Primary tabs
Transcription
[Page 19]
Novr. 10 1785 Morning Chronicle
For the MORNING CHRONICLE.
An IRREGULAR ODE
ON
LORD MAYOR'S DAY.
Awake with Chanticleer, and hail the morn
My drowsy muse; - behold Apollo rise;
And, while his beams Augusta's town adorn,
Make Hell's foundation shake, and rend the vaulted skies
Mount Pindus' hill, ye muses fair,
From Fame's immortal trump declare
The great, important news: -
This day prepares a blended feast,
Each bloated cit becomes a greedy beast,
And eats! and drinks! and reels! - and sleeps!
and snores! and - !
Permit these rhymes throughout the splendid show
To chime their numbers with the chimes of Bow !
Enough! enough ! - behold the train approach,
The limping heroes, and embellished coach;
Behold these worthies, long confin'd at home,
With legs in flannel bound, prepare the sea to roam!
Let ev'ry bell
The tidings tell;
And every flute,
And warbling lute;
And thund'ring drum,
And bag-pipes hum;
And slow Jew's-harp,
And trumpet sharp;
And squeaking fiddle,
In the middle;
And tinker's throat,
In vulgar note;
And organ manly,
Set by - Stanley;
And dirty brat,
Without a hat;
And, while their carols float in lucid air,
The gazing mob with mud may greet the chosen
Mayor!
Glory! glory! glory! glory!
Worthy either whig or tory!
View the 'scutcheons, view the flags!
View the populace in rags!
Here, the prudent wife is squalling!
There, the lazy husband bawling!
Here, the scullion-girl is crying!
There, the scented fribble lying!
Here pick-pockets form a corps,
Assisted by the crafty whore!
At length the horse-knight comes - of armour sick,
His scull a cap displays - so that is doubly thick!
See how he guides his Rosinate's reins,
Nor fears a mortal hand should blow away his brains!
And, as each Jason grandly moves along,
And looks stupendous as he passes ' Paul's;
Each fair Medea renovates her song,
And to her Falstaff knight thus sweetly drawls:-
Farewell thou best, and also biggest soul,
To plough the deep, and brave the tempest's force;
Even if a whale should near thy preference roll,
Spring on his brawny-back, and stop him in his course!
Think you behold him with his luggage foam,
And with thy fat escort his oil home;
This, this shall cause our virgil lamp to blaze,
And his enormous bones shall make Medea - Stays!
Thou ev'ry morning shalt thy dearest lace,
And she shall cry, when done, O! bless thy handy face!
And now they reach old Ocean's briny bed,
The Stately Ships are anchor'd near the Shore;
The joyful news to ev'ry ear hath spread,
And cannons, cohorns, boombs, and muskets join the roar!
As holy Noah, in the ark,
Did bulls, and sheep, and fowls embark;
(Whence I, without untruth may say,
'Twas he first kept my Lord May'r's day!)
So now, the slaves in tott'ring gait,
Within these arks convey a freight
Of ev'ry kind - enough to make
This fertile strand with famine quake!
But when will miracles and wonders cease?
The Swine devour the pigs, the ganders eat the geese!
The Ships are lost - their colours we may trace
To the pure precincts of the bishop's place;
This is the port to which the Squadron Sail,
Whose waves, by priestly art, transform to jugs of ale!
Behold this Sorcery, great Noah's sons,
Your biscuits lose their taste, and turn to Chelsea-buns!
But sing, my muse, a nobler theme,
Religion Spreads her lambent beam,
The Stationer's advance;
A bible of the best design,
They offer at the prelate's Shrine
And so much Scripture fell - - -for so much wine!
The prelate clasps it with a holy look,
And then transmits it to the ruddy cook;
The cook receives it from the best of men,
It serves to roast a goose - a Stationer, again!
Behold these mariners approach the Strand,
These valiant Sailors at Blackfriars land!
And gaping crowd lines ev'ry dirty Street,
Thieves thank them for the Shew - and fools their brothers greet!
To hall! to hall!
The vet'rans bawl!
Here they arrive - each anxious to be the first,
And eat of ev'ry dish - till all their waistcoats burst!
Then on the ground behold the native cit,
By Bachus' pow'er made drunk, and wallowing in -
Oh! Prudence! Prudence! reassume your place,
Nor varnish with your Smile your national disgrace!
Lincoln's-Inns-Fields J. DAY.