Memoirs, Letters, and Comic Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, of the late James Smith ... Edited by his Brother, Horace Smith ... In Two Volumes |
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 | Memoirs, Letters, and Comic Miscellanies |  |
183
MARTIAL IN LONDON.
THE BOW WINDOW.
Beneath the Piazza two wags chanced to pass,Where a shop was adorned by an acre of glass.
Quoth Tom, sotto voce, “Hail, Burnett and Co.!
Success now-a-days is dependent on show,”
“Not so,” answered Richard, “here industry reigns;
Success is dependent on using great panes.”
BEER SHOPS.
“These beer shops,” quoth Barnabas, speaking in alt,“Are ruinous—down with the growers of malt!”
“Too true,” answers Ben, with a shake of the head,
“Wherever they congregate, honesty's dead.
That beer breeds dishonesty causes no wonder,
'Tis nurtured in crime—'tis concocted in plunder;
In Kent, while surrounded by flourishing crops,
I saw a rogue picking a pocket of hops.”
184
TO A WEALTHY VINEGAR MERCHANT.
Let Hannibal boast of his conquering sway,Thy liquid achievements spread wider and quicker;
By vinegar he through the Alps made his way,
But thou through the World by the very same liquor.
EDMUND BURKE.
The sage of Beaconsfield, who wrote
The crimes of Gaul's degenerate crew,
But little thought his name would note
The murd'rous deeds his pencil drew.
The crimes of Gaul's degenerate crew,
But little thought his name would note
The murd'rous deeds his pencil drew.
His anti-jacobinic work
Still lives—his name preserves it still;
And—verb impassable—“to Burke,”
Implies to kidnap and to kill.
Still lives—his name preserves it still;
And—verb impassable—“to Burke,”
Implies to kidnap and to kill.
ON CERTAIN PRINTED “CONVERSATIONS” BETWEEN A VISCOUNT AND A COUNTESS.
In
letters, these colloquies make us all see
That women are equal to men:
The titles of either begin with a B,
And each of them ends with an N.
That women are equal to men:
The titles of either begin with a B,
And each of them ends with an N.
What he says to her, the whole Town understand
As the impulse of spleen or of whim;
But the Bane has an Antidote ready at hand,
In the Sense of what she says to him.
As the impulse of spleen or of whim;
But the Bane has an Antidote ready at hand,
In the Sense of what she says to him.
185
ON THE SAME VISCOUNT.
“He flatter'd in youth, he lampoon'd in his prime,”
Quoth Memory's Bard of our poet;
But the fault was not his, 'twas a deed done by Time,
My very next stanza shall show it.
Quoth Memory's Bard of our poet;
But the fault was not his, 'twas a deed done by Time,
My very next stanza shall show it.
Whoever has sported on Tempe's green lawn,
Has found out the truth of the matter;
'Tis plain that, by law mythologic, a Faun
In process of time grows a Satyr.
Has found out the truth of the matter;
'Tis plain that, by law mythologic, a Faun
In process of time grows a Satyr.
THE THAMES TUNNEL.
Good Monsieur Brunel,
Let misanthropy tell
That your work, half complete, is begun ill;
Heed them not, bore away
Through gravel and clay,
Nor doubt the success of your Tunnel.
Let misanthropy tell
That your work, half complete, is begun ill;
Heed them not, bore away
Through gravel and clay,
Nor doubt the success of your Tunnel.
That very mishap,
When Thames forced a gap,
And made it fit haunt for an otter,
Has proved that your scheme
Is no catchpenny dream;—
They can't say, “'twill never hold water.”
When Thames forced a gap,
And made it fit haunt for an otter,
Has proved that your scheme
Is no catchpenny dream;—
They can't say, “'twill never hold water.”
186
CRAVEN STREET, STRAND.
In Craven-street, Strand, ten attorneys find place,And ten dark coal-barges are moor'd at its base.
Fly, Honesty, fly! seek some safer retreat;
For there's craft in the river, and craft in the street.
LINES WRITTEN UNDER A PORTRAIT OF JUPITER AND DANAE.
Fair Maid of Argos! dry thy tears, nor shunThe bright embrace of Saturn's amorous son.
Pour'd from high Heaven, athwart thy brazen tower,
Jove bends propitious in a glittering shower.
Take, gladly take, the boon the Fates impart;
Press the gilt treasure to thy panting heart;
And to thy venal sex this truth unfold—
How few, like Danae, clasp both god and gold!
HERALDRY.
Where'er a hatchment we discern,(A truth before ne'er started,)
The motto makes us surely learn
The sex of the departed.
If 'tis the husband sleeps, he deems
Death's day a “felix dies”
Of unaccustom'd quiet dreams,
And cries—In cælo Quies.
187
Wounds, Parthian like, “post tergum,”
Hints to her spouse his future doom,
And threatening cries—Resurgam?
WESTMINSTER BRIDGE.
As late the Trades' Unions, by way of a show,O'er Westminster Bridge strutted five in a row,
“I feel for the bridge,” whisper'd Dick, with a shiver,
“Thus tried by the mob, it may sink in the river.”
Quoth Tom, a crown lawyer, “Abandon your fears;
As a bridge, it can only be tried by its piers.”
MORE HERALDRY.
Darby and Joan, years twenty-six,Played conjugal attachment—
They seemed devoted, constant, true;
But Joan declared she never knew
The happiness a match meant;
Till when, as sole executrix,
She put up Darby's hatchment.
MISS DUNCAN AND MRS. JORDAN.
When Jordan, foremost of Thalia's train,Slept in the straw awhile in Drury-lane,
Duncan, the novice, seized the chair of state,
And play'd the cobbler's metamorphosed mate,
188
Thalia's favourite re-assumed the part;
When lo! a gallery wag, (one Andrew Page,)
Who heard the glad announcement from the stage,
Gave the fair substitute this loud farewell—
“Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a Nell.”
ALLITERATIVE TRIBUTE TO THE ORIGINAL PERFORMERS IN “SIMPSON AND CO.”
Gifted with Gallic gabble and grimace,Laugh, leer, and lollop, lauding lots of lace,
Orger's odd onset—opportune, outré,
Pours pungent pepper o'er the pointed play.
Though Cooper's courtships kept continual cheer,
Droll Davison disdains to doubt her dear;
But, blandly bountiful, in blindness blest,
Won't wonder what he wants with widow West.
No gleam of glory gladdens Glover's gloom;
Ripe for revolt, she rambles round the room;
While, wondering what can wake the woman's woe,
Trim Terry treads the traps on tottering toe,
Cross'd and confounded by his cozening Co.
These freaks and frolics—freak without offence—
Pleasing the pit, put poet Poole in pence.
CHARADE.
Prone from our grasp an outstretched wing to burst,Even while I speak my second is my first.
Use well that second; nourish self-control,
And in pursuing wisdom find my whole.
189
THE RICHMOND TAVERNS.
The Star and Garter'd Knight of old,When adverse Fate debarr'd him,
High on a rock contrived to hold,
“A castle's” strength to guard him.
But here war's chief in vain would try
To check a martial sally,—
The Star and Garter towers on high,
The Castle's in the valley.
HACKNEY COACHMEN.
When injury they suffer, whatOpprobrium they inherit?
Unconscionable call them not;
Their conscience is their merit.
'Twere well if they, at anger's beck,
Who load them with detractions,
Possess'd, like them, an inward check
Upon their outward actions.
THE TWO AGITATORS, WRITTEN AT A BALL AT BRAMBLEBURG.
Great Daniel O'Connell is gone to the North:His tongue a remonstrance indignant pours forth,
And eloquence flows from his mouth.
But you, pretty Jane, with a pair of black eyes,
Come over the natives of Kent to surprise,
And agitate hearts in the South.
He fires with a word, and you with a look,—
Head and heart thus invaded, what mortal can brook?
190
He agitates old, and you agitate young:
Till you close your peepers, and he holds his tongue,
Poor Britain will ne'er find repose.
A CAUTION ADDRESSED TO LADY H---N.
[_]
On reading the following Advertisement in the “Morning Herald:' “Colosseum — Various Exhibitions,—Sports and Fights, in which the visiters will partake.”
Avoid the fierce attack:
Else, going there with eyes of blue,
You'll come away with black.
LINES ADDRESSED TO DOCTOR PARIS ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
Namesake of Helen's favourite boy,Who shunn'd the martial fray,
May all your days be days of joy,
Like this, your natal day.
My votive glass—not pledg'd by stealth,
I fill at Bacchus' shrine;
And thus, convivial, drink your health,
Whose skill establish'd mine.
