THE GRAND REVOLUTION!
Tune—"The Tight Little Island."
"Ye Whigs, now attend, and list to a friend,
If you value a free Constitution,
Every nerve let us strain for the patriots of Spain,
And cry up their brave Revolution.
Huzza! for the brave Revolution!
Success to the brave Revolution!
We'll all to a man, bawl as loud as we can,
Huzza! for the brave Revolution!
"When Boney invaded their country, and waded
Through oceans of blood to make Joe king,
We ne'er made a push, and cared not a rush
If Spain had a king, or had no king:
But then there was no Revolution!
No enlightening, wise Revolution!
They only fought then, for their king back again,
And not for a brave Revolution!
"We once made a rout, most valiant and stout,
For Naples to throw off her yoke, sirs,
But Tories so wary, vow'd base Carbonari
Were thieves, and their valour all smoke, sirs!
To nought came their grand Revolution!
Upset was their grand Revolution!
Poor, thick-headed calves, they were rebels by halves
And made nought of their grand Revolution!
"Then we spouted for weeks, in aid of the Greeks,
But they proved rather lax in their works, sirs,
For the brave Parguinotes, in cutting of throats,
Excell'd e'en the murderous Turks, sirs;
So we gave up the Greek Revolution,
None thought of the Greek Revolution,
Folks cared not a straw whether Turkish Bashaw
Ruled the roast—or the Greek Revolution.
"But Spain, with true bravery, spurning her slavery,
Vows she'll have freedom, or die now,
And all that she'll need will be trifles indeed,
Such as arms, ammunition, and rhino!
Success to her brave resolutions!
And just to collect contributions,
At dinner we'll meet in Bishopsgate-street,
In aid of her brave resolutions!"
So to feasting they went, on a Friday in Lent,
And muster'd what forces they could, sirs;
There was Duke San Lorenzo, with plenty of friends, O,
Great Sussex, and Alderman Wood, sirs!
The Spaniards push'd hard their petition
For money to buy ammunition,
But they met with a balk, for Whigs are all talk,
With nought else would they help their petition.
They didn't ask Hume, for fear, in a fume,
At the cost of the war he'd be nibbling,
So they left him to fight in the Commons all night,
With Palmerston's estimates quibbling.
He there with much circumlocution,
Moved many a wise resolution,
While the still wiser Whigs were feasting like pigs,
In the cause of the grand Revolution!
Don Holland of Kensington, while his Whig friends in town,
Grand tavern-speeches were planning,
Wrote a note just to tell the brave Arguelles
How much wiser the Whigs are than Canning.
"All England one feeling displays, sir,
Never mind what the Minister says, sir!
At him you may hoot—and the Council to boot,
For England is all in a blaze, sir!"
As the Whigs had for years rung peace in our ears,
When for war the whole nation did burn, sirs,
'Twould surely be hard, if they now were debarr'd
From crying for war in their turn, sirs!
So Mackintosh made an oration,
As bold as a war proclamation,
Then finish'd his boast, with this apposite toast,
"May peace be preserved to the nation!"
Then leave 'em to prate, and spout, and debate,
We all know there's nought but a show meant;
Let 'em blow hot and cold—be shy, or be bold,
As the humour prevails at the moment:
Let 'em cry up the grand Revolution!
The gallant and brave Revolution!
And all to a man—bawl as loud as they can,
"Huzza! for the brave Revolution!"
THIS IMITATION OF BUNBURY'S "LITTLE GREY MAN,"
Preserved among the Tales of Wonder, is, without permission, inscribed to a Major-General of the British Army, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, Agent for the Ionian Islands, and a Pensioner of the present Administration, &c., &c., &c.
Oh! deep was the sorrow, and sad was the day,
When death took our gracious old Monarch away,
And gave us a Queen, lost to honour and fame,
Whose manners are folly, whose conduct is shame;
Who with aliens and vagabonds long having stroll'd,
Soon caught up their morals, loose, brazen, and bold.
She had traversed the globe in all quarters, to show
To what depth of debasement a Princess could go;
And with front unabash'd, when her guilt was display'd,
The altar insulted with impious parade;
Whilst sick with disgust at a scene so profane,
Not one decent female would move in her train.
She paid a vile rabble to shout round her car,
Her teachers, so pious, were Fellowes and Parr;
Her councillors, Aldermen Waithman and Wood,
Could she find nothing worse? She might try if she could.
Abroad there was nothing more low than her groom,
At home there are Wilson, Moore, Hobhouse, and Hume.
Oh! what will the rancour of party not do!
Ye Howards and Russells, this sigh is for you!
To an union so base can ye bend your proud will?
Yes, great though the peril, unmeasured the ill,
Through the country delusion and clamour must ring,
And your rivals to strike, you must menace your King.
In Suffolk, to aid in so loyal a plan,
From Mildenhall upstarts a little dark man;
His hue it was bilious, his eyes they were ghast,
Long and pale were his fingers that held a quill fast,
And grimly he scowl'd, whilst his rancour and spleen
Distill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.
How spotless and pure was this paragon shown!
How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne,
Their motives were wicked, their actions were base;—
Some wonder'd, no doubt, at so alter'd a case,
Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain that he can,
The favours they heap'd on this dark little man.
From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,
Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shared;
With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,
He outstripp'd the foremost of line or of staff;
But soon from the chances of service withdrew,
With the profits and safety of office in view.
To Liverpool, Bathurst, and colleagues he bow'd;
He courted their smiles, and attachment he vow'd;
Obtain'd a snug place, with the means to do ill,
To some who despised, but remember it still:
He was fearlessly trusted, and laugh'd in his sleeve—
"Those you mean to betray you must ever deceive."
Indulged by his patrons, the confident elf,
No talent imagined except in himself;
Of the merits of others a censor severe,
Even Wellington might not escape from his sneer;
But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,
Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!
Next a General's apparel he put on, so new,
The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,
With gold all embroider'd so costly; and last
The loop with the plume that waved high in the blast,
'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,
To have gazed on the dizen'd-out little dark man.
That Order, of Heroes the dying bequest,
Its ribbon that blush'd as it cover'd his breast;
The Star and the Badge that tried valour should wear,
As if he had earn'd them, he took to his share:
Like a pigmy he climb'd up on Honour's high tree,
And blazon'd his name with a large K. C. B.
Now the battle of battles was won!!—O'er his foes
Triumphant the lion of England arose,
And gave peace to the world.—No longer, 'twas plain,
The little dark man could his office retain;
Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear,
In pension and place, fifteen hundred a year.
He growl'd and intrigued but in vain—he is gone!
Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none:
But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure,
The moment seems tempting, the victims secure.
Strike! strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped,
And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head.
The little dark man then he set up a yell,
And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell;
He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin,
And he grinn'd, and he shouted a horrible grin,
And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast;
But pension and sinecure still he holds fast.
When a score and three days make the age of the year,
To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair:
E'er a score and three more, so the King might decree
The country another election may see.
But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan,
And will baffle the arts of the little dark man.