-try =5i/ ^>.ll;^./Vi>ullcJ/ '/Or! 'rvii'iNV'^m'^ ■^^AMiMV) '//nnS'ivrjn- i^ v^l-UVAN. v^sOl^^' '^'r\ ALirOk Mm\\m//j ^^oetical f agartejst; BT GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. CONTAINING I AN ODE TO WE^ A HACKNEY'D CRITICK; LOW AMBITION, OR THE LIFE AND DEATH OF MR. DAW; A RECKONING WITH TIME ; THE LADY OF THE WRECK, OR CASTLE BLARNEYGIG; TWO PARSONS, OR THE TALE OF A SHIRT. BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR: AND SOLD BY LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1812. Printed by T. Woodfall, ViUiers-Street, Strand, London. AN ODE TO WE; A HACKMEVD CRITICK. " Nothing, if not Criticul.** SHAKSPSAas. I. Hail, Plural Unlt ! who would'st be A Junto o'er my Muse and me, With dogmas to control us ; Hail, my stick WE ! grand Next-to-None ! Large Body Corporate of One ! Important OMNES, Solus ! 937G>^ POETICAL VAGARIES. II. First terson Singular ! pray, why Impregnate, thus, the Pronoun I? Of madness what a tissue ! To write as if, with passion wild. Thou oft hadst got thyself with child, And thou wert Self and Issue ! III. Thy Voice, which counterfeits, alone, A score of voices in it's own. Awhile takes in the Many; Thus a bad One Pound Note is past For Twenty Shillings, — and, at last. Turns out not worth a penny. IV. 'Tis well for Thee no laws of thine Can crush vile Followers of the Nine ; ODE TO we; &c. 3 Thou live'st upon the sinners ; And if all Poets left off writing, Through thy anonymous inditing, Why thou must leave off dinners V. For Thou couldst ne'er turn Poet, sure, Laurels, or luncheons, to procure ; Witness thy present calling ; Else why not write thyself a name So very humble, e'en, in fame. As mine which thou art mauling? VI. Yet, hold, — thou may'st, on Pindus* heights, Have far outsoar'd my lowly flights — No, — that's a thought Til smother : The meanest Bard, among the mean. Can he, thus, sculk behind a screen, And try to stab a brother ? b2 POETICAL VAGARIES. VII. But come,— one moment, leave thy pen Stuck in thy gall-bottle, — and, then, Smooth o'er thy forehead's furrow : Let's chat :— Where got'st thou thy employ ? Art thou of Dublin City, joy ? Or bonny Edinborough ? VIII. Or, art John Bull, in garret cramm'd ? " Spirit of health, or goblin damn'd ?" Be something for thy credit : Perhaps, thou'rt he who (as they say) Cut up the last successful Play, And never saw nor read it. IX. Be what thou wilt ;— when all is done, To me thou'rt (like Thyself) All One ; ODE TO we; &c. Thou'rt welcome, still, to flog on ; For, till one addled egg's a brood, Or twenty WEs a multitude. My Muse and I will jog on. X. Now, should'st thou praise me, after all ! Though that, indeed, were comical, What honour could I pin to't ? If Porridge were my only cheer. Thy Praise or Blame must both appear Two tasteless chips thrown into't. XL Then, WE, shake hands, and part !— no breach, No difference, twixt us, I beseech ! Although our business varies : Thine is Detraction, mine is Jest; Which occupation, pray, is best, — Thy Spite, or my Vagaries f 6 POETICAL VAGARIES. LOW ambition; OR, THE LIFE AND DEATH OF MR. DAW. Pracordia ludit. Pers. Claims the Belly Part. Moore's Almanack. MaLEBRANCHE, and Lock, and such grave fellows, Who were abstracted reasoners, tell us Much that relates to Man : — when you have read All these Philosophers have said, You'll give them credit for their perspicacity ;■ — And, after that, (if you should have ahead Of no great ontological capacity) You'll know as much, About the matter, as I know of Dutch : JLOW AMBITION; &C. For, when a metaphysick chain Once gets entangled in your brain, The more you rattle it, the more you rave, And curse, and swear, and misbehave, — Coming to no conclusion ; And, if, at last, you lose the smallest link. You may as well go whistle as go think Of mending the confusion. Then, leaving Spiritual Truths to those Who, taking pleasure in the study. O'er Thoughts on Human Understanding doze. Till human understanding grows quite muddy ;- One proposition, only, I advance, (It will not lead Philosophy a dance) Respecting Man ; — videlicet, I never met with any, yet, However thick his pericranium's density, — Let it be thicker than a post, — Who has not some astonishing propensity, Of which he makes a pother, and a boast. 8 POETICAL VAGARIES. He'll either tell you he can drink, or smoke, Or play at Whist, — or on the pipe and tabor,- Or cut a throat, a caper, or a joke, Much better than his neighbour. Many will say, they'll settle you the Nation; And make a Peace, — solid, and good, — (I wish they would !) Sooner than the Administration. One tells you how a Town is to be taken ; A second o'er the Fair Sex boasts his power; Another brags he'll eat six pounds of bacon, For half a crown, in half an hour. Thus Nature always brings, in Fortune's spite, Man's *' ruling passion" as Pope says, to light. And I maintain that all these Ruling Passions, Divide them how you will, and subdivide, — I care not how they're ramified. Into their different forms and fashions, — I say they all proceed from Pride ; LOW ambition; &c. Q •?: And this same Pride is founded on Ambition; Shades varying, with talents, and condition. Look at that Rope-Dancer ; — observe ! Gods ! how he vaults ! — ^"tis all to get a name ; Risking his limbs, and straining every nerve, To jump himself, poor devil ! into Fame. Mark with what majesty he wields the pole, While the Buffoon (his vassal) chalks his sole ! Sir, 'tis his poor Ambition's richest hope To reign elastick Emperor, and Lord, O'er all who ever caper'd on a cord. And be the Buonaparte of the rope. In short, an itching for renown Makes some dance ropes, and others storm a Town ;- And an observer must be very dull If a Jack-Pudding, or a Pierrot, Don't, sometimes, seem to him as great a Hero As a Grand Signior, or a Great Mogul. c 10 POETICAL VAGARIES. That lowly men aspire to lowly glory Here followeth (exempli gratid) a Story. GODDESS! whose frolick humour glads the Sky ; Who, oft, with dimpled cheek, to Momus Usten ; Within the lustre of whose lucid eye Laughter's gay drops, Hke dew in sunshine, glisten ! Come, sweet EUPHROSYNE! luxuriant MIRTH ! Leave all the Heathen Deities behind, Descend, and help, ('twill be but kind) One of the poorest Poets upon earth I O ! now descend ! while I devote my page To one who flourished on a London Stage. She comes ! — I sing the Man ycleped Daw, Whose Mother dress'd the Tragick Queens ; She in the Candle-Snuffer raised a flame ; Then quench'd it, like a liberal Dame ; LOW ambition; &c. 11 And the first light my Hero ever saw Was that his Father snufF'd behind the Scenes. Born to the Boards, as Actors say, this Wight Was, oft, let out, at half a crown per night, By tender parents, after he was wean'd ; At three years old, squab, chubby-cheek'd, and stupid. Sometimes, he was a little extra Fiend, Sometimes, a supernumerary Cupid. When Master Daw full fourteen years had told. He grew, as it is termed, hohbedyhoy-ish; For Cupidons, and Fairies, much too old. For Calibans, and Devils, much too boyish. This state, grave Fathers say, behind the Scenes. Often embarrasses their Ways and Means : And Master Daw was out of size, For raising the Supplies : — He was a perfect lout, — a log ; — You never clapt your eyes Upon an uglier dog ! c 2 12 POETICAL VAGARIES. His voice had broken to a gruffish squeak ; He had grown blear-eyed, baker-kneed, and gummy ; And, though he had'nt been too hoarse to speak. He was too ugly, even, for a dumby. But mole-eyed Fortune, Goddess of misprision, Soon gave her Bandeau's knot a tighter twist ; Or else, that she might have no chance of vision, — She, certainly, employed an Oculist : Had she but seen no better than the Fowl The chaste Minerva loves, — yclept an Owl, — Or had of seeing the least notion, She never, never could have found In Master Daw, that chubby, stupid hound, A subject for theatrical promotion. But, lo ! 'twas at a Ballet's night-rehearsal, — Performed, at last, as Play-Bills often shew, Whether the Ballet have been hiss'd or no. To over-flows, and plaudits universal ; — LOW ambition; &c. 13 The Prompter's Boy, a pickled, thoughtless knave, Playing a game at marbles, in the sea, Happen'd to break his leg upon a wave, And Master Daw was made his Deputy. The Office of a Prompter's Boy, perchance. May not be generally known : I'll sketch it : — Would I could enhance The outline with some touches of my own ! The Prompter's boy. Messieurs ! must stand Near the Stage-Door, close at the Prompter's hand ; Holding a Nomenclature that's numerical. Which tallies with the Book prompterical : And as the Prompter calls, " One, Two, Three, Four," Mark'd, accurately, in the Prompt-Book page. These numbers mean the Boy must leave the Door, To call the folks refer'd to, for the Sta^e. In this capacity, as record saith. Young Master Daw Both heard and saw 14 POETICAL VAGARIES. As much (if not as two) as any one can ; — He saw the Actor murdering Macbeth, Whom he had only calFd to murder Duncan. He saw Anne Boleyne, in the Green-Room, grant A kiss to Wolsey, danghng at her crupper ; Heard an Archbishop damn a Figurante, And Shylock order sausages for supper. During his time (or Master Daw's a liar) Three Virgins of the Sun grew wondrous round : Pluto most narrowly escaped from fire, And Neptune in a water- tub was drown'd. During his time, from the Proscenium ta'en, Thalia and Melpomene both vanished ; The Lion and the Unicorn remain, — Seeming to hint, to a capricious Age, " Suffer the Quadrupeds to keep the Stage/' " The Muses to be banished.'' During his time, — psha ! let me turn Time's glass. Reader, old Time (depend on't) will kill Thee ; RECKONING WITH TIME. 15 But, should I grow prolix, alas ! Thou never would'st kill Time by reading Me. Yet, here, will I apostrophize thee. Time ! If not in reason, why in Crambo Rhime. A RECKONING WITH TIME *. I. COME on, old TIME !— nay, that is stuff; Gaffer ! thou comest on fast enough ; — Wing'd foe to feathered Cupid ! — • This • Reckoning with Time' appear'd three or four years ago, at the request of a friend, ID a monthly publication ; — whence it was copied into a few works of a similar description :—> But, as it was first, purposely, written to be introduced in the present Tale, and has been seen, only, in prints a little more fugitive fperhapsj than this Book, the Author trusts he may be excused for inserting it in the place of it's original destination. 16 .mi^ POETICAL VAGARIES. But, tell me, Sand- Man ! ere thy grains Have multiplied upon my brains, So thick to make me stupid ; — II. Tell me. Death's Journeyman '.