RETAIL VERACITY.
A dame bought a comb for the crown of her head,And thus to the shopwoman cautiously said—
191
But are you quite sure 'tis a Tortoise-shell comb?”
“O yes, 'tis the fellow of those on the shelf—
My husband, ma'am, bought it from Torty himself.”
ON THE PROJECTED NEW HOUSE.
Ye sons of Inigo and Wren,Exhaust not satire's quiver,
By proving to unlearned men
Which house should front the river.
I hope that both may 'scape the flames,
And live through countless years;
But that which trenches on the Thames,
Must be the house of Piers.
NEAT WINES.
At Brompton I, when winter reigns,Great-coated quaff my wine,
But when red Phœbus tans the plains,
1 under canvass dine.
My glass I to each season shape,
Nor keep, in either, Lent.
My drink, when winter frowns, is Cape,
My summer beverage Tent.
LAMENTATIONS ON THE COAST OF AFRICA,
1st January, 1836.
Alas! we're undone,Our season of fun
All doleful and wintry appears;
192
May to-night play the fool,
But where is our Day of All-jeers?
TO AN IRISH BOOKSELLER.
Vesuvius and you should be bound in a yoke,Both craters are sending out volumes of smoke.
THE POET'S PATE. ADDRESSED TO MRS. M.
I cannot join you, valued friend,
To Leamington—I therefore send
My portrait in my stead;
You've often seen my head in print,
And now engraved in mezzotint,
I tender you my head.
To Leamington—I therefore send
My portrait in my stead;
You've often seen my head in print,
And now engraved in mezzotint,
I tender you my head.
I, gay and careless in my prime,
Ne'er by the forelock caught old Time
By chance or by design;
Survey my front, and you'll agree,
That now (whate'er his malice,) he
Will ne'er catch me by mine.
Ne'er by the forelock caught old Time
By chance or by design;
Survey my front, and you'll agree,
That now (whate'er his malice,) he
Will ne'er catch me by mine.
THE NEW COOK ON TRIAL AT FLEMING HOUSE.
My lord, an objection I've plump'd on;
Your sentence must yet be delay'd;
The hearing can't take place at Brompton,
The venue's improperly laid.
Your sentence must yet be delay'd;
The hearing can't take place at Brompton,
The venue's improperly laid.
Then nonsuit this case; be impartial,
And send it to Portsmouth instead;
In trying a cook by court martial,
The court must be held at Spithead.
And send it to Portsmouth instead;
In trying a cook by court martial,
The court must be held at Spithead.
193
BLUE INK.
You ask me, Edward, what I thinkOf this new fashionable ink?
I'll answer briefly, Ned.
Methinks it will be always blue;
At all events, when used by you,
It never will be red.
PLUS ÆNEAS.
Virgil, whose epic song enthrals,
(And who in song is greater?)
Throughout, his Trojan hero calls
Now “pius,” and now “pater.”
(And who in song is greater?)
Throughout, his Trojan hero calls
Now “pius,” and now “pater.”
But when, the worst intent to brave,
With sentiments that pain us,
Queen Dido meets him in the cave,
He dubs him “Dux Trojanus.”
With sentiments that pain us,
Queen Dido meets him in the cave,
He dubs him “Dux Trojanus.”
And well he alters there the word:
For, in this station, sure,
“Pius” Æneas were absurd,
And “Pater” premature.
For, in this station, sure,
“Pius” Æneas were absurd,
And “Pater” premature.
RICHMOND BRIDGE.
Waste lands may at Twick'nam be seen,
And Barnes hath its wilderness too:
Where Thames rolls its waters between,
Tall Richmond uprises to view.
And Barnes hath its wilderness too:
Where Thames rolls its waters between,
Tall Richmond uprises to view.
Her bridge, from its summit, unfolds
A prospect that loyalty cheers—
Those Commons at distance it holds,
And leans for support on the Piers.
A prospect that loyalty cheers—
194
And leans for support on the Piers.
THE NEW BARONETS' CLUB.
Ye valorous Sirs, in your armour and spurs,Whose crest is a hand red and gory;
I prithee adhere to the sword and the spear,
A club cannot add to your glory.
COLMAN'S EPITAPH.
Within this monumental bedApollo's favourite rests his head:
Ye, Muses, cease your grieving.
A son the father's loss supplies,
Be comforted, though Colman dies,
His “Heir at Law” is living.
SLAVERY—AN IMPROMPTU, WRITTEN AT GORE HOUSE.
Mild Wilberforce, by all beloved,Once own'd this hallow'd spot,
Whose zealous eloquence improved
The fetter'd Negro's lot.
Yet here still slavery attacks
Whom B---n invites;
The chains from which he freed the Blacks,
She rivets on the Whites.
ACTOR AND FISHMONGER.
An actor one day, at a fishmonger's shopIn the city, stood kicking his heels,
195
You've nothing but turbot and eels.
Your benefit brings you a bumper, my lad,
But still it must give you the spleen;
I find in your house not a plaice to be had,
And yet not a sole to be seen.
TO AN ACTOR.
I venture this advice to U.;On entering O. P., mind your Q.;
Strive to X. L.; or men of spirit
Will quickly W. in merit.
If these my hints are rightly prized,
You'll on your shoulders keep A. Y. Z.
GENERAL PHIPPS'S BIRTH-DAY, APRIL 7, 1837.
Too soon, by a month, you were born upon earth,Folks allege—ne'er heed what they say;
Tho' tear-dropping April lays claim to your birth,
With you to extinguish her sadness by Mirth,
She comes as the Herald of May.
THE UNSUCCESSFUL CANDIDATE.
No mortal, of voters, e'er met with a rummer set;Your hopes at Bridgewater have met with a summerset.
Return the electors your thanks for their bounty,
You're out for the borough, but in for the county.
196
IMPROMPTU UNDER A MARQUEE AT FLEMING HOUSE.
When Parliament-people petition their friends,The state of the poll on the canvass depends;
But here we submit to a diff'rent control,
The state of the canvass depends on the pole!
TO A LADY.
Howell and James, in taste correct,Unfold their silken pack,
From which a pattern I select
Of Lavender and Black.
If you dislike it, you'll not press
Your lip to Lethe's cup;
For, should you quarrel with the dress,
You'll never make it up.
THE TANNER.
A Bermondsey tanner would often engage
In a long tête-à-tête with his dame,
While trotting to town in the Kennington stage,
About giving their villa a name.
In a long tête-à-tête with his dame,
While trotting to town in the Kennington stage,
About giving their villa a name.
A neighbour, thus hearing the skin-dresser talk,
Stole out, half an hour after dark,
Pick'd up in the roadway a fragment of chalk,
And wrote on the palings—“Hide Park!”
Stole out, half an hour after dark,
Pick'd up in the roadway a fragment of chalk,
And wrote on the palings—“Hide Park!”
197
THE RETORT UNCOURTEOUS.
“I am not changed, yet Henry flies”—
“Not changed?—O sadly changed thou art!
When Flavia prompted Henry's sighs,
Her virtue form'd her fairest part.
“Not changed?—O sadly changed thou art!
When Flavia prompted Henry's sighs,
Her virtue form'd her fairest part.
“Then, Flavia, cease this idle rant,
One solemn truth let Reason speak—
When woman has no more to grant,
Her lover has no more to seek.”
One solemn truth let Reason speak—
When woman has no more to grant,
Her lover has no more to seek.”
THANKS FOR A PLACE.
An old Borough-reeve served a politic Duke,
And proved, by so doing, a wise man;
For the politic Duke opportunity took
To make his friend's son an exciseman.
And proved, by so doing, a wise man;
For the politic Duke opportunity took
To make his friend's son an exciseman.
Dick, led by his father, the nobleman saw,
And certainly well to behave meant;
With many a bow he put out his fore paw,
And scraped his hind leg on the pavement.
And certainly well to behave meant;
With many a bow he put out his fore paw,
And scraped his hind leg on the pavement.
“I'm come, Sir, to thank you, but feel here a burr;
At speaking I be but a fresh un:”
The Borough-reeve whispered, “Boy, don't call him Sir,
Your Grace is the proper expression.”
At speaking I be but a fresh un:”
The Borough-reeve whispered, “Boy, don't call him Sir,
Your Grace is the proper expression.”
“When feyther, Sir, told me I'd gotten the place,
I skipt like a colt in a paddock;”—
“Sir, again?” cried the father,—“you fool! say your Grace—
Say your Grace—you're as deaf as a haddock!
I skipt like a colt in a paddock;”—
198
Say your Grace—you're as deaf as a haddock!
