The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 208

Take the good the knaves provide ye!

See, with upturned eyes and hands, Where the _Share_man, Brogden, stands, Gaping for the froth to fall Down his gullet--_lye_ and all.

See!--

But, hark, my time is out-- Now, like some great water-spout, Scattered by the cannon's thunder, Burst ye bubbles, all asunder!

[_Here the stage darkens--a discordant crash is heard from the orchestra --the broken bubbles descend in a saponaceous but uncleanly mist over the heads of the_ Dramatis Personae_, and the scene drops, leaving the bubble-hunters--all in the suds_.]

[1] Strong indications of character may be sometimes traced in the rhymes to names. Marvell thought so when he wrote "Sir Edward b.u.t.ton, The foolish Knight who rhymes to mutton."

[2] The member, during a long period, for Coventry.

[3] An humble imitation of one of our modern poets, who, in a poem against War, after describing the splendid habiliments of the soldier, thus apostrophizes him--"thou rainbow ruffian!"

A DREAM OF TURTLE.

BY SIR W. CURTIS.

1826.

'Twas evening time, in the twilight sweet I sailed along, when--whom should I meet But a Turtle journeying o'er the sea, "On the service of his Majesty."[1]

When spying him first thro' twilight dim, I didn't know what to make of him; But said to myself, as slow he plied His fins and rolled from side to side Conceitedly o'er the watery path-- "'Tis my Lord of Stowell taking a bath, "And I hear him now, among the fishes, "Quoting Vatel and Burgersdicius!"

But, no--'twas, indeed, a Turtle wide And plump as ever these eyes descried; A turtle juicy as ever yet Glued up the lips of a Baronet!

And much did it grieve my soul to see That an animal of such dignity, Like an absentee abroad should roam, When he _ought_ to stay and be ate at home.

But now "a change came o'er my dream,"

Like the magic lantern's shifting slider; I lookt and saw by the evening beam On the back of that Turtle sat a rider-- A goodly man with an eye so merry, I knew 'twas our Foreign Secretary,[2]

Who there at his ease did sit and smile, Like Waterton on his crocodile;[3]

Cracking such jokes, at every motion, As made the Turtle squeak with glee And own they gave him a lively notion Of what his _forced_-meat b.a.l.l.s would be.

So, on the Sec. in his glory went.

Over that briny element, Waving his hand as he took farewell With graceful air, and bidding me tell Inquiring friends that the Turtle and he Were gone on a foreign emba.s.sy-- To soften the heart of a _Diplomat_, Who is known to dote upon verdant fat, And to let admiring Europe see, That _calipash_ and _calipee_ Are the English forms of Diplomacy.

[1] We are told that the pa.s.sport of this grand diplomatic Turtle (sent by the Secretary for Foreign Affairs to a certain n.o.ble envoy) described him as "on his majesty's service."

[2] Mr. Canning.

[3] _Wanderings in South America_. "It was the first and last time [says Mr. Waterton] I was ever on a crocodile's back."

THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS.

A FABLE.

--_"fessus jam sudat asellus, "parce illi; vestrum delicium est asinus."_ VERGIL. _Copa_.

A donkey whose talent for burdens was wondrous, So much that you'd swear he rejoiced in a load, One day had to jog under panniers so ponderous, That--down the poor Donkey fell smack on the road!

His owners and drivers stood round in amaze What! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy, So easy to drive thro' the dirtiest ways For every description of job-work so ready!

One driver (whom Ned might have "hailed" as a "brother")[1]

Had just been proclaiming his Donkey's renown For vigor, for spirit, for one thing or other-- When, lo! mid his praises the Donkey came down!

But how to upraise him?--_one_ shouts, _t'other_ whistles, While Jenky, the Conjuror, wisest of all, Declared that an "over-production of thistles[2]-- (Here Ned gave a stare)--was the cause of his fall."

Another wise Solomon cries as he pa.s.ses-- "There, let him alone and the fit will soon cease; "The beast has been fighting with other jack-a.s.ses, "And this is his mode of '_transition to peace_.'"

Some lookt at his hoofs, and with learned grimaces p.r.o.nounced that too long without shoes he had gone-- "Let the blacksmith provide him a _sound metal basis_,"

(The wise-acres said), "and he's sure to jog on."

Meanwhile, the poor Neddy in torture and fear Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan; And--what was still dolefuller--lending an ear To advisers whose ears were a match for his own.

At length a plain rustic whose wit went so far As to see others' folly, roared out, as he past-- "Quick--off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are, "Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last!"

October, 1826.

[1] Alluding to an early poem of Mr. Coleridge's, addressed to an a.s.s, and beginning, "I hail thee, brother!"

[2] A certain country gentleman having said in the House, "that we must return at last to the food of our ancestors," somebody asked Mr. T. "what food the gentleman meant?"--"Thistles, I suppose," answered Mr. T.

ODE TO THE SUBLIME PORTE.

1826.

Great Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions!

And oh! above all I admire that Decree, In which thou command'st that all _she_ politicians Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.

'Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster-- A maid who her faith in old Jeremy puts, Who talks with a lisp of "the last new West_minster_,"

And hopes you're delighted with "Mill upon Gluts;"

Who tells you how clever one Mr. Funblank is, How charming his Articles 'gainst the n.o.bility;-- And a.s.sures you that even a gentleman's rank is In Jeremy's school, of no sort of _utility_.