So rides along, with canter smooth and pleasant, That horseman bold, Lord Anglesea, at present;-- _Papist_ and _Protestant_ the coursers twain, That lend their necks to his impartial rein, And round the ring--each honored, as they go, With equal pressure from his gracious toe--
To the old medley tune, half "Patrick"s Day"
And half "Boyne Water," take their cantering way, While Peel, the showman in the middle, cracks His long-lasht whip to cheer the doubtful hacks.
Ah, ticklish trial of equestrian art!
How blest, if neither steed would bolt or start;-- If _Protestant"s_ old restive tricks were gone, And _Papist"s_ winkers could be still kept on!
But no, false hopes--not even the great Ducrow "Twixt two such steeds could "scape an overthrow: If _solar_ hacks played Phaeton a trick, What hope, alas, from hackneys _lunatic_?
If once my Lord his graceful balance loses, Or fails to keep each foot where each horse chooses; If Peel but gives one _extra_ touch of whip To _Papist"s_ tail or _Protestant"s_ ear-tip-- That instant ends their glorious horsmanship!
Off bolt the severed steeds, for mischief free.
And down between them plumps Lord Anglesea!
THE LIMBO OF LOST REPUTATIONS.
A DREAM.
"_Cio che si perde qui, la si raguna_."
ARIOSTO.
"---a valley, where he sees Things that on earth were lost."
MILTON.
1828.
Knowest thou not him[1] the poet sings, Who flew to the moon"s serene domain, And saw that valley where all the things, That vanish on earth are found again-- The hopes of youth, the resolves of age, The vow of the lover, the dream of the sage, The golden visions of mining cits, The promises great men strew about them; And, packt in compa.s.s small, the wits Of monarchs who rule as well without them!-- Like him, but diving with wing profound, I have been to a Limbo underground, Where characters lost on earth, (and _cried_, In vain, like Harris"s, far and wide,) In heaps like yesterday"s orts, are thrown And there, so worthless and flyblown That even the imps would not purloin them, Lie till their worthy owners join them.
Curious it was to see this ma.s.s Of lost and torn-up reputations;-- Some of them female wares, alas!
Mislaid at _innocent_ a.s.signations; Some, that had sighed their last amen From the canting lips of saints that would be; And some once owned by "the best of men,"
Who had proved-no better than they should be.
"Mong others, a poet"s fame I spied, Once shining fair, now soakt and black-- "No wonder" (an imp at my elbow cried), "For I pickt it out of a b.u.t.t of sack!"
Just then a yell was heard o"er head, Like a chimney-sweeper"s lofty summons; And lo! a devil right downward sped, Bringing within his claws so red Two statesmen"s characters, found, he said, Last night, on the floor of the House of Commons; The which, with black official grin, He now to the Chief Imp handed in;-- _Both_ these articles much the worse For their journey down, as you may suppose; But _one_ so devilish rank--"Odd"s curse!".
Said the Lord Chief Imp, and held his nose.
"Ho, ho!" quoth he, "I know full well "From whom these two stray matters fell;"-- Then, casting away, with loathful shrug, The uncleaner waif (as he would a drug The Invisible"s own dark hand had mixt), His gaze on the other[2] firm he fixt, And trying, tho" mischief laught in his eye, To be moral because of the _young_ imps by, "What a pity!" he cried--"so fresh its gloss, "So long preserved--"tis a public loss!
"This comes of a man, the careless blockhead, "Keeping his character in his pocket; "And there--without considering whether "There"s room for that and his gains together-- "Cramming and cramming and cramming away, "Till--out slips character some fine day!
"However"--and here he viewed it round-- "This article still may pa.s.s for sound.
"Some flaws, soon patched, some stains are all "The harm it has had in its luckless fall.
"Here, Puck!" and he called to one of his train-- "The owner may have this back again.
"Tho" damaged for ever, if used with skill, "It may serve perhaps to _trade on_ still; "Tho" the gem can never as once be set, "It will do for a Tory Cabinet."
[1] Astolpho.
[2] Huskisson.
HOW TO WRITE BY PROXY.
_qui facit per alium facit per se_.
"Mong our neighbors, the French, in the good olden time When n.o.bility flourisht, great Barons and Dukes Often set up for authors in prose and in rhyme, But ne"er took the trouble to write their own books.
Poor devils were found to do this for their betters;-- And one day a Bishop, addressing a _Blue_, Said, "Ma"am, have you read my new Pastoral Letters?"
To which the _Blue_ answered--"No, Bishop, have you?"
The same is now done by _our_ privileged cla.s.s; And to show you how simple the process it needs, If a great Major-General[1] wishes to pa.s.s For an author of History, thus he proceeds:--
First, scribbling his own stock of notions as well As he can, with a _goose_-quill that claims him as _kin_, He settles his neckcloth--takes snuff--rings the bell, And yawningly orders a Subaltern in.
The Subaltern comes--sees his General seated, In all the self-glory of authorship swelling;-- "There look," saith his Lordship, "my work is completed,-- "It wants nothing now but the grammar and spelling."
Well used to a _breach_, the brave Subaltern dreads Awkward breaches of syntax a hundred times more; And tho" often condemned to see breaking of heads, He had ne"er seen such breaking of Priscian"s before.
However, the job"s sure to _pay_--that"s enough-- So, to it he sets with his tinkering hammer, Convinced that there never was job half so tough As the mending a great Major-General"s grammar.
But lo! a fresh puzzlement starts up to view-- New toil for the Sub.--for the Lord new expense: "Tis discovered that mending his _grammar_ won"t do, As the Subaltern also must find him in _sense_!
At last--even this is achieved by his aid; Friend Subaltern pockets the cash and--the story; Drums beat--the new Grand March of Intellect"s played-- And off struts my Lord, the Historian, in glory!
[1] Or Lieutenant-General, as it may happen to be.
IMITATION OF THE INFERNO OF DANTE.
_"Cosi quel fiato gli spiriti mali Di qua, di la, di giu, di su gli mena."_
_Inferno_, canto 5.