[3] Anti-Catholic associations, under the title of Brunswick Clubs, were
at this time becoming numerous both in England and Ireland.
INCANTATION.
FROM THE NEW TRAGEDY OF "THE BRUNSWICKERS."
SCENE.--_Penenden Plain. In the middle, a caldron boiling. Thunder.--
Enter three Brunswickers_.
_1st Bruns_.--Thrice hath scribbling Kenyon scrawled,
_2d Bruns_.--Once hath fool Newcastle bawled,
_3d Bruns_.--Bexley snores:--'tis time, 'tis time,
_1st Bruns_.--Round about the caldron go;
In the poisonous nonsense throw.
Bigot spite that long hath grown
Like a toad within a stone,
Sweltering in the heart of Scott,
Boil we in the Brunswick pot.
_All_.--Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble,
Eldon, talk, and Kenyon, scribble.
_2d Bruns_.--Slaver from Newcastle's quill
In the noisome mess distil,
Brimming high our Brunswick broth
Both with venom and with froth.
Mix the brains (tho' apt to hash ill,
Being scant) of Lord Mountcashel,
With that malty stuff which Chandos
Drivels as no other man does.
Catch (_i. e._ if catch you can)
One idea, spick and span,
From my Lord of Salisbury,--
One idea, tho' it be
Smaller than the "happy flea"
Which his sire in sonnet terse
Wedded to immortal verse.[1]
Tho' to rob the son is sin,
Put his _one_ idea in;
And, to keep it company,
Let that conjuror Winchelsea
Drop but _half_ another there,
If he hath so much to spare.
Pages:
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178