Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn edited by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie |
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No. 2.—The Lament for Thurtell.
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 | Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn |  |
No. 2.—The Lament for Thurtell.
A loud Lament is heard in town—a voice of sad complaining—
The sorrow Whig is high and big, and there is no restraining.
The great Lord Mayor, in civic chair, weeps thick as skeins of cotton,
And wipes his eyes with huckaback, sold by his own begotten.
Alas, says he, thy thread of life is snapt by sheers of Clothor
And a winding sheet, a yard-yard-wide, enwraps thee, O, my brother!
Howl, buff and blue! of that dear crew, whose brows the patriot myrtle
Shades for Harmodius Thistlewood! Howl, howl for Whig Jack Thurtell!
The sorrow Whig is high and big, and there is no restraining.
The great Lord Mayor, in civic chair, weeps thick as skeins of cotton,
And wipes his eyes with huckaback, sold by his own begotten.
Alas, says he, thy thread of life is snapt by sheers of Clothor
And a winding sheet, a yard-yard-wide, enwraps thee, O, my brother!
228
Shades for Harmodius Thistlewood! Howl, howl for Whig Jack Thurtell!
The doves and rooks who meet at Brooks', sob loudly, fast, and faster,
And shake in skin as rattlingly as they ere shook the castor.
O, by the box of Charley Fox, and by his unpaid wagers,
Shame 'tis, they swear, for hangman cocks to hang our truest stagers;
What if he cut the fellow's throat in fashion debonnaire, sir,
'Tis only like our own Whig case, a bit the worse for wear, sir;
What if, after swallowing brains and blood, he ate pork chops like turtle,
Sure, don't we swallow anything? Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
And shake in skin as rattlingly as they ere shook the castor.
O, by the box of Charley Fox, and by his unpaid wagers,
Shame 'tis, they swear, for hangman cocks to hang our truest stagers;
What if he cut the fellow's throat in fashion debonnaire, sir,
'Tis only like our own Whig case, a bit the worse for wear, sir;
What if, after swallowing brains and blood, he ate pork chops like turtle,
Sure, don't we swallow anything? Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
Lord Byron, gentleman is he, who writes for good Don Juan,
Huzzaed when my Lord Castlereagh achieved his life's undoing.
No Tory bard, that we have heard, so savage was or silly,
As to crow o'er cut-throat Whitbread Sam, or cut-throat Sam Romilly.
We laugh at them—they sighs with us—we hate them sow and farrow—
Yet now their groans will fly from them as thick as flights of arrow,
Which Mr. Gray, in ode would say, through the dark air do hurtle,—
Moaning in concert with ourselves—Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
Huzzaed when my Lord Castlereagh achieved his life's undoing.
No Tory bard, that we have heard, so savage was or silly,
As to crow o'er cut-throat Whitbread Sam, or cut-throat Sam Romilly.
We laugh at them—they sighs with us—we hate them sow and farrow—
Yet now their groans will fly from them as thick as flights of arrow,
Which Mr. Gray, in ode would say, through the dark air do hurtle,—
Moaning in concert with ourselves—Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
229
He was a Whig—a true, true Whig— all property he hated
In funds or land, in purse or hand,—tithed, salaried, or estated.
When he saw a fob, he itch'd to rob, the genuine whiggish feeling;
No matter what kind was the job, fraud, larceny, cheating, stealing.
Were he a peer our proud career he'd rule in mansion upper,
In the Lower House, behind him Brougham would amble on the crupper,
Like Bennet Grey, or Scarlett J. he'd wield the poleaxe curtal
(My rhymes are out) 'gainst Ministers! Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
In funds or land, in purse or hand,—tithed, salaried, or estated.
When he saw a fob, he itch'd to rob, the genuine whiggish feeling;
No matter what kind was the job, fraud, larceny, cheating, stealing.
Were he a peer our proud career he'd rule in mansion upper,
In the Lower House, behind him Brougham would amble on the crupper,
Like Bennet Grey, or Scarlett J. he'd wield the poleaxe curtal
(My rhymes are out) 'gainst Ministers! Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell!
| Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | |