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And lodged him in St. Paul's.
And Gog and Magog rubbed their eyes,

Awaking from a trance ;
And grumbled out, in great surprise,

' O mercy ! we're in France !'


They sent a Regent to our Isle,

The little King of Rome ;
And squibs and crackers all the while

Blazed in the Place Vendome.

214 WintJirop Mackworth Praed

And ever since, in arts and power
They're making great advance ;

They've had strong beer from that glad hour,
And sea-coal fires in France.


My uncle, Captain Flanigan,

Who lost a leg in Spain,
Tells stories of a little man,

Who died at St. Helene.
But bless my heart ! they can't be true,

I'm sure they're all romance ;
John Bull was beat at Waterloo

They'll swear to that in France !


'Lord,' said the Little Woman, 'sure it can't be I !'-
Old Song.

c OH, Liberty, whose radiant charms

Were so adored by Thebes and Sparta,
Bright patroness of arts and arms,

And authoress of Magna Charta,
Nymph, for whose sake, as we are taught

In Plutarch's entertaining stories,

The Complaint of Liberty 215

Speeches were made, and battles fought,
By Greek and Roman Whigs and Tories.

{ Come hither, with your pen and sword,

Your russet garb, your mess of pottage ;
Leave the wild Arab's wandering horde,

Or the rude Switzer's humble cottage ;
Let Lafayette console Lafitte ;

Let Congress sit a day without you ;
Smile, smile, for once, on Downing-street ;

I want to write an ode about you/

She came ; she answered ! Well I know

The Speaker's awful call to order;
I heard, some thirteen years ago,

A sentence from the late Recorder ;
I know how hoarse the cheerers are

When Whig Lords talk of right intention ;
But oh, that fearful voice was far

More fearful than the sounds I mention.

4 1 come,' she said, { the same who erst

Held talk with Xenophon and Plato ;
Taught Brutus to be firm, and merst

The fire of high resolve in Cato :
The same, who on your island rock

Have mock'd the hand of sceptred power ;
Who went with Sydney to the block,

And with the Bishops to the Tower.

216 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

' Alas ! my handmaids in such days

Were Wisdom, Order, and Sobriety.
What loathsome change ! my Broughams and Greys

Have dragged me into strange society ;
Treason and strife invoke my name

In their dark plots and drunken quarrels ;
I'm growing weary of my fame ;

And, Jove ! how ill I look in laurels.

' Calcraft is dozing in my lap,

Which surely is a shocking scandal ;
The Chancellor has curled my cap,

And Henry Hunt has blacked my sandal ;
I run with Murphys and O'Shanes

To ruin some unhappy banker ;
And Hobhouse sets me breaking chains

For Poland, at the Crown and Anchor.

1 1 am not what I was ! I throw

Prodigious stones in Clare and Kerry ;
I cheat the Greeks with prudent Joe ;

I maximise with sapient Jerry :
Last winter, I confess, I taught

The labouring class the art of arson ;
And oft, on Sundays, I've been caught

With Taylor, screaming out, " No Parson ! "

1 It's true that still the schoolboy's prayers,
Come up to me in so-so Latin \


Intentions 217

And still the lying Courier swears
The rags I wear are silk and satin :

And I've a friend at Court, I think,
But he will doom me to the halter,

When once he hears me, in my drink,
Speak out about the throne and altar.

' Farewell ! my anguish would defy

E'en Althorp's powers of clear expression ;
I'm quite convinced that I shall die

Before the closing of the Session !
I'd go with pleasure to the Grave,

But oh ! the thought is overpowering ;
They tell me I am sure to have

An epitaph from Doctor Bowring !'



Now don't abuse us, Fanny, don't,

You're really too provoking ;
I won't sit by, I vow I won't,

To hear your idle croaking :
You seem to think the world is mad

For places and for pensions,
And won't believe it's quite too bad

That Whigs have good intentions.

2i8 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

I know that Denman is too rash

And Graham not too witty ;
I know we hear prodigious trash

From members for the City :
Young Thomson is a financier

Of rather small dimensions ;
Lord Althorp is not vastly clear,

But all have bright intentions.

The Budget was a slight mistake,

You call it quite correctly ;
But then confess, for candour's sake,

We gave it up directly.
They laughed it down on every side,

Forgetting their dissensions,
But not a single man denied

It showed the best intentions.

