Stanzas From The Banks Of The Shannon.

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        "Take back the virgin page."
        MOORE'S Irish Melodies.


No longer dear Vesey, feel hurt and uneasy
    At hearing it said by the Treasury brother,
That thou art a sheet of blank paper, my Vesey,
    And he, the dear, innocent placeman, another.^[2]

For lo! what a service we Irish have done thee;--
    Thou now art a sheet of blank paper no more;
By St. Patrick, we've scrawled such a lesson upon thee
    As never was scrawled upon foolscap before.

Come--on with your spectacles, noble Lord Duke,
    (Or O'Connell has green ones he haply would lend you,)
Read Vesey all o'er (as you can't read a book)
    And improve by the lesson we bog-trotters send you;

A lesson, in large Roman characters traced,
    Whose awful impressions from you and your kin
Of blank-sheeted statesmen will ne'er be effaced--
    Unless, 'stead of paper, you're mere asses' skin.

Shall I help you to construe it? ay, by the Gods,
    Could I risk a translation, you should have a rare one;
But pen against sabre is desperate odds,
    And you, my Lord Duke (as you hinted once), wear one.

Again and again I say, read Vesey o'er;--
    You will find him worth all the old scrolls of papyrus
That Egypt e'er filled with nonsensical lore,
    Or the learned Champollion e'er wrote of, to tire us.

All blank as he was, we've returned him on hand,
    Scribbled o'er with a warning to Princes and Dukes,
Whose plain, simple drift if they won't understand,
    Tho' carest at St. James's, they're fit for St. Luke's.

Talk of leaves of the Sibyls!--more meaning conveyed is
    In one single leaf such as now we have spelled on,
Than e'er hath been uttered by all the old ladies
    That ever yet spoke, from the Sibyls to Eldon.

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

Before The Battle.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Written In The Blank Leaf Of A Lady's Commonplace Book.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Fudge Family In Paris Letter VIII. From Mr. Bob Fudge To Richard ----, Esq.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

By That Lake, Whose Gloomy Shore.[1]

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.

Write On, Write On. A Ballad.

Air.--"Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear.
                    salvete, fratres Asini. ST. FRANCIS.


Write on, write on, ye Barons dear,
    Ye Dukes, write hard and fast;
The good we've sought for many a year
    Your quills will bring at last.
One letter more, Newcastle, pen,
    To match Lord Kenyon's two,
And more than Ireland's host of men,
    One brace of Peers will do.
                    Write on, write on, etc.

Sure never since the precious use
    Of pen and ink began,
Did letters writ by fools produce
    Such signal good to man.
While intellect, 'mong high and low,
    Is marching on, they say,
Give me the Dukes and Lords who go
Like crabs, the other way.
                    Writ...

Thomas Moore

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

FROM MESSRS. LACKINGTON AND CO. TO THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.


Per Post, Sir, we send your MS.--look it thro'--
Very sorry--but can't undertake--'twouldn't do.
Clever work, Sir!--would get up prodigiously well--
Its only defect is--it never would sell.
And tho' Statesmen may glory in being unbought,
In an Author 'tis not so desirable thought.

    Hard times, Sir, most books are too dear to be read--
Tho' the gold of Good-sense and Wit's small-change are fled,
Yet the paper we Publishers pass, in their stead,
Rises higher each day, and ('tis frightful to think it)
Not even such names as Fitzgerald's can sink it!

    However, Sir--if you're for trying again,
And at somewhat that's vendible--we are your men.

  ...

Thomas Moore

The Fudges In England. Letter IV. From Patrick Magan, Esq., To The Rev. Richard ----.

He comes from Erin's speechful shore
Like fervid kettle, bubbling o'er
    With hot effusions--hot and weak;
Sound, Humbug, all your hollowest drums,
He comes, of Erin's martyrdoms
    To Britain's well-fed Church to speak.

Puff him, ye Journals of the Lord,^[1]
Twin prosers, Watchman and Record!
Journals reserved for realms of bliss,
Being much too good to sell in this,
Prepare, ye wealthier Saints, your dinners,
    Ye Spinsters, spread your tea and crumpets;
And you, ye countless Tracts for Sinners,
    Blow all your little penny trumpets.
He comes, the reverend man, to tell
    To all who still the Church's part take,
Tales of parsonic woe, that well
    Might make even grim Dissenter's heart ache:--
Of ten whole bis...

Thomas Moore

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

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        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...

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

Stanzas Written In Anticipation Of Defeat.

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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