Thus tutor'd, the son of the old Borough-reeve
Cried out, with a pious endeavour,—
“For what we are going this day to receive,
The Lord make us thankful for ever!”
Cried out, with a pious endeavour,—
“For what we are going this day to receive,
The Lord make us thankful for ever!”
THE SHOWER BATH.
Quoth Dermot (a lodger at Mrs. O'Flynn's,)
“How queerly my shower bath feels!
It shocks like a posse of needles and pins,
Or a shoal of electrical eels.
“How queerly my shower bath feels!
It shocks like a posse of needles and pins,
Or a shoal of electrical eels.
Quoth Murphy, “Then mend it, and I'll tell you how:
It's all your own fault, my good fellow:
I used to be bother d as you are, but now
I'm wiser—I take my umbrella.”
It's all your own fault, my good fellow:
I used to be bother d as you are, but now
I'm wiser—I take my umbrella.”
MacAdam's motto.
“My Essay on Roads,” quoth MacAdam, “lies there,
Result of a life's lucubration:
But does not the title-page look rather bare?
I long for a Latin quotation!”
Result of a life's lucubration:
But does not the title-page look rather bare?
I long for a Latin quotation!”
199
A Delphin edition of Virgil stood nigh,
To second his classic desire:
Where the road-maker hit on the shepherd's reply—
“Miror magìs”—“I rather add mire!”
To second his classic desire:
Where the road-maker hit on the shepherd's reply—
“Miror magìs”—“I rather add mire!”
MASCULINE AND FEMININE.
In England rivers all are males—
For instance, Father Thames—
Whoever in Columbia sails,
Finds them ma'amselles or dames.
For instance, Father Thames—
Whoever in Columbia sails,
Finds them ma'amselles or dames.
Yes, there the softer sex presides,
Aquatic, I assure ye,
And Mrs. Sippy rolls her tides
Responsive to Miss Souri.
Aquatic, I assure ye,
And Mrs. Sippy rolls her tides
Responsive to Miss Souri.
ON SEEING A PICTURE OF UGOLINO.
“This Ugolino? psha,” says Will,
“He's painted much too skinny,”
“Prithee,” replied his friend, “be still—
You find fault like a ninny;
“He's painted much too skinny,”
“Prithee,” replied his friend, “be still—
You find fault like a ninny;
Were you imprison'd three long days,
With nought your teeth between-o,
When on the fourth you go your ways,
I'll warrant—‘You-go-lean-o!’”
With nought your teeth between-o,
When on the fourth you go your ways,
I'll warrant—‘You-go-lean-o!’”
200
DAYS AND NIGHTS.
“Dear god of day, come down on earth,”
Thus spoke the queen of night,
“Leave heav'n to Him who gave us birth,
And give the world new light.
Thus spoke the queen of night,
“Leave heav'n to Him who gave us birth,
And give the world new light.
On Malta's rock I'll take my stand,
To calm the seaman's fears;
And you shall radiantly command
O'er barbarous Algiers.”
To calm the seaman's fears;
And you shall radiantly command
O'er barbarous Algiers.”
Each godhead straight on earth alights
With such a potent blaze,
That Malta long was ruled by knights,
And Algiers still by deys.
With such a potent blaze,
That Malta long was ruled by knights,
And Algiers still by deys.
THE THREE BLIND DEITIES.
My heart adored three powers above,
And bow'd to Justice, Fortune, Love;
I sought their smiles, but sigh'd to find
That Justice, Fortune, Love, were blind.
And bow'd to Justice, Fortune, Love;
I sought their smiles, but sigh'd to find
That Justice, Fortune, Love, were blind.
O would the powers that stole their sight
In sympathy their souls unite,
Then might the three display to view
Charms that the Graces never knew!
In sympathy their souls unite,
Then might the three display to view
Charms that the Graces never knew!
Justice the smiles of Fortune prove,
And Fortune gild the smiles of Love.
And Fortune gild the smiles of Love.
201
THE PONTE-FRACT M.P.
You ask me why Ponte-fract borough should sullyIts fame, by returning to parliament Gully;
The etymological cause I suppose is,
His breaking the bridges of so many noses.
TO MISS EDGEWORTH.
We every day bards may “anonymous” sign;That Refuge, Miss Edgeworth, can never be thine.
Thy writings, where satire and moral unite,
Must bring forth the name of their author to light;
Good and bad join in telling the source of their birth,
The bad own their edge, and the good own their worth.
EPIGRAM.
Quoth Tom at Leigh's play, “The por bard must look wan,I don't think the public will clap it all,
For in the fourth act all the interest's gone.”
Quoth Dick, “Then the fifth must be capital.”
TIME LIMITED.
O Time! 'twere folly to dissembleThy power the Thespian corps among;
Yet, dotard, hear this truth and tremble—
Though thou may'st ripen Young to Kemble,
Thou never canst make Kemble Young!
202
THE INVOLUNTARY CONJUROR.
As strong in the fist as a ditcher and hedger,Tom lifts single-handed a counting-house ledger
Says Dick, “That is mere slight of hand, it is plain,
You only can do it by leger-de-main.”
WRITTEN ON MR. KEMBLE'S DOUBLE WINDOW IN RUSSELL STREET.
Rheumatlc pains make Kemble halt,
He, fretting in amazement,
To counteract the dire assault,
Erects a double casement.
He, fretting in amazement,
To counteract the dire assault,
Erects a double casement.
Ah! who from fell disease can run?
With added ills he's troubled,
For, when the glazier's task is done,
He finds his panes are doubled.
With added ills he's troubled,
For, when the glazier's task is done,
He finds his panes are doubled.
ON A LATE RACING NOBLEMAN
Here lies of quadrupeds the slave,
Of woman-kind the gay deceiver,
Unskill'd a favourite race to save,
He lost a heat—and gain'd a fever.
Of woman-kind the gay deceiver,
Unskill'd a favourite race to save,
He lost a heat—and gain'd a fever.
To those who doubt that life's a span,
His lordship's fate will plainly show it—
Once on the turf a living man,
But now a skeleton below it.
His lordship's fate will plainly show it—
Once on the turf a living man,
But now a skeleton below it.
203
THE RAILROAD ENGINEER.
Though a railroad, learned Rector,
Passes near your parish spire,
Think not, sir, your Sunday lecture
E'er will overwhelm d expire.
Passes near your parish spire,
Think not, sir, your Sunday lecture
E'er will overwhelm d expire.
Put not then your hopes in weepers,
Solid work my road secures,
Preach whate'er you will—my sleepers
Never will awaken yours.
Solid work my road secures,
Preach whate'er you will—my sleepers
Never will awaken yours.
343
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE.
THE DINNER.
Thus to his mate Sir Richard spoke—
“The House is up; from London smoke
All fly; the Park grows thinner;
The friends who fed us, will condemn
Our backward board; we must feed them:
My dear, let's give a dinner.”
“The House is up; from London smoke
All fly; the Park grows thinner;
The friends who fed us, will condemn
Our backward board; we must feed them:
My dear, let's give a dinner.”
“Agreed!” his lady cries; “and first
Put down Sir George and Lady Hurst.”
“Done! now I name—the Gatties!”
“My dear, they're rather stupid.”—“Stuff!
We dine with them, and that's enough:
Besides, I like their patties.”
Put down Sir George and Lady Hurst.”
“Done! now I name—the Gatties!”
“My dear, they're rather stupid.”—“Stuff!
We dine with them, and that's enough:
Besides, I like their patties.”
“Who next?”—“Sir James and Lady Dunn.”
“O no.”—“Why not?”—“They'll bring their son,
That regular tormentor;
A couple, with one child, are sure
To bring three fools outside their door,
Whene'er abroad they venture.”
“O no.”—“Why not?”—“They'll bring their son,
That regular tormentor;
A couple, with one child, are sure
To bring three fools outside their door,
Whene'er abroad they venture.”
344
“Who next?”—“John Yates.”—“What! M. P. Yates;
Who, o'er the bottle, stale debates
Drags forth ten times a minute?”
“He's like the rest: whoever fails,
Out of St. Stephen's school tells tales
He'd quake to utter in it.”
Who, o'er the bottle, stale debates
Drags forth ten times a minute?”
“He's like the rest: whoever fails,
Out of St. Stephen's school tells tales
He'd quake to utter in it.”
“Well, have him if you will.”—“The Grants.”
“My dear, remember, at your aunt's
I view'd them with abhorrence.”
“Why so?”—“Why, since they've come from Lisle,
(Which they call Leel) they bore our isle
With Brussels, Tours, and Florence.