The Premier has been kind, I own,

To most of his connections ;
But Hunt, you see, was quite alone

In making harsh reflections :
The blockhead ought to go to school,

And study his declensions ;
Then he would judge by better rule

A statesman's grand intentions.

Intentions 219

And, Fanny, as for this Reform,

Which Peel pronounces ' treason/
Indeed I think you make a storm

Without sufficient reason :
The Bill is full of faults, no doubt ;

But, as my husband mentions,
One would not have a clause struck out,

Which flows from just intentions.

Some say the Bill destroys the crown ;

Some swear it gulls the people ;
Some see the peerage tumbling down ;

Some fear for church and steeple :
There may be good substantial cause

For many apprehensions ;
But cofite qui cotite, in every clause,

There's proof of right intentions.

We can't expect that Brougham and Hume

Will lay their horrid plans down ;
But, dearest love, you won't assume

The fault is with Lord Lansdowne !
They can't do harm ; or if they do,

In spite of wise preventions,
I hate their scheme, but, entre nous,

I honour their intentions.

Winthrop Mackworth Praed


* Sound opinions are like sound wine ; they are the better for
keeping.' LORD DUDLEY'S Speech.

IT was my father's wine ; alas,

It was his chiefest bliss,
To fill an old friend's evening glass

With nectar such as this :
I think I have as warm a heart,

As kind a friend, as he ;
Another bumper ere we part ;

Old wine, old wine for me !

In this we toasted William Pitt,

Whom twenty now outshine ;
O'er this we laughed at Canning's wit

Ere Hume's was thought as fine ;
In this the King, the Church, the Laws,

Have had their three times three,
Sound wine befits as sound a cause ;

Old wine, old wine for me !

In this, when France, in those long wars,

Was beaten, black and blue,
We used to drink our troops and tars,

Our Wellesley and Pellew :

Reasons for not Ratting 221

Now things are changed ; though Britain's fame

May out of fashion be,
At least my wine remains the same ;

Old wine, old wine for me !

My neighbours, Robinson and Lamb,

Drink French, of last year's growth ;
I'm sure, however they may sham,

It disagrees with both ;
I don't pretend to interfere;

An Englishman is free ;
But none of that cheap poison here ;

Old wine, old wine for me !

Some dozens have lost, I must allow,

Something of strength and hue ;
And there are vacant spaces now,

To be filled up with new.
And there are cobwebs round the bins,

Which some don't like to see ;
If these are all my cellar's sins,

Old wine, old wine for me !

222 Winthrop Mackzvorth Praed


( Quo semel est imbuta recens, servabit edorem
Testa diu.' HORACE.

AY, chatter, chatter, brother Sam ;

Call Thomson deep and Shell divine ;
And tell us all that Master Cam

Is quite a Tully in his line.
I'm near threescore ; you ought to know

You can't transplant so old a tree ;
I was a Tory long ago ;

You'll hardly make a Whig of me.

Lord Palmerston may turn about,

And curse the creed he held so long ;
And moral Grant may now find out

That Canning was extremely wrong ;
Lansdowne with Waithman may unite,

And Ministers with mobs agree ;
Truth may be falsehood, black grow white,

But, Sir, you make no Whig of me.

You know I never learned to trust
The wisdom of the Scotch Review ;

I worshipped not Napoleon's bust ;
I could not blush for Waterloo ;

The Old Tory 223

I'm proud of England's glory still,

Of laurels won on land and sea ;
Call me a bigot if you will

But pray don't make a Whig of me.

I cannot march with Attwood's ranks,

I cannot write with Russell's pen ;
I have no longing for the thanks

Of very loyal tithing-men ;
I cannot wear a civil face

When Carpue just drops in to tea ;
I cannot flatter Mr. Place ;

You'll never make a Whig of me.

I can't admire the Bristol rows,

Nor call the Common Council wise ;
I cannot bow as Burdett bows,

Nor lie as great O'Connell lies :
And if I wanted place or pay,

A Baron's robe, or Bishop's see,
I'm not first cousin to Lord Grey ;

Why should you make a Whig of me ?

Good brother 'twere an easier thing

To make a wit of Joseph Hume,
To make a conjuror of Lord King,

To make a lawyer of Lord Brougham.

224 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

No, Howick will be half his sire,

And Althorp learn the Rule of Three,

And Morpeth set the Thames on fire,
Before you make a Whig of me !



