The Duke is the lad to frighten a lass.
Galloping, dreary duke;
The Duke is the lad to frighten a lass,
He's an ogre to meet, and the devil to pass,
With his charger prancing,
Grim eye glancing,
Chin, like a Mufti,
Grizzled and tufty,
Galloping, dreary Duke.
Ye misses, beware of the neighborhood
Of this galloping dreary Duke;
Avoid him, all who see no good
In being run o'er by a Prince of the Blood.
For, surely, no nymph is
Fond of a grim phiz.
And of the married,
Whole crowds have miscarried
At sight of this dreary Duke.
EPISTLE
FROM ERASMUS ON EARTH TO CICERO IN THE SHADES.
Southampton.
As 'tis now, my dear Tully, some weeks since I started
By railroad for earth, having vowed ere we parted
To drop you a line by the Dead-Letter post,
Just to say how I thrive in my new line of ghost,
And how deucedly odd this live world all appears,
To a man who's been dead now for three hundred years,
I take up my pen, and with news of this earth
Hope to waken by turns both your spleen and your mirth.
In my way to these shores, taking Italy first,
Lest the change from Elysium too sudden should burst,
I forgot not to visit those haunts where of yore
You took lessons from Paetus in cookery's lore.
Turned aside from the calls of the rostrum and Muse,
To discuss the rich merits of rôtis and stews,
And preferred to all honors of triumph or trophy,
A supper on prawns with that rogue, little Sophy.
Having dwelt on such classical musings awhile,
I set off by a steam-boat for this happy isle,
(A conveyance you ne'er, I think, sailed by, my Tully,
And therefore, per next, I'll describe it more fully,)
Having heard on the way what distresses me greatly,
That England's o'errun by idolaters lately,
Stark, staring adorers of wood and of stone,
Who will let neither stick, stock or statue alone.
Such the sad news I heard from a tall man in black,
Who from sports continental was hurrying back,
To look after his tithes;—seeing, doubtless, 'twould follow,
That just as of old your great idol, Apollo,
Devoured all the Tenths, so the idols in question,
These wood and stone gods, may have equal digestion,
And the idolatrous crew whom this Rector despises,
May eat up the tithe-pig which he idolizes.
London.
'Tis all but too true—grim Idolatry reigns
In full pomp over England's lost cities and plains!
On arriving just now, as my first thought and care
Was as usual to seek out some near House of Prayer,
Some calm holy spot, fit for Christians to pray on,
I was shown to—what think you?—a downright Pantheon!