The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 231

_Who_ in short would not grieve if a man of his graces Should go on rejecting, unwarned by the past, The "moderate Reform" of a pair of new braces, Till, some day,--he'll all fall to pieces at last.

[1] It will be recollected that the learned gentleman himself boasted, one night, in the House of Commons, of having sat in the very chair which this allegorical lady had occupied.

TORY PLEDGES.

I pledge myself thro' thick and thin, To labor still with zeal devout To get the Outs, poor devils, in, And turn the Ins, the wretches, out.

I pledge myself, tho' much bereft Of ways and means of ruling ill, To make the most of what are left, And stick to all that's rotten still.

Tho' gone the days of place and pelf, And drones no more take all the honey, I pledge myself to cram myself With all I can of public money.

To quarter on that social purse My nephews, nieces, sisters, brothers, Nor, so _we_ prosper, care a curse How much 'tis at the expense of others.

I pledge myself, whenever Right And Might on any point divide, Not to ask which is black or white.

But take at once the strongest side.

For instance, in all t.i.the discussions, I'm _for_ the Reverend encroachers:- I loathe the Poles, applaud the Russians,-- Am _for_ the Squires, _against_ the Poachers.

Betwixt the Corn-lords and the Poor I've not the slightest hesitation,-- The People _must_ be starved, to insure The Land its due remuneration.

I pledge myself to be no more With Ireland's wrongs beprosed or shammed,-- I vote her grievances a _bore_, So she may suffer and be d.a.m.ned.

Or if she kick, let it console us, We still have plenty of red coats, To cram the Church, that general bolus, Down any given amount of throats.

I dearly love the Frankfort Diet,-- Think newspapers the worst of crimes; And would, to give some chance of quiet, Hang all the writers of _"The Times;_"

Break all their correspondents' bones, All authors of "Reply," "Rejoinder,"

From the Anti-Tory, Colonel Jones, To the Anti-Suttee, Mr. Poynder.

Such are the Pledges I propose; And tho' I can't now offer gold, There's many a way of buying those Who've but the taste for being sold.

So here's, with three times three hurrahs, A toast of which you'll not complain,-- "Long life to jobbing; may the days "Of Peculation s.h.i.+ne again!"

ST. JEROME ON EARTH.

FIRST VISIT.

1832.

As St. Jerome who died some ages ago, Was sitting one day in the shades below, "I've heard much of English bishops," quoth he, "And shall now take a trip to earth to see "How far they agree in their lives and ways "With our good old bishops of ancient days."

He had learned--but learned without misgivings-- Their love for good living and eke good livings; Not knowing (as ne'er having taken degrees) That good _living_ means claret and frica.s.sees, While its plural means simply--pluralities.

"From all I hear," said the innocent man, "They are quite on the good old primitive plan.

"For wealth and pomp they little can care, "As they all say _'No'_ to the Episcopal chair; "And their vestal virtue it well denotes "That they all, good men, wear petticoats."

Thus saying, post-haste to earth he hurries, And knocks at the Archbishop of Canterbury's.

The door was oped by a lackey in lace, Saying, "What's your business with his Grace?"

"His Grace!" quoth Jerome--for posed was he, Not knowing what _sort_ this Grace could be; Whether Grace _preventing_, Grace _particular_, Grace of that breed called _Quinquarticular_--[1]

In short he rummaged his holy mind The exact description of Grace to find, Which thus could represented be By a footman in full livery.

At last, out loud in a laugh he broke, (For dearly the good saint loved his joke)[2]

And said--surveying, as sly he spoke, The costly palace from roof to base-- "Well, it isn't, at least, a _saving_ Grace!"

"Umph!" said the lackey, a man of few words, "The Archbishop is gone to the House of Lords."

"To the House of the Lord, you mean, my son, "For in _my_ time at least there was but one; Unless such many-_fold_ priests as these "Seek, even in their LORD, pluralities!"[3]

"No time for gab," quoth the man in lace: Then slamming the door in St. Jerome's face With a curse to the single knockers all Went to finish his port in the servants' hall, And propose a toast (humanely meant To include even Curates in its extent) "To all as _serves_ the Establishment."

[1] So called from the proceedings of the Synod of Dort.

[2] Witness his well known pun on the name of his adversary Vigilantius, whom he calls facetiously Dormitantius.

[3] The suspicion attached to some of the early Fathers of being Arians in their doctrine would appear to derive some confirmation, from this pa.s.sage.

ST. JEROME ON EARTH.

SECOND VISIT.

"This much I dare say, that, since _lording_ and loitering hath come up, preaching hath come down, contrary to the Apostles' times.

For they preached and _lorded_ not; and now they _lord_ and preach not.... Ever since the Prelates were made Lords and n.o.bles, the plough standeth; there is no work done, people starve."

--_Latimer, "Sermon of the Plough."_

"Once more," said Jerome, "I'll run up and see How the Church goes on,"--and off set he.

Just then the packet-boat which trades Betwixt our planet and the shades Had arrived below with a freight so queer, "My eyes!" said Jerome, "what have we here?"-- For he saw, when nearer he explored, They'd a cargo of Bishops' wigs aboard.

"They are ghosts of wigs," said Charon, "all, "Once worn by n.o.bs Episcopal.[1]

"For folks on earth, who've got a store "Of cast off things they'll want no more, "Oft send them down, as gifts, you know, "To a certain Gentleman here below.