Keep him always reversed in your thoughts, night and day,
Like an Irish barometer turned the wrong way:--
If he's _up_ you may swear that foul weather is nigh;
If he's _down_ you may look for a bit of blue sky.
Never mind what debaters or journalists say,
Only ask what _he_ thinks and then think t'other way.
Does he hate the Small-note Bill? then firmly rely
The Small-note Bill's a blessing, tho' _you_ don't know why.
Is Brougham his aversion? then Harry's your man.
Does he quake at O'Connell? take doubly to Dan.
Is he all for the Turks? then at once take the whole
Russian Empire (Tsar, Cossacks and all) to your soul.
In short, whatsoever he talks, thinks or is,
Be your thoughts, words and essence the contrast of his.
Nay, as Siamese ladies--at least the polite ones,--
All paint their teeth black, 'cause the devil has white ones-
If even by the chances of time or of tide
Your Tory for once should have sense on his side,
Even _then_ stand aloof--for be sure that Old Nick
When a Tory talks sensibly, means you some trick.
Such my recipe is--and, in one single verse,
I shall now, in conclusion, its substance rehearse,
Be all that a Brunswicker _is_ not nor _could_ be,
And then--you'll be all that an honest man should be.
EPISTLE OF CONDOLENCE.
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