The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with notes

But I can't conceive how, in this very cold weather,
I'm ever to bring my five hundred together;
As, unless the thermometer's near boiling heat,
One can never get half of one's hundreds to meet-
(Apropos-you'd have laughed to see Townsend, last night,
Escort to their chair, with his staff so polite,
The Three Maiden Miseries,' all in a fright!
Poor Townsend, like Mercury, filling two posts,
Supervisor of thieves, and chief usher of ghosts!)

But, my dear Lady
can't you hit on some notion,
At least for one night to set London in motion?
As to having the R--g-nt-that show is gone by-
Besides, I've remarked that (between you and I)
The Marchesa and he, inconvenient in more ways,
Have taken much lately to whispering in doorways;
Which-considering, you know, dear, the size of the two-
Makes a block that one's company cannot get through;
And a house such as mine is, with doorways so small,
Has no room for such cumbersome love work at all!-
(Apropos, though, of love-work-you've heard it, I hope,
That Napoleon's old Mother's to marry the Pope,-
What a comical pair!)-But, to stick to my Rout,
"Twill be hard if some novelty can't be struck out.
Is there no Algerine, no Kamchatkan arrived ?
No Plenipo Pacha, three-tailed and ten-wived?
No Russian, whose dissonant consonant name
Almost rattles to fragments the trumpet of fame?

I remember the time, three or four winters back,
When-provided their wigs were but decently black-
A few Patriot monsters, from Spain, were a sight
That would people one's house for one, night after night,
But-whether the Ministers pawed them too much-
(And you know how they spoil whatever they touch),
Or, whether Lord G-rge (the young man about town)
Has by dint of bad poetry written them down-
One has certainly lost one's Peninsular rage,

And the only stray Patriot seen for an age

Has been at such places (think how the fit cools)

As old Mrs. V.

-n's or Lord L-v-rp-l's!

But in short, my dear, names like Wintztschitstopschinzoudhoff
Are the only things now make an evening go smooth off—
So get me a Russian-till death I'm your debtor-

If he brings the whole Alphabet, so much the better!
And-Lord! if he would but in character sup
Off his fish-oil and candles, he'd quite set me up!

Au revoir, my sweet girl-I must leave you in haste-
Little Gunter has brought me the Liqueurs to taste.

POSTSCRIPT.

By-the-bye, have you found any friend that can conster
That Latin account, t'other day, of a Monster?1
If we can't get a Russian, and that thing in Latin
Be not too improper, I think I'll bring that in.

LETTER VI.

FROM ABDALLAH IN LONDON, TO MOHASSAN IN ISPAHAN.

fetter

WHILST thou, Mohassan (happy thou!) | Yet, though they thus their knee-pans
Dost daily bend thy loyal brow
Before our King-our Asia's treasure!
Nutmeg of Comfort! Rose of Plea-

sure!

And bear'st as many kicks and bruises
As the said Rose and Nutmeg chooses;-
Thy head still near the bowstring's
borders,

And but left on till further orders!
Through London streets with turban
fair,

And caftan floating to the air,
I saunter on-the admiration
Of this short-coated population-
This sewed-up race this buttoned
nation-

Who, while they boast their laws so
free,

Leave not one limb at liberty,

But live, with all their lordly speeches, The slaves of buttons and tight breeches.

(They're Christians, and they know no
better),3

In some things they're a thinking nation,
And, on Religious Toleration,
I own I like their notions quite,
They are so Persian and so right!
You know our Sunnites,4 hateful dogs!
Whom every pious Shiite flogs,
Or longs to flog-'tis true, they pray
To God, but in an ill-bred way;
With neither arms, nor legs, nor faces
Stuck in their right, canonic places !6

'Tis true, they worship Ali's name?—
Their heaven and ours are just the

same

(A Persian's heaven is easily made,
'Tis but-black eyes and lemonade).
Yet, though we've tried for centuries
back,

We can't persuade the stubborn pack,

1 Alluding, I suppose, to the Latin advertisc- each other, without any intermission, for about ment of a Lusus Nature in the newspapers eleven hundred years. The Sunni is the estalately. blished sect in Turkey, and the Shia in Persia; 2 I have made many inquiries about this Per- and the differences between them turn chiefly sian gentleman, but cannot satisfactorily ascer-upon those important points which our pious tain who he is. From his notions of Religious friend Abdallah, in the true spirit of Shiite Liberty, however, I conclude that he is an im- ascendency, reprobates in this Letter. portation of Ministers; and he has arrived just 5 Les Sunnites, qui étaient comme les cathoin time to assist the Pe and Mr. L-ck-e in liques de Musulmanisme.'-D'Herbelot. their new Oriental Plan of Reform: See the second of these Letters.-How Abdallah's Epistle to Ispahan found its way into the Twopenny Post Bag is more than I can pretend to account for.