“My dear, remember, at your aunt's
I view'd them with abhorrence.”
“Why so?”—“Why, since they've come from Lisle,
(Which they call Leel) they bore our isle
With Brussels, Tours, and Florence.
“Where could you meet them?”—“At the Nore.”
“Who next?”—“The Lanes.”—“We want no more—
Lieutenant General Dizzy.”
“He's deaf.”—“But then he'll bring Tom White.”
“True! ask them both: the boy 's a bite;
We'll place him next to Lizzy.”
“Who next?”—“The Lanes.”—“We want no more—
Lieutenant General Dizzy.”
“He's deaf.”—“But then he'll bring Tom White.”
“True! ask them both: the boy 's a bite;
We'll place him next to Lizzy.”
'Tis seven—the Hunts, the Dunns, Jack Yates,
The Grants assemble: dinner waits;
In march the Lanes, the Gatties.
Objections, taunts, rebukes are fled,
Hate, scorn, and ridicule lie dead
As so many Donatties.
The Grants assemble: dinner waits;
In march the Lanes, the Gatties.
Objections, taunts, rebukes are fled,
Hate, scorn, and ridicule lie dead
As so many Donatties.
Yates carves the turbot, Lane the lamb,
Sir George the fowls, Sir James the ham,
Dunn with the beef is busy;
His helpmate pats her darling boy,
And, to complete a mo ther's joy,
Tom White sits next to Lizzy.
Sir George the fowls, Sir James the ham,
Dunn with the beef is busy;
His helpmate pats her darling boy,
And, to complete a mo ther's joy,
Tom White sits next to Lizzy.
345
All trot their hobbies round the room;
They talk of routs, retrenchments, Hume,
The bard who won't lie fallow,
The Turks, the statue in the Park,
Which both the Grants, at once, remark
Jump'd down from Mount Cavallo.
They talk of routs, retrenchments, Hume,
The bard who won't lie fallow,
The Turks, the statue in the Park,
Which both the Grants, at once, remark
Jump'd down from Mount Cavallo.
They talk of dances, operas, dress,
They nod, they smile, they acquiesce;
None pout; all seem delighted:
Heavens! can this be the self-same set,
So courteously received when met;
So taunted when invited?
They nod, they smile, they acquiesce;
None pout; all seem delighted:
Heavens! can this be the self-same set,
So courteously received when met;
So taunted when invited?
So have I seen, at Drury Lane,
A play rehearsed: the Thespian train
In arms; the bard astounded;
Scenes cut; parts shifted; songs displaced;
Jokes mangled; characters effaced;
“Confusion worse confounded.”
A play rehearsed: the Thespian train
In arms; the bard astounded;
Scenes cut; parts shifted; songs displaced;
Jokes mangled; characters effaced;
“Confusion worse confounded.”
But, on the night, with seeming hearts,
The warring tribe their several parts
Enact with due decorum.
Such is the gulf that intervenes
'Twixt those who get behind the scenes,
And those who sit before 'em!
The warring tribe their several parts
Enact with due decorum.
Such is the gulf that intervenes
'Twixt those who get behind the scenes,
And those who sit before 'em!
346
THE NEW MARRIAGE ACT.
CASES FOR THE OPINION OF DOCTOR LUSHINGTON.
Dear Doctor, in vain, by September set free,
Have I, a poor Proctor, eloped toward the sea.
This new Marriage Act, which my Lord Ellenborough
Has whisk'd through the House like a colt o'er the Curragh,
Has set the pent fears of my clients at large,—
I'm boarded by dunces, like Pope in his barge.
My bag won't contain half the Cases they draw,
The Church can't absolve, so they fly to the law.
The magistrates' clerks know not how to behave, it's
So puzzling to draw up the right affidavits:
Then how shall I pick Cupid's bone of contention,
Remote as I am from the scene of dissension?
Have I, a poor Proctor, eloped toward the sea.
This new Marriage Act, which my Lord Ellenborough
Has whisk'd through the House like a colt o'er the Curragh,
Has set the pent fears of my clients at large,—
I'm boarded by dunces, like Pope in his barge.
My bag won't contain half the Cases they draw,
The Church can't absolve, so they fly to the law.
The magistrates' clerks know not how to behave, it's
So puzzling to draw up the right affidavits:
Then how shall I pick Cupid's bone of contention,
Remote as I am from the scene of dissension?
My client, Jack Junk, with a heart hot as Ætna,
Has cut through the knot by post-horses and Gretna.
One says the church notice must not be a scrawl;
One says there is no need of notice at all;
A third swears it must be in black and in white;
A fourth hints that, where neither party can write,
A cross is sufficient; forgetting, of course,
That a cross before marriage is cart before horse.
Has cut through the knot by post-horses and Gretna.
One says the church notice must not be a scrawl;
One says there is no need of notice at all;
A third swears it must be in black and in white;
A fourth hints that, where neither party can write,
A cross is sufficient; forgetting, of course,
That a cross before marriage is cart before horse.
My female complainants are equally busy,
And ply me with plaints till I'm really dizzy.
Miss Struggle, aged fifty, still baiting Love's trap,
Asks who keeps the children, should Hymen's chain snap.
Miss Blue, equi-wrinkled, has dipp'd me in ink,
With doubts on divorces à mens. and è vinc.
Aunt Jane understands it; her niece Mary Anne
Says she cannot conceive—others say that she can;
And gladly would hie to St. George's full trot,
To clench Cupid's nail while the iron is hot.
To flourish my flail, feather mounted, and draw
A handful of wheat from a barn full of straw,
Five Cases I 've hit on, in Cupid's dominion,
On which I request your advice and opinion.
And ply me with plaints till I'm really dizzy.
Miss Struggle, aged fifty, still baiting Love's trap,
Asks who keeps the children, should Hymen's chain snap.
347
With doubts on divorces à mens. and è vinc.
Aunt Jane understands it; her niece Mary Anne
Says she cannot conceive—others say that she can;
And gladly would hie to St. George's full trot,
To clench Cupid's nail while the iron is hot.
To flourish my flail, feather mounted, and draw
A handful of wheat from a barn full of straw,
Five Cases I 've hit on, in Cupid's dominion,
On which I request your advice and opinion.
Case one.—Kitty Crocodile married Ned Bray,
And swore she would honour, and love, and obey.
The honeymoon over, thorns mingle with roses,
And Ned's upper head is the picture of Moses.
Love, honour, obey, toll a funeral knell,
Up start, in their place, hate, disdain, and rebel.
You'll please to look over the statute, and say,
In case, at the next Lent Assizes, Ned Bray
Indict Mistress Kate for false swearing, can her jury
Bring the delinquent in guilty of perjury?
And swore she would honour, and love, and obey.
The honeymoon over, thorns mingle with roses,
And Ned's upper head is the picture of Moses.
Love, honour, obey, toll a funeral knell,
Up start, in their place, hate, disdain, and rebel.
You'll please to look over the statute, and say,
In case, at the next Lent Assizes, Ned Bray
Indict Mistress Kate for false swearing, can her jury
Bring the delinquent in guilty of perjury?
Case two.—Captain Boyd, to his tailor in debt,
Adored, at the Op'ra, Ma'amselle Pirouette;
'Twas Psyche that slew him; he woo'd; she consented;
Both married in May, and in June both repented;
The steps that she took gain'd eight hundred a year,
The step that he took made that sum disappear.
Please look at the Act, and advise whether Boyd
By debt made the deed nudum pactum and void;
And say, if eight hundred per annum Miss Pirouette
May get back from Boyd, by a count Quantum meruit!
Adored, at the Op'ra, Ma'amselle Pirouette;
'Twas Psyche that slew him; he woo'd; she consented;
Both married in May, and in June both repented;
The steps that she took gain'd eight hundred a year,
The step that he took made that sum disappear.
Please look at the Act, and advise whether Boyd
By debt made the deed nudum pactum and void;
And say, if eight hundred per annum Miss Pirouette
May get back from Boyd, by a count Quantum meruit!
348
Case three.—Martha Trist, of Saint Peter-le-Poor,
Had stuck up her notice upon her church door.
The Act (section eight) says, the wife must annex
Her proper description, age, station, and sex.
Her age, four-and-thirty, she fix'd to the door,
But somehow the wafer stuck over the four;
And Martha, if judged by some ill-temper'd men,
Would seem to have own'd to no more than thrice ten.
If Wildgoose, her spouse, should discover the flaw,
Please to say if the wedlock's avoided by law;
And if, “on the whole,” you would not deem it safer
To interline “four” at the top of the wafer.
