[1] The _Casa Santa_, supposed to have been carried by angels through
the air from Galilee to Italy.
THE REVEREND PAMPHLETEER.
A ROMANTIC BALLAD.
Oh, have you heard what hapt of late?
If not, come lend an ear,
While sad I state the piteous fate
Of the Reverend Pamphleteer.
All praised his skilful jockeyship,
Loud rung the Tory cheer,
While away, away, with spur and whip,
Went the Reverend Pamphleteer.
The nag he rode--how _could_ it err?
'Twas the same that took, last year,
That wonderful jump to Exeter
With the Reverend Pamphleteer.
Set a beggar on horseback, wise men say,
The course he will take is clear:
And in _that_ direction lay the way
Of the Reverend Pamphleteer,
"Stop, stop," said Truth, but vain her cry--
Left far away in the rear,
She heard but the usual gay "Good-by"
From her faithless Pamphleteer.
You may talk of the jumps of Homer's gods,
When cantering o'er our sphere--
I'd back for a _bounce_, 'gainst any odds,
This Reverend Pamphleteer.
But ah! what tumbles a jockey hath!
In the midst of his career,
A file of the _Times_ lay right in the path
Of the headlong Pamphleteer.
Whether he tript or shyed thereat,
Doth not so clear appear:
But down he came, as his sermons flat--
This Reverend Pamphleteer!
Lord King himself could scarce desire
To see a spiritual Peer
Fall much more dead, in the dirt and mire,
Than did this Pamphleteer.
Pages:
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261