3'C'est un honnête homme,' said a Turkish governor of de Ruyter; 'c'est grand dommage qu'il soit Chrétien.'

+ Sunnites and Shiites are the two leading sects into which the Mohammedan world is divided; and they have gone on cursing and persecuting

In contradistinction to the Sounis, who in their prayers cross their hands on the lower part of the breast, the Schiahs drop their arms in straight lines; and as the Sounis, at certain periods of the prayer, press their foreheads on the ground or carpet, the Schiahs,' etc. etc.— Forster's Voyage.

7 Les Turcs ne détestent pas Ali réciproquement; au contraire ils le reconnaissent,' etc. etc. -Chardin,

By bastinadoes, screws, or nippers, To wear the established pea-green slippers!1 Then-only think-the libertines! They wash their toes, they comb their chins, 2

With many more such deadly sins! And (what's the worst, though last I rank it)

Believe the Chapter of the Blanket!
Yet, spite of tenets so flagitious,
(Which must at bottom be seditious
As no man living would refuse
Green slippers, but from treasonous
views;

Nor wash his toes, but with intent
To overturn the government!)
Such is our mild and tolerant way,
We only curse them twice a-day
(According to a form that's set),
And, far from torturing, only let
All orthodox believers beat 'em,
And twitch their beards, whene'er they

meet 'em.

As to the rest, they're free to do
Whate'er their fancy prompts them to,
Provided they make nothing of it
Towards rank or honour, power or
profit;

Which things, we naturally expect,
Belong to us, the Established sect,

Who disbelieve (the Lord be thanked)
The aforesaid Chapter of the Blanket.
The same mild views of Toleration
Whose Papists (full as given to rogue,
Inspire, I find, this buttoned nation,
And only Sunnites with a brogue)
As rascal Sunnites do with us.
Fare just as well, with all their fuss.

The tender Gazel 1 enclose
Is for my love, my Syrian Rose-
Take it, when night begins to fall,
And throw it o'er her mother's wall.

GAZEI

Rememberest thou the hour we past?
That hour, the happiest and the last !—
Oh! not so sweet the Siha thorn
To summer bees at break of morn,
Not half so sweet, through dale and
dell,

To camels' ears the tinkling bell,
As is the soothing memory
Of that one precious hour to me!
How can we live, so far apart?
Oh! why not rather heart to heart
United live aud die?-
Like those sweet birds that fly toge
ther,

With feather always touching feather,
Linked by a hook and eye!3

LETTER VII.

FROM MESSRS. L-CK-GT-N AND CO. TO

ESQ. 4

PER POST, Sir, we send your MS.-looked it throughVery sorry-but can't undertake-'twouldn't do.

Clever work, Sir!-would get up prodigiously wellIts only defect is-it never would sell!

And though Statesmen may glory in being unbought,
In an Author we think, Sir, that's rather a fault.

'The Shiites wear green slippers, which the Sunnites consider as a great abomination.'Mariti.

2 For these points of difference, as well as for the Chapter of the Blanket, I must refer the reader (not having the book by me) to Picart's Account of the Mahometan Sects.

3 This will appear strange to an English reader, but it is literally translated from Abdal's Persian; and the curious bird to which he

alludes is the Juftak, of which I find the following account in Richardson :-'A sort of bird that is said to have but one wing, on the opposite side to which the male has a hook and the female a ring, so that, when they fly, they are fastened together.'

From motives of delicacy, and indeed of fellow-feeling, I suppress the name of the author whose rejected manuscript was enclosed in this letter.-See the Appendix.

Hard times, Sir,-most books are too dear to be read
Though the gold of Good-sense and Wit's small-change are fled,
Yet the paper we publishers pass, in their stead,
Rises higher each day, and ('tis frightful to think it)
Not even such names as F-tzg-r-d's can sink it!
However, Sir-if you're for trying again,

And at somewhat that's vendible-we are your men.

