'
"In vain are laws past,
"There's nothing holds you fast,
"Tho' you know, sweet Sovereign, I adore you--
"At the smallest hint in life,
"You forsake your lawful wife,
"As _other_ Sovereigns did before you.
"I flirt with Silver, true--
"But what can ladies do,
"When disowned by their natural protectors?
"And as to falsehood, stuff!
"I shall soon be _false_ enough,
"When I get among those wicked Bank Directors."
The Sovereign, smiling on her,
Now swore upon his honor,
To be henceforth domestic and loyal;
But, within an hour or two,
Why--I sold him to a Jew,
And he's now at No. 10, Palais Royal.
AN EXPOSTULATION TO LORD KING.
_"quem das finem, rex magne, laborum?"_
VERGIL.
1826.
How _can_ you, my Lord, thus delight to torment all
The Peers of the realm about cheapening their corn,[1]
When you know, if one hasn't a very high rental,
'Tis hardly worth while being very high born?
Why bore them so rudely, each night of your life,
On a question, my Lord, there's so much to abhor in?
A question-like asking one, "How is your wife?"--
At once so confounded _domestic_ and _foreign_.
As to weavers, no matter how poorly they feast;
But Peers and such animals, fed up for show,
(Like the well-physickt elephant, lately deceased,)
Take a wonderful quantum of cramming, you know.
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