—but, no; Hear thou my speech ; — I will not grow Irreverent while I try it; For, though I mock thy Flight, 'tis said. The Forelock fills me with such dread, I — never take thee by it. III. List, then, old Is-Was-and-To-Be ! ril state accounts 'twixt Thee and Me ; — Thou gavest me, first, the measles ; With teething wouldst have ta'en me off. Then, madest me, with the hooping cough, Thinner than fifty weasles. RECKONING WITH TIME. 17 IV. Thou gavest Small-Pox, (the Dragon, now. That Jenner combats, on a Cow ;) And, then, some seeds of knowledge ; — Grains of the Grammar, which the flails Of Pedants thresh upon our tails, To fit us for a College. V. And, when at Christ-Church, 'twas thy sport To rack my brains with sloe-juice Port, And Lectures out of number ! — . There Fresh-man Folly quaffs, and sings, While Graduate Dulness clogs thy wings, With mathematick lumber. VI. Thy pinions next,— which, while they wave, Fan all our Birth-Days to the grave, — D 18 POETICAL VAGARIES. I think ere it was prudent. Balloon* d me from the Schools to Town, Where I was parachuted down, A dapper, Temple Student. VII. Then much in Dramas did I look ; Much slighted Thee, and great Lord Coke ; Congreve beat Blackstone hollow ; Shakspeare made all the Statutes stale, And, in mif Crown, no Pleas had Hale, To supersede Apollo. VIII. Ah, Time ! those raging heats, I find. Were the mere Dog-Star of my mind ; How cool is retrospection ! Youth's gaudy Summer Solstice o^er, Experience yields a mellow store, An Autumn of reflection ! RECKONING WITH TIME. 19 IX. Why did I let the God of Song Lure me from Law, to join his throng, — Guird by some slight applauses ? What's Verse to A when versus B? Or what John Bull, a Comedy, To pleading John's Bull's causes ? X. Yet, though my childhood felt disease, Though my lank purse, unswoln by fees. Some ragged Muse has netted, — Still, honest Chronos ! tis most true, To Thee (and faith to others, too !) I'm very much indebted. XL For thou hast made me gaily tough ; Inured me to each day that's rough, D 2 20 POETICAL VAGARIES. In hopes of calm, to-morrow ; — And when, old Mower of us all ! Beneath thy sweeping scythe I fall, Some fer& dear friends will sorrow. XIL Then, — though my idle Prose, or Rhime, Should, half an hour, out-live me. Time! Pray bid the Stone-Engravers, Where'er my bones find Church- Yard room, Simply to chisel on my tomb, — " Thank TIME for all his Favours r Managers, Actors, Candle-SnufFers, — all, — Yea, all who write, or damn, or clap a Play, E*en little Prompters' Boys, who Players call, (Sad truth to tell !) grow older every day. Now had the sure Fore-runner of our Fate, (Time, whom I have apostrophized,) LOW AMBITION; &C. 21 Who rubs no Russian oil upon his pate, Scorning a wig, or a transparent iSte, Or any cure for baldness advertised ; — Time had besprinkled, with some years, My Hero's asinine and vulgar ears. Daw, now adult, and turned of five-and-thirty, Conceived himself miraculously clever : — His skin was like a Dun Cow's hide, grown dirty, And his legs knit in bandiness, for ever. Coxcombical, malicious, busy, pert, Brisk as a flea, and ignorant as dirt, When he began one of his frothy chatters. Boasting about his knowledge of Stage matters. He look'd so very, very sage. You could not, for your soul, talk gravely to him ; He seem'd an Oran Oittang, come of age. Connived at for a man, by those who knew him. Many strange faces may be seen ; — but Daw's Look'd like the Knocker of a Door, — whose grin 22 POETICAL VAGARIES. Has let it's handle tumble from the jaws, To hinder you from rapping on it's chin. Three single ladies, and one married, By looking at him, all miscarried. No longer Prompter's Boy, he now had gain'd A rank upon the Stage almost unique ; A rank of which I am about to speak ; — Which, with great dignity, he long maintained. " Daw on the Stage ! too ugly as a lad !" " And now so frightful, when to manhood grown, " That Ugliness had ' marked him for her own,' " Sure the Proprietors were all gone mad !" Reader ! it ill becometh me To say how mad Proprietors may be; — But, every night. To crowded audiences, did Mr. Daw Give Boxes, Pit, and Galleries delight, Acting with great eclat. LOW ambition; &c. 23 And though he acted so repeatedly, (Of which he often talked conceitedly) Although no Actor, in his line, excelled him, — Yet, in the personation of his part, (The fact, I know, will make you start,) Not one of his Encomiasts beheld him. When the Enigma is expounded. You'll own 'tis true, and be dumfounded. Well was the adage to my Hero known That Beauty merely is skin deep ; But, thinking Ugliness is some skins deeper^ He very politickly tried to creep Into another skin beside his own ; — Wherein conceal'd. His face and figure could'nt be reveal'd, And soon he proved a most successful creeper. Being a persevering rogue, Through interest, and strong solicitation, Before live cattle came in vogue, He got, at last, his wish'd-for situation :— 24 POETICAL VAGARIES. And, when sham Beasts came on, it was his pride To tell, — he always acted the Inside. Thus Daw " with Fortune almost out of suits,'* Unfit to shew himself, or utter words, Wriggled into the Parts of all the Brutes, And all the larger Birds. ^ He was the stateliest Ostrich seen, for struts, Unrivaird in the bowels of a Boar, Great, and majestick, in a Lion's guts, And a fine Tiger, both for walk and roar. A noted Connoisseur was heard to swear, (From minor merits far from a detractor) h^f There was no bearing any outside Bear, .,* «| ,, If Mr. Daw were not the inside Actor. Sometimes, a failure his great name would tarnish ;— . Once, acting in a Dragon, newly painted, The ceruse, turpentine, and varnish. Gave him the cholick, — and the Dragon fainted. LOW AMBITION ; &C. 25 Once, too, when drunk in Cerberus, — oh! shame! He fell asleep within the Dog's internals ; — Thus, Mr. Whitbread's Porter overcame The Porter to the King of the Infernals. But in Dumb Follies, that succeed the Play, His reputation rose so fast. That he was caird, par excellence, at last. The great Intestine Roscius of his day. Yet frequently it has been shewn. And History hath often stated, A Hero meets in his career a check ; Sometimes in battle he is overthrown, Sometimes he is assassinated, And, sometimes, he's suspended by the neck Sundry the ways, when Fortune's scurvy, In which a Hero is turn'd topsy-turvy. Christmas was coming on ; — those merry times, When, in conformity to ancient rules. Grand classick Theatres give Pantomimes, For the delight of Innocents, and Fools : — E 26 POETICAL VAGARIES. That is, (if I may make so bold) For Children who are young, — and Children who are old. A pasteboard Elephant, of monstrous size, Was form'd to bless a Learned Nation's eyes, And charm the sage Theatrical resorters ; And, as two men were necessary in it. It was decreed, in an unlucky minute. That Mr. Daw should fill the hinder quarters. The Hinder Quarters!!! — here was degradation ! Gods ! mighty Daw ! — what was thy indignation ! He swore a tragick oath ; — " by Her who bore him !" (Meaning the Dresser of the Tragick Queens) " No individual, behind the scenes,^' " Should walk in any Elephant before him/* " He'd rather live on husks,'' " Or dine upon his nails," " Than quit First Parts, under the trunks, and tusks," " And stoop to Second Rates, beneath the tails !" LOW AMBITION ; &C. 27 " Twas due to his celebrity, at least/' " If he should so far condescend'* " To represent the moiety of a beast," ** That he should have the right to chuse which end" The Managers were on the Stage ; To whom he, thus, remonstrated, in rage. " I've been chief Lion, and first Tiger, here," " For fifteen year ; — " That^ you may tell me, matters not a souse ; " But, what is more," " All London says, I am the greatest Boar" You ever had, in all your House. « (( " Of all Insides, the Town likes me the best ; " Over my head no Underling shall jump : — I'll play your front legs, shoulders, neck, and breast, " But damn me if I act your loins and rump !" Though this Address was coarser than jack-towels, Although the speaker's face made men abhor him, E 2 28 POETICAL VAGARIES. Yet, when a man acts nothing else but bowels, The Managers might have some bowels for him ; And if obdurate Managers could feel A little more than flint or steel, — If they had any heart, On hearing such a forcible appeal, They might have let the man reject the part. All the head Manager said to it, Was, simply, this, — " Daw, you must do it." And, after all, the Manager was right ; But how to make the fact appear Incontrovertible, and clear. And place it in it's proper light, — Puzzles me quite ! Come, let me try.— Reader, twould make you sweat, (You'll pardon the expression) To see two fellows get. With due discretion,— LOW ambition; &c. 29 One upright, one aslant, — Into the entrails of an Elephant : For, if you'll have the goodness to reflect On the construction of these huge brute creatures, You'll see the man in front must walk erect; While he who goes behind must bend. Stooping, and bringing down his features, Over the front man's latter end : — And the Beast's shape requires, particularly. The tallest man to march first, perpendicularly. Now, the new inside man, you'll find. Was taller by a head than Daw ; Therefore 'twas fit that Paw should walk behind, According both to Equity and Law. Daw, for a time, with jealousy was rack'd. And with his rival wouldn't act ; Nevertheless, Like other Politicians in the Nation, Who can't have all their wishes, 30 POETICAL VAGARIES. He chose, at last, to coalesce. Rather than lose his situation. And give up all the loaves, and fishes. The House was crammed : — the Elephant appeared ; With three times three, the Elephant was cheer'd ; Shouts, and Huzzas the ear confound ! The Building rings ; the Building rocks ; The Elephant the Pit, the Elephant each Box, The Elephant the Galleries resound ! The Elephant walk'd down, Before the lamps, to fascinate the Town. Daw, with his ugly face inclined Just over his tall rival's skirts, Bore, horizontally, in mind His Self-Love's bruises, and Ambition's hurts. Hating the man by whom he was disgraced, Who from his cap had pluck'd the choicest feather. LOW AMBITION; &C. 31 He bit hira in the part where Honour's placed. Till his teeth met together. On this attack from the ferocious Daw, Upon his Pah Bas, The Man, unable to conceal his pain, Roar'd and writhed, Roar'd and writhed, Roar'd and writhed, and roar'd again ! That Beasts should roar is neither new, nor queer, But, on a repetition of the spite, How was the House electrified to hear The Elephant say, — " Curse you. Daw, don't bite Y* Daw persevered: — unable to get out, The Tall Man faced about, And with great force the mighty Daw assailed ; — Both, in the dark, were, now, at random, fighting. Huffing, and cuffing, kicking, scratching, biting, — Though neither of the Combatants prevaird. 