"
Thus spoke a mad Lord, as, with telescope raised,
His wild Tory eye on the heavens he set:
And tho' nothing destructive appeared as he gazed,
Much hoped that there _would_ before Parliament met.
And still, as odd shapes seemed to flit thro' his glass,
"Ha! there it is now," the poor maniac cries;
While his fancy with forms but too monstrous, alas!
From his own Tory zodiac peoples the skies:--
"Now I spy a big body, good heavens, how big!
"Whether Bucky[2] or Taurus I cannot well say:--
"And yonder there's Eldon's old Chancery wig,
"In its dusty aphelion fast fading away.
"I see, 'mong those fatuous meteors behind,
"Londonderry, _in vacuo_, flaring about;--
"While that dim double star, of the nebulous kind,
"Is the Gemini, Roden and Lorton, no doubt.
"Ah, Ellenborough! 'faith, I first thought 'twas the Comet;
"So like that in Milton, it made me quite pale;
"The head with the same 'horrid hair' coming from it,
"And plenty of vapor, but--where is the tail?"
Just then, up aloft jumpt the gazer elated--
For lo! his bright glass a phenomenon showed,
Which he took to be Cumberland, _upwards_ translated,
Instead of his natural course, _t'other_ road!
But too awful that sight for a spirit so shaken,--
Down dropt the poor Tory in fits and grimaces,
Then off to the Bedlam in Charles Street was taken,
And is now one of Halford's most favorite cases.
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