Every trace of the ministry with which he came;
But there’s no light I fear,
Which ever can clear
The stain upon the brightness of Brougham’s fame.
Figaro in London, June 22, 1833.
——:o:——
Sixty or seventy years ago when Moore’s poems were in the height of their popularity they were made the subject of a vast number of parodies. Of these the majority would now be of no interest whatever, relating as they do to persons and events long since forgotten. Some of the best of these old parodies have already been given, a few others may be enumerated to which reference could easily be made by any reader desirous of seeing them.
The Spirit of the Public Journals for 1823 contained a great many travesties of Moore’s Irish melodies, nearly all of which were political. The first lines of these are as follows:—
- Go where Plutus waits thee.
- Remember the Deeds of Sir Billy the Fat.
- Rich and rare were the gems she wore
- If in death I should lie supine.
- When first I met thee, fat and fair.
- ’Tis the last squeak of Derry, left nearly alone.
- We can roam through the Town, and of Flats make a feast.
- Peggy hath a squinting eye. (See [page 245].)
- Come send round the wine. (See [page 243].)
- Though numerous our debts are.
- Oh! had I some nice little lass of my own.
- Come rest in this bosom, my sweet pretty dear!
- Rich and furred was the robe he wore. (See [page 238].)
- Fly not yet.
- Blesington hath a beaming eye.
- Go where Bennett waits thee.
- The Old Whig Club is meeting, Duke.
The same Volume also contains a Burlesque review, or, as it is termed, a criticism extraordinary, upon a supposed poem, entitled Loves of the Mortals, by Timothy Tickle, Esq. This jeu d’esprit was published a few days after The Loves of the Angels, and the extracts given from the imaginary poem parody that work.