32 POETICAL VAGARIES. It was the strongest precedent, by far, In ancient, or in modern story. Of such a desperate intestine war, Waged in so small a territory ! And, in this Civil Brawl, like any other. Where every Man in Arms his Country shatters. The two inhabitants thump'd one another. Till they had torn the Elephant to tatters ; — And, thus uncased, the Rival Actors Stood bowing to their generous Benefactors. Uproar ensued ! — from every side. Scene-shifters ran to gather up the hide ; While the Two Bowels, in dismay, Hiss'd, hooted, damn'd, and pelted,— walk'd away. Reader, if you would, further, know, The History of Mr. Daw, 'tis brief;— LOW ambition; &c. 33 He died, not many months ago, Of mortified Ambition, and of grief: — For when Live Quadrupeds usurped the Stage, And which are, now, (but may'nt be long) the rage^ He went to bed. And never, afterwards, held up his head. Awhile, he languished, looking pale and wan ; Then, dying, said, — " Daw's occupation's gone!" THE LADY OF THE WRECK; OR, CASTLE BLARNEYGIG A POEM. TO THE AUTHOR THE LADY OF THE LAKE, fVHOSE GIFTED MUSE NEEDS NO MERETRICIOUS COLOURINGS UPON HER BEAUTY; WHOSE CHARMS MIGHT DISDAIN A VEIL OF OBSOLETENESS, TO OBSCURE THEM; THE FOLLOWING POEM, OF THE LADY OF THE WRECK, OK CASTLE BLARNEYGIG, IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, ■Y HIS ADMIRER. .(* ADVERTISEMENT. Let not the Reader, whose senses have been delightfully intoxicated by that Scottish Circe^ the Lady of the Lake^ accuse the present Author of plagiary. The wild Irish, and wild Caledonians, bore a great resemblance to each other, in very many particulars; — and two Poets, who have any " method in their madness," may, naturally, fall into similar strains of wildness, when handling sub- jects equally wild, and remote. — 'Tis a wild World, my masters ! — The Author of this Work, has, merely, adopted the Style which a northern Genius has, of late, rendered the Fashion, and the Rage: — He has attempted, in this instance, to become a Maker of the Modern- Antique ; a Vender of a new Coinage, begrimed with the ancient cerugo; — a Constructor of the dear pretty Sublime^ and 40 ADVERTISEMENT. sweet little Grand ; — a Writer of a Short Epick Poem, stuflF'd with Romantick Knick-knackeries; and inter- larded with Songs, and Ballads, a la mode de Chevy Chace, Edom o Gordon, Sir Lancelot du Lake, &c. &c. How is such a Writer to be classed ? ** Inter quos referendus erit ? veteresne Poetas ?" ** An quos et proesens et poster a respuet cetas f* Hon. Epist. 1. Lib. S. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; OR CASTLE BLARNEYGIG. , " queedatn nimis antique— pleraque dura. — Hor. " Thut hate I (my dear countrymenj toiih incredible pains and diligence, discovered the hidden sources of the Bathos, or, as I may say, broke open the abysses of this great dbbp." Mart. Scrib. vipt BAeoTZ. CANTO FIRST. Harp of the pats * l that rotting long hast lain On the soft bosom of St. Allen's bog, And, when the Wind had Jits -j-, wouldst twang a strain. Till envious mud did all thy musick clog, * ** If it be allowed that the Harp was in use among the ancient Caledonians, it can hardlj be denied that they borrowed it from the Irish." — Walker s Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards. t The same idea occurs in the beautiful opening of the Lady of the Lake ; — where it it said that the Scotch Harp hung " On the toitch-elm that shades St. Fillan's Spring:"* and ** flung it's numbers" down the *^ fitful breeze." — Indeed, the whole of the present Invocation to the Irish Harp is a tolerably close, though humble, imitation of the commence- ment of the Poem above mention'd. O 42 POETICAL VAGARIES. E'en just as too much pudding chokes a dog ; — Oh ! Paddy's Harp ! still sleeps thine accent's pride ? Will nobody be giving it a jog ? Still must thou silent be, as when espied Upon an Irish, old, old halfpenny's back side ? Not thus, when Erin wore a wilder shape, Thy Voice was speechless in an Irish Town ; It roused the hopeless Lover to a rape, Made timorous Tenants knock proud Landlords down ; Whisky, at every pause, the feast did crown ; — Now, by the powers ! the fun was never slack ; The Os and Macs were frisky as the Clown ; For, still, the burthen (growing now a hack) Was Hubbaboo, dear joys ! and Didderoo ! and Whack ! Och ! wake again ! arrah, get up once more ! And let me venture just to take a thrum : — Wake, and be damn'd ! you've had a tightish snore ! — Perhaps, I'd better let you lie there, dumb: Yet, if one Ballad-Monger like my strain. Though I've a clumsy finger and a thumb, THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 43 I shan't have jingled Minstrelsy in vain ; — So, Wizard, be alive ! old Witch, get up again ! I. The Pig, at eve, was lank and faint, Where Patrick is the Patron Saint, And with his peasant Lord, unfed, Went, grunting, to their common bed : But when black Night her sables threw Athwart the slough of Ballyloo*, The deep-mouth 'd thunder's angry roar Rebellowed on the Ulster shore. And hailstones pelted, mighty big, The towers of Castle Blarneygig. • In the latest Chorography of Ireland, Ballyloo is not to be found in the Maps. Varioof other places, mention'd in this Poem, are, also, totally, omitted. — But, even the ditccTeriet of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, &o long ago as the time of Queen Anne, are look'd for in ▼ain, except in the Charts which are bound up in his own publication.— Shameful negligence ! G 2 44 POETICAL VAGARIES. IL Aloft, where, erst, tyrannick Fear Placed lynx-eyed Vigilance to peer*, And listen, in the diinnest dark. Whether a feudal cur should bark. Drunk, deaf, and purblind, in the din. Dozed the old Warder, Rory Flinn. Before the antique Hall's turf fire, Was stretched the Porter, Con Macguire. Who, at stout Usquebagh's command, Snored with his proker-f in his hand. Kathlane, who very ill could dish Wild Ballyshannon's springy fish, And Sheelah, who had lately come To spider-brush, from Blunderdrum, * i. €. The Watch- Tower ; — in which a man was, formerly, station'd to give notice of danger, real, or apprehended, from the approach of any party, or parties, whatever. — No vestige of this personage's office remains, in the rural abodes of our modern Nobility. Ih, and around, the Metropolis, and in great provincial Towns, and their suburbs, Warders, still, exist : — but they are situated on the ground ; on the outside of Mansions, which they pretend, and are not sup- posed, to guard ; in small Wooden-Boxes, just capable of containing them, — wherein they doze, as conveniently as their predecessor Rory Flinn, in this Poem recorded. t Hibemicc, proker ; Anglice, poker. THE LADY OF THE WRECK ; &C, 45 Were dreaming, in a stoFn embrace, With Roger Moyle, and Redmond Scrace ; And all the Vassals' senses lay Drown'd in the Whisky of the day. — Still raged the storm ; — still, records run, All slept in Blarneygig, save one. Lord of the Castle, and Domain, Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane *. III. He heard, or thought he heard, a sound Pierce through the hurly-burly round ; A shriek, — a yell, — he knew not what, — So from his night-couch up he got; * After a certain |>eriod, Irishmen adopted Suntamej, for the convenience of designatioo ; «nd to prevent that confusion from which they have, to this day, kept so proverbially clear,^^ Hence, arose the * 0$ and Macsy — meaning the * Sons of.' The O'Tooles were, formerly, of high celebrity in Ireland, in times of convulsion, and insurrection ; — Military of course;— evea the Clergy fought. — IVare informs us (referring to a piece of Biography, published by ParttM,) that " Laurence O' Tool h&d an Archbi»hoprick." It was a Dublin one. From the surname of the Knight of Blarueygig Castle, it is probable that the families of the O'Tooies and O'Shaughnashanes were allied, by inter-marriages. 46 POETICAL VAGARIES. Then through a peep-hole popt his head, And thus Sir Tooleywhagg he said ; Standing the while, though something loth. In a short shirt of Irish cloth. IV. " Spake out,*' he cried, " whose voice is that, " Shrill as a Tom Balruddery Cat*?" " Come you a Fairy, good or ill,'' " My Bullocks to presarve or kill ?" " Or only, does a Banshee -f prowl" " For somebody's departing sowl ?" — " Haply you lurk, from Foemen nigh," " My sea-side Castle's strength to spy," * " Balruddery Cat.'''' — The squall of a Balruddery Cat is very annoying to those whose organs of hearing are unaccustom'd to it: — and equally so is the squall of any Cat, in any other place ; — which may somewhat tend to diminish the peculiarity of the Cats of Balruddery. t ** A Banshee :" — a friendly Spirit, that gave a strong hint of an approaching Death, in an Irish Family. — There has been, it seems, a similar supernatural retainer in Scotland; — deno- minated, by my great North-British Prototype in Poetry, a Ben-Shie : — the last syllable, possibly, from the French chier. THE LADY OF THE WRECK ; &C. 47 " Who, on the morrow, may think fit'' " To bother Blarney gig a bit :" " Och ! if the latter, — soon as light" " Peeps over Murroughlaughlin's height," " My Kernes and Gallowglasses *, here," " Will shew you sport, with sparthe -f-, and spear;" " And, sallying on my spalpeen Foe," " Shout — Forroch! ForrochJ! Bugg-abo§." V. Scarce had he said, when lightning play'd Full on the features of a Maid, * '♦ The Irish of the middle ages had two sortt of Foot-Men, some call'd GalloglasseSy arm'd, &c. &c. — Others lighter arm'd, call'd Turbiculi, by some Timb%rii, but, commonly, Kerns.'