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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


But Lords of Persia can, no doubt,
Do what they will--so, one fine morning,
He turned the rascal Ghebers out,
First giving a few kicks for warning.
Then, thanking Heaven most piously,
He knockt their Temple to the ground,
Blessing himself for joy to see
Such Pagan ruins strewed around.
But much it vext my Lord to find,
That, while all else obeyed his will,
The Fire these Ghebers left behind,
Do what he would, kept burning still.
Fiercely he stormed, as if his frown
Could scare the bright insurgent down;
But, no--such fires are headstrong things,
And care not much for Lords or Kings.
Scarce could his Lordship well contrive
The flashes in _one_ place to smother,
Before--hey presto!--all alive,
They sprung up freshly in another.
At length when, spite of prayers and damns,
'Twas found the sturdy flame defied him,
His stewards came, with low _salams_,
Offering, by _contract_, to provide him
Some large Extinguishers, (a plan,
Much used, they said, at Ispahan,
Vienna, Petersburg--in short,
Wherever Light's forbid at court),
Machines no Lord should be without,
Which would at once put promptly out
All kinds of fires,--from staring, stark
Volcanoes to the tiniest spark;
Till all things slept as dull and dark,
As in a great Lord's neighborhood
'Twas right and fitting all things should.


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