Had stuck up her notice upon her church door.
The Act (section eight) says, the wife must annex
Her proper description, age, station, and sex.
Her age, four-and-thirty, she fix'd to the door,
But somehow the wafer stuck over the four;
And Martha, if judged by some ill-temper'd men,
Would seem to have own'd to no more than thrice ten.
If Wildgoose, her spouse, should discover the flaw,
Please to say if the wedlock's avoided by law;
And if, “on the whole,” you would not deem it safer
To interline “four” at the top of the wafer.
Case four.—Captain Sykes won the heart of Miss Dighton
While driving a dennet from Worthing to Brighton.
Her West India fortune his hot bosom stirs,
His cap and mustachios are too much for hers.
They married; the Captain was counting his gain,
When sugar and rum grew a drug in Mark-lane.
In temper both fired; 'twas a word and a blow;
(See Dibdin's Reports, Captain Wattle and Roe;)
And both, while the stool is at either head flung,
Try to tear with their teeth what they tied with their tongue.
Please to study the Act for this couple, and tell 'em
If they can't be replaced “statu quo ante bellum.”
While driving a dennet from Worthing to Brighton.
Her West India fortune his hot bosom stirs,
His cap and mustachios are too much for hers.
They married; the Captain was counting his gain,
When sugar and rum grew a drug in Mark-lane.
In temper both fired; 'twas a word and a blow;
(See Dibdin's Reports, Captain Wattle and Roe;)
And both, while the stool is at either head flung,
Try to tear with their teeth what they tied with their tongue.
Please to study the Act for this couple, and tell 'em
If they can't be replaced “statu quo ante bellum.”
Case five.—Doctor Swapp'em, allied to a peer,
Has farm'd his great tithes for five thousand a year.
He never is vex'd but when pheasants are wild;
And got a rich helpmate who bore him no child.
The curate of Swapp'em is pious and thrifty,
His annual stipend in pounds mounts to fifty;
His helpmate in annual parturience is seen,
His children already amount to fifteen.
While keeping the dictum Ecclesiæ in view,
(God never sends mouths without sending bread too,)
You'll please to advise if the Act has a clause
To marshal the bread, or to average the jaws.
Has farm'd his great tithes for five thousand a year.
He never is vex'd but when pheasants are wild;
And got a rich helpmate who bore him no child.
349
His annual stipend in pounds mounts to fifty;
His helpmate in annual parturience is seen,
His children already amount to fifteen.
While keeping the dictum Ecclesiæ in view,
(God never sends mouths without sending bread too,)
You'll please to advise if the Act has a clause
To marshal the bread, or to average the jaws.
But see, while my pen your opinion implores,
Fresh couples, love stricken, besiege the church doors.
The porch of St. Anne's ninety couple disgorges,
Thrice ninety stand fix'd on the steps of St. George's;
The fresh and the jaded promiscuously mingle,
Some seek to get married, some seek to get single:
While those, sage Civilian, you're fettering, please
To hit on a scheme to emancipate these.
Teach mortals, who find, like the man who slew Turnus,
A marvellous facile descent to Avernus,
Like him, back their Pluto-bound steps to recall,
And breathe the light ether of Bachelors' Hall:
Do this, through my medium, dear Doctor, and then
Ere Easter, my life on't, we both are made men;
My purse shall swell, laden by fee upon fee,
King Proctor, in war-time, were nothing to me:
While you, happy man, down Pactolus's tide
Your silver-oar'd galley triumphant shall guide,
And whirl'd in no eddy, o'ertaken by no ill,
Reign Hymen's Arch-Chancellor, vice Lord Stowell.
Fresh couples, love stricken, besiege the church doors.
The porch of St. Anne's ninety couple disgorges,
Thrice ninety stand fix'd on the steps of St. George's;
The fresh and the jaded promiscuously mingle,
Some seek to get married, some seek to get single:
While those, sage Civilian, you're fettering, please
To hit on a scheme to emancipate these.
Teach mortals, who find, like the man who slew Turnus,
A marvellous facile descent to Avernus,
Like him, back their Pluto-bound steps to recall,
And breathe the light ether of Bachelors' Hall:
Do this, through my medium, dear Doctor, and then
Ere Easter, my life on't, we both are made men;
My purse shall swell, laden by fee upon fee,
King Proctor, in war-time, were nothing to me:
While you, happy man, down Pactolus's tide
Your silver-oar'd galley triumphant shall guide,
And whirl'd in no eddy, o'ertaken by no ill,
Reign Hymen's Arch-Chancellor, vice Lord Stowell.
350
THE STATUES AT LARGE.
A ROYAL DIALOGUE.
Charles.George, my equestrian brother, though
The fates have placed us dos-à-dos
In queer quadrilling fashion,
Prithee, in spite of critic snarls,
Grant to your royal brother Charles
Five minutes' conversation.
George.
Artists to condemnation doom
My anno domini costume,
Though to my era proper:
The epithets of “poor” and “flat”
Stick in my skirts, three-corner'd hat,
And pig-tail made of copper.
Charles.
Why, ay, my beard, my antique air,
My mantle, boots, and flowing hair,
Ambitiously aspire
Your lovely pedestal above,
Yet—measured by our people's love—
Methinks you're standing higher.
351
Though dwelling now in loftier scenes,
Each, thinking of the ways and means,
By golden trump is summon'd.
I to the banking-house below
Cry, “Mammon, to the Ransom, ho!”
Your right-hand man is Drummond.
Charles.
When James succumb'd to Nassau's yoke,
My palace, hid in lurid smoke,
Red Vulcan made a ruin.
My banquet-house survives alone,
And that—for reasons of my own—
I'd rather not be viewing.
George.
Co-equal fates our dwellings mark;
My mansion in St. James's Park
A new Stonehenge o'ermasters.
Yon marble arch exclaims—“Avaunt!
Duke Sheffield's comfortable haunt—
Red brick and white pilasters!”
Charles.
There with my subjects ill at ease,
By sturdy puritan M.P.'s
Eluded and outwitted,
Ent'ring the house, with visage grim,
I sought for Hazlerig and Pym,
And found “the birds had flitted.”
352
Intruding on forbidden ground—
Had I thus ventured to impound
Joe Hume or Daniel Whittle,
Bearding St. Stephen, face to face,
The hardness of the Speaker's mace
Had proved my sceptre brittle.
Charles.
Shall I spur on with iron heel
And dispossess Sir Robert Peel?
Ah me! I am not able.
The “new Whitehall,” foretold by Pope,
Lives only in the poet's hope,
And Ripley builds a fable.
George.
What if, descending hand in hand,
Statues at large, we quit our stand
To wonder-strike the many,
And go to court by way of prank,
Like him, the marble man, who drank
With gallant Don Giovanni?
Charles.
No, brother, haunt no more that scene—
They whom it most concerns, I ween,
Would deem us rude aggressors.
Let neither from the stirrup stir—
Heirs seldom want to disinter
Departed predecessors.
353
Imagination cannot reach
A fairer substitute for each
Than gentle Queen Victoria.
Long may she reign—as long as we—
And may her Maids of Honour be
Felicitas et Gloria!
CLUB LAW.
Dear Tom, since, by a lucky knack,
Your white balls overtop the black,
And counter-canvass smother,
Let me your mental garment darn,
As old Polonius spun a yarn
To fair Ophelia's brother.
Your white balls overtop the black,
And counter-canvass smother,
Let me your mental garment darn,
As old Polonius spun a yarn
To fair Ophelia's brother.
“Be thou familiar,” should you see
At dinner an austere M.P.
Just as his glass he's filling,
Accost him—whatsoe'er his rank—
With “Sir, I'd thank you for a frank,”
And save your aunt a shilling.
At dinner an austere M.P.
Just as his glass he's filling,
Accost him—whatsoe'er his rank—
With “Sir, I'd thank you for a frank,”
And save your aunt a shilling.
“Give every man (of wealth) thine ear;”
Smile when he smiles, his sallies cheer,
Out his connexions ferret;
Or roar his catch, or sing his psalm:
But, Thomas, “never dull thy palm”
By shaking hands with Merit.
Smile when he smiles, his sallies cheer,
Out his connexions ferret;
Or roar his catch, or sing his psalm:
But, Thomas, “never dull thy palm”
By shaking hands with Merit.
354
At a house-dinner show your fun,—
Mount a horse-laugh, quiz, banter, pun,
Be saucy as a squirrel;
But if your foe possess a pair
Of Manton's polish'd pops, “beware
Of entrance to a quarrel.”
