The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 252

The Friar consented--little knew What tricks the youth had in his head; Besides, was rather tempted too By a laced coat he got instead.

Away ran Royalty, slap-dash, Scampering like mad about the town; Broke windows, shivered lamps to smash, And knockt whole scores of watchmen down.

While naught could they, whose heads were broke, Learn of the "why" or the "wherefore,"

Except that 'twas Religion's cloak The gentleman, who crackt them, wore,

Meanwhile, the Friar, whose head was turned By the laced coat, grew frisky too; Lookt big--his former habits spurned-- And stormed about, as great men do:

Dealt much in pompous oaths and curses-- Said "d.a.m.n you" often, or as bad-- Laid claim to other people's purses-- In short, grew either knaves or mad.

As work like this was unbefitting, And flesh and blood no longer bore it, The Court of Common Sense, then sitting, Summoned the culprits both before it.

Where, after hours in wrangling spent (As Courts must wrangle to decide well).

Religion to St. Luke's was sent, And Royalty packt off to Bridewell.

With this proviso--should they be Restored, in due time, to their senses, They both must give security, In future, against such offences-- Religion ne'er to _lend his cloak_, Seeing what dreadful work it leads to; And Royalty to crack his joke,-- But _not_ to crack poor people's heads too.

[1] The salamander is supposed to have the power of extinguishing fire by its natural coldness and moisture.

[2] A well-known publisher of irreligious books.

[3] "The greatest number of the ichneumon tribe are seen settling upon the back of the caterpillar, and darting at different intervals their stings into its body--at every dart they deposit an egg"--GOLDSMITH.

FABLE VI.

THE LITTLE GRAND LAMA.

PROEM.

Novella, a young Bolognese, The daughter of a learned Law Doctor,[1]

Who had with all the subtleties Of old and modern jurists stockt her, Was so exceeding fair, 'tis said, And over hearts held such dominion, That when her father, sick in bed, Or busy, sent her, in his stead, To lecture on the Code Justinian, She had a curtain drawn before her, Lest, if her charms were seen, the students Should let their young eyes wander o'er her, And quite forget their jurisprudence.

Just so it is with Truth, when _seen_, Too dazzling far,--'tis from behind A light, thin allegoric screen, She thus can safest leach mankind.

FABLE.

In Thibet once there reigned, we're told, A little Lama, one year old-- Raised to the throne, that realm to bless, Just when his little Holiness Had cut--as near as can be reckoned-- Some say his _first_ tooth, some his _second_.

Chronologers and Nurses vary, Which proves historians should be wary.

We only know the important truth, His Majesty _had_ cut a tooth.

And much his subjects were enchanted,-- As well all Lamas' subjects _may_ be, And would have given their heads, if wanted, To make tee-totums for the baby.

Throned as he was by Right Divine-- (What Lawyers call _Jure Divino_, Meaning a right to yours and mine And everybody's goods and rhino.) Of course, his faithful subjects' purses Were ready with their aids and succors; Nothing was seen but pensioned Nurses; And the land groaned with bibs and tuckers.

Oh! had there been a Hume or Bennet, Then sitting in the Thibet Senate, Ye G.o.ds! what room for long debates Upon the Nursery Estimates!

What cutting down of swaddling-clothes And pinafores, in nightly battles!

What calls for papers to expose The waste of sugar-plums and rattles!

But no--if Thibet _had_ M.P.s, They were far better bred than these; Nor gave the slightest opposition, During the Monarch's whole dent.i.tion.

But short this calm;--for, just when he, Had reached the alarming age of three, When Royal natures and no doubt Those of _all_ n.o.ble beasts break out-- The Lama, who till then was quiet, Showed symptoms of a taste for riot; And, ripe for mischief, early, late, Without regard for Church or State, Made free with whosoe'er came nigh; Tweakt the Lord Chancellor by the nose, Turned all the Judges' wigs awry, And trod on the old Generals' toes; Pelted the Bishops with hot buns, Rode c.o.c.k-horse on the City maces, And shot from little devilish guns, Hard peas into the subjects' faces.

