Stray Leaves from the Portfolios of Alisander the Seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle ::

Have you heard of the reptile that changes its hue,
From the black to the white, from the red to the blue,
From the brown to the buff, from the grey to the green,
Yet scarcely is twice in the same colour seen;

And by many is thought to exist upon air,
Which, if true, we must own, is but thin enough fare?
Even such, or such like, is that reptile so low,
Which to the good townsfolk of G--- we'd show,
The blustering, bullying Bauldy M`Slavery,
Well noted for low cunning, falsehood, and knavery.
A perfect Chameleon in politics he,
And in morals as changing as change can well be;
So much so, that none can decide what he is,
For this hour he is that, the next hour he is this.
At one time, a red-flaming Tory he burns,
At another, a raving Republican turns;
Now a loud, noisy Radical, bawling Reform;
Now a moderate—bent on allaying the storm;
Now a stanch sturdy Whig, praising up Charles Fox;
Now a Courier Scribbler, describing ‘Bum Clocks,’
And throwing out squibs about hoarse ‘Bubbly Jocks!’
To-day, he's a saint, if he could be believed,
For church desecration most piously grieved;
The next, a bold sinner, on wickedness bent,
To every bad passion meanwhile giving vent,
And spurning that wise admonition—‘repent.’
Now o'er the sick bed he sheds crocodile tears,
And now at pale misery throws out his sneers;
To-day, a philanthropist, mimicking Howard,
To-morrow, a man-hater, bully, and coward;
To-night, a lone hermit, chaste, cold, and morose,
The next—but no matter—just look at his nose:
He conceives 'tis not good, that he should be alone,
So takes flesh of his flesh—aye, and bone of his bone.

But although the Chameleon he's very much like,
There are two points of difference, must every one strike.
The one—though he changes, and changes at will,
His heart's sable hue is unchangeable still,
The other—he always takes very good care
To live upon something more solid than air,
As witness the ‘ring due’ and such things as that,
On which honest Bauldy contrived to get fat.

Now he's plotting 'mong friends, and he's plotting 'mong foes,
Like a Pat at a fair dealing right and left blows.
And he means by his plotting to make such a job,
As that he may slyly replenish his fob,
With that needful thing, in plain English called pelf,
For Bauldy has ever one eye towards self.

Now, he cringes to this one, and fawns upon that,
With all the low cunning and art of a cat;
But should you deny him your favour and grace,
Like that selfish beast, he will fly in your face,
And with blackest ingratitude strive to defame
The man who has hitherto borne a good name:
Although, notwithstanding, that man may have been
His best benefactor, his stay, and his screen.

But his right-and-left plotting would soon come to nought,
Did the good folks of G--- but act as they ought,
And hang up this portrait in hovel and hall,
That the same might be seen and acknowledged by all;

And simple folks thereby be put on their guard,
Nor fall into the trap which the wretch has prepared.
For a net he has woven of falsehood and guile,
And he foolishly thinks 'tis unseen all the while:
But let him beware,—for so closely he's watch'd,
That in his own snare he'll most surely be catch'd,
And get himself laughed at, and jeered for his pains,
For his want of good tact, and his pure lack of brains.
However, 'tis proper, that all should take care,
And not be too simply entrapt in his snare:
For though it be coarsely and clumsily wrought,
There is reason to fear that a dupe might be caught,
And ruined outright, by becoming the tool
Of him who is both a great knave and big fool.

Now, Bauldy, if e'er this same picture you see,
Don't startle,—'tis like you as likeness can be:
Don't startle,—but try to leave off your vile tricks,
Or never, in future, with honest men mix;
For each honest man from your presence should run,
And the vilest of rogues your vile company shun;
Nay, Satan himself, with his horrible crew,
Should be curst if they'd have any dealings with you.

University of Virginia Library

THE POLITICAL CHAMELEON:

OR, BAULDY UNMASKED.