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[Page 14]

July 26. 1785 Morning Herald  

               POETRY. 
               PARODY.
A FRAGMENT ; - supposed to be written by the
Most Noble the MARQUIS of GRAHAM.
Sunt et mini carmina. - Virg.

I.

'TWAS at the GROCER'S Feast. for India won
by CHATHAM'S beardless son, 
Aloft, in luscious State,
The virgin Statesman' sate
On barley-sugar throne; 
Fat Aldermen were plac'd around,
Their brows with spreading antlers bound,
(So City Spouses should be crown'd) -
The gentle GRENVILLE by his side
Sate, like a pursy DUTCHMAN'S bride,
And two vast chairs contain'd his vast backside !
  Welcome, welcome, welcome guests !
      Eat while ye may,
      Eat while ye may,
      Eat while ye may !
Ne'er will ye more behold such feasts !

II.

The God-like PRETTYMAN hard by,
   Amid the festive band,
At once began to sing, and lie ; -
The lies, the notes, ascend as high
   As themes like his demand !
The song began from TEMPLE'S toil,
Who lefts his STOWE'S enchanting foil, 
(Strong Coalition's pow'r to foil !)
GUY VAUX'S  dark disguise the Peer bely'd :-
Up the back-stairs unseen he hied,
When he to GEORGE'S closet prest,
To share the Sorrows of his Royal breast -
Then issued forth the dread command :-
'Prelates, defend your King ! - Arm, arm, BED-
       CHAMBER BAND !"
The list'ning Cits admire the loyal sound !
"Another BUCKINGHAM!" they shout around -
"Another BUCKINGHAM!" the plastered roofs rebound !
  With ravish'd ears
  Young BILLY hears :-
     And says "A fig
       "For every Whig !"
  Askance his Chaplain leers !

III.

The praise of ARDEN next the Bard enraptured sung !
    O glorious eloquence of ARDEN'S tongue !
    Lo, where the legal wonder comes ! -
    "Waiters ! a fresh supply of plumbs !"
      With more than mortal grace
     He shows his noseless face ! -
Ah nose ! - of far more worth than ROLLO'S thumbs !
   PEPPER, in the blood-stain'd field,
   Raving ROLLO'S rage repell'd ! -
   Heroes never mind their noses ; -
Both his thumbs great ROLLO loses !
        DEVON'S glory
        Flies before ye !
    Triumph, PEPPER ! - ROLLO, yiel !
  Sooth'd with the sound, the youth grew vain !
  Scarce wish'd his friend a nose again !
And thrice his triumphs he renew'd o'er Freedom's prostrate
          train !
The SECRETARY sourly smil'd,
To see such pertness in his child !
And while he NORTH and FOX defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride !

IV.

Prophetic, he foreshows
The MODEN PHOEBUS'S woes.
He sung SIR CECIL, matchless bard,
   By Westminster Electors
Scouted, scouted, scouted, scouted !
   'Spite of all his great Protectors,
His gratitude's reward.
    Deserted in his utmost need,
    In vain he seeks to rear his head; 
    In vain he seeks to scrutnize,
    E'en MURPHY dares not back his lies.
   All melancholy sat the angry Boy,
   Revolving in his mind
The fickle temper of JOHN BULL ; -
   Nor now to sweetmeats felt inclin'd,
Nor eat his belly-full.

V.

The rev'rend Lyrist joy'd to see,
That Love was in the next degree ;
But, ah ! ! !  - -
- - - - 
- - - - 
Desunt Cætera.
 

POLITICAL ECLOGUES.
ECLOGUE I.
The Lyars.

In Downing-street. the breakfast duly set,
as Banks and Prettyman one more were met,
A strife arising who could best supply, 
In urgent cases, a convenient lie;
His skill Superior essay'd to prove 
In verse alternate - which the Muses love!
While Billy, list'ning to their tuneful plea,
In Silence sipp'd from his Commutation Tea,
And heard them boast, how badly both had ly'd,
The Priest began, the Layman thus reply'd!

PRETTYMAN
Why wilt thou, Banks, with me dispute the prize?
Who is not cheated when a Parson lies?
Since pious Christians, ev'ry Sabbath-day
Must needs believe whate'er the Clergy Say!
In Spite of all you laity can do,
One lie from us is more than ten from you!

BANKS.
O witless lout! In lies that touch the State,
We Country Gentlemen have far more weight:
Fiction from us the public full must gull, - 
They think we're honest, as they know we're dull!
To our assertions yield at once assent,
And trust to Nature that we don't invent!

PRETTYMAN.
In yon Cathedral, I a Prebend boast,
The maiden bounty of our gracious host!
Its yearly profits I to thee resign,
If Pitt pronounce not that the palm is mine!

BANKS.
A Borough mine, a pledge far dearer sure,
Which in St.Stephen's gives a seat secure!
If Pitt to Prettyman the prize decree,
Henceforth Corfe-Castle shall belong to thee!

PITT.
Begin the strain - while in our easy chairs,
We loll, forgetful of all public cares!
Begin the strain - nor shall I deem my time
Mispent, in hearing a debate in rhyme!

 

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