In short, dear Bob, Destroyer the Second
May fairly a match for the First be reckoned;
Save that _your_ Thalaba's talent lay
In sweeping old conjurors clean away,
While ours at aldermen deals his blows,
(Who no great conjurors are, God knows,)
Lays Corporations, by wholesale, level,
Sends Acts of Parliament to the devil,
Bullies the whole Milesian race--
Seven millions of Paddies, face to face;
And, seizing that magic wand, himself,
Which erst thy conjurors left on the shelf,
Transforms the boys of the Boyne and Liffey
All into _foreigners_, in a jiffy--
Aliens, outcasts, every soul of 'em,
Born but for whips and chains, the whole of 'em?
Never in short did parallel
Betwixt two heroes _gee_ so well;
And among the points in which they fit,
There's one, dear Bob, I can't omit.
That hacking, hectoring blade of thine
Dealt much in the _Domdaniel_ line;
And 'tis but rendering justice due,
To say that ours and his Tory crew
_Damn Daniel_ most devoutly too.
RIVAL TOPICS.[1]
AN EXTRAVAGANZA.
Oh Wellington and Stephenson,
Oh morn and evening papers,
_Times_, _Herald_, _Courier_, _Globe_, and _Sun_,
When will ye cease our ears to stun
With these two heroes' capers?
Still "Stephenson" and "Wellington,"
The everlasting two!--
Still doomed, from rise to set of sun,
To hear what mischief one has done,
And t'other means to do:--
What bills the banker past to friends,
But never meant to pay;
What Bills the other wight intends,
As honest, in their way;--
Bills, payable at distant sight,
Beyond the Grecian kalends,
When all good deeds will come to light,
When Wellington will do what's right,
And Rowland pay his balance.
Pages:
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255