WE were patriots together ! Oh, placeman and peer

Are the patrons who smile on your labours to-day ;
And Lords of the Treasury lustily cheer

Whatever you do, and whatever you say.
Go, pocket, my Hobhouse, as much as you will,

The times are quite altered, we very well know :
But will you not, will you not, talk to us still,

As you talked to us once, long ago, long ago ?

We were patriots together ! I know you will think

Of the cobbler's caresses, the coalheaver's cries,
Of the stones that we threw, and the toasts that we

Of our pamphlets and pledges, our libels and lies !
When the truth shall awake, and the country and

Be heartily weary of Althorp and Co.,
My Hobhouse, come back to the Anchor and Crown,

Let us be what we were, long ago, long ago.

Plus de Politique 225



No politics ! I cannot bear

To tell our ancient fame ;
No politics ! I do not dare

To paint our present shame.
What we have been, what we must be,

Let other minstrels say ;
It is too dark a theme for me ;

No politics to-day.

I loved to ge the captive's chain

By British hands burst through ;
I loved to sing the fields of Spain,

The war of Waterloo.
But now the Russians' greedy swords

Are edged with English pay;
We help, we hire, the robber hordes ;

No politics to-day.

I used to look on many a home

Of industry and art ;
I gazed on pleasure's glorious dome,

On labour's busy mart.

226 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

From Derby's rows, from Bristol's fires,

I turn with tears away ;
I can't admire what Brougham admires ;

No politics to-day.

I've often heard the faithless French

Denounced by William Pitt ;
I've watched the flash from this same bench

Of Canning's polished wit.
And when your Woods and Waithmans bawl,

Your Humes and Harveys bray,
Good Lord ! I'm weary of them all ;

No politics to-day.

Let's talk of Coplestone and prayers,

Of Kitchener and pies ;
Of Lady Sophonisba's airs,

Of Lady Susan's eyes :
Let's talk of Mr. Attwood's cause,

Of Mr. Pococke's play ;
Of fiddles, bubbles, rattles, straws ;

No politics to-day !

Let Joseph call religion cant,'
While Warburton cries ' Hear ' ;

Let Charles Grant and Robert Grant
Sit, mutely pious, near :

Plus de Politique 227

Let Durham and let Richmond vow

They never will take pay,
JSTimporte, although they take it now,

No politics to-day.

Let candid Althorp ' Budget ' on,

Sir Jemmy run his rig,
Let elderly Beau Palmerston

Swear he was aye a Whig.
If poor Lord Liverpool could know,

I wonder what he'd say ;
He served him twenty years or so ;

No politics to-day.

Let Birmingham give forth the law,

St. Stephen's Hall be mute :
Let listening Unions pause in awe,

While Bowring strikes the lute :
Let every rogue in every town

Cry, < Long live Brougham and Grey ; '
Let all the world turn upside down ;

No politics to-day.

228 Winthrop Mackworth Praed


' I had forgot Waterloo ' (Laughter).


HUME has been dotting and carrying one ;
Hume has been helping O'Connell and Son ;
Hume has been proving that wrong is right ;
Hume has been voting that black is white ;
Hume has so many things to do,
Hume has forgotten Waterloo.

Hume has been studying tare and tret ;
Hume has been summing the national debt ;
Hume has been babbling of silk and grain ;
Hume has been poring o'er Cocker and Paine ;
Hume is a sage and a patriot too ;
Hume has forgotten Waterloo.

Hume has been jobbing with infinite skill ;
Hume has been treating the poor Greeks ill ;
Hume has been rivalling Bowring's crimes ;
Hume has been chid in the fierce old Times
Hume has been reading the Yellow and Blue ;
Hume has forgotten Waterloo.

Stanzas to the Speaker Asleep 229

Hume for his toils has a wide, wide scope ;
Hume is a friend to the friends of the Pope ;
Hume has pleasure in Antwerp's fall ;
Hume has an eye on Greece and Gaul ;
Hume has a heart for a Quaker or Jew ;
Hume has forgotten Waterloo.

Hume has been praising Bentham's schemes ;
Hume has been puffing Thomson's dreams ;
Hume has been hinting that piety's cant ;
Hume has been frightening good Charles Grant ;
Hume is to me what he is to you ;
Hume has forgotten Waterloo.


SLEEP, Mr. Speaker ; it's surely fair,

If you don't in your bed, that you should in your

chair ;

Longer and longer still they grow,
Tory and Radical, Aye and No ;
Talking by night, and talking by day ;
Sleep, Mr. Speaker j sleep, sleep, while you may !

