Lines On The Departure Of Lord Castlereagh And Stewart For The Continent.

^[1]


        at Paris^[2] et Fratres, et qui rapure sub illis.
        vix tenuere manus (scis hoc, Menelae) nefandas.
        OVID. Metam. lib. xiii. v. 202.


Go, Brothers in wisdom--go, bright pair of Peers,
    And my Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have--of his years,
    And the other Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.

Go, Hero of Chancery, blest with the smile
    Of the Misses that love and the monarchs that prize thee;
Forget Mrs. Angelo Taylor awhile,
    And all tailors but him who so well dandifies thee.

Never mind how thy juniors in gallantry scoff,
    Never heed how perverse affidavits may thwart thee,
But show the young Misses thou'rt scholar enough
    To translate "Amor Fortis" a love, about forty!

And sure 'tis no wonder, when, fresh as young Mars,
    From the battle you came, with the Orders you'd earned in't,
That sweet Lady Fanny should cry out "My stars!"
    And forget that the Moon, too, was some way concerned in't.

For not the great Regent himself has endured
    (Tho' I've seen him with badges and orders all shine,
Till he lookt like a house that was over insured)
    A much heavier burden of glories than thine.

And 'tis plain, when a wealthy young lady so mad is,
    Or any young ladies can so go astray,
As to marry old Dandies that might be their daddies,
    The stars are in fault, my Lord Stewart, not they!

Thou, too, t'other brother, thou Tully of Tories,
    Thou Malaprop Cicero, over whose lips
Such a smooth rigmarole about; "monarchs," and "glories,"
    And "nullidge," and "features," like syllabub slips.

Go, haste, at the Congress pursue thy vocation
    Of adding fresh sums to this National Debt of ours,
Leaguing with Kings, who for mere recreation
    Break promises, fast as your Lordship breaks metaphors.

Fare ye well, fare ye well, bright Pair of Peers,
    And may Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have--of his years,
And the other, Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.

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

Oh, Come To Me When Daylight Sets. (Venetian Air.)

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Steerman's Song,

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Occasional Epilogue. Spoken By Mr. Cobby, In The Character Of Vapid, After The Play Of The Dramatist, At The Kilkenny Theatre.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Here Sleeps The Bard. (Highland Air.)

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

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To The Ship In Which Lord Castlereagh Sailed For The Continent.

Imitated from Horace, lib. i, ode 3.


So may my Lady's prayers prevail,
    And Canning's too, and lucid Bragge's,
And Eldon beg a favoring gale
    From Eolus, that older Bags,
To speed thee on thy destined way,
Oh ship, that bearest our Castlereagh,
Our gracious Regent's better half
    And therefore quarter of a King--
(As Van or any other calf
    May find without much figuring).
Waft him, oh ye kindly breezes,
    Waft this Lord of place and pelf,
Any where his Lordship pleases,
    Tho' 'twere to Old Nick himself!

Oh, what a face of brass was his.
Who first at Congress showed his phiz--
To sign away the Rights of Man
    To Russian threats and Austrian juggle;
And leave the sinking African
...

Thomas Moore

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

Parody Of A Celebrated Letter.

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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.

        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
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

To Thomas Hume, Esq., M. D.

FROM THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.


'Tis evening now; beneath the western star
Soft sighs the lover through his sweet cigar,
And fills the ears of some consenting she
With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy.

The patriot, fresh from Freedom's councils come,
Now pleased retires to lash his slaves at home;
Or woo, perhaps, some black Aspasia's charms,
And dream of freedom in his bondsmaid's arms.

    In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom,
Come, let me lead thee o'er this "second Rome!"^[1]
Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow,
And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now:^[2]--
This embryo capital, where Fancy sees
Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees;
Which second-sighted seers, even now, adorn
With shrines unbu...

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 II.

FROM COLONEL M'MAHON TO GOULD FRANCIS LECKIE, ESQ.


DEAR SIR--
    I've just had time to look
Into your very learned Book,
Wherein--as plain as man can speak.
Whose English is half modern Greek--
You prove that we can ne'er intrench
Our happy isles against the French,
Till Royalty in England's made
A much more independent trade;--
In short until the House of Guelph
Lays Lords and Commons on the shelf,
And boldly sets up for itself.

    All that can well be understood
In this said Book is vastly good;
And as to what's incomprehensible,
I dare be sworn 'tis full as sensible.

    But to your work's immortal credit
The Prince, good Sir, the Prince has read it
(The only Book, himself remarks,
Which he has read since Mrs. C...

Thomas Moore