New Creation Of Peers. Batch The First.

A poem by Thomas Moore

"His 'prentice han'
He tried on man,
And then he made the lasses."




"And now," quoth the Minister, (eased of his panics,
And ripe for each pastime the summer affords,)
"Having had our full swing at destroying mechanics,
"By way of set-off, let us make a few Lords.

"'Tis pleasant--while nothing but mercantile fractures,
"Some simple, some compound, is dinned in our ears--
"To think that, tho' robbed all coarse manufactures,
"We still have our fine manufacture of Peers;--

"Those Gotielin productions which Kings take a pride
"In engrossing the whole fabrication and trade of;
"Choice tapestry things very grand on one side,
"But showing, on t'other, what rags they are made of.

The plan being fixt, raw material was sought,--
No matter how middling, if Tory the creed be;
And first, to begin with, Squire W---, 'twas thought,
For a Lord was as raw a material as need be.

Next came with his penchant for painting and pelf
The tasteful Sir Charles,[1] so renowned far and near
For purchasing pictures and selling himself--
And both (as the public well knows) very dear.

Beside him Sir John comes, with equal ├ęclat, in;--
Stand forth, chosen pair, while for titles we measure ye;
Both connoisseur baronets, both fond of drawing,
Sir John, after nature, Sir Charles, on the Treasury.

But, bless us!--behold a new candidate come--
In his hand he upholds a prescription, new written:
He poiseth a pill-box 'twixt finger and thumb,
And he asketh a seat 'mong the Peers of Great Britain!

"Forbid it," cried Jenky, "ye Viscounts, ye Earls!
"Oh Rank, how thy glories would fall disenchanted,
"If coronets glistend with pills stead of pearls,
"And the strawberry-leaves were by rhubarb supplanted!

"No--ask it not, ask it not, dear Doctor Holford--
"If naught but a Peerage can gladden thy life,
"And young Master Holford as yet is too small for't,
"Sweet Doctor, we'll make a she Peer of thy wife.

"Next to bearing a coronet on our own brows
"Is to bask in its light from the brows of another;
"And grandeur o'er thee shall reflect from thy spouse,
"As o'er Vesey Fitzgerald 'twill shine thro' his mother."[2]

Thus ended the First Batch--and Jenky, much tired
(It being no joke to make Lords by the heap),
Took a large dram of ether--the same that inspired
His speech 'gainst the Papists--and prosed off to sleep.

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