A Sad Case.

        "If it be the undergraduate season at which this rabies religiosa is to be so fearful, what security has Mr. Goulburn against it at this moment, when his son is actually exposed to the full venom of an association with Dissenters?"
        --The Times, March 25.


How sad a case!--just think of it--
If Goulburn junior should be bit
By some insane Dissenter, roaming
Thro' Granta's halls, at large and foaming,
And with that aspect ultra crabbed
Which marks Dissenters when they're rabid!
God only knows what mischiefs might
Result from this one single bite,
Or how the venom, once suckt in,
Might spread and rage thro' kith and kin.
Mad folks of all denominations
First turn upon their own relations:
So that one Goulburn, fairly bit,
Might end in maddening the whole kit,
Till ah! ye gods! we'd have to rue
Our Goulburn senior bitten too;
The Hychurchphobia in those veins,
Where Tory blood now redly reigns;--
And that dear man who now perceives
Salvation only in lawn sleeves,
Might, tainted by such coarse infection,
Run mad in the opposite direction.
And think, poor man, 'tis only given
To linsey-woolsey to reach Heaven!

Just fancy what a shock 'twould be
Our Goulburn in his fits to see,
Tearing into a thousand particles
His once-loved Nine and Thirty Articles;
(Those Articles his friend, the Duke,^[1]
For Gospel, t'other night, mistook;)
Cursing cathedrals, deans and singers--
Wishing the ropes might hang the ringers--
Pelting the church with blasphemies,
Even worse than Parson Beverley's;--
And ripe for severing Church and State,
Like any creedless reprobate,
Or like that class of Methodists
Prince Waterloo styles "Atheists!"

But 'tis too much--the Muse turns pale,
And o'er the picture drops a veil,
Praying, God save the Goulburns all
From mad Dissenters great and small!

Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore was an Irish poet, singer, and songwriter, celebrated for his Irish Melodies, which are now considered a staple of Irish cultural heritage. Born on May 28, 1779, in Dublin, Ireland, Moore gained fame for his lyrical songs, many of which were set to traditional Irish tunes. Not only a poet, but he was also a staunch advocate of Irish nationalism, often incorporating themes of national identity and resistance into his work. Moore's influential collection 'Irish Melodies' became popular in both Ireland and Britain and helped to define the literary output of the era. He passed away on February 25, 1852, but his legacy in Irish literature and music endures.

Thomas Moore

As A Beam O'er The Face Of The Waters May Glow.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Love, Wandering Thro' The Golden Maze.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

To .......

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Song.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Fudges In England. Letter VI. From Miss Biddy Fudge, To Mrs. Elizabeth ----.

How I grieve you're not with us!--pray, come, if you can,
Ere we're robbed of this dear, oratorical man,
Who combines in himself all the multiple glory
Of, Orangeman, Saint, quondam Papist and Tory;--
(Choice mixture! like that from which, duly confounded,
The best sort of brass was, in old times, compounded.)--
The sly and the saintly, the worldly and godly,
All fused down, in brogue so deliciously oddly!
In short, he's a dear--and such audiences draws,
Such loud peals of laughter and shouts of applause,
As can't but do good to the Protestant cause.

Poor dear Irish Church!--he today sketched a view
Of her history and prospect, to me at least new,
And which (if it takes as it ought) must arouse
The whole Christian w...

Thomas Moore

Intended Tribute To The Author Of An Article In The Last Number Of The Quarterly Review, Entitled "Romanism In Ireland."

It glads us much to be able to say,
That a meeting is fixt for some early day,
Of all such dowagers--he or she--
(No matter the sex, so they dowagers be,)
Whose opinions concerning Church and State
From about the time of the Curfew date--
Stanch sticklers still for days bygone,
And admiring them for their rust alone--
To whom if we would a leader give,
Worthy their tastes conservative,
We need but some mummy-statesman raise,
Who was pickled and potted in Ptolemy's days;
For that's the man, if waked from his shelf,
To conserve and swaddle this world like himself.
Such, we're happy to state, are the old he-dames
Who've met in committee and given their names
(In good hieroglyphics), with kind intent
To pay some handsome com...

Thomas Moore

Twopenny Post-Bag, Intercepted Letters, Etc. Letter IV.

FROM THE RIGHT HON. PATRICK DUIGENAN TO THE RIGHT HON. SIR JOHN NICHOL.


Last week, dear Nichol, making merry
At dinner with our Secretary,
When all were drunk or pretty near
(The time for doing business here),
Says he to me, "Sweet Bully Bottom!
"These Papist dogs--hiccup--'od rot 'em!--
"Deserve to be bespattered--hiccup--
"With all the dirt even you can pick up.
"But, as the Prince (here's to him--fill--
"Hip, hip, hurra!)--is trying still
"To humbug them with kind professions,
"And as you deal in strong expressions--
"Rogue"--"traitor"--hiccup--and all that--
"You must be muzzled, Doctor Pat!--
"You must indeed--hiccup--that's flat."--

Yes--"muzzled" was the word Sir John--
These fools have clapt a muzzle o...

Thomas Moore

Reflections. Addressed To The Author Of The Article Of The Church In The Last Number Of The Quarterly Review.

I'm quite of your mind;--tho' these Pats cry aloud
    That they've got "too much Church," 'tis all nonsense and stuff;
For Church is like Love, of which Figaro vowed
    That even too much of it's not quite enough.

Ay! dose them with parsons, 'twill cure all their ills;--
    Copy Morrison's mode when from pill-box undaunted he
Pours thro' the patient his black-coated pills,
    Nor cares what their quality, so there's but quantity.

I verily think 'twould be worth England's while
    To consider, for Paddy's own benefit, whether
'Twould not be as well to give up the green isle
    To the care, wear and tear of the Church altogether.

The Irish are well used to treatment so pleasant;
    The harlot Church gave them to Henry Plantagenet,^[1]<...

Thomas Moore

The Fudges In England. Letter VIII. From Bob Fudge, Esq., To The Rev. Mortimer O'Mulligan.

Tuesday evening,

I much regret, dear Reverend Sir,
    I could not come to * * * to meet you;
But this curst gout wont let me stir--
    Even now I but by proxy greet you;
As this vile scrawl, whate'er its sense is,
Owes all to an amanuensis.
Most other scourges of disease
Reduce men to extremities--
But gout wont leave one even these.

From all my sister writes, I see
That you and I will quite agree.
I'm a plain man who speak the truth,
    And trust you'll think me not uncivil,
When I declare that from my youth
    I've wisht your country at the devil:
Nor can I doubt indeed from all
    I've heard of your high patriot fame--
From every word your lips let fall--
    That you most truly wish the same.
It p...

Thomas Moore

The Fudges In England. Letter II. From Miss Biddy Fudge To Mrs. Elizabeth ----.

Just in time for the post, dear, and monstrously busy,
    With godly concernments--and worldly ones, too;
Things carnal and spiritual mixt, my dear Lizzy,
In this little brain till, bewildered and dizzy,
    'Twixt heaven and earth, I scarce know what I do.

First, I've been to see all the gay fashions from Town,
Which our favorite Miss Gimp for the spring has had down.
Sleeves still worn (which I think is wise), à la folle,
Charming hats, pou de soie--tho' the shape rather droll.
But you cant think how nicely the caps of tulle lace,
With the mentonnières look on this poor sinful face;
And I mean, if the Lord in his mercy thinks right,
To wear one at Mrs. Fitz-wigram's to-night.

The silks are quite heavenly:--I'm glad to...

Thomas Moore