Alarming Intelligence! Revolution In The Dictionary--One Galt At The Head Of It.

God preserve us!--there's nothing now safe from assault;--
    Thrones toppling around, churches brought to the hammer;
And accounts have just reached us that one Mr. Galt
    Has declared open war against English and Grammar!

He had long been suspected of some such design,
    And, the better his wicked intents to arrive at,
Had lately 'mong Colburn's troops of the line
    (The penny-a-line men) enlisted as private.

There schooled, with a rabble of words at command,
    Scotch, English and slang in promiscuous alliance.
He at length against Syntax has taken his stand,
    And sets all the Nine Parts of Speech at defiance.

Next advices, no doubt, further facts will afford:
    In the mean time the danger most imminent grows,
He has taken the Life of one eminent Lord,
    And whom he'll next murder the Lord only knows.

Wednesday evening.
Since our last, matters, luckily, look more serene;
    Tho' the rebel, 'tis stated, to aid his defection,
Has seized a great Powder--no, Puff Magazine,
    And the explosions are dreadful in every direction.

What his meaning exactly is, nobody knows,
    As he talks (in a strain of intense botheration)
Of lyrical "ichor,"^[1] "gelatinous" prose,^[2]
    And a mixture called amber immortalization.^[3]

Now, he raves of a bard he once happened to meet,
Seated high "among rattlings" and churning a sonnet;^[4]
Now, talks of a mystery, wrapt in a sheet,
    With a halo (by way of a nightcap) upon it!^[5]

We shudder in tracing these terrible lines;
    Something bad they must mean, tho' we can't make it out;
For whate'er may be guessed of Galt's secret designs,
    That they're all Anti-English no Christian can doubt.

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

How Dear To Me The Hour.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Hark! 'Tis The Breeze. (Air.--Rousseau.)

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Weep, Children Of Israel. (Air.--Stevenson.)

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Long Years Have Past.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

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

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 bi...

Thomas Moore

Translation From The Gull Language.

        Scripta manet.


'Twas graved on the Stone of Destiny,^[1]
In letters four and letters three;
And ne'er did the King of the Gulls go by
But those awful letters scared his eye;
For he knew that a Prophet Voice had said,
"As long as those words by man were read,
"The ancient race of the Gulls should ne'er
"One hour of peace or plenty share."
But years on years successive flew,
And the letters still more legible grew,--
At top, a T, an H, an E,
And underneath, D. E. B. T.

Some thought them Hebrew,--such as Jews
More skilled in Scrip than Scripture use;
While some surmised 'twas an ancient way
Of keeping accounts, (well known in the day
Of the famed Didlerius Jeremias,
Who had thereto a wonderful bias,)
And p...

Thomas Moore

The Fudge Family In Paris Letter IV. From Phelim Connor To ----

"Return!"--no, never, while the withering hand
Of bigot power is on that hapless land;
While, for the faith my fathers held to God,
Even in the fields where free those fathers trod,
I am proscribed, and--like the spot left bare
In Israel's halls, to tell the proud and fair
Amidst their mirth, that Slavery had been there^[1]--
On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace
The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace!
No!--let them stay, who in their country's pangs
See naught but food for factions and harangues;
Who yearly kneel before their masters' doors
And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores:
Still let your .            .            .            .^[2]
            .            .            .            .            .
Still hope a...

Thomas Moore

Stanzas Written In Anticipation Of Defeat.

^[1]


Go seek for some abler defenders of wrong,
    If we must run the gantlet thro' blood and expense;
Or, Goths as ye are, in your multitude strong,
    Be content with success and pretend not to sense.

If the words of the wise and the generous are vain,
    If Truth by the bowstring must yield up her breath,
Let Mutes do the office--and spare her the pain
    Of an Inglis or Tyndal to talk her to death.

Chain, persecute, plunder--do all that you will--
    But save us, at least, the old womanly lore
Of a Foster, who, dully prophetic of ill,
    Is at once the two instruments, AUGUR^[2] and BORE.

Bring legions of Squires--if they'll only be mute--
    And array their thick heads against reason and ...

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

The Fudge Family In Paris Letter VII. From Phelim Connor To--.

Before we sketch the Present--let us cast
A few, short, rapid glances to the Past.

When he, who had defied all Europe's strength,
Beneath his own weak rashness sunk at length;--
When, loosed as if by magic from a chain
That seemed like Fate's the world was free again,
And Europe saw, rejoicing in the sight,
The cause of Kings, for once, the cause of Right;--
Then was, indeed, an hour of joy to those
Who sighed for justice--liberty--repose,
And hoped the fall of one great vulture's nest
Would ring its warning round, and scare the rest.
All then was bright with promise;--Kings began
To own a sympathy with suffering Man,
And man was grateful; Patriots of the South
Caught wisdom from a Cossack Emperor's mouth,
And heard, like accents thawed in ...

Thomas Moore