^ — Ware's Antiq. and Hist, of Ireland. t A Sparthe was an Irish weapon of war. "® ^ ♦'^'^ ^ X Forroch, Farah, or Ferragh. — ** When they fthe Irish) approached the Enemy so near a« to be heard, they used this martial Cry.,— Farah ! Farah !" — Ware's Antiq. and Hist. 0/ Ireland, ** The vulgar Irish suppose this War-soug to have been Forroch, or Ferragh." — Spencer*i State of Ireland. § Bugg-abu. — They, likewise, call upon their Captain's name, or the word of their An- cestors : — as under O'Neale they cry Landarg-abo ! &c. &c, — Spencer^ In short, Abo was a term of exultation, tantamount to ' for ever/* tack'd to, and shouted with, the principal part of the £»t>ite which their Chieftain possessed. — ^It is to be supposed, therefore, that a great part of Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane's territory was Buo Since he a Married Man had bdlBn. Twas only on the night before That Father Murtoch, of Kilmore, Had join'd him to his all in all, Judy Fitz Gallyhogmagawl. \ • ** O heavy lightnest / serious vanity P* " MiS'Shapen chaos of tce/l-seeming/ormt T* ** Feather of lead, bright smoke f Sfc. Thus says Shakspeare of Love : — but far be it from the Author of this idle Poem to speak thus, genermllyt of the Lady of the Lake / :W 72 POETICAL VAGARIES. III. Revered by all was Murtoch's worth Though mystery involved his birth * : For when his Mother, on a mat, Watching a Corpse, at midnight, sat, The Body rose, and strain'd her charms, Almost two minutes, in it's arms. From which embrace, too soon, she found Her face grow long, her waist grow round 'Till, Prudes first tattling o'er her fate, Bid Scorn proclaim her in a state t See Brian, the Priest. (Lady of the Lake, Canto 3d.) — In a Note, relative to this per- sonage, proving that the idea of his origin arose from a traditional story, a curious passage is quoted from Macfarlane ; who gives an account of one Gilli-Doir-Magrevollich. This tooth- breaking name signifies the Black Child, son to the Bones. The Black Child's mama wt-nt to a hill, one day, on a party of pleasure, with ** both wenches and youthes," to gather the bones of dead men ! — and they made a fire on the spot, «' At last, they did all remove from the fire, except one maid, or wench : — She being quietlie her alone, without anie other companie, took up her cloaths above her knees, or thereby, to warm her ; a wind did come, and caste the ashes upon her, and she was conceived of ane man- child." — How much more appropriately than Mneas might Gilli-Doir-Magrevollich have in- voke'd the ** cineres et ossa parentis /" THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 73 Which Women wish to be, 'tis said, Who love their Lords, before they're dead. Exact at midnight, nine months o'er, A Httle Skeleton she bore. Soon as produced, amid the gloom. Two glow-worms crept into the room, Up to it's skull began to rise, The sockets fill'd, and gave it eyes. O'er every joint did spiders rove. Where busily their webs they wove ; The Cabin smoke their texture thin Soon thicken'd, 'till it form'd a skin, " Now it may pass," the Mother cried, " May pass for human !" — and she died. IV. This Tale was told by Age and Youth ; But who can vouch for Rumour's truth ? And yet, though falsehood quick is hatch'd, Tis certain, when the Corpse she watch'd, L if»*: 74 POETICAL VAGARIES. She watch'd alone ; — or watch'd, at least, With no one save a reverend Priest ; Whose duty 'twas to see the clay Mingled with kindred earth, next day. True, he was ruddy, tall, and stout. And young, — but then he was devout. A rigid, stanch, and upright soul, And excellent upon the whole. Much could he have divulged, but fled From questioning, and shook his head. Yet, once, it hapt, when closely taskM, With much solemnity he ask'd, " If unbegotten 'tis by me,'' " Whose but the Corpse's can it be ?" This Speech, that spread from roof to roof. To Irishmen was certain proof: Proof that, — when mooted whether Shade Or Substance can have forced a Maid, — Not he who still Life's course must run. But that a Dead Man gets a Son. THE LADY OF THE WRECK ; &C. 75 V. The little Murtoch's early joy Was frolick of a Corpse's boy. Ne'er by a stick his hoop was whirl'd, But with a human thigh-bone twirl'd : His leaden lips a laugh exprest Whene'er he robb'd a scritch-owl's nest; He scratch'd for worms when showers came, And made a boding Raven tame. Oft, with a yew-bough in his hand. He loved upon a grave to stand, (His Father's grave !) and there, by night. Arrest the Bat's low- wheeling flight. Such, in his youth, was Murtoch known ; But, when to skinny manhood grown. Church zeal could scarcely fail to fire The offspring of a Church-yard Sire. His smooth skull, whiten'd by the air, Unconscious of disdainful hair. In meek and ready baldness stood To court the cover of a hood. L t 70 POETICAL VAGARIES. Soon in the Cloister's gloom he sunk, Amid the plump, a juiceless Monk ; Renouncing errors, stale or fresh, Of (what he never had) the Flesh ; For, ever, as to prayer he stalk'd, His dry joints rattled as he walked. As years revolved, sage Murtoch's name Stood foremost in monastick fame. Twas thought, whene'er he plodded o'er A volume fraught with pious lore, His glow-worm eyeballs, in the dark, Gave ample light the text to mark. A Relick *twas his pride to own, A precious wonder, seldom shewn ; — A Sleeve of great Saint Patrick's clothes, Whereon was traced Saint Patrick's Nose, His noble Nose, of gristly strength, And measuring twelve inches' length *, ♦ After all, this is no such mighty Nose to brag of. la Slawkenbcr gins' » tinae, Noses, at the Promontory, beat St. Patrick's hollow. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 7t Mark*d when the Saint, to keep it warm, Carried his head beneath his ami. VI. But, hark ! the Castle's parlour-door (Whose hinge no Vassal smear'd, of yore, With smooth, subservient, supple oil. It's rusty lordliness to spoil) Now creaks, — the entrance to proclaim . Of the last night's new-wedded Dame. How look'd the Bride ?— they best can tell^/i»i'^. Who Nature mark, and mark her well. Movements there are which most reveal What most they labour to conceal. And, in rebellion to the will. Make Bashfulness more bashful still. The undetermined, shifting Eye, (That sure betrayer of the shy !) Which, when another's glance it meets, In sidelong sheepishness retreats ; 78 POETICAL VAGARIES. Striving to note, what scarce it sees, With much uneasiness of ease, Chairs, tables, pictures, clouds, or trees : — The Tongue, that plunges into chat, Flound'ring in haste from this to that. On service forced by nervous Fear, i* : ' Till Nonsense comes a Volunteer, And proves the seat of the campaign Far distant from the heart or brain ; — And, when the Tongue from fight withdraws. The silly, the distressing Pause ! — Such symptoms shew'd,--yea, shew'd them all, Late Miss Fitz Gallyhogmagawl; Till, while on fancies fancies rush'd. She met her Husband's leer,-^and blush'd. VII. Hail, Blush of the new-risen Bride ! . Promoter of the Husband's pride. The old Maid's envy, young Maid's fear, The Wag's stale wit, the Widow's sneer! THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 79 Ye blushing Brides, new-risen, Hail ! So, in wild Flannagarty*s vale. Blush the red blossoms, in the morn. When newly open'd, by a Thorn. VIII. If strange sensations of the breast Rush into Woman's face, confest, And there a transient hectick spread, Vermillioning Health's softer red, How quickly, then, her heart repays Man's kind forbearance of his gaze I — His mercifully heedless air, His careless conversation's care. On topicks turn'd to hush alarms, In pity to her ruffled charms ! — How oft her thoughts, that own the cheat, Dwell on the delicate deceit. Which mark'd her soft suffusions float. And, noting, never seem'd to note. 80 POETICAL VAGARIES. Ideas that evince a mind To character the man refined Did not on the sensorium hght Of Blarnejgig's puissant Knight. Staring on his embarrassed Bride, " Lady O'Shaughnashane/' he cried^ " Arrah, what makes you blush ? come here/ *' And sit upon my knee, my dear T IX. Obey'd she ? — yes : — for, then, a Spouse (Times alter !) seldom broke her vows ; Nor thought all other vows effaced While marriage-beds were not disgraced : As if Love, Honour, and Obey, (Oaths, now, of form, on Life's high-way) Like paltry passengers were lost In Virtue's terrible hard frost. Much did Sir Tooleywhagg rejoice To see the Lady of his choice THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 81 Sitting, while he sat in his cap. Obediently upon his lap. His satisfaction grew so strong, It popp'd out, rampant, in a Song; And many a harsh discordant note Came, bellowing, through his rusty throat. Such through thy caves, Loch-Derg, were sent* When wild winds struggled for a vent. Which, as their boisterous road they took. Saint Patrick's Purgatory * shook. • ** Of this Cave, strange and incredible things are related. It was demolish'd, as a ficticious thing, on St. Patrick's day, in the year 1497, hy authority of Pope Alexander VI, by the Guardian of the House of Minorits of Donegallj and others, says the Author of the VUter Annals, who then lived. Yet it was, afterwards, restored, and frequently visited by Pilgrims." Ware's Antiqu. qf Ireland. <% ac 82 . > POETICAL VAGARIES. X. Don't, now, be after being coy ; Sit still upon my lap, dear joy ! And let us, at our breakfast, toy. For thou art Wife to me, Judy * ! And I am bound, by wedlock's chain. Thy humble sarvant to remain, Sir Tooleywhagg O'Shaughnashane, The Husband unto thee, Judy ! * The world has been much be-Mary'd, of late, by modern Poets of prettiness : — and we have innumerable sweet little Stanzas of Simplicity, ending with " mi/ Mari/,'^ and " my Maryt'' to the end of the Chapter; — Much after the following manner: — To-morrow, let it shine or pour, Precisely at the hour of four, , Drive me the carriage to the door, My Coachman ! For I must dine with Doctor Brown, And to his Villa must go down, — Thou know'st the way to Kentish Town, My Coachman I THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 83 Each Vassal, at our Wedding-Feast, Blind drunk, last night, as any beast, Roar*d till the daylight streak'd the East, Which spoil'd the sleep of thee, Judy ! Feasts in the Honey-Moon are right ; But, that once o'er, my heart's delight ! Nought shall disturb thee, all the night, Or ever waken me, Judy ! The skins of Wolves, — by me they bled, — Are covers to our Marriage-Bed ; Should one, in hunting, bite me dead, A Widow thou wilt be, Judy ! Howl at my Wake ! twill be but kind ; And, if I leave, as Fve designed, Some little Tooleywhaggs behind. They'll sarve to comfort thee, Judy ! XI. Touch'd by the pathos of the Song, Though every note was rumbled wrong, M 2 .# 84 POETICAL VAGARIES. Scarce could the sympathetick Bride Her conjugal emotions hide. — To see her husband*s Corse ! — and, oh ! A Wolf to bite him from her so 1 A Wolf !— all Erin s Saints forbid ! Whose skin was but her coverlid ! Beneath that softness lurk'd there life To make a Widow of a Wife ! To make her Lord resign his breath 1 To make her see him stiff in death ! — Ye modern Spouses ! never scoff At the fond Tear she hurried off; But, as she dash'd the tear away. She smile'd, — and laboured to be gay. XII. " What is this Ring,'* shd said, " Sir Knight,' " That on your finger looks so bright Z' " Outshining the fair Star of Morn ?" " Some old love-token, I'll be sworn !" i i; THE LADY OF THE WRECK ; &C. 85 " ril pull it off, dear!"