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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


[2] This is not quite according to the facts of the case; his wife having
been the contriver of the stratagem, and remained in the prison herself to
give him time for escape.



ANNOUNCEMENT OF A NEW THALABA.
ADDRESSED TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

When erst, my Southey, thy tuneful tongue
The terrible tale of Thalaba sung--
Of him, the Destroyer, doomed to rout
That grim divan of conjurors out,
Whose dwelling dark, as legends say,
Beneath the roots of the ocean lay,
(Fit place for deep ones, such as they,)
How little thou knewest, dear Dr. Southey,
Altho' bright genius all allow thee,
That, some years thence, thy wondering eyes
Should see a second Thalaba rise--
As ripe for ruinous rigs as thine,
Tho' his havoc lie in a different line,
And should find this new, improved Destroyer
Beneath the wig of a Yankee lawyer;
A sort of an "alien," _alias_ man,
Whose country or party guess who can,
Being Cockney half, half Jonathan;
And his life, to make the thing completer,
Being all in the genuine Thalaba metre,
Loose and irregular as thy feet are;--
First, into Whig Pindarics rambling,
Then in low Tory doggrel scrambling;
Now _love_ his theme, now _Church_ his glory
(At once both Tory and ama-tory),
Now in the Old Bailey-_lay_ meandering,
Now in soft _couplet_ style philandering;
And, lastly, in lame Alexandrine,
Dragging his wounded length along,
When scourged by Holland's silken thong.


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