Mount a horse-laugh, quiz, banter, pun,
Be saucy as a squirrel;
But if your foe possess a pair
Of Manton's polish'd pops, “beware
Of entrance to a quarrel.”
If a roast fillet deck the board,
With bacon, you can well afford
To leave the viand per se;
But if a haunch supplant the veal,
“Grapple” the joint “with hooks of steel,”
And carve it without mercy.
With bacon, you can well afford
To leave the viand per se;
But if a haunch supplant the veal,
“Grapple” the joint “with hooks of steel,”
And carve it without mercy.
“Apparel oft proclaims the man:”
Wear, then, the richest garb you can,
Whilst in the club a dweller;
And if men doubt your means and ways,
Reverse the caveat emptor phrase,
And cast it to the seller.
Wear, then, the richest garb you can,
Whilst in the club a dweller;
And if men doubt your means and ways,
Reverse the caveat emptor phrase,
And cast it to the seller.
“Take each man's censure” in good part;—
Pliant humility's an art
That copper turns to siller.
“Be not a lender”—memories flit;
“Nor borrower”—unless a wit
From old Josephus Miller.
Pliant humility's an art
That copper turns to siller.
“Be not a lender”—memories flit;
“Nor borrower”—unless a wit
From old Josephus Miller.
Place on the fender both your feet;
When Boreas howls, complain of heat,
And open all the windows:
Ring for a waiter, bang the door,
And for your brethren care no more
Than Tippoo cared for Hindoos.
When Boreas howls, complain of heat,
And open all the windows:
Ring for a waiter, bang the door,
And for your brethren care no more
Than Tippoo cared for Hindoos.
355
Never to acquiesce be seen:
To those who dwell on Edmund Kean,
Talk of John Kemble's glories.
Dub all who do the civil, prigs;
Revile Lord Melbourne to the Whigs,
Sir Robert to the Tories.
To those who dwell on Edmund Kean,
Talk of John Kemble's glories.
Dub all who do the civil, prigs;
Revile Lord Melbourne to the Whigs,
Sir Robert to the Tories.
And now, dear Tom, farewell; the gale
“Sits in the shoulder of your sail,”—
Defy disapprobation:
For, till committee-men begin
To ballot out, as well as in,
You're safe in your location.
“Sits in the shoulder of your sail,”—
Defy disapprobation:
For, till committee-men begin
To ballot out, as well as in,
You're safe in your location.
THE SWISS COTTAGE.
“Ye gastric graces of Pall Mall,
Fish, soup, and paté, fare ye well,
Give me some cot Helvetian,
Thither I fain my flight would wing,
Of clubs the abdicated king,
An uncrown'd Dioclesian.”
Fish, soup, and paté, fare ye well,
Give me some cot Helvetian,
Thither I fain my flight would wing,
Of clubs the abdicated king,
An uncrown'd Dioclesian.”
Scarce had I thus petition'd Fate,
When lo! a card with lines so straight,
Arachne seem'd to rule 'em,
Woo'd me to fair Pastora's shrine—
An invitation out to dine
At Ivy Cottage, Fulham!
When lo! a card with lines so straight,
Arachne seem'd to rule 'em,
Woo'd me to fair Pastora's shrine—
An invitation out to dine
At Ivy Cottage, Fulham!
356
“'Tis well!” I cried. “At Wit's control
Here Temperance will pass the bowl,
And Health rise up the winner.
Full well I know the classic spot—
Swiss is the scenery, Swiss the cot,
And Swiss, no doubt, the dinner.
Here Temperance will pass the bowl,
And Health rise up the winner.
Full well I know the classic spot—
Swiss is the scenery, Swiss the cot,
And Swiss, no doubt, the dinner.
“Deal table; cloth as smooth as silk;
Brown loaf; an avalanche of milk;
At most a brace of rabbits;
Cheese, hard enough to pose a shark;
And water, ‘clear as di'mond spark,’
To suit my Hindoo habits.
Brown loaf; an avalanche of milk;
At most a brace of rabbits;
Cheese, hard enough to pose a shark;
And water, ‘clear as di'mond spark,’
To suit my Hindoo habits.
“Six three-legg'd stools, of antique shapes;
Ripe figs; a plate of purple grapes,
As sweet as honeysuckles;
A girl to wait, of buxom hue,
In dark-brown bodice, apron blue,
Red hose, and silver buckles.”
Ripe figs; a plate of purple grapes,
As sweet as honeysuckles;
A girl to wait, of buxom hue,
In dark-brown bodice, apron blue,
Red hose, and silver buckles.”
Nought rose to sever lip and cup:
I came. Had Fanny Kelly up
The outside stair been skipping,
With three long plaits of braided hair,
'Twould seem the ipse locus where
Macready pierced the pippin.
I came. Had Fanny Kelly up
The outside stair been skipping,
With three long plaits of braided hair,
'Twould seem the ipse locus where
Macready pierced the pippin.
But soon the inside put to rout
The dreams engender'd by the out;
Chintz chairs with sofa paddings;
Bright stoves, at war with humid damps;
Pianos; rosewood tables; lamps,
As brilliant as Aladdin's.
The dreams engender'd by the out;
Chintz chairs with sofa paddings;
Bright stoves, at war with humid damps;
Pianos; rosewood tables; lamps,
As brilliant as Aladdin's.
357
Fish, soup, and mutton, finely dress'd,
Adorn'd the board; a pleasant guest
Was placed my right and left on;
With dishes lateral, endued
With flavour to astonish Ude,
Lucullus, or Lord Sefton.
Adorn'd the board; a pleasant guest
Was placed my right and left on;
With dishes lateral, endued
With flavour to astonish Ude,
Lucullus, or Lord Sefton.
The party, 'mid the sound of corks,
(Although the bread was white; the forks
Were silver, not metallic,)
Seem'd not to see the joke was this,
That, while the outside walls were Swiss,
The feast was Anglo-Gallic.
(Although the bread was white; the forks
Were silver, not metallic,)
Seem'd not to see the joke was this,
That, while the outside walls were Swiss,
The feast was Anglo-Gallic.
So, as in eastern song is shown,
Some sable, antiquated crone,
As wily as a bailiff,
Leads, blindfold, on his hands and knees,
Some youth, through alleys dark, to please
Great Haroün the Caliph.
Some sable, antiquated crone,
As wily as a bailiff,
Leads, blindfold, on his hands and knees,
Some youth, through alleys dark, to please
Great Haroün the Caliph.
The bandage gone, a blaze of light
Salutes his now enchanted sight;
He views a new creation:
Dim Bagdad totters to its fall,
A fairy palace smiles, and all
Is bright illumination.
Salutes his now enchanted sight;
He views a new creation:
Dim Bagdad totters to its fall,
A fairy palace smiles, and all
Is bright illumination.
MUSIC MAD.
“Madamina, il catalogo è questo
Delle belle che amo il padron mio:
Osservate, legete, con Me.”
—Il Don Giovann
Delle belle che amo il padron mio:
Osservate, legete, con Me.”
—Il Don Giovann
For song, in youth, my pulse beat quick,
For song, in age, beats quicker;
Applauding all, through thin and thick,
I shame Bray's veering Vicar.
On every voice, when most in vogue,
My glad attention lingers;
And Leporello's catalogue
Echoes my taste in singers.
For song, in age, beats quicker;
358
I shame Bray's veering Vicar.
On every voice, when most in vogue,
My glad attention lingers;
And Leporello's catalogue
Echoes my taste in singers.
At twenty-one, as mad as he
Who rode on Rozinante,
Chain'd to the car of harmony,
I bow'd to haughty Banti.
My senses all absorb'd in sound,
I sang “Ah! mia cara,”
And raved; till suddenly I found
My antidote in Mara.
Who rode on Rozinante,
Chain'd to the car of harmony,
I bow'd to haughty Banti.
My senses all absorb'd in sound,
I sang “Ah! mia cara,”
And raved; till suddenly I found
My antidote in Mara.
Mara I swore to woo for life;
But, when she sang in Polly,
Her English, as the Robber's Wife,
Reliev'd me of my folly.
By Mara's pipe no longer fired,
I lived uncharm'd by any;
Till, conquer'd by the “Soldier Tired,”
In Billington's Mandané.
But, when she sang in Polly,
Her English, as the Robber's Wife,
Reliev'd me of my folly.
By Mara's pipe no longer fired,
I lived uncharm'd by any;
Till, conquer'd by the “Soldier Tired,”
In Billington's Mandané.
Destined, ere long, again to veer,
As fickle as Giovanni;
Fate, to enthral me, made appear
Majestic Catalani.
