The political and occasional poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed ::

“We are happy to learn that our commencement of this series of papers has delighted, in no ordinary degree, the friends of the noble poet, to whose effusions we thus give a circulation which his own amiable diffidence would have denied them. “Oh snatched away,” has already been set to music by a distinguished amateur composer; and a certain secretary of State, residing not twenty miles from Carlton Gardens, has been heard to say that the Russell Melodies deserve a second reading much better than the Russell Bills. Encouraged by these circumstances, we present to our readers a second selection from the MSS. entrusted to us, a selection made, of course, in compliment to the not unnatural preference of the illustrious author, since it cannot be expected that we should sympathize in the exultation he expresses upon the event which is his theme.”

'Tis done! I have finished my monument now;
What tidings of transport for Sutton and Bernal!
Take the brass—all the brass—of the chancellor's brow,
You won't build a monument half so eternal.

'Tis as tall as a pyramid—wonderful edifice—
Though it threatens the stars—(see the book of Belzoni);
'Tis as tall as Lord Grey, though that classical head of his
Brushes down a nice star, now and then, for a crony.

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It shall last, for the weal and the strength of the nation,
Unharmed by the changes of destiny's weather;
No flight of the times shall impair its foundation,
While Hume and the tides go on moving together.

And me, its wise author, the world shall remember,
As long as a talkative mayor shall preside
At Guildhall, o'er the turtle and toasts, in November,
With a mute Lady Mayoress perched by his side.

Of me they shall say on the banks of the Tweed,
Of me they shall say on the banks of the Shannon,
“Lord John, whom we used to think little indeed,
But who grew a great man by the help of Dun cannon,

“To his praise be it told, was the first to bring over
A new and original French Constitution,

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Importing the treasure from Calais to Dover
On board of His Majesty's ship Revolution.”

Oh crown me, Melpomene, nymph of sad numbers!
Though over my play, if you ever begin it,
You slumber as sound as the President slumbers
At the Board of Control, o'er an eloquent minute,

Yet crown me with laurel; to-night at Old Drury
You may look at a case like my own, if you will;
The play is but so-so; yet let me assure ye,
You'll find some magnificent things in the Bill!

Note by Lord John Russell.—As in my Don Carlos I imitated Schiller, and in my Reform Bill took a leaf from the Abbé Sièyes, I have, in the following stanzas, appropriated many ideas, without hesitation, from one of the Odes of old Horace. The Roman poet has been accused of vanity in the application of extravagant panegyric to his own works. If such an imputation is cast upon me, I answer briefly that, except by a poetical licence, I am not the author of the Reform Bill; it was framed by Lord Durham; Sir James Graham and Lord Duncannon were consulted by him on some important points. For my own part, I gave him advice upon nothing, except a trifling matter connected with the well-doing of the borough of Tavistock. I may venture to subjoin Horace's Ode, since, under the Reform Act, all country gentlemen understand Latin:—

“Exegi monumentum ære perennius,” etc.

Note by ------ Esq.—I was in the Fifth Form at Eton with the First Lord of Treasury. I remember his making a pun about an often-quoted line—Stellæ sponte sua jussæne vagentur et errent.—“The question don't admit of discussion,” said he; “the Stars would be good for nothing without the Orders!”

Note by a poor Author.—Horace did not live in the days of newspaper criticism, or he would not have been so bold as Lord John. A flight of the Times is a very serious thing.

Note by Lord Duncannon.—England will understand, sooner or later, how much she owes me. Ostensibly, indeed, I am content to be, like the chaste Diana, Silvarum potens, First Commissioner of Woods and Forests; but I am more than meets the eye; “no waiter, but a Knight Templar;” a Legislator in disguise—a Lycurgus under a domino. Lord Durham can explain this.

Note by the Quarterly Reviewer of Miss Burney's Memoirs.—We have found in the Registry of the Parish of Parnassus, that this “nymph,” the daughter of Thespis and Mnemosyne, was baptized b.c. 539; so that she was two thousand three hundred and seventy-two years old when this Ode was composed.

Note by one of the Commissioners of the Board of Control.—The Rt. Hon. Charles Grant is a psychological curiosity. He is the drowsiest philosopher of his own or of any day. He writes in his sleep, reads in his sleep, eats in his sleep, drinks in his sleep. He sleeps at the Board, he sleeps in the house, he sleeps at Court, and he sleeps in the Cabinet. He sleeps while you talk to him, and he sleeps while he talks to you. He is the seven sages and the seven sleepers in his own proper person.

University of Virginia Library

XXXVIII. THE RUSSELL MELODIES.

NO. II.

ODE ON THE PASSING OF THE REFORM BILL.