'd, his H--- swore.
97
“'Tis a great sin!” th'A---p cried,And then with pious fervor sigh'd—
“Poh,” says the R---t,—“sin, your grace,
“Attaches not to men in place:—
98
“I want a sermon, and, by G---d,“I'll have one, or you go to quod;
“I'll have a new A---p, d---me,
“And ask not ministers nor mammy.”
25
99
The argument was orthodox,And shut the B--- in a box;
Thrice he attempted an excuse,
But found his efforts void of use.
100
The holy man so venerable,Was quickly hoisted on the table,
To spout most gravely things divine,
And treat with pearls the circling swine.
101
“Brethren,” said he, and then a hiccup;“Now what the devil means this kick-up?
“Why not devote to sin this one day,
“And leave religion off till Sunday.
102
“But if I must preach, then I will!”And here the prelate stood stock still;
And to compel his thoughts to flow,
Swallow'd three bumpers of noyeau.
103
The potent liquor pierc'd the brain,And set his tongue to work again;
“What shall I preach? I'll preach,” says he,
“A lecture on morality.”
26
104
“'Tis d---d immoral, 'pon my soul,”And here his eyes began to roll—
“Morality I do adore,”
And down his Grace dropp'd on the floor.
105
Loud cheers which burst from one and all,Announc'd the luckless prelate's fall,
While titter'd all the guests to see
His Grace's apt humility.
106
Was it the wine, or accident,By Heav'n to stop the sermon sent,
That caus'd the prelate's slip that day,
The bard doth not presume to say.
107
But was it so, or was it not,The glass no check sustain'd, I wot;
Brisk and more brisk it travell'd round,
'Till all its vot'ries bit the ground.
108
And vaults and passages alongWere scatter'd with the drunken throng;
And not a page remain'd, 'tis said,
To put the helpless P--- to bed.
27
109
Still, when the busy day peep'd out,And pull'd old Morpheus by the snout,
Thro' ev'ry vault the slumb'rers lay,
And chok'd each subterraneous way.
110
The mortal fragments, scatter'd round,Encompass'd every inch of ground,
While Jove, half staggering, reel'd to see
The relics of humanity.
111
Three days the P--- at Belvoir tarried,And every night to bed was carried;
On the fourth moon the sun departed,
And left his friends half broken-hearted.
112
But first to Belvoir's Lord he cried,While stood the carriage by his side—
“Yon turret mark, and from this hour,
“Let it be call'd the R---t's tow'r.
113
“My thanks, good R---d, let me tell,“In truth, you entertain'd us well.
“I love the man; I love the cheer:
“This epoch of my life is dear.”
28
114
R---d return'd the royal squeeze,And motion'd as to bend his knees;
But Jove prevented him, and said,
No, R---d, make a bow instead!”
115
His Grace, with mighty care and toil,Bow'd till his forehead touch'd the soil;
The P---, with equal skill and pain,
Return'd his Grace's bow again.
116
Then in his carriage seat jump'd Jove;Away the royal drivers drove;
No fog obscur'd the face of day,
No hateful mire block'd up the way.
117
But what new friend, and what new sceneHis H--- visited, I ween,
Must form the subject of a lay
To occupy a future day.
118
Swift thro' the turnpike-roads he flew,And visited the De'el knows who,
Then, wearied, swore no more to roam,
And turn'd his horses' heads tow'rds home.
29
119
But much his H---ss was provok'dTo find the town in vapour choak'd,
And much he trembled lest, perhaps,
For him might lurk some new mishaps.
120
And oft when clods of earth and stonesRudely annoy'd the royal bones,
The P--- would loudly scream, or croak—
“Zounds, d---n me, Mac, our necks are broke!”
121
But fortune had more kindly manag'd,That royalty should not be damag'd,
She therefore brought him safe to town,
And at his own door set him down.
122
No grateful mobs, with homage sweet,Trotted his carriage through the street;
No crowds with kindness to distress him,
Cried, as he rode along—“God bless him!”
123
No beauty watch'd for his approach,To strew its garlands on his coach,
But dark and silent was his track,
Nor light, nor welcome hail'd him back.
30
124
Save the forc'd splendors of the dome,The royal traveller's ample home;
Except the smiles that always shone
About the neighbourhood of a throne.
125
For always pomp and power retainThe vassal world to swell their train,
And wealth attends the great man's door,
To gild his blackest vices o'er.
