The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 250

PROEM.

Where Kings have been by mob-elections Raised to the throne, 'tis strange to see What different and what odd perfections Men have required in Royalty.

Some, liking monarchs large and plumpy, Have chosen their Sovereigns by the weight;-- Some wisht them tall, some thought your Dumpy, Dutch-built, the true Legitimate.[1]

The Easterns in a Prince, 'tis said, Prefer what's called a jolterhead:[2]

The Egyptians weren't at all partic'lar, So that their Kings had _not_ red hair-- _This_ fault not even the greatest stickler For the blood-royal well could bear.

A thousand more such ill.u.s.trations Might be adduced from various nations.

But, 'mong the many tales they tell us, Touching the acquired or natural right Which some men have to rule their fellows, There's one which I shall here recite:--

FABLE.

There was a land--to _name_ the place Is neither now my wish nor duty-- Where reigned a certain Royal race, By right of their superior beauty.

What was the cut legitimate Of these great persons' chins and noses, By right of which they ruled the state, No history I have seen discloses.

But so it was--a settled case-- Some Act of Parliament, past snugly, Had voted _them_ a beauteous race, And all their faithful subjects ugly.

As rank indeed stood high or low, Some change it made in visual organs; Your Peers were decent--Knights, so so-- But all your _common_ people, gorgons!

Of course, if any knave but hinted That the King's nose was turned awry, Or that the Queen (G.o.d bless her!) squinted-- The judges doomed that knave to die.

But rarely things like this occurred, The people to their King were duteous, And took it, on his Royal word, That they were frights and He was beauteous.

The cause whereof, among all cla.s.ses, Was simply this--these island elves Had never yet seen looking-gla.s.ses, And therefore did not _know themselves_.

Sometimes indeed their neighbors' faces Might strike them as more full of reason, More fresh than those in certain places-- But, Lord, the very thought was treason!

Besides, howe'er we love our neighbor, And take his face's part, 'tis known We ne'er so much in earnest labor, As when the face attackt's our own.

So on they went--the crowd believing-- (As crowds well governed always do) Their rulers, too, themselves deceiving-- So old the joke, they thought 'twas true.

But jokes, we know, if they too far go, Must have an end--and so, one day, Upon that coast there was a cargo Of looking-gla.s.ses cast away.

'Twas said, some Radicals, somewhere, Had laid their wicked heads together, And forced that ship to founder there,-- While some believe it was the weather.

However this might be, the freight Was landed without fees or duties; And from that hour historians date The downfall of the Race of Beauties.

The looking-gla.s.ses got about, And grew so common thro' the land, That scarce a tinker could walk out, Without a mirror in his hand.

Comparing faces, morning, noon, And night, their constant occupation-- By dint of looking-gla.s.ses, soon, They grew a most reflecting nation.

In vain the Court, aware of errors In all the old, establisht mazards, Prohibited the use of mirrors And tried to break them at all hazards:--

In vain--their laws might just as well Have been waste paper on the shelves; That fatal freight had broke the spell; People had lookt--and knew themselves.

If chance a Duke, of birth sublime, Presumed upon his ancient face, (Some calf-head, ugly from all time,) They popt a mirror to his Grace;--

Just hinting, by that gentle sign, How little Nature holds it true, That what is called an ancient line, Must be the line of Beauty too.

From Dukes' they past to regal phizzes, Compared them proudly with their own, And cried. "How _could_ such monstrous quizzes "In Beauty's name usurp the throne!"--

They then wrote essays, pamphlets, books, Upon Cosmetical Oeconomy, Which made the King try various looks, But none improved his physiognomy.

And satires at the Court were levelled, And small lampoons, so full of slynesses, That soon, in short, they quite bedeviled Their Majesties and Royal Highnesses.

At length--but here I drop the veil, To spare some royal folks' sensations;-- Besides, what followed is the tale Of all such late-enlightened nations;

Of all to whom old Time discloses A truth they should have sooner known-- That kings have neither rights nor noses A whit diviner than their own.

[1] The Goths had a law to choose always a short, thick man for their King.--Munster, "_Cosmog." lib_. iii. p. 164.

[2] "In a Prince a jolter-head is invaluable."--_Oriental Field Sports_.

FABLE III.

THE TORCH OF LIBERTY.

I saw it all in Fancy's gla.s.s-- Herself, the fair, the wild magician, Who bade this splendid day-dream pa.s.s, And named each gliding apparition.

'Twas like a torch-race--such as they Of Greece performed, in ages gone, When the fleet youths, in long array, Past the bright torch triumphant on.

I saw the expectant nations stand, To catch the coming flame in turn;-- I saw, from ready hand to hand, The clear tho' struggling glory burn.

And oh! their joy, as it came near, 'Twas in itself a joy to see;-- While Fancy whispered in my ear.

"That torch they pa.s.s is Liberty!"

And each, as she received the flame, Lighted her altar with its ray; Then, smiling, to the next who came, Speeded it on its sparkling way.

From ALBION first, whose ancient shrine Was furnisht with the fire already, COLUMBIA caught the boon divine, And lit a flame, like ALBION'S, steady.

The splendid gift then GALLIA took, And, like a wild Bacchante, raising The brand aloft, its sparkles shook, As she would set the world _a-blazing_!

Thus kindling wild, so fierce and high Her altar blazed into the air, That ALBION, to that fire too nigh, Shrunk back and shuddered at its glare!

Next, SPAIN, so new was light to her, Leapt at the torch--but, ere the spark That fell upon her shrine could stir, 'Twas quenched--and all again was dark.

Yet, no--_not_ quenched--a treasure worth So much to mortals rarely dies: Again her living light lookt forth, And shone, a beacon, in all eyes.

Who next received the flame? alas!

Unworthy NAPLES--shame of shames, That ever thro' such hands should pa.s.s That brightest of all earthly flames!