— at the word. Thunder, far off, was muttering heard ; And Lightning faintly play'd, to own It quiver'd for the my stick stone. — Then all was hushed as Death again ; Save that a sound swung down the glen, As, tolling, on the ear it fell. From Bunamargy-Friery bell. Dull wax'd the Sun ; — a dusky red Through the dense atmosphere was spread ; Rooks to their tree-tops caw'd retreat. Oppressed with suffocating heat. XIII. The Chief (confusion marked his brow) Cried, " Bathershane! be asy, now!'* " Tis but a toy, — a gift to me" " Sent from a dead friend, now at sea." — Here Conscience whispered — Many a wave Thou Lust's, thou Avarice's Slave ! Is rolling o'er a luckless Fair, Driven, by thy falsehood, to despair. 80 POETICAL VAGARIES. Turn from thy Wife !— thou wilt be found As false to her as her that's drown d. Turn from thy Wife —thy dalhance check ; Cease padling in her ivory neck * ; Think on the Lady of the Wreck ! # XIV. " Sent from a friend at sea, who*s dead !" The now half-jealous Lady said. " Would'st into life the lifeless drag ?" — " Thou banter'st me, my Tooley whagg \" " Dead men, who sometimes float, I hear," " Transmit no presents home, my dear." " Come, come ! this toy, — this gewgaw thing,' " This shewy, baubling, foppish Ring,'* - " Befits thy manly finger ill ;" — " Have it I must. Sir Knight, and will." Quick from his hand she twitch'd the stone, And, laughing, fix'd it on her own. — Padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers." — Shakspeare. THE LADY OF THE WRECK, &C. 87 That instant, burst a bombard cloud, O'er Blarneygig's high turrets, loud ; And, while it's grand Artiller)^ roar'd, Both sheeted fires and waters pour*d. Earth's huge maternal sides up-born, With horrid labour-throes were torn : — Then, VVicklow, first, thy mountains bold Fear tinged with something much like gold * ; Moneykillcark's unfathom'd bog Rush'd o'er the vales of Tullyhog ; The Forest shudder'd o'er the Buck ; The shrinking Pond left dry the Duck ; Who, thrown upon her glossy back, Fluttered, but quaked too much to quack ; The Craven from his dunghil flew. And still'd his Cock-a-doodle-doo -f*. • Gold is supposed to have been lately discover'd in the Wicklow Mountains : — but many doubt whether it be really gold, or only something like it. Be it the one or the other, it it a sign of good luck to the discoverers. t The Craven is the dunghil-cock ; and is used, adjeetivelyt by old Authors, aa an epithet of cowardice. Individuals, now existing, of a noble family, have reversed the definition of tbia Epithet ; and attached to the name of Craven every thing that it spirited, and estimable, in society. 88 POETICAL VAGARIES. XV. Nature, as sea-girt Erin shook, Her laws of gravity forsook. The Bucket's cordage, crack'd in twain. That wound the Lady from the main, — The Bucket then, ne'er meant to fly. Disdained the beach, and sought the sky ; The lofty Watch-Tower's roof beat in. And crushed the Warder, Rory Flinn : Expiring drunk, he " Whiskey" cried, All Water-Buckets damn'd, and died. The Sea, that laved the Castle's base, Arose, the battlements to face ; Fronting the windows, foaming came. Where sat the Chieftain with his Dame, And, full a minute ere it's fall. Spread a broad, waving, watery wall ! Sudden it sunk : — the orb of Day Now struggling with the clouds for sway, The awful Tempest roU'd away. 1 THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 89 Strew'd o'er the chamber, from the strand, Lay sea-weed, cockle-shells, and sand ; And, in a corner, shivering, sat. Wet through with brine, a Water-Rat : On the O'Shaughnashane it fix'd It*s eyes, with anger, sorrow-mixt ; Shew'd it's sharp teeth, in doleful spite. And knapp'd, and chattered, at the Knight XVI. " Say, is the Tempest past?" inquired The Dame, who from a swoon respired. " Say is the Tempest ah ! what's that?" " Save me. Saint Roger ! 'tis a Rat !" " What eyes ! what teeth ! what ears ! what hair V* " Look at it's whiskers ! what a pair !" " And, oh! Sir Tooleywhagg! see what" " A long, thick, swinging tail 'thas got i" " Destroy it, or I faint again ;" " Throw, throw it back into the main !" H 90 POETICAL VAGARIES. Perk'd on it's dripping haunches stood The bristhng Reptile of the Flood, And utter'd to the Bride a squeak, That seem*d almost a human shriek ! The shrieking Bride, sore, sore dismayed, Almost a rat-like squeak repaid ; And hurried from the spot, to yield The Rat possession of the Field. XVII. Mused not the Chieftain, when his dear Fled the apartment, pale with fear ? Mused he not on the mystick Ring ? The Storm ? the Rat ? — the everything ? Sat he not wrapt in doubt, ednd wo. And tranced in cogitation ? — no. The shallow cellules of his head Were so pre-occupied with lead, That, wanting intellectual space, Reflection could not find a place. THE LADY OF THE WRECK ; &C. Q\ But a rich Fool *, whose stars ordain His pate shall be one blank of brain, Ne'er long sits motionless alone, — He cannot think himself to stone ; Nor like the wise, or would-be wise, Read, write, combine, philosophize; Still, with no labour of the mind, Work for his limbs he*s sure to find. His Body's action whiles away His listless life, in tiresome play. And helps the cranium of the Ass Folly's long holidays to pass. Left, by his Lady's sudden flight. The busy-bodied, brainless Knight, Barren of thought, deprived of chat. Threw bread and butter to the Rat. The reptile, in a sullen mood. It's whiskers twirl'd, and spurn'd the food. * This is by no means intended to insinuate that a man who is rich must, contequeutly, be foolish ; but that a fool who is affluent can aOord to have no busioess or study. N 3 92 POETICAL VAGARIES. XVIII. As the lone Angler, patient man At Mewry-Water, or the Banne *, Leaves off, against his placid wish, Empaling worms, to torture fish ; As dull, at dusk, he plods to rest, Not, even, with a nibble blest, — So from the Rat retired the Knight, Convinced he could not get a bite. When to the Anti-room he came, A Rat again ! — the very same ! He left it, straight, and sought the stair. The animal sat crouching there. He range*d his grand Apartments through, — The yellow Chamber, green, red, blue, — There was the water-reptile too ! Where could he go ? where stay ? where look ? At every turn, in every nook. * Rivers, id Ulster. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 93 He fear*d the Rat would be espied, And all his fears were ratified. XIX. Months fleeted, since the earthquake's shock ; Meanwhile, at Allyballyknock, Grand feasts were given, in the Hall Of Lord Fitz Gallyhograagawl ; Others at Craughternaughter Hill, Where dwelt the pale Mac Twiddledill ; — There came the Knight ; — and thither sped The little hairy Quadruped ; "Whom Host, and Guests, essayed, in vain, To drive from the O'Shaughnashane, Wherever he went, whatever the hour. On plain, or hill, in hall, or bower. At prayer, meals, sport, — all matters that An Irish Chieftain could be at, There grinn'd the same, eternal Rat ;. Eluding every effort, still. To hurt, to catch it, or to kill. 94 POETICAL VAGARIES. XX. On Blarnejgig's high Gateway reared, A Manifesto, now, appeared ; Sir Tooleywhagg*s most strict command, Writ in his own, improper hand ; From which, with pure, and classick dread. Orthography, and Grammar, fled. Five minutes' shower wash'd away " Read, and take notice, every day." What mattered ? — for each Vassal knew His duty he was bound to do ; — But, in default of it, might plead Not one of them had learn'd to read. By word of mouth the Order, then. Was given, — and spread among the men ; — That, through the territory sought. To each apartment must be brought That foe instinctive to a rat, That Tiger's miniature, — the Cat. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 95 XXL Bagg'd, from a Cabin, on the skirt Of thy morass, soft Granny fert, First, came a Cottyer's * half-starved Tom, Whom Famine had deducted from ; Deducted, till it seem'd, through Fast, That eight of his nine lives were past. But soon his Cat-Star crying " eat,'* Relented, in the shape of meat ; New sleek'd his coat, re-plump'd his flesh, And gave him his lost lives, afresh. Then, like the amorous Turk, he saw. Though only a One-Tail'd Bashaw, Around his wawling presence swell A huge Seraglio, stocked, pell-mell. With black, white, tabby, tortoise-shell. * *' They were persons who, not holding, or unable to hold, any lands on their own accoant, were obliged to work for their subtiistence, throughout the whole year, for such cultiratois of land as cuir, has descended to us from the Slangi of the ancients. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 101 ** Now, by the powers \" he utter'd low, '* IVe taken by surprise the Foe !" ** Och! divil! have 1, five years past," " Caught you, here, napping, now, at last !" He tiptoed, eager, through the hail, And seized his torment by the tail. The Vermin squeak'd ! — Oh, well-a-way ! Should vermin talk, in future day. No rhetorick could better teach A Rat to make its dying speech. Against the stone he dash'd it's head, And saw his plague, at length, lie dead. It's blood, while Man runs mortal race, Tempest, nor Time, will e'er efface. E'en now, the Antiquary pores O'er the grey stone ; and, there, explores (What cannot Antiquaries see!) Marks that ne'er were, nor e'er will be :— He traces, on a barbarous strand, A Fair denuded ;— in her hand 102 POETICAL VAGARIES. A Scroll, with two Os following T, And, after that discovers LEY, Then fV, H, J, double G ;— Which, put together, make, full sure. To lovers of the old obscure, A ship-wreck*d Maid, dead many a year. Still grasping all she held most dear ; And cast on History a light. Touching the Lady, and the Knight. XXVI. Say how far off, as grey crow flies. Did Blarney gig's dark turrets rise. From the morasses, where was slain The Rat, by the O'Shaughnashane ?— A toilsome length ! — four leagues, at least;- Wind whistled chilly from the East ; And eastward from the Castle lay The swamps whereon the Chief did stray, Wafting it's sounds the adverse way. THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 103 Yet, when the wretched Rat was crush'd, Loud, on the heath, a twangle nish'd, That rung out Supper, grand and big, From the cracked Bell of Blarney gig. The festive metars blundering tone Well to Sir Tooley whagg was known ; Who, ear-directed, by it's sound, Squashed, darkling, through the rotten ground. So, erst, did Satan, — (as 'tis sung By Thee, great Bard * ! who England's tongue To such sublime perfection wrought, It only sunk beneath thy thought ! — By Thee! who, loyal to the Muse, ^ ■• Thy King didst prosingly abuse f ! By Thee, like Homer, reft of sight, Like Homer, gifted to delight !)