126
And who will say that kingly pow'rShall want the suffrage of the hour—
Of scanty homage shall complain,
Or ask the worldling's smile in vain?
127
Who are with honest boldness blest,Shall plume the monarch's towering crest,
A thousand parasites, forsooth,
Shall lick the wholesome wounds of truth.
128
Expos'd to fog and filth no more,The P--- and Mac review'd their tour;
And 'ere they sat them down to gamble
Again rov'd thro' their fortnight's ramble.
31
129
“Here's—may all ills as quickly pass!”Cry'd Mac, and brimm'd the thirsty glass—
“Good,” said the P---, “give me a sample!”
Then follow'd Mac's divine example.
130
“But,” said his H---, “d---n me, Mac,“Those caverns look'd most devilish black:
“And I, tho' tolerably brave,
“Prefer a parlor to a cave.
131
“For me, I hate such Gothic places,“Your iron gates and Gorgon faces
“I much prefer your modern buildings,
“Where guilt is hidden by the gildings.
132
“Those caves too plainly tell the eye“Their tales of blood and perfidy,
“I love to act with little stir,
“And keep a shew of character!”
133
“Humph!” answer'd Mac, but quick suppress'dThe unfinish'd sentence in his breast,
Or else the Sec. imprudently,
Perhaps had given his P--- the lie.
32
134
For Mac recall'd to mind, full well,His tedious journeys thro' Pall Mall,
And how one foot outran the other,
To bribe to silence, or to smother:
135
How oft he pac'd the dirty 'Change,How oft to C---'s he used to range;
How many hundreds had been granted,
To give the scribblers what they wanted.
136
And how the lies, check'd with such pain,Rose like a polypus again,
And, blazon'd forth in other dress,
Fill'd all the palace with distress.
137
These thoughts came rushing in his brain,And caus'd infinity of pain,
Caus'd the poor Sec. to look quite glum,
And burst into a sudden “humph!”
138
A pause ensued; the wine had hitThe very seat and source of wit;
And, rev'ling in the royal skull,
Render'd his best conceptions dull.
33
139
Mac might have hemm'd thro' half the night,Nor yet disturb'd the princely wight,
Who, wearied with the toil and wine,
Had sunk in lethargy divine.
140
But soon a tender voice awoke him,Which thus in tones of love bespoke him:
“Wake, wake, my love, my royal dear,
“Your faithful M---ss is here.
141
“Come, let us play off Cupid's tricks,“And talk of love and politics.
“There, take that kiss! come, R---, burn it,
“Don't be too sleepy to return it.
142
“Such joy attends your true Marchesa;“Such presents from the French Louisa!
“Silks worth a diadem each dress,
“Beyond the pow'r of tongue t'express.
143
“What, R---, shall I send her back?“What will be best, tell me, dear Mac?
“For pleasing womankind your trade is,
“You're the Adonis of the ladies.”
34
144
“What says my lady to some playthings—;“The King of Rome has done with swathings
“And a few toys, in my opinion,
“Would far outweigh his whole dominion!
145
“A chess board, and a few such things,“Would please this paragon of kings
“Much more than sceptres or than crowns,
“The whole et cetera of thrones.
146
“Send him a baby's hoop to trundle;“Inclose some peg-tops in the bundle;
“A paper harlequin, whose capers
“Might dissipate the royal vapours.
147
“Send him tin troops, whose rank and file“Might stretch some quarter of a mile;
“To light within him glory's flame,
“And dim his father's waning fame.
148
“Send him a pocket atlas too,“For him to con at Fontainbleau;
“And bid him make papa point out
“The windings of his Russian route.
35
149
“Dunnett's best rocking horse, I wot,“Would suit his kingship to a groat,
“And, would you win the boy for life,
“Send him withal a waxen wife!”
150
The M---ss with wonder listen'd,The R---'s eyes with pleasure glisten'd;
At length his R---l H--- cried,
“Well thought of, Mac,—send him a bride!
151
“The father is my rooted foe,“And so will be the son, I trow;
“Then scatter mis'ry in his track,
“And tie a wife upon his back.”
152
Then vow'd her ladyship, much heated,Ingratitude should be defeated;
For if the King of Rome must wed,
She'd send a wife of gingerbread.
153
At first the P--- and Mac were nettled,But soon the knotty point was settled.
The wine soon overpower'd his head,
And sent the trio drunk to bed.
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