Ode To The Sublime Porte.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Great Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions!
And oh! above all I admire that Decree,
In which thou command'st that all she politicians
Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.

'Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster--
A maid who her faith in old Jeremy puts,
Who talks with a lisp of "the last new Westminster,"
And hopes you're delighted with "Mill upon Gluts;"

Who tells you how clever one Mr. Funblank is,
How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility;--
And assures you that even a gentleman's rank is
In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.

To see her, ye Gods, a new Number perusing--
ART. 1.--"On the Needle's variations," by Pl--ce;[1]
ART. 2.--By her Favorite Funblank[2]--"so amusing!
"Dear man! he makes Poetry quite a Law case."

ART. 3.--"Upon Fallacies," Jeremy's own--
(Chief Fallacy being his hope to find readers);-
ART. 4.--"Upon Honesty," author unknown;--
ART. 5.--(by the young Mr. Mill) "Hints to Breeders."

Oh, Sultan, oh, Sultan, tho' oft for the bag
And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to call--
Tho' drowning's too good for each blue-stocking hag,
I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all!

And lest she should ever again lift her head
From the watery bottom, her clack to renew--
As a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,
I would hang around her neck her own darling Review.

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