Works

Words upon words impetuous rush along,
And tread each other's brains out as they throng.

* * * * *

'Admire my wife! did ever mortal eyes'...

That sermon, reverend Sir, which you have bought,
To save your idle brain the toil of thought,
You read in such a dull, lethargic tone,
It seems almost as stupid as your own.
...

Thou able, boaster! Virgil to translate!
Can'st thou, then, be so vain, so shallow-pated?
To a far higher intellectual state,
Coxcomb! thou must, thyself, be first translated.

* * * * *...

May European Liberty
In Moscow's flames her torch relume!
And Gallic Tyranny
In Moscow's ruins find a tomb!

* * * * *

Locke says the soul may slumber;...

First they said it would not do;
But, when he got through it,
Then they vowed they always knew
That he didn't do it!
Lies are rolling stones, of course,
But they can't adhere to MORSE.

ARCHBISHOP OF TUAM, WHO, ON ONE OCCASION, LEFT HIS CHURCH DURING SERVICE IN ORDER TO WAIT ON THE DUKE OF DORSET[2]

Lord Pam[3] in the church (you'd you think it) kneel'd down;...

Friend, for your epitaphs I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be believed,
The other never read.

'Tis the opinion of the town
That Grim's a silly elf:
In trying to write Clinton down,
He went RIGHT DOWN HIMSELF.

Henceforth at miracles who'll dare to mock?
No wonder Orpheus' lyre could move the brutes,
Or Moses' rod strike water from the rock;
Lo! Shakspeare's genius melts the heart of Nutes,...

To such extremes were I and Bet
Perpetually driven,
We quarrell'd every time we met,
To kiss, and be forgiven.

"Sic siti laetantur docti."


With honour thus by Carolina placed,
How are these venerable bustoes graced!
O queen, with more than regal title crown'd,
For love of arts and piety renown'd!...

Satan, says scripture, like a roaring lion,
Goes about, seeking whom he may devour.
What should a priest, then, chiefly keep his eye on?
To guard his flock against the tempter's power....

Strange! all this difference should be
'Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee!

ORIGINAL.

Passant, ne pleure point son sort;
Car, s'il vivait, tu serais mort.


TRANSLATION.

Nay, passenger, don't mourn his lot;
If he had liv'd, why you had not.

Reform! reform! cries out the longing nation;
The people hail their own-elected House;
On tiptoe stands the general expectation:
What the grand doings of the Administration?...

The labourers in the vineyard toil
(So numerous are their creeds)
Far less to cultivate the soil,
Than break each others' heads.

* * * * *
...

'March on! march swiftly on!' the people cry,
Let us pursue Truth, Knowledge, Liberty!
March not so fast, my friends! or you will find,
That, in your haste, you've left them all behind.
...

Too long within the House has darkness dwelt,
Egyptian darkness, by the nation felt;
Therefore, though demagogues, whose deeds are ill,
For blind debate might love that darkness still,...

Whence deathless 'Kit-cat' took its name,
Few critics can unriddle:
Some say from 'pastrycook' it came,
And some, from 'cat' and 'fiddle.'

From no trim beaux its name it boasts,...

Pale is Amelia's face,
And red Lavinia's nose is;
The sisters ever jar:
'Tis like the civil war
Between the rival roses.

* * * * *
...