Forth from my pocket her half notes
Extracted my half guineas,
Pour'd from the first of human throats,
Till—follow'd by Grassini's.
As fickle as Giovanni;
Fate, to enthral me, made appear
Majestic Catalani.
Forth from my pocket her half notes
Extracted my half guineas,
Pour'd from the first of human throats,
Till—follow'd by Grassini's.
359
Grassini's mournful Proserpine
Was now my heart's new pattern.
Oh! how I wish'd my lot were thine,
Contr'alto, son of Saturn!
Light Bolla, with her laughing eye,
Then drove me nearly crazy,
Till soothed by the sobriety
Of quiet Camporese.
Was now my heart's new pattern.
Oh! how I wish'd my lot were thine,
Contr'alto, son of Saturn!
Light Bolla, with her laughing eye,
Then drove me nearly crazy,
Till soothed by the sobriety
Of quiet Camporese.
Ronzi de Begnis' better half
Then ruled, till jocund Fodor
Came forward with her easy laugh,
And put her out of odour.
Sontag ruled next, and ruled me long,
Fair fav'rite of Apollo;
Till Malibran, the Queen of Song.
Beat baffled Sontag hollow.
Then ruled, till jocund Fodor
Came forward with her easy laugh,
And put her out of odour.
Sontag ruled next, and ruled me long,
Fair fav'rite of Apollo;
Till Malibran, the Queen of Song.
Beat baffled Sontag hollow.
Last in the scale, “though last not least,'
To make my heart uneasy,
Prime dainty in Euterpe's feast,
Comes all-accomplish'd Grisi.
Her magic notes make sorrow flit,
And Care his wrinkles soften;
But, since the stalls have spoilt the pit,
I fail to hear them often.
To make my heart uneasy,
Prime dainty in Euterpe's feast,
Comes all-accomplish'd Grisi.
Her magic notes make sorrow flit,
And Care his wrinkles soften;
But, since the stalls have spoilt the pit,
I fail to hear them often.
The pit, of yore, the acts between,
A lounge, a quiet ramble,
Is now a bear-garden—a scene
Of rude and noisy scramble.
Drawn thither from their sylvan haunt
By Orpheus—who can blame 'em?
Tigers are charm'd—I only want
The new police to tame 'em!
A lounge, a quiet ramble,
Is now a bear-garden—a scene
Of rude and noisy scramble.
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By Orpheus—who can blame 'em?
Tigers are charm'd—I only want
The new police to tame 'em!
MY HEAD'S SEVEN AGES.
“At early fifteen,” ere I mourn'd human wrongs,
My locks, pinch'd by nothing but Nature's warm tongs,
In colour well match'd with the Colchican fleece,
Unpunish'd by powder, ungarnish'd by grease,
Half-way down my back, as then worn by the young,
In many a corkscrew bewitchingly hung:
Whoever in print young Napoleon has seen,
May form a good notion of me at fifteen.
My locks, pinch'd by nothing but Nature's warm tongs,
In colour well match'd with the Colchican fleece,
Unpunish'd by powder, ungarnish'd by grease,
Half-way down my back, as then worn by the young,
In many a corkscrew bewitchingly hung:
Whoever in print young Napoleon has seen,
May form a good notion of me at fifteen.
But soon, like a Visigoth marching on Rome,
The barber rush'd in with his scissors and comb;
Poor Nature was presently push'd to the wall,
And shriek'd, like Belinda, to see my locks fall:
My hair scorch'd and frizz'd at the top became horrid,
Hard knocks of pomatum were dealt on my forehead,
I look'd like a linnet just caught in a cage,
So wide of its first was my head's second age!
The barber rush'd in with his scissors and comb;
Poor Nature was presently push'd to the wall,
And shriek'd, like Belinda, to see my locks fall:
My hair scorch'd and frizz'd at the top became horrid,
Hard knocks of pomatum were dealt on my forehead,
I look'd like a linnet just caught in a cage,
So wide of its first was my head's second age!
Ere long my vex'd hair, which, pomaded and sleek,
Hung straight as John Wesley's adown either check,
By combs metamorphosed, assumed a new shape,
No longer a pigtail swung black at my nape:
The queue, with its ligatures spiral in twists,
Gave place to a knocker as big as my fists:
Whoever the late Major Topham has seen,
May form a good notion of me at nineteen.
Hung straight as John Wesley's adown either check,
By combs metamorphosed, assumed a new shape,
No longer a pigtail swung black at my nape:
The queue, with its ligatures spiral in twists,
Gave place to a knocker as big as my fists:
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May form a good notion of me at nineteen.
Now knew I the joys the three Sisters prepare
For those who depend on the dressers of hair:
The dandies, who now “seek that bubble repute”
In the cut of a coat or the bend of a boot,
Can feebly imagine my often-felt woes,
With my watch in my hand, and my mask on my nose:
When lo! the huge knocker retired from the head,
And back came the pigtail to reign in its stead.
For those who depend on the dressers of hair:
The dandies, who now “seek that bubble repute”
In the cut of a coat or the bend of a boot,
Can feebly imagine my often-felt woes,
With my watch in my hand, and my mask on my nose:
When lo! the huge knocker retired from the head,
And back came the pigtail to reign in its stead.
O caput humanum! dark dungeon of doubt,
Spite of Spurzheim, a labyrinth, inside and out,
How fleeting is all that dwells under a hat—
The late Duke of Bedford now brought in a plat!
And as both Jack and Peter abolish'd their queues,
I quickly changed mine for a well-powder'd noose:
My head, at that time, will at once re-appear
To those who have ever seen Palmer in Sneer.
Spite of Spurzheim, a labyrinth, inside and out,
How fleeting is all that dwells under a hat—
The late Duke of Bedford now brought in a plat!
And as both Jack and Peter abolish'd their queues,
I quickly changed mine for a well-powder'd noose:
My head, at that time, will at once re-appear
To those who have ever seen Palmer in Sneer.
No sooner had I, spite of wisdom's rebuke,
Pinn'd the faith of my head on the plat of a duke,
When sudden his grace much astonish'd the town
With an unpowder'd pate, in its natural brown.
Away flew pomade: barbers shut up their shops:
Their harvest was ruin'd by too many crops;
While I, with a nob ev'ry morning brush'd clean,
Da-capo'd the tresses of “early fifteen.
Pinn'd the faith of my head on the plat of a duke,
When sudden his grace much astonish'd the town
With an unpowder'd pate, in its natural brown.
Away flew pomade: barbers shut up their shops:
Their harvest was ruin'd by too many crops;
While I, with a nob ev'ry morning brush'd clean,
Da-capo'd the tresses of “early fifteen.
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E'er since, Fashion vainly has left me alone,
For Time works the changes neglected by Ton.
My locks, erst so intimate, distant are seen,
Their visits are few, and the space far between:
Old Time, too, has made me my forelock resign;
I never seiz'd his, yet the dog has seized mine,
And seems to exclaim—“Prithee pay me my wages:
Your head has arrived at the last of its ages!
For Time works the changes neglected by Ton.
My locks, erst so intimate, distant are seen,
Their visits are few, and the space far between:
Old Time, too, has made me my forelock resign;
I never seiz'd his, yet the dog has seized mine,
And seems to exclaim—“Prithee pay me my wages:
Your head has arrived at the last of its ages!
FIVE HUNDRED A YEAR.
That gilt middle-path, which the poet of Rome
Extoll'd as the only safe highway to bliss;
That “haven” which many a poet at home
Assures us all Guinea-bound merchantmen miss;
That bless'd middle line,
Which bard and divine
In sonnet and sermon so sigh for, is mine;—
My uncle, a plain honest fat auctioneer,
Walk'd off, and bequeath'd me Five Hundred a year.
Extoll'd as the only safe highway to bliss;
That “haven” which many a poet at home
Assures us all Guinea-bound merchantmen miss;
That bless'd middle line,
Which bard and divine
In sonnet and sermon so sigh for, is mine;—
My uncle, a plain honest fat auctioneer,
Walk'd off, and bequeath'd me Five Hundred a year.
I ne'er, if I live to the age of Old Parr,
Can fail to remember how stared brother Bill,
Jack bullied, and Tom, who is now at the Bar,
Drove post to a Proctor to knock up the will.
They never could trace
What beauty or grace
Sir Christopher Catalogue saw in my face,
To cut off three youths, to his bosom so dear,
And deluge a fourth with Five Hundred a year!
Can fail to remember how stared brother Bill,
Jack bullied, and Tom, who is now at the Bar,
Drove post to a Proctor to knock up the will.
