Her black, bright, downcast, yet espiegle eye, Had gather'd a large tear into its corner, Which the poor thing at times essay'd to dry, For she was not a sentimental mourner Parading all her sensibility, Nor insolent enough to scorn the scorner, But stood in trembling, patient tribulation, To be call'd up for her examination.
Of course these groups were scatter'd here and there, Not nigh the gay saloon of ladies gent.
The lawyers in the study; and in air The prize pig, ploughman, poachers; the men sent From town, viz., architect and dealer, were Both busy (as a general in his tent Writing despatches) in their several stations, Exulting in their brilliant lucubrations.
But this poor girl was left in the great hall, While Scout, the parish guardian of the frail, Discuss'd (he hated beer yclept the 'small')
A mighty mug of moral double ale.
She waited until justice could recall Its kind attentions to their proper pale, To name a thing in nomenclature rather Perplexing for most virgins- a child's father.
You see here was enough of occupation For the Lord Henry, link'd with dogs and horses.
There was much bustle too, and preparation Below stairs on the score of second courses;
Because, as suits their rank and situation, Those who in counties have great land resources Have 'Public days,' when all men may carouse, Though not exactly what 's call'd 'open house.'
But once a week or fortnight, uninvited (Thus we translate a general invitation), All country gentlemen, esquired or knighted, May drop in without cards, and take their station At the full board, and sit alike delighted With fashionable wines and conversation;
And, as the isthmus of the grand connection, Talk o'er themselves the past and next election.
Lord Henry was a great electioneerer, Burrowing for boroughs like a rat or rabbit;
But county contests cost him rather dearer, Because the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit Had English influence in the self-same sphere here;
His son, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit, Was member for the 'other interest' (meaning The same self-interest, with a different leaning).
Courteous and cautious therefore in his county, He was all things to all men, and dispensed To some civility, to others bounty, And promises to all- which last commenced To gather to a somewhat large amount, he Not calculating how much they condensed;
But what with keeping some, and breaking others, His word had the same value as another's.
A friend to freedom and freeholders- yet No less a friend to government- he held, That he exactly the just medium hit 'Twixt place and patriotism- albeit compell'd, Such was his sovereign's pleasure (though unfit, He added modestly, when rebels rail'd), To hold some sinecures he wish'd abolish'd, But that with them all law would be demolish'd.
He was 'free to confess' (whence comes this phrase?
Is 't English? No- 't is only parliamentary)
That innovation's spirit now-a-days Had made more progress than for the last century.
He would not tread a factious path to praise, Though for the public weal disposed to venture high;
As for his place, he could but say this of it, That the fatigue was greater than the profit.
Heaven, and his friends, knew that a private life Had ever been his sole and whole ambition;
But could he quit his king in times of strife, Which threaten'd the whole country with perdition?
When demagogues would with a butcher's knife Cut through and through (oh! damnable incision!)
The Gordian or the Geordi-an knot, whose strings Have tied together commons, lords, and kings.
Sooner 'come lace into the civil list And champion him to the utmost'- he would keep it, Till duly disappointed or dismiss'd:
Profit he care not for, let others reap it;
But should the day come when place ceased to exist, The country would have far more cause to weep it:
For how could it go on? Explain who can!
He gloried in the name of Englishman.
He was as independent- ay, much more-Than those who were not paid for independence, As common soldiers, or a common- shore, Have in their several arts or parts ascendance O'er the irregulars in lust or gore, Who do not give professional attendance.
Thus on the mob all statesmen are as eager To prove their pride, as footmen to a beggar.
All this (save the last stanza) Henry said, And thought. I say no more- I 've said too much;
For all of us have either heard or read-Off- or upon the hustings- some slight such Hints from the independent heart or head Of the official candidate. I 'll touch No more on this- the dinner-bell hath rung, And grace is said; the grace I should have sung-But I 'm too late, and therefore must make play.
'T was a great banquet, such as Albion old Was wont to boast- as if a glutton's tray Were something very glorious to behold.
But 't was a public feast and public day,-Quite full, right dull, guests hot, and dishes cold, Great plenty, much formality, small cheer, And every body out of their own sphere.
The squires familiarly formal, and My lords and ladies proudly condescending;
The very servants puzzling how to hand Their plates- without it might be too much bending From their high places by the sideboard's stand-Yet, like their masters, fearful of offending.
For any deviation from the graces Might cost both man and master too- their places.
There were some hunters bold, and coursers keen, Whose hounds ne'er err'd, nor greyhounds deign'd to lurch;
Some deadly shots too, Septembrizers, seen Earliest to rise, and last to quit the search Of the poor partridge through his stubble screen.
There were some massy members of the church, Takers of tithes, and makers of good matches, And several who sung fewer psalms than catches.
There were some country wags too- and, alas!
Some exiles from the town, who had been driven To gaze, instead of pavement, upon grass, And rise at nine in lieu of long eleven.
And lo! upon that day it came to pass, I sate next that o'erwhelming son of heaven, The very powerful parson, Peter Pith, The loudest wit I e'er was deafen'd with.