Since the Chevalier C-rr took to marrying lately,
The Trade is in want of a Traveller greatly—
No job, Sir, more easy-your Country once planned,
A month aboard ship and a fortnight on land
Puts your Quarto of Travels clean out of hand.
An East-India pamphlet's a thing that would tell-
And a lick at the Papists is sure to sell well.
Or-supposing you have nothing original in you-
Write Parodies, Sir, and such fame it will win you,
You'll get to the Blue-stocking Routs of Alb-n—a !1
(Mind-not to her dinners-a second-hand Muse
Mustn't think of aspiring to mess with the Blues.)
Or-in case nothing else in this world you can do-
The deuce is in't, Sir, if you cannot review!

Should you feel any touch of poetical glow,

We've a scheme to suggest-Mr. Sc-tt, you must know
(Who, we're sorry to say it, now works for the Row2),
Having quitted the Borders to seek new renown,
Is coming, by long Quarto stages, to Town;

And beginning with Rokeby (the job's sure to pay),
Means to do all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way.

Now, the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys can beat him)
To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to meet him ;

Who, by means of quick proofs-no revises-long coaches-
May do a few Villas before Sc-tt approaches-

Indeed, if our Pegasus be not curst shabby,

He'll reach, without foundering, at least Woburn Abbey.

Such, Sir, is our plan-if you're up to the freak,

'Tis a match! and we'll put you in training next week-
At present no more-in reply to this Letter, a
Line will oblige very much

Temple of the Muses.

Yours, et cetera,

This alludes, I believe, to a curious correspondence which is said to have passed lately be tween Alb-n-a, Countess of B-ck-gh-ms-e, and a certain ingenious Parodist.

2 Paternoster Row.

Born for each other's fond allegiance! Both gay Lotharios-both good dres

COME to our Fête,1 and bring with thee | Hail, first of Actors !2 best of R-g-ts!
Thy newest, best embroidery !
Come to our Fête, and show again
That pea-green coat, thou pink of men!
Which charmed all eyes that last sur-
veyed it,

When B

-I's self inquired' who made

it ?' When Cits came wondering from the East,

And thought thee Poet Pye, at least!

Oh! come-(if haply 'tis thy week
For looking pale)-with paly cheek;
Though more we love thy roseate days,
When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze
Full o'er thy face, and, amply spread,
Tips even thy whisker-tops with red-
Like the last tints of dying Day
That o'er some darkling grove delay !

Bring thy best lace, thou gay Phi-
lander!

(That lace, like H-rry Al-x-nd—r, Too precious to be washed)-thy rings, Thy seals-in short, thy prettiest things!

Put all thy wardrobe's glories on,

And yield, in frogs and fringe, to none But the great R-g-t's self alone! Who, by particular desire,

For that night only, means to hire

sers

Of Serious Farce both learned Profes

sors

Both circled round, for use or show, With coxcombs, wheresoe'er they go !

Thou know'st the time, thou man of lore !

It takes to chalk a ball-room floorThou know'st the time, too, well-aday!

It takes to dance that chalk away,3
The ball-room opens-far and nigh
Comets and suns beneath us lie;
O'er snowy moons and stars we walk,
And the floor seems a sky of chalk!
But soon shall fade the bright deceit,
When many a maid, with busy feet
That sparkle in the Lustre's ray,
O'er the white path shall bound and
play

Like Nymphs along the Milky Way!-
At every step a star is fled,

And suns grow dim beneath their tread!

So passeth life-(thus Sc-tt would write,

And spinsters read him with delight) — Hours are not feet, yet hours trip on,

A dress from Romeo C-tes, Esquire-Time is not chalk, yet time's soon gone !4 Something between (twere sin to hack it)

The Romeo robe and Hobby jacket!

But, hang this long digressive flight!
I meant to say, thou'lt see, that night

Illum

non equus impiger

Curu ducct Achaico.

3 To those who neither go to balls nor read the Morning Post, it may be necessary to mention that the floors of ball-rooms, in general, are chalked, for safety and for ornament, with various fanciful devices.

4 Hearts are not flint, yet flints are rent,

Hearts are not steel, yet steel is bent. After all, however, Mr. Sc-tt may well say to the Colonel (and, indeed, to much better wags than the Colonel), paov uwμetodai o pipetodai.

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The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with notes, Tema 354