— • * Milton. t « 'Tis in vain to dissemble, and far be it from me to defend, his en!;«g:ing with a Party combine'd in the destruction of our Church and Monarchy." Fenton's Uft of MiUtnu-See, also, Milton's Prose Works. i 104 POETICAL VAGARIES. So, erst, did Satan drag his tail. O'er bog, o'er steep, or moory dale. And wading through mud, mire, and clay. With head, hands, feet, persue his way. At length, against his Castle-gate, A Hubaboo he gave full late. The muzzy Porter, Con Macguire, Roused his blown carcase from the fire, And oped the portal; — swift as light, Passing his Vassal, shot the Knight ; When past, the Vassal locked, with care, The Gate, and muttered, " Who goes there ?' w>-.^ O'ercome with transport, and fatigue, (Oh, he had zig-zagg'd many a league !) In to his Dame, in slumbers hush'd, The great Sir Tooleywhagg he push'd. And, falling on his stomach flat, Roar'd, " Judy, 1 have kill'd the Rat l" THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 105 XXVII. " Speed, Looney, speed * V next morning cried The jocund Chief, " for thou must ride" " Fleet as the bolt that rends the tree," * " On rocky Cloghernochartee/' " Speed, Looney ! speed to every guest ;" " Ride North and South, ride East and West!" " Saddle grey Golloch ! spur him hard" " From Glartyflarty to Klanard ;* " From Killybegs, to Killaleagh ;" " Cross Ulster's Province ; — haste away !" ** Speed, Loopey, speed ! — invite them all ;" — " Baron Fitz Gallyhogmagawl," Dennis O'Rourke, of Ballyswill,** D'Arcy, and pale Mac Twiddledill," « # • •* Speed, Malise, speed /"— Malise, in the Lady of the Lake, is sent, in great haste, to invite gentlemen to a battle, instead of a dinner. — His master bids him take m short stick, mmd punch it ;— *• A cubit's leng;th, in measure due ;" " The shaft and limb were rods of yew/* With this signal for war, which has been thrust into the fire, he runt through the country. P 106 POETICAL VAGARIES. " All the O'Brans, OTinns, O'Blanes," ** Mac Gras, Mac Naughtans, and Mac Shanes/* " I hold a Feast; — thou know'st the day;*' " Speed, Looney !— Looney, haste away !" XXVIII. The day arrived ; the Guests were met ; High in his Hall the Chief was set. The horn he emptied soon as fiird, And, filling soon as empty, — swilFd. All swiird alike, — each Erin's son Appeared a bursting, living ton.— *Twas at that crisis of the Feast When purpled Man is almost Beast ; When, either, friend his friend provokes, By hiccuping affronts, for jokes. Or goblets at the head are sent, Before affronts are given, or meant ; — . A Vassal (now 'twas waxing late) Announced a Stranger at the Gate* THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. 107 « A Stranger!" spluttered forth the Knight, " Tell him he's welcome to alight/' " Plase you/' returned the Vassal, pale, " She is, my Chieftain, not a Male !" " She's mantled in a sea-green weed *,'' " And mounted on a rat-tail'd Steed ;" " Her face is cover'd ; but she speaks" " Like murmuring waves ; her Stallion squeaks :" " And such a Rider, such a Nag," " You never saw. Sir Tooley whagg." Startled, half-sober'd, sore displeased. The Knight a swaling Candle seized. And staggering through his Castle Court, He reach'd the Spectre, at the port. The Apparition raised it's veil, And shew'd the features, ashy pale ! With ringlets, blood-drench'd, in her neck, Of the sad Lady of the Wreck. * Weed, formerly, signified a garment.— We, still, say fVidow't toeeds. p 2 108 POETICAL VAGARIES. XXIX. " Perjured Seducer, list l" she said, " And tremble at the doubly dead :" " By Thee, to desperation urged,'* " I plunged, and drown'd, — for Thee, emerged/' " The Ring drawn off, it gave me power,'' " (For know 'twas charm'd) from that same hour,' " To join thee, cruellest of men !" " In one shape more, till death, again." " Doating, I came ; to Thee I fled," *' A little faithful quadruped ;" " Doating, with Thee, from shore to shore," " I swam, and trotted, Europe o'er." " Was I not constant as thy Bride ?" " Why drive me, first, down Erin's tide," " Then kill me, since my Suicide ?" " Perjured Seducer, list ! — thy doom" " Approaches ; — seek thy Banquet-Room ;" " Back to thy guests ; renew thy sport ;" " Be thy life merry, as 'tis short !" THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. lOQ " For learn, thy latest vital gasp" " Ends with the Candle in thy grasp." ** Soon as burnt down, beyond all doubt,'' " Sir Tooleywhagg, thy life is out." She ceased ; — a sea-wave roll'd to meet Her squeaking, rat-tail'd. Palfrey's feet ; And, foaming past the palsied Knight, Swept Horse, and Rider, from his sight. XXX. Wan as the Spectre of the Flood, Before his guests the Chieftain stood. With trembling voice, he told them all : — " Fate," cried Fitz Gallyhogmagawl," " To thee, my son-in-law, doth give" *' Longer than other men to live." ^ ** If thou canst wave thy dying day," " Until the Candle burns away," " Thou may'st immortal be, Sir Knight," " Only by turning down the light." 110 POETICAL VAGARIES. Oh ! happy, happy thought ! — 'twas done ; Sir Tooley whagg a race might run, And only burn out, with the Sun. XXXI. Again the horns were fiUki by all, And ululations shook the Hall. — While noise and Whiskey racked the brain. Still, kept the great O'Shaughnashane (Who now mortality defied) The blown-out Candle by his side : — 'Till sapping, at each feverish Toast, The little sense a Sot can boast. Quite vanquish'd, by potations deep. The human swine all sunk to sleep. What time they snorted loud, the fire, 4 And every taper, did expire. A Vassal enter'd ; all was dark ; The turf he blew, — but not a spark ! He groped the slopp'd oak-table round. And there, laid down, a Candle found ; THE LADY OF THE WRECK; &C. Ill The fatal Candle !— at a lamp, Upon the stair-case, dim with damp, Relumining the wick that gave The Chief of Blarney gig his Grave, He placed it where his Lord might take The light, whenever he should wake. Soon as the Candle 'gan to burn. Sir Tooleywhagg he gave a turn; — And groanM ; — but still his eyes were closed, — Death hovering round him while he dozed ! He dreamt of Tempest, of a Rat, And Night-Mares rode him, as he sat. A Thief within the Candle got, — The heated Chieftain grew more hot ; The Candle in the socket blazed ; He oped his eyes, — his head he raised ; — That moment he had raised his head, The Light expired, — the Knight was dead \ Harp of the Pats ! farewell ! for, truly, I Am growing very sick of Minstrelsy ;^ So get thee to the Bog again I Good bye ! TWO PARSONS; OB THE TALE OF A SHIRT. Pauperfas omnes arles perdocet. — Plautus. Adam and Eve were, at the World's beginning, Ashamed of nothing, till they took to sinning ; But after Adam's slip, — the first was Eve's, — With sorrow big. They sought the Fig, To cool their blushes, with its banging leaves. Whereby, we find That, when all things were recent, (So paradoxical is human kind !) Till folks grew naughty, they were, barely , decent. Q 114 POETICAL VAGARIES. . Thus, Dress may date its origin From Sin ; Which proves, beyond the shadow of dispute, How many owe their HveUhoods to Fruit : — For Fruit caused Sin ; and Sin brought Shame ; And all through Shame our Dresses came ; With that sad Stopper of our breath, Death ! Now, had not Woman work*d our fall. How many, who have trades, and avocations, Would shut up shop, in these our polish'd nations, And have no business to transact, at all ! In such an instance, what, pray, would become Of all our reverend Clergy ? — They would be thought uncommonly hum-drum, And banish'd, in a trice. Who, zealously, for pay, should urge ye Not to be Vicious, if there were no Vice. TWO parsons; &c. 115 What would become of all \hejie-jie Ladies? And all Proprietors o^ paw-paw Houses? And all the learned Proctors, — whose grave trade is Parting, from bed and board, the paw-paw Spouses? What would become of Heirs at Law, alas ! However Lawyers ferretted. If Relatives to death would never pass. And Heirs at Law, — never inherited ? What would become of all ('tis hard to say !) Who thrive on Vice^ — but in a various way ? — Those who maintain themselves by, still, maintaining it, And those who live by scourging, and restraining it ? r Again, — if we should never die, nor dress, But walk, immortally, in nakedness, Twould be a very losing game for those Wlio furnish us with Funerals, and Clothes. To sum the matter up, then, briefly, liosers through Innocency would be, chiefly, q2 116 POETICAL VAGARIES. The Lord Chief Justice, Undertakers, Hatters, Shoe, Boot, and Breeches Makers ; Jack Ketches, Parsons, Tailors, Proctors, Mercers, and MilUners, — perhaps Quack Doctors ; Hosiers, and Resurrection-Men, Sextons, — the Bow-Street Officers, — and, then, Those infinitely grander Drudges, The big-wigg'd circuiteering Judges : — The venal Fair who kiss to eat, The Key-Keeper of Chandois Street ; The pooh! — there ne'er could be an end on't Should I attempt to count them all, depend on't. — We know " hoc genus omne" daily is Before our eyes, — " cum multis aliis" But who would, then, have heard of, by the by, The Vice-Suppressing, starchM Society ? — That tribe of self-erected Prigs, — whose leaven Consists in buckramizing souls for Heaven ; Those stifF-rump'd Buzzards, who evince the vigour Of Christian virtue, by Unchristian rigour ; Those Quacks, and Quixotes, who, in coalition, Compose the Canters' secret Inquisition ; TWO PARSONS; &c. 117 Dolts, in our tolerating Constitution, Who turn Morality to Persecution, And, through their precious pates' fanatick twists. Are part Informers, Spies, and Methodists ? What would become of these ? — no matter what : — It matters not, at all. What would befall Each bigot Ass, or hypocritick Sot. But since, ah well a day ! that Death and Dress Have both obtained, what can our griefs express To see poor Parsons, — some are poor, 'tis reckoned, — Prepare us for the^r^Y, and want the second. Great Britain's principal Soul-Mender Liveth, at Lambeth Palace, in great splendour ; — A Curate is another sort of man, Very unlike the Metropolitan, Living (without a Living) as he can. This last, who toils in a twofold vocation, That is, between his Wife and Congregation, 118 POETICAL VAGARIES. Is, thereby, getting, all the while, — Which sure must raise (if nothing else) his bile — Scarce any thing but Children and Vexation. Whene'er his Text he is about to handle, Lulling to sleep his Sunday people, 'Tis wondrous how his zeal Can burn at all, with scarce a meal, — And not go out, just like a Candle, Under his great Extinguisher, the Steeple : — So small the salary, and fees. To help the Kneeler mend his breeches knees ! Oh ! how must his Parishioners be hurt, While their good Pastor is his Text persuing, To know his surplice hinders them from viewing His ragged Small-clothes, — ragged as his Shirt ! This Theme ! — to Volumes I could swell it ; — But thereby hangs a Tale ;— I'll tell it. TWO parsons; &c. 119 Ozias Polyglot, a Kentish Curate, So much his orthodoxy manifested, That by one Heathen Power he was detested, Who to poor Polyglot was most obdurate. This mythologick Deity was Plutus, The grand Divinity of Cash ; Who, when he rumps us quite, and wont salute us. If we are men in Commerce, then we smash : If men of large Estate, then we retrench ; — But, if we are, in all respects. Mere simple Debtors, sans effects. Hoping that Plutus may not always frown, We then, as calmly as we can, sit down, The King (Heaven bless him !) finding us a Bench. The God of Cash hath, latterly, displayed ^ Much spite to sundry Citizens in trade ; Abandoning, to the World's wonder, Proud Firms, with whom 'twas thought he ne'er would sunder. 