T. PIDCOCK
_Exeter 'Change_,
ODE TO DON MIGUEL.
Et tu, _Brute_!
1828.[1]
What! Miguel, _not_ patriotic! oh, fy!
After so much good teaching 'tis quite a _take-in_, Sir;
First schooled as you were under Metternich's eye,
And then (as young misses say) "finisht" at Windsor![2]
I ne'er in my life knew a case that was harder;--
Such feasts as you had when you made us a call!
Three courses each day from his Majesty's larder,--
And now to turn absolute Don after all!!
Some authors, like Bayes, to the style and the matter
Of each thing they _write_ suit the way that they _dine_,
Roast sirloin for Epic, broiled devils for Satire,
And hotchpotch and _trifle_ for rhymes such as mine.
That Rulers should feed the same way, I've no doubt;--
Great Despots on _bouilli_ served up _a la Russe_,[3]
Your small German Princes on frogs and sour crout,
And your Viceroy of Hanover always on _goose_.
_Some_ Dons too have fancied (tho' this may be fable)
A dish rather dear, if in cooking they blunder it;--
Not content with the common _hot_ meat _on_ a table,
They're partial (eh, Mig?) to a dish of _cold under_ it![4]
No wonder a Don of such appetites found
Even Windsor's collations plebeianly plain;
Where the dishes most _high_ that my Lady sends round
Are here _Maintenon_ cutlets and soup _a la Reine_.
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