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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"

D.'s--where the devil are they now?"
"My dearest Lord Bags!" saith his dame, "_can_ you doubt?
"I am loath to remind you of things so unpleasant;
"But _don't_ you perceive, dear, the Church have found out
"That you're one of the people called _Ex's_, at present?"
"Ah, true--you have hit it--I _am_, indeed, one
"Of those ill-fated _Ex's_ (his Lordship replies),
"And with tears, I confess--God forgive me the pun!--
"We X's have proved ourselves _not_ to be Y's."

[1] A small bathing-place on the coast of Dorsetshire, long a favorite
summer resort of the ex-nobleman in question and, _till this season_, much
frequented also by gentlemen of the church.
[2] The Lord Chancellor Eldon.



WO! WO![1]

Wo, wo unto him who would check or disturb it--
That beautiful Light which is now on its way;
Which beaming, at first, o'er the bogs of Belturbet,
Now brightens sweet Ballinafad with its ray!
Oh Farnham, Saint Farnham, how much do we owe thee!
How formed to all tastes are thy various employs.
The old, as a catcher of Catholics, know thee;
The young, as an amateur scourger of boys.
Wo, wo to the man who such doings would smother!--
On, Luther of Bavan! On, Saint of Kilgroggy!
With whip in one hand and with Bible in t'other,
Like Mungo's tormentor, both "preachee and floggee.


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