120 POETICAL VAGARIES. He hath, moreover, Iook*d a little blank, And shewn a kind of coolness to the Bank : — The mighty Bank, at whose command is Great Credit, and Resource, has, all the while. Returned the coolness with no sort of bile, To make men think it has the yellow jaundice : But, finding Guineas in the Till run taper. Has, providently, stopp'd the slit with Paper. Now, Plutus having turn'd his back On poor Ozias Polyglot, The lazy fat Incumbent's hack, — What had he got ? I'll tell you what. He had got Twins, for three years running ; Which for a Curate is not over-cunning, Who never is in riches wallowing ; — But, for the three years following, (And 'twas less hard, in his uxorious case) His loving Rib, instead of Deuce, threw Ace. TWO parsons; &c. 121 In matters of Arithmetick, At which I never boasted to be quick, He whose sage head is better, far, than mine Will find, accordmg to my calculation, Errors excepted, in the computation, Ozias, in six years, got babies Nine! The Parson dearly loved his darling pets. Sweet, little, ruddy, ragged Parsonets ! Then, — which for all his drudging was not dear, — This meek Improver of his Congregation, This pious Helper of our Population, IJad got — -just Twenty-Seven Pounds, per year. Still, had Ozias Polyglot, With all his gettings, never got, Whereat the good man's trouble was not small. An invitation to the Hall; — Where dwelt a Thing of consequence, through Mire, /i, many-acred, two4egg*d Ass, — the Squire. 122 POETICAL VAGARIES. Tis true, the Country Squire, of modem days, Is greatly mended, — like his roads, and ways : He is not, now, we know. That Porker he appeared, some years ago ; — That swinish, stupid, fattened Lord of Grounds, That Hog of bumpering capacity ; With far more noise than any of his Hounds, And infinitely less sagacity. He is not, now, as he was wont to be. So much the Cock of all his Company. He is not that tyrannick Wise-Man, Who, in a territory of his own. Can " bear no Rival near his throne," And, therefore, asks to dine, five days in six, That he may knock them down in politicks, The unresisting Lawyer, and Exciseman. If such a Character should still remain, ^was not the Squire who, now, possessed the Hall He had not in his character a grain Of such a character, at all. TWO PARSONS, &C. 123 No ; — he had travell'd ; and he knew, At least, set up to know, (which is the same For Fools, who get from Fools a sort of name,) Much about Paintings, Statues, and Virtii. His Mansion was the pink of Taste, and Art : His charming Pictures ! — oh, how they delighted jou ! In his Saloon Egyptian Monsters frighted you ; And Pagods, on his Stair-Case, made you start. Nothing surpass'd his carpets, and his draperies. His clocks, chairs, tables, sofas, ottomans ; — His rooms were crowded with Etruscan aperies, Fine noseless busts, and Roman pots, and pans. He had a marble Venus, on a stand. Wanting a leg, and a right hand ; A sweeter piece of Art was never found ; — Had not those Brutes, the sailors, rot 'em ! In bringing her from Rome, knocked off her bottom. She would have sold for Thirty Thousand Pound, b2 124 POETICAL VAGARIES. His Candlesticks, when guests retired to beds, Were Cleopatras, splash'd with or moulu, Or squab Mark Antonies, antiquely new, With wax-lights, ramm'd into their hands, or heads. In every bed-room there were placed. Knick-knackeries of wondrous taste, With shells, and spars, stufFd birds, and flies in amber ; And, by the side of every bed. There stood a Grecian Urn, instead Of what is caird, in France, a pot de chambre. To see the wonders of a House thus stocked. His London Friends, in shoals, came down, Though he resided sixty miles from Town, And parties upon parties flock'd. Now, they who came these vanities to view Did not care two-pence for Virtii ; Nor for the Dwelling, nor the Dweller ; — But they delighted very much to look On the rare carve-work of the Squire's French Cook, TWO parsons; &c. 125 And to inspect, with special care, Those crusted Vessels^ dragg'd to air, From the great Herculaiiium, his Cellar. In short, whatever the season or the weather, They, kindly, came to breakfast, dine, and sup, At the Squire's charge, for weeks together ; — Giving themselves, most complaisantly, up To sensuality, — and all iniquity : Kissing the rural Venuses they found, With cherry-cheeks, on the Squire's Ground, Till the poor Damsels they attack'd Were Characters as crack'd. As his crack'd Venus of Antiquity. The Londoners thus crowding to the Hall, It was no wonder That Parson Polyglot knock'd under, And never poked his nose in it, at all. Besides the Squire for neighbours had a dread, And always " cut the natives" as he said. 129 POETICAL VAGARIES. An accident, at last, however, granted To Parson Polyglot the very thing (As Iris said to the Rutilian King *) That Fate ne'er promised, and he so much wanted. Some Wags were on a visit to the Squire, Famous adepts in practicable joking, — Which is as much true wit as smoke is fire, Or puffing empty pipes tobacco-smoking. These lively Apes of Genius, — who, for ever, Their jests can as mechanically grind As barrel-organ men their tunes, — opine'd Hoaxing a Parson was prodigious clever ! Therefore a Messenger was sent, To run as fast as he was able, With more of a command than compliment. And bid Ozias to the Great Man's table. * ** Turntt quod optanti Divum promittere nemo''* ** Auderett v»lvenda diest en^ attulit ultro." — Viro. ^neid. TWO parsons; &c. 127 The invitation made the Curate start ! — Though worldly vanity could never bias. Till now, the meek affections of Ozias, Vain-Glory glow*d in his parsonick heart. His eye shot ostentatious fire, (The first it ever shot off in his life,) When he was told by his prolifick Wife, The message that was sent him, from the Squire. How oft it pains Historians to relate The truths which Truth obliges them to state ! The Fact, alas ! must out : — then, be it known, The Reverend Ozias Polyglot — (Much about gettings has been said) — had got Only one Shirt that he could call his own. He, now, had spared it ; And he was lying, snug, between Two blankets, till his Rib had wash'd it clean, And plaited it, and iron'd it, and air'd it. 128 POETICAL VAGARIES. She had, that instant, hung it on the Hne, When the man knock'di to bid him forth to dine. The Parish Clock struck Five ; — at Six The Great Man chose his dinner-hour to fix. *Twas three miles, in the dirt, Up hill, from the poor Parson's to the Hall : — " Come, duck \" he cried, " make haste, and dry the Shirt,* " Or else I shant get there in time, at all." Vain the attempt ! — his Duck refused to try it, Swearing it was impossible to dry it. The Curate bid her pull it off the cord, And vow'd into his shirt he'd get ; — Says Mrs. Polyglot, " good Lord \" " You're mad, Ozias ; vy it's wringing vet !" " Where is my neckcloth, then ?" — another rub ! 'Twas soaking at the bottom of the Tub. TWO parsons; &c. 129 Never was hapless Preacher more perplexed ! " Woman !" he bawl'd, " you see how time doth press me ;" " In all my life, I never was so vex'd V* — Then, gulping " Dammed* substituted " Bless me !*' Thoughts kick'd up in his brain a sort of schism: — What measure to adopt ? — or what decline ? Was he to roll in bed ? — or go to dine ? — Affront the Squire, or get the Rheumatism ? On one side lay his interest, and ambition ; " A Patron might so better his condition !" But, then, on t'other side, His fears arose : '* Folks lost the use of all their limbs, or died," He had been told, " by sitting in wet clothes. " " What would my Flock do?— all my honest neighbours !" •* If Death should, shortly, end my pious labours ?" ** Wife I what would You do, if disease assail'd me," ** And, all at once, my precious members fail'd me Y* s 130 POETICAL VAGARIES. People, unblest by Fortune's gifts, Wanting clean Shirts, will, often, find out Shifts. The Parson's Surplice was laid by For Sabbath, — neatly folded up, and dry ; And, from the tail of that, His loving Helpmate snipped a slice, Which, in a trice. Made him a very long and white Cravat : — So long, indeed, — whereat he was full glad, — That, (though 'twas narrow) from his chin Down to his knees, — Ozias being thin, — It hid, in front, what skin Ozias had. Tied round his neck, it look'd extremely spruce ; He button'd up his waistcoat to the top ; Popp'd on his wig, — well flower'd for Sunday's use, To save expenses at the Barber's Shop. The Clock chimed half past Five ; — " as I'm a sinner !' The Churchman said, " I shall be very late I" TWO PARSONS ; &c. 131 " But rm equipped." — He kiss'd his loving mate, And ran up hill, through clay, three miles to dinner. Criticks may say, — ** Why did Ozias scour," " And scamper up so fast, through clay ?