Extracts From The Diary Of A Politician.

Wednesday.

Thro' Manchester Square took a canter just now--
Met the old yellow chariot^[1] and made a low bow.
This I did, of course, thinking 'twas loyal and civil,
But got such a look--oh! 'twas black as the devil!
How unlucky!--incog. he was travelling about,
And I like a noodle, must go find him out.
Mem.--when next by the old yellow chariot I ride,
To remember there is nothing princely inside.

Thursday.

At Levee to-day made another sad blunder--
What can be come over me lately, I wonder?
The Prince was as cheerful as if all his life
He had never been troubled with Friends or a Wife--
"Fine weather," says he--to which I, who must prate,
Answered, "Yes, Sir, but changeable rather, of late."
He took it, I fear, for he lookt somewhat gruff,
And handled his new pair of whiskers so rough,
That before all the courtiers I feared they'd come off,
And then, Lord, how Geramb^[2] would triumphantly scoff!

Mem.--to buy for son Dicky some unguent or lotion
To nourish his whiskers--sure road to promotion!^[3]

Saturday.

Last night a Concert--vastly gay--
Given by Lady Castlereagh.
My Lord loves music, and we know
Has "two strings always to his bow."^[4]
In choosing songs, the Regent named
"Had I a heart for falsehood framed."
While gentle Hertford begged and prayed
For "Young I am and sore afraid."

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

The Euthanasia Of Van.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Our First Young Love.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

To The Boston Frigate, On Leaving Halifax For England,[1] October, 1804.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Dear Harp Of My Country.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

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From The Hon. Henry ----, To Lady Emma ----.

Paris, March 30,1833.


You bid me explain, my dear angry Ma'amselle,
How I came thus to bolt without saying farewell;
And the truth is,--as truth you will have, my sweet railer,--
    There are two worthy persons I always feel loath
To take leave of at starting,--my mistress and tailor,--
    As somehow one always has scenes with them both;
The Snip in ill-humor, the Syren in tears,
    She calling on Heaven, and he on the attorney,--
Till sometimes, in short, 'twixt his duns and his dears,
    A young gentleman risks being stopt in his journey.

But to come to the point, tho' you think, I dare say.
That 'tis debt or the Cholera drives me away,
'Pon honor you're wrong;--such a mere bagatelle
    As a pestilence, nobody now-a-days fea...

Thomas Moore

The Fudge Family In Paris Letter II. From Phil. Fudge, Esq., To The Lord Viscount Castlereagh.

Paris.

At length, my Lord, I have the bliss
To date to you a line from this
"Demoralized" metropolis;
Where, by plebeians low and scurvy,
The throne was turned quite topsy-turvy,
And Kingship, tumbled from its seat,
"Stood prostrate" at the people's feet;
Where (still to use your Lordship's tropes)
The level of obedience slopes
Upward and downward, as the stream
Of hydra faction kicks the beam!^[1]
Where the poor Palace changes masters
    Quicker than a snake its skin,
And LOUIS is rolled out on castors,
    While BONEY'S borne on shoulders in:--
But where, in every change, no doubt,
    One special good your Lordship traces,--
That 'tis the Kings alone turn out,
The Ministers sti...

Thomas Moore

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

DEDICATION. TO STEPHEN WOOLRICHE, ESQ.


MY DEAR WOOLRICHE,--

It is now about seven years since I promised (and I grieve to think it is almost as long since we met) to dedicate to you the very first Book, of whatever size or kind I should publish. Who could have thought that so many years would elapse, without my giving the least signs of life upon the subject of this important promise? Who could have imagined that a volume of doggerel, after all, would be the first offering that Gratitude would lay upon the shrine of Friendship?

If you continue, however, to be as much interested about me and my pursuits as formerly, you will be happy to hear that doggerel is not my only occupation; but that I am preparing to throw my name to the Swans of the Temple of Immortality, leaving it of course to the sa...

Thomas Moore

Memorabilia Of Last Week.

MONDAY, MARCH 13, 1826.


The Budget--quite charming and witty--no hearing,
For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it;--
Great comfort to find, tho' the speech isn't cheering,
    That all its gay auditors were every minute.

What, still more prosperity!--mercy upon us,
    "This boy'll be the death of me"--oft as, already,
Such smooth Budgeteers have genteelly undone us,
    For Ruin made easy there's no one like Freddy.

TUESDAY.

Much grave apprehension exprest by the Peers,
    Lest--calling to life the old Peachums and Lockitts--
The large stock of gold we're to have in three years,
    Should all find its way into highwaymen's pockets!^[1]

WEDNESDAY.

Little doing--for sa...

Thomas Moore

Thoughts On The Late Destructive Propositions Of The Tories.[1] By A Common-Councilman.

I sat me down in my easy chair,
    To read, as usual, the morning papers;
But--who shall describe my look of despair,
    When I came to Lefroy's "destructive" capers!
That he--that, of all live men, Lefroy
Should join in the cry "Destroy, destroy!"
Who, even when a babe, as I've heard said,
On Orange conserve was chiefly fed,
And never, till now, a movement made
That wasnt manfully retrograde!
Only think--to sweep from the light of day
Mayors, maces, criers and wigs away;
To annihilate--never to rise again--
A whole generation of aldermen,
Nor leave them even the accustomed tolls,
To keep together their bodies and souls!--
At a time too when snug posts and places
    Are falling away from us one by one,
Crash--crash--like the mummy-cases

Thomas Moore

Parody Of A Celebrated Letter.

^[1]


At length, dearest Freddy, the moment is night
When, with Perceval's leave, I may throw my chains by;
And, as time now is precious, the first thing I do
Is to sit down and write a wise letter to you.

        *        *        *        *
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        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
I meant before now to have sent you this Letter,
But Yarmouth and I thought perhaps 'twould be better
To wait till the Irish affairs are decided--
(That is, till both Houses had prosed and divided,
With all due appearance of thought and digestion)--
For, tho' Hertford House had long settled the question,
I th...

Thomas Moore