They never could trace
What beauty or grace
Sir Christopher Catalogue saw in my face,
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And deluge a fourth with Five Hundred a year!
The will, though law-beaten, stood firm as a rock,
The probate was properly lodged at the Bank;
Transferr'd to my name stood the spleen-moving stock,
And I, in the West, bearded people of rank.
No longer a clerk,
I rode in the Park,
Or lounged in Pall Mall till an hour after dark.
I enter'd, what seem'd then, a happy career,
Possess'd of a gig and Five Hundred a year.
The probate was properly lodged at the Bank;
Transferr'd to my name stood the spleen-moving stock,
And I, in the West, bearded people of rank.
No longer a clerk,
I rode in the Park,
Or lounged in Pall Mall till an hour after dark.
I enter'd, what seem'd then, a happy career,
Possess'd of a gig and Five Hundred a year.
Ere long, I began to be bored by a guest,
A strange sort of harpy, who poison'd my feast:
He visits, in London, the folks who dwell West,
But seldom cohabits with those who live East.
Bar, door-chain, or key,
Could not keep me free,—
As brisk as a bailiff in bolted Ennui.
“I'm come,” he still cried, “to partake of your cheer,
I'm partial to folks of Five Hundred a year.”
A strange sort of harpy, who poison'd my feast:
He visits, in London, the folks who dwell West,
But seldom cohabits with those who live East.
Bar, door-chain, or key,
Could not keep me free,—
As brisk as a bailiff in bolted Ennui.
“I'm come,” he still cried, “to partake of your cheer,
I'm partial to folks of Five Hundred a year.”
Meanwhile my three brothers, by prudence and care,
Got onward in life, while I stuck by the wall;
Bill open'd a tea-shop in Bridgewater-square,
And Jack, as a writer, grew rich in Bengal.
Tom made his impressions
Through Newgate transgressions,
And got half the business at Clerkenwell Sessions.
They march'd in the van, while I lagg'd in the rear,
Condemn'd to Ennui and Five Hundred a year.
Got onward in life, while I stuck by the wall;
Bill open'd a tea-shop in Bridgewater-square,
And Jack, as a writer, grew rich in Bengal.
Tom made his impressions
Through Newgate transgressions,
And got half the business at Clerkenwell Sessions.
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Condemn'd to Ennui and Five Hundred a year.
Too little encouraged to feel self-assured,
Too dull for retorts, and too timid for taunts;
By daughters and nieces I'm barely endured,
And mortally hated by uncles and aunts.
If e'er I entangle
A girl in an angle,
Up steps some Duenna, love's serpent to strangle;
“Come hither! don't talk to that fellow, my dear,
His income is only Five Hundred a year.”
Too dull for retorts, and too timid for taunts;
By daughters and nieces I'm barely endured,
And mortally hated by uncles and aunts.
If e'er I entangle
A girl in an angle,
Up steps some Duenna, love's serpent to strangle;
“Come hither! don't talk to that fellow, my dear,
His income is only Five Hundred a year.”
Without tact or talents to get into ton,
No calling to stick to, no trade to pursue:
Thus London, hard stepmother, leaves me alone,
With little to live on, and nothing to do.
Could I row a life-boat,
Make a boot or a coat,
Or serve in a silversmith's shop, and devote
My days to employment, my evenings to cheer,
I'd gladly give up my Five Hundred a year.
No calling to stick to, no trade to pursue:
Thus London, hard stepmother, leaves me alone,
With little to live on, and nothing to do.
Could I row a life-boat,
Make a boot or a coat,
Or serve in a silversmith's shop, and devote
My days to employment, my evenings to cheer,
I'd gladly give up my Five Hundred a year.
SIR DUNDER O'KELLY.
—Pete regna per undas.—VIRG.
Old Mother O'Kelly, the scold,
Who lived in a county of blunder,
Called great Tipperary, I'm told,
Thus spoke to her little boy Dunder—
“I've only got you and a cow,
And, since I can't keep all the three,
I'd better keep her, you'll allow,
Because the kind creature keeps me.”
Who lived in a county of blunder,
Called great Tipperary, I'm told,
Thus spoke to her little boy Dunder—
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And, since I can't keep all the three,
I'd better keep her, you'll allow,
Because the kind creature keeps me.”
So Dunder O'Kelly set sail
From Ireland to better himself,
And climb'd up the Holyhead mail
To ease Johnny Bull of his pelf.
To follow of glory the path,
And put British beef in his belly,
At Margate, at Brighton, at Bath,
He sported Sir Dunder O'Kelly.
From Ireland to better himself,
And climb'd up the Holyhead mail
To ease Johnny Bull of his pelf.
To follow of glory the path,
And put British beef in his belly,
At Margate, at Brighton, at Bath,
He sported Sir Dunder O'Kelly.
Sir Dunder in dancing was skill'd,
And look'd very neat in his clothes;
But indeed all his beauty was kill'd
By a terrible wen on his nose.
This double appendage, alas!
He thought neither pretty nor proper;
Nature gave him one visage of brass,
And Bacchus two noses of copper.
And look'd very neat in his clothes;
But indeed all his beauty was kill'd
By a terrible wen on his nose.
This double appendage, alas!
He thought neither pretty nor proper;
Nature gave him one visage of brass,
And Bacchus two noses of copper.
He dived into Bath for a bride,
The ladies all check'd his advances,
And vow'd they could never abide
Loose manners, and straiten'd finances;
One lady alone met his flame,
With a hop, and a jig, and a nod.
I ask'd a blind fiddler her name,
And he answer'd me—Moll in the Wad.
The ladies all check'd his advances,
And vow'd they could never abide
Loose manners, and straiten'd finances;
One lady alone met his flame,
With a hop, and a jig, and a nod.
I ask'd a blind fiddler her name,
And he answer'd me—Moll in the Wad.
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His looking-glass set the poor knight
Ofttimes in his bedchamber raving,
His ugliness showing at night,
And eke in the morning when shaving.
He flung himself down on the floor;—
Was ever unfortunate elf
So terribly haunted before
By a ghost in the shape of himself?
Ofttimes in his bedchamber raving,
His ugliness showing at night,
And eke in the morning when shaving.
He flung himself down on the floor;—
Was ever unfortunate elf
So terribly haunted before
By a ghost in the shape of himself?
Resolved Charon's eddy to pass,
His pistol he primed, but — O blunder!
He thought, if he shot at the glass,
'Twould blow out the brains of Sir Dunder.
So bang went the slugs at his head,
At once from this life to dissever;
He shot all the quicksilver dead,
But himself was as lively as ever.
His pistol he primed, but — O blunder!
He thought, if he shot at the glass,
'Twould blow out the brains of Sir Dunder.
So bang went the slugs at his head,
At once from this life to dissever;
He shot all the quicksilver dead,
But himself was as lively as ever.
Amazed at the hubbub was he,
And began, in the midst of the clatter,
All over to felo-de-se,
But found there was nothing the matter.
So, glad Charon's eddy to shun,
His sentiments thus he discloses—
“Since two heads are better than one,
Perhaps 'tis the same with two noses.”
And began, in the midst of the clatter,
All over to felo-de-se,
But found there was nothing the matter.
So, glad Charon's eddy to shun,
His sentiments thus he discloses—
“Since two heads are better than one,
Perhaps 'tis the same with two noses.”
To his own Tipperary poor Dun,
From scenes of disturbance and bother,
Trudged back, like the Prodigal Son,
And fell on the neck of his mother.
At home he now follows the plough,
And, whilst in his rustical courses
He walks at their tails, you'll allow
He never can frighten his horses.
From scenes of disturbance and bother,
Trudged back, like the Prodigal Son,
And fell on the neck of his mother.
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And, whilst in his rustical courses
He walks at their tails, you'll allow
He never can frighten his horses.
EPITAPH TO THE MEMORY OF GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER,
WHO SUCCEEDED HIS FATHER AS PATENTEE OF THE HAYMARKET THEATRE. HE WAS PRE-EMINENT AS A DRAMATIST, ADMIRED AS A POET, CONSPICUOUS AS A WIT, AND BELOVED AS A MAN.
Colman, the Muse's Child, the Drama's Pride,Whose works now waken joy, or grief impart;
Humour with pathos, wit with sense allied,
A playful fancy, and a feeling heart,—
His task accomplish'd, and his circuit run,
Here finds at last his monumental bed;
Take then, departed Shade, this lay from one
Who lov'd thee living, and laments thee dead.
Born, October 21st, 1762.
Died, October 26th, 1836.
Died, October 26th, 1836.
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