The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 197

FREELY TRANSLATED BY LORD ELDON.

The man who keeps a conscience pure, (If not his own, at least his Prince's,) Thro' toil and danger walks secure, Looks big and black and never winces.

No want has he of sword or dagger, c.o.c.kt hat or ringlets of Geramb; Tho' Peers may laugh and Papists swagger, He doesn?t care one single d.a.m.n.

Whether midst Irish chairmen going.

Or thro' St. Giles's alleys dim, Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing, No matter, 'tis all one to him.

For instance, I, one evening late, Upon a gay vacation sally, Singing the praise of Church and State, Got (G.o.d knows how) to Cranbourne Alley.

When lo! an Irish Papist darted Across my path, gaunt, grim, and big-- I did but frown and off he started, Scared at me even without my wig.

Yet a more fierce and raw-boned dog Goes not to Ma.s.s in Dublin City, Nor shakes his brogue o'er Allen's Bog, Nor spouts in Catholic Committee.

Oh! place me midst O'Rourkes, O'Tooles, The ragged royal-blood of Tara; Or place me where d.i.c.k Martin rules The houseless wilds of Connemara;[1]

Of Church and State I'll warble still, Though even d.i.c.k Martin's self should grumble; Sweet Church and State, like Jack and Jill, So lovingly upon a hill-- Ah! ne'er like Jack and Jill to tumble![2]

[1] I must here remark, that the said d.i.c.k Martin being a very good fellow, it was not at all fair to make a "_malus Jupiter_" of him.

[2] There cannot be imagined a more happy ill.u.s.tration of the inseparability of Church and State, and their (what is called) "standing and falling together," than this ancient apologue of Jack and Jill. Jack, of course, represents the State in this ingenious little Allegory.

Jack fell down, And broke his _Crown_, And Jill came tumbling after.

THE NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS.

--_nova monstra creavit_.

OVID. "_Metamorph_." 1. i. v. 417.

Having sent off the troops of brave Major Camac, With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back.

And such helmets, G.o.d bless us! as never deckt any Male creature before, except Signor Giovanni-- "Let's see," said the Regent (like t.i.tus, perplext With the duties of empire,) "whom _shall_ I dress next?"

He looks in the gla.s.s--but perfection is there, Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts all right to a hair;[1]

Not a single _ex_-curl on his forehead he traces-- For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is, The _falser_ they are, the more firm in their places.

His coat he next views--but the coat who could doubt?

For his Yarmouth's own Frenchified hand cut it out; Every pucker and seam were made matters of state, And a Grand Household Council was held on each plait.

Then whom shall he dress? shall he new-rig his brother, Great c.u.mberland's Duke, with some kickshaw or other?

And kindly invent him more Christianlike shapes For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes.

Ah! no--here his ardor would meet with delays, For the Duke had been lately packt up in new Stays, So complete for the winter, he saw very plain 'Twould be devilish hard work to _un_pack him again.

So what's to be done?--there's the Ministers, bless 'em!-- As he _made_ the puppets, why shouldn?t he _dress_ 'em?

"An excellent thought!--call the tailors--be nimble-- "Let c.u.m bring his spy-gla.s.s, and Hertford her thimble; "While Yarmouth shall give us, in spite of all quizzers, "The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissors."

So saying, he calls Castlereagh and the rest Of his heaven-born statesmen, to come and be drest.

While Yarmouth, with snip-like and brisk expedition, Cuts up all at once a large Catholic Pet.i.tion In long tailors' measures, (the Prince crying "Well-done!") And first _puts in hand_ my Lord Chancellor Eldon.

[1] That model of Princes, the Emperor Commodus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to burn off his beard.

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN A LADY AND GENTLEMAN,

UPON THE ADVANTAGE OF (WHAT IS CALLED) "HAVING LAW[1] ON ONE'S SIDE."

_The Gentleman's Proposal_.

_Legge aurea, S'ei piace, ei lice_."

Come fly to these arms nor let beauties so bloomy To one frigid owner be tied; Your prudes may revile and your old ones look gloomy, But, dearest, we've _Law_ on our side.

Oh! think the delight of two lovers congenial, Whom no dull decorums divide; Their error how sweet and their raptures how _venial_, When once they've got Law on their side.

'Tis a thing that in every King's reign has been done too: Then why should it now be decried?

If the Father has done it why shouldn?t the Son too?

For so argues Law on our side.

And even should our sweet violation of duty By cold-blooded jurors be tried, They can _but_ bring it in "misfortune," my beauty, As long as we've Law on our side.

_The Lady's Answer_.

Hold, hold, my good Sir, go a little more slowly; For grant me so faithless a bride, Such sinners as we, are a little too _lovely_, To hope to have Law on our side.

Had you been a great Prince, to whose star s.h.i.+ning o'er 'em The People should look for their guide, Then your Highness (and welcome!) might kick down decorum-- You'd always have Law on your side.

Were you even an old Marquis, in mischief grown h.o.a.ry, Whose heart tho' it long ago died To the _pleasures_ of vice, is alive to its _glory_-- You still would have Law on your side.

But for _you_, Sir, Crim. Con. is a path full of troubles; By _my_ advice therefore abide, And leave the pursuit to those Princes and n.o.bles Who have _such_ a _Law_ on their side.

[1] In allusion to Lord Ellenborough.