In short, such wicked pranks he played, And' grew so mischievous, G.o.d bless him!

That his Chief Nurse--with even the aid Of an Archbishop--was afraid.

When in these moods, to comb or dress him.

Nay, even the persons most inclined Thro' thick and thin, for Kings to stickle, Thought him (if they'd but speak their mind; Which they did _not_) an odious pickle.

At length some patriot lords--a breed Of animals they've got in Thibet, Extremely rare and fit indeed For folks like Pidc.o.c.k, to exhibit-- Some patriot lords, who saw the length To which things went, combined their strength, And penned a manly, plain and free, Remonstrance to the Nursery; Protesting warmly that they yielded To none that ever went before 'em, In loyalty to him who wielded The hereditary pap-spoon o'er 'em; That, as for treason, 'twas a thing That made them almost sick to think of-- That they and theirs stood by the King, Throughout his measles and his chincough, When others, thinking him consumptive, Had ratted to the Heir Presumptive!-- But, still--tho' much admiring Kings (And chiefly those in leading-strings), They saw, with shame and grief of soul, There was no longer now the wise And const.i.tutional control Of _birch_ before their ruler's eyes; But that of late such pranks and tricks And freaks occurred the whole day long, As all but men with bishoprics Allowed, in even a King, were wrong.

Wherefore it was they humbly prayed That Honorable Nursery, That such reforms be henceforth made, As all good men desired to see;-- In other words (lest they might seem Too tedious), as the gentlest scheme For putting all such pranks to rest, And in its bud the mischief nipping-- They ventured humbly to suggest His Majesty should have a whipping!

When this was read, no Congreve rocket, Discharged into the Gallic trenches E'er equalled the tremendous shock it Produced upon the Nursery benches.

The Bishops, who of course had votes, By right of age and petticoats, Were first and foremost in the fuss-- "What, whip a Lama! suffer birch "To touch his sacred--infamous!

"Deistical!--a.s.sailing thus "The fundamentals of the Church!-- "No--no--such patriot plans as these, "(So help them Heaven--and their Sees!) "They held to be rank blasphemies."

The alarm thus given, by these and other Grave ladies of the Nursery side, Spread thro' the land, till, such a pother, Such party squabbles, far and wide, Never in history's page had been Recorded, as were then between The Whippers and Non-whippers seen.

Till, things arriving at a state, Which gave some fears of revolution, The patriot lords' advice, tho' late, Was put at last in execution.

The Parliament of Thibet met-- The little Lama, called before it, Did, then and there, his whipping get, And (as the _Nursery Gazette_ a.s.sures us) like a hero bore it.

And tho', 'mong Thibet Tories, some Lament that Royal Martyrdom (Please to observe, the letter D In this last word's p.r.o.nounced like B), Yet to the example of that Prince So much is Thibet's land a debtor, That her long line of Lamas, since, Have all behaved themselves _much_ better.

[1] Andreas.

FABLE VII.

THE EXTINGUISHERS.

PROEM.

Tho' soldiers are the true supports, The natural allies of Courts, Woe to the Monarch, who depends Too _much_ on his red-coated friends; For even soldiers sometimes _think_-- Nay, Colonels have been known to _reason_,--

And reasoners, whether clad in pink Or red or blue, are on the brink (Nine cases out of ten) of treason

Not many soldiers, I believe, are As fond of liberty as Mina; Else--woe to Kings! when Freedom's fever Once turns into a _Scarletina_!

For then--but hold--'tis best to veil My meaning in the following tale:--

FABLE.

A Lord of Persia, rich and great, Just come into a large estate, Was shockt to find he had, for neighbors, Close to his gate, some rascal Ghebers, Whose fires, beneath his very nose, In heretic combustion rose.

But Lords of Persia can, no doubt, Do what they will--so, one fine morning, He turned the rascal Ghebers out, First giving a few kicks for warning.

Then, thanking Heaven most piously, He knockt their Temple to the ground, Blessing himself for joy to see Such Pagan ruins strewed around.