human
Can you write me a poem about ludgate hill and westphalia in the style of Jean Héroard?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about ludgate hill and westphalia in the style of Jean Héroard:
  'He jests at Scars, who never felt a Wound'
_I shall, I trust, be acquitted of any servile view, when, in
_I have the honour to be,
With the greatest respect,
Your most obedient Servant,_
Starting to join his Regiment            _To face the Title_
Getting into his Billet                          "
Smells powder for the first time                 "
Johnny writes an account of the Action
to his Mother, which afterwards
appears in the _Star_                        "
Learning to Smoke and drink Grog                 "
Poor Johnny on the sick List                     "
Johnny safe returned to his Mama                 "
Dash'd with his Suite for Santarem that
Johnny on Duty with his Chief                    "
On Ludgate Hill, a traveller may see
John _Newcome_, Grocer, No. Fifty-three;
Now, sober reader, don't turn up your nose,
But profit by the truths I shall disclose.
The _Newcome_ family, you may believe,
Straitways descended from good Madam Eve;
Adam, a _Newcome_, when in Paradise,
The wily serpent did Dame Eve entice
To touch forbidden fruit; and to his shame,
Poor Adam _Newcome_ slily did the same:
For this, from Paradise they soon were hurl'd,
And thus Cain _Newcome_ came into the World.
'Twould be an endless job were I to trace
All the descendants of the _Newcome_ race:
Let it suffice that I curtail my rhymes,
To scenes connected with the present Times.
Widely extended is the _Newcome_ Name,
Some scoff'd for Folly, some renown'd for Fame;
Did we in Foreign Courts but look askance,
We find they've play'd the very Devil in France.
Each in his turn assum'd the Sovereign Sway,
'Till Boney _Newcome_ drove them all away;
Mighty in deeds, his Mighty power evinces,
And makes his tribes of _Newcomes_ Kings and Princes.
Louis to Holland went with State Regalia,
And silly Jerome king'd it at Westphalia:
Poor foolish Joe went slily into Spain,
But Paddy _Newcome_ whipt him out again.
Ah! Honey, that's a _Newcome_, if you please,
Makes Boney tremble in his Thuilleries.
His fame--but, let me onward with my story,
My humble rhymes would only mock his Glory.
In London _Newcomes_ every where are seen,
_Newcome's_ a Lord, a General, Knight or Dean--
_Newcomes_, where'er you go, you're sure to meet,
The Park, the Playhouse, or St. James's Street.
Amongst our Quality, you'll find a few,
And Carlton House has got its _Newcome_ too.
At both the Universities you find 'em,
But in such numbers that they never mind 'em.
Lots in the Line, and many in the Guards.
This leads me to the subject of my story,
Tho' first I thought it right to lay before ye,
By way of preface, or of introduction,
Or, if you please, a smattering of instruction;
Go as you will, no matter when, or where,
You're sure to see a Johnny _Newcome_ there.
Now this same Grocer was a man of weight,
Eat turtle soup, and talked of Church and State,--
For twenty years had bustled well through life,
Blest with one son by Doll his loving Wife:
The Youth, a lankey, awkward, shuffling Blade,
Bred by the old ones to pursue the Trade,
School'd by Mamma, who thought all learning stuff,
'Young John will have the Cash, and that's enough.'
By Martial ardour fired, John scorn'd to stop
And retail sugar in his father's Shop!
In spite of Daddy's wrath, and Mother's tears,