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; slumber lies
Light and brief on a Speaker's eyes ;

230 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Feilden or Finn, in a minute or two,

Some disorderly thing will do ;

Riot will chase repose away ;

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; sleep, sleep, while you may !

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; Cobbett will soon

Move to abolish the Sun and Moon ;

Hume, no doubt, will be taking the sense

Of the House on a saving of thirteen pence ;

Grattan will growl, or Baldwin bray ;

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; sleep, sleep, while you may !

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; dream of the time

When loyalty was not quite a crime ;

When Grant was a pupil in Canning's school ;

When Palmerston fancied Wood a fool ;

Lord, how principles pass away ;

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; sleep, sleep, while you may !

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; sweet to men

Is the sleep that comes but now and then ;

Sweet to the sorrowful, sweet to the ill,

Sweet to the children that work in a mill ;

You have more need of sleep than they ;

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; sleep, sleep, while you may !

Maxims 231


' Lord Auckland is understood to be appointed permanently on
Constitutional grounds.' Globe, Jan. 14, 1834.

IF a Tory is ever found out

In pocketing twenty pence,
The thing is a job, no doubt,

It admits of no defence :
If a Whig has the luck to secure

Some twenty thousand pounds,
It is all arranged, be sure,

On ' Constitutional grounds.'

If a Tory dares distrust

The faith of our fiercest foe,
Suspicion is quite unjust,

And jealousy vastly low :
If a Whig with a bold blockade

Our ancient friend confounds,
It is done, for the good of trade,

On ' Constitutional grounds. 7

If a Tory punishes crimes

In Kerry or in Clare,
The wisdom of the Times

Proclaims it quite unfair :

232 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

If a Whig with a troop of horse
The Murphys and Macs astounds,

He cuts and thrusts of course
On 'Constitutional grounds.'

If a Tory gives a place

To a nephew or a son,
Good lack ! a thing so base

Was never, never done !
If a Whig, with his countless kin,

The nation's purse surrounds,
They slip their fingers in

On ' Constitutional grounds.'

Then take, my Lord, oh, take

The gift the Greys provide,
For the Constitution's sake,

And for no ends beside.
And think, on quarter-day,

Of the friend who thus expounds
The rights of place and pay

On ( Constitutional grounds/

The State of the Country 233


' We are now a trampled nation. '

Times, March 10, 1834.

WE have been some years reforming,
Chattering, cheering, stamping, storming;
Cutting bludgeons from the hedges ;
Asking for all sorts of pledges ;
Breaking heads, and breaking glasses ;
Calling people knaves and asses :
After all our agitation,
We are now a ' trampled nation ' I

Mr. Croker's thrusts are parried ;
Schedules A and B are carried ;
Vain is WetherelPs long alarum ;
There is no reprieve for Sarum :
All the money in our pockets
Went to purchase squibs and rockets :
Oh, what foolish exultation !
We are still a * trampled nation ' !

Buckingham is quite a Tully ;
Solon was a fool to Gully ;
Pryme's a lecturer, taught at College ;
Pease, a Quaker, full of knowledge ;

234 Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Feilden is extremely clever ;
Finn can talk and talk for ever :
What a glorious constellation !
Yet we are a * trampled nation/

We have got Lord Grey to ease us
Of the taxes that displease us ;
We have got, besides, some dozens
Of his Lordship's sons and cousins ;
They are blest with places, pensions,
And the very best intentions ;
It's against their inclination
That we are a ' trampled nation.'

We have got the Times adorning
Facts with figures every morning ;
Now denouncing right and reason ;
Now defending guilt and treason ;
Raving, ranting, blustering, blundering,
Pro and con alternate thundering.
It has wondrous circulation !
Why are we a ' trampled nation ' ?


(I have thought it well to give a couple of samples
of the Radical bards of the middle of the present century ',
though their verse be no great thing as a rule.)


DAY, like our souls, is fiercely dark ;

What then ? 'Tis day !
We sleep no more ; the cock crows hark !

To arms ! away !
They come ! they come ! the knell is rung

Of us or them ;
Wide o'er their march the pomp is flung

Of gold and gem.
What collar'd hound of lawless sway,

To famine dear
What pensioned slave of Attila,

Leads in the rear?

