THOUGH fallen from your high degree,
Once tapped by princely fingers,
You breathe of more than burnt rappee.
Round you a memory lingers
Of those wild days of wine and wit,
Of patch, peruke and passion,
When sprightly Oldfield ruled the Pit
And Hervey led the Fashion.
When Walpole trimmed the ship of State
To meet each Tory billow,
When Poet Pug lampooned the great,
When Pulteney played spadillo,
When Worthless Moll amused the Court
With philosophic chatter,
When Bolingbroke pledged deep in port
“The King across the water.”
When flashed the lightnings of the Dean
To blind the eyes of Stella,
When scoffing Congreve vowed with spleen
The wares of Gay prunella;
When, sated with the board’s delights—
For Georgian bucks were gluttons—
The town sparks sought the shades of White’s
Or tossed the dice at Button’s.
When tabinets were all the vogue
For feminine adorning,
When Irish Biddy raised her brogue
And clacked her pails at morning;
When long and loud the conflict raged
Betwixt the Maccaroni,
As each his diva’s cause engaged—
Faustina or Cuzzoni?
Old snuff-box could you thrill to speech,
In gossip none were greater,
Whose chronicles exceed the reach
Of Tatler or Spectator;
But ah! as dumb as dead Queen Anne,
You lie in peace unbroken,
A remnant of the Georgian span,
A Hanoverian token.
BALLADE OF FIGHT
To G. K. C.
WHEN slaves shall ride as their lords of yore
And kings in the gutter shall walk in shame,
When a knave shall borrow the statesman’s lore
And a charlatan the patriot’s fame,
When the praise of the past shall be as blame,
Out of Mancha shall ride a knight
With lance in rest for an outworn aim,
A stainless cause and a dauntless fight.
When a suppliant Peace shall still the roar
Of the battle thunders that burn and maim,
When fleets shall steal by a sullen shore
And squadrons wheel in a leaden game;
When the corporate voice has grown too tame
To raise a rally for God and Right,
He shall grace before squire and dame
A stainless cause with a dauntless fight.
When God leans out from the Ivory Door
And smites the dust of the worlds to flame
When up from the Pit the Great Shapes soar
Bearing Lucifer’s oriflamme,
Gay as a Gordon, proud as a Graham,
Though the Plains of Paradise invite,
He shall tilt for Our Lady’s name,
A stainless cause and a dauntless fight.
L’Envoi