ON THE POPULARITY OF MR. CH—S K—N.
Oh, Mr. Punch! what glorious times
Are these, for humbly gifted mimes;
When, spite of each detracter,
Paternal name and filial love,
Assisted by “the powers above,”
Have made C——s K——n an actor!
“’Tis true,” his generous patrons say,
“Of genius he ne’er had a ray;
Yet, all his faults to smother,
The youth inherits, from his sire,
A name which all the world admire,
And dearly loves his mother!”
Stripp’d of his adventitious aid,
He ne’er ten pounds a week had made;
Yet every Thespian brother
Is now kept down, or put to flight,
While he gets fifty pounds a night,
Because—he loves his mother!
Though I’m, in heart and soul, a friend
To genuine talent, Heaven forefend
That I should raise a pother,
Because the philanthropic folks
Wink and applaud a pious hoax,
For one who—loves his mother!
No! Heaven prolong his parent’s life
And grant that no untimely strife
May wean them from each other!
For soon he’d find the golden fleece
Slip from his grasp, should he e’er cease
To keep and—love his mother!