236 Ebenezer Elliott

Come they from Scythian wilds afar,

Our blood to spill ?
Wear they the livery of the Czar ?

They do his will.
Nor tassell'd silk, nor epaulette,

Nor plume, nor torse
No splendour gilds, all sternly met,

Our foot and horse.
But, dark and still, we inly glow,

Condens'd in ire !
Strike tawdry slaves, and ye shall know

Our gloom is fire.
In vain your pomp, ye evil powers,

Insults the land ;
Wrongs, vengeance, and the cause are ours,

And God's right hand !
Madmen ! they trample into snakes

The wormy clod !
Like fire beneath their feet awakes

The sword of God !
Behind, before, above, below,

They rouse the brave ;
Where'er they go, they make a foe,

Or find a grave.

The Good Time Coming 237


THERE'S a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray

Of the good time coming.
Cannon-balls may aid the truth,

But thought's a weapon stronger ;
We'll win our battle by its aid ;

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And Right, not Might, shall be the lord

In the good time coming.
Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind,

And be acknowledged stronger ;
The proper impulse has been given ;

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity

In the good time coming :

238 Charles Mackay

Nations shall not quarrel then,

To prove which is the stronger ;

Nor slaughter men for glory's sake ;
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
Hateful rivalries of creed
Shall not make their martyrs bleed

In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,

And flourish all the stronger ;
And Charity shall trim her lamp ;

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
And a poor man's family
Shall not be his misery

In the good time coming.
Every child shall be a help,

To make his right arm stronger ;
The happier he the more he has ;

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming :

The Good Time Coming 239

Little children shall not toil,
Under, or above the soil,

In the good time coming ;
But shall play in healthful fields

Till limbs and mind grow stronger ;
And every one shall read and write ;

Wait a little long longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
The people shall be temperate,
And shall love instead of hate,

In the good time coming.
They shall use and not abuse,

And make all virtue stronger.
The reformation has begun ;

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
Let us aid it all we can,
Every woman, every man,

The good time coming.
Smallest helps, if rightly given,

Make the impulse stronger ;
'Twill be strong enough one day ;

Wait a little longer.


(To what has been said in the Introduction as to
Thackeray*s gifts for political verse I need add nothing,
except that in the strict kind he was never so happy as
on Irish matters. King Canute, great as it is, belongs
perhaps rather to ethics than to politics.}


KING CANUTE was weary-hearted ; he had reigned for

years a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, righting, killing much

and robbing more ;
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the

wild sea-shore.

'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King

with steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and

goldsticks great,

King Canute 241

Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages, all the officers
of state.

Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose

to pause,
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers

dropped their jaws ;
If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in

loud hee-haws.

But that day a something vexed him, that was clear

to old and young :
Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his

favourite gleemen sung,
Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he

bade her hold her tongue.

' Something ails my gracious master/ cried the Keeper

of the Seal.
4 Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served to dinner, or

the veal?'
4 Psha ! ' exclaimed the angry monarch. ' Keeper, 'tis

not that I feel.

{ Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my

rest impair :
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know

no care?


242 William Makepeace Thackeray

Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary.' Some one cried
4 The King's arm-chair ! '

Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the

Keeper nodded,
Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by

two footmen able-bodied ;
Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded.

4 Leading on my fierce companions,' cried he, ' over

storm and brine,
I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was

glory like to mine?'
Loudly all the courtiers echoed : ' Where is glory like

to thine?'

' What avail me of my kingdoms ? Weary am I now

and old ;
Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead

and cold ;
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the

silent mould !

* Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent ! at my bosom

tears and bites ;
Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all

the lights ;
Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at


King Canute 243

* Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious

fires ;
Mothers weeping, virgins screaming : vainly for the

slaughtered sires.'
6 Such a tender conscience/ cries the Bishop, ' every

one admires.

1 But for such unpleasant bygones, cease, my gracious

lord, to search,
They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother

Church ;
Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the


c Look ! the land is crowned with ministers, which

your Grace's bounty raised ;
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven

are daily praised :
You, my lord, to think of dying ? on my conscience

I'm amazed ! '

'Nay, I feel,' replied King Canute, 'that my end is

drawing near.'
' Don't say so,' exclaimed the courtiers (striving each

to squeeze a tear).
' Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live

this fifty year.'

244 William Makepeace Thackeray

' Live these fifty years V the Bishop roared, with actions

made to suit.
' Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak

of King Canute !
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his

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