** " Dinner at Six is, scarce, a Curate's hour ;" " Had not the Parson dined already, pray ?" Ye Sages, who, minutely, thus object. Know, first, the Parson did it from respect, — And, next, — he had not dined at all, that day. Pert, hireling Criticks ! self-sufficient elves I Pray, did you never want a meal, yourselves ? Ozias reached the Hall, — puffing, and blowing,— Exactly as appointed, — little knowing How long for dinner he was doom'd to wait ; He knew not (simple Servitor of Heaven !) That Fashion's Six means half past Six, for Seven, And, Seven come, the guests arrive at Eight. sS 132 POETICAL VAGARIES. ■ » A shoulder-knotted Puppy, with a grin, Queering the threadbare Curate, let him in. Passing full many a Sphinx, and Griffin's head, .. The Churchman to the Drawing-Room was led : — No soul was there ; But, — oh ! it's grandeur ! — how it made him stare ! The Elegancies that he saw Fiird the Religionist with worldly awe ; The Draperies, and Mirrors, much surprised him ; — But when (recovering) he threw His eyes on the collection of Virt^, The Nudities quite shocked, and scandalized him ! Titian's famed Goddess, in luxurious buff, Was the first Piece the Parson thrust his nose on ; — This prurient Picture surely was enough Ozias to confound ; — So he turn d round Upon a plump Diana with no clothes on. TWO PARSONS ; &c. 133 The holy man observed, in every part, Objects that ♦' charm'd his eyes, and grieved his heart." He felt, all over him, a mix'd sensation, A kind of shocking, pleasing, queer flustration, " Fie on't!" he mutter'd, " I declare" " Such Pictures should not on a wall be stuck :" " I ne*er saw any thing so very bare," " Except 'twas Mrs. Polyglot, my Duck." " And, if that naked Nymph, who looks so smugly," ** Is Beauty's type, — then it must be confest" " That Mrs. Polyglot, when quite undrest" " Is most astonishingly ugly !" The Butler entered now, with cake and wine. And told him, as he went away, Twould be an hour, at least, he dar*d to say, Before the company sat down to dine. Polyglot toss'd a bumper off;— it cheer*d The cockles of his heart, — and gave him vigour 134 POETICAL VAGARIES. To face (what he, before, so much had fear'd) The Squire, and all the Gentlefolks of Figure* He took a second bumper,— which so fired him, With so much gaiety inspired him, That he became another creature quite. And view'd all matters in a different light. At all the objects, which had shocked his gravity, He first began to smile, — though very slightly ; But soon, with more complacency, and suavity ; — Then, in a leering way, that borders Upon a style reckoned extremely sprightly. For any married man, in holy orders. He thought the Titian Beauty quite divine ; — This Shape was " exquisite \" — that Posture, " fine !' And all the unclad Ladies charm'd him, now : He even put his finger upon one. And cried, — ^** how naturally that is done \'* " Aye, that's the life, — the very thing, I vow V \ > TWO parsons; &c. 135 Before a Glass, he, next, began to strut ; His flower'd wig in better order put — And smoothed against his sleeve his napless hat ; Call'd up a smirk he ne'er had known to fail, Puird higher round his neck the surplice' tail. That serve'd for his Cravat :— • Which tail (as has been stated) being ample, He thought it not amiss to give a sample , That of clean linen he had, now, no lack ; — So twitch'd a little, at his waistband, out, To make the Party think, beyond a doubt. He really had a shirt upon his back. The Squire and all his Friends, at length, appear'd ; Ozias, who, when by himself, had swagger'd. Was staggered ; Yet, welcome'd by the Squire, was somewhat cheer'd : But, to all polish'd company unuse'd, When to the Gentry he was introduce'd, 130 POETICAL VAGARIES* He, all the while, Was trembling at the knees ; And, trying to assume an air of ease, " Grinn'd, horribly, a ghastly smile !" The Wags with starch grimace received the Parson, And carried, with great gravity, the farce on ; They did'nt quiz too much at the beginning ; . But all the Ladies of high Ton, and Taste, Tittered, and turned aside, to see his linen Peep out so ostentatious, near his waist. ^would be most tedious to describe The common-place of this facetious tribe. These wooden Wits, these Quizzers, Queerers, Smokers, These practical, nothing-so-easy Jokers ; Pert, barbarous Insolents, who think it fine, And clever, to insult a poor Divine ; Who talk with fluency mere pun, and jingle ; But it is necessary, by the by. To state, that, in the Company There was the Reverend Obadiah Pringle. TWO parsons; &c. 137 He was the Chaplain to a Lord, Who sat among the guests at table ; But there was nothing which my Lord abhorred So much as preaching ; — so the Chaplain, sure. Had got a sinecure ; — Not 80 ; — he regulated my Lord's Stable ; Drank with my Lord, — the Irish Lord O'Grady, — And was the Toady of my Lord's kept Lady. Enough ; — Readers will be content To hear that dinner pass'd ; — when Ladies went, Then, in a brimmer. Mother Church was toasted : With jokes, and winks, Double entendres, nods, and blinks. And Parson Polyglot was nicely roasted : But meek Ozias was not hoax'd alone, — Some jibes at Parson Pringle, too, were thrown. At length, 'twas time that Polyglot should go ; And, did he ? — that he didn't ; — no, — T 138 POETICAL VAGARIES. It had been, all the day, most sultry weather. And now it thundered, and it lightened ; The Ladies of high Ton were vastly frighten'd ; — They vow'd that Heaven and Earth would come together. It rain'd (as people term it) Cats and Dogs, — Delighting much the fishes, ducks, and frogs. There was no choice ; — The general voice Proclaimed Ozias could not stir ; To which Ozias, knowing that his way Lay, in a stormy night, through mud and clay. Said nothing in the shape of a demur. But how to stow him was the question : The House was cramm'd With married visitors, and single; The question then was brought to this digestion, — That Parson Polyglot must, now, be ramm'd Into a garret bed with Parson Pringle. TWO parsons; &c. 13Q 'Twas settled ; — but Ozias, in his sleeve, (Not in his sAir^-sleeve) felt extremely hurt To think his brother Parson might perceive A Clergyman without one bit of shirt. And, then, on t'other side, The Chaplain had his sentiments to hide : The Reverend Mr. Pringle wanted not Into a garret, first, to creep with, And, then, (if sleep could close his eyes) to sleep with The Reverend Ozias Polyglot. <( Well, men must yield to the decrees of Fate f* Muttered the Chaplain, in a tone emphatick ; And, as it now was getting very late, The brace of Parsons mounted to the Attick. To pull his clothes off. Polyglot Behind the bed-curtain had got. Shirking, and dodging From his Co-Partner, in their lofty lodging ; And, when undress'd, he stood there quite forlorn : T 2 140 POETICAL VAGARIES. He watch'd till Pringle turned away his head. Then took a sudden flying leap to bed, Stark naked as he was when he was born \ Scrambling the sheets and blankets round his shoulders. He was secure, he thought, from all beholders ; But, to put matters out of doubt, He said to Pringle, " When you are undrest,'* " I'll thank you. Sir, before you go to rest,'*' "To turn the Candle down, or blow it out/' " Nay, there you must excuse me /' Pringle cried, " These thirty years, I have n't slept one night** " Without a lamp, or any sort of light ;" — " 'Twill burn quite safe, Sir, by the chimney side." The Chaplain left the light to blaze ;—r Getting to bed, the clothes aside he kick'd ; When, what could paint his horror and amaze, To see Ozias bare as any Pict ! *' Bless us !" he groan d, his feelings vastly hurt, " Sir, do you always sleep without your Shirt?" TWO parsons; &c. 141 Says Polyglot, — 'twas said quite coolly too, — ** Certainly, Mr. Pringle;— pray, don't ^om?" " Who, I ?— Lord, no ;*'— the Chaplain cried ; " Why, then, it is. Sir," Polyglot replied, " The most unwholsome thing that you can do." " I had it from a Doctor, Sir, who drives" " His carriage, — he is in the highest practice;" " And he assures me, on his word, the fact is," " Since practice he has been in," " He has known many hundreds lose their lives," " Or shorten them, by sleeping in their linen." Now, Pringle was a very nervous man, And very credulous withal ; — he mutter'd " Can it be possible [" — and, then, began To swallow all the lies Ozias utter*d* Ozias cited cases, eight or nine,. Which he said came within his knowledge. Besides examples from the college. Of wasting, sweating, hecticks, and decline ;— 142 POETICAL VAGARIES. And talked so much " about it, and about it/* That Pringle, with a melancholy air, Puird off his shirt, and laid it on the chair, And went to bed, and then to sleep, without it. Next morning. Parson Polyglot Was first awake,— so out of bed he got ; And, thinking 'twould not much his carcase hurt. He drest himself in Parson Pringle's shirt : — He then proceeded down the stairs, Giving himself a thousand foppish airs, — Leaving his bed-fellow to snore his fill out ; And hearing in the breakfast room was met The last night's fashionable set. He strutted up to them with a large frill out. In twenty minutes after, Convulsing all the Wags with laughter, In rush'd the Chaplain, of his shirt bereft. And plumply charge'd Ozias with the theft ; TWO parsons; &c. 149 He said that he could prove it by his mark — Meaning the mark upon the hnen's side ;— But had this been by marking Judges tried, . ; The Jury would have still been in the dark : — For their names happened so far to agree, Both their initials were an and P. So this could not have made the matter quiet; — Without a confirmation much more strong. Settling the question would have been as long As the fame'd Covent-Garden O. P. riot. Pringle averr'd, — indeed, he almost swore, — That, having search'd their sleeping-room, Twas fair, from circumstances, to presume ' Ozias had no Shirt the day before. This charge the Females seem'd not to endure ; For all the Ladies of high Ton and Taste, Remembering what had stuck out near his waist, Cried, " Oh, Sir, that he had, we're very sure I" 144 POETICAL VAGARIES. In short, the Chaplain was oblige'd to yield ; And brave Ozias, the Incumbent's Hack, Much bettered, as to belly and to back, March*d homeward, fed, and shirted, from the Field. But, not to leave his Character in doubt, Or lest the Clergy should be scandalized, Tis fit the Reader should be advertised, When Mrs. Polyglot had wash'd it out, Ozias took the Shirt to the Green Dragon ; And, thence, anonymously sent To Pringle, at my Lord's, in Town, it went. And the Right Owner got it by the Waggon. THE END. Printed by T. Woo df ALL, . Villiers-Street, Strand, Londoa. ^r^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32to-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 Or %njn\n -ir\- H^ \LlF()/?4v •'HHH# vins ASji Colman - Poetical vagaries] DERt MAR 1 iyb3 DC SOUTWWN WEOONAl II8«AIW AA 000141668 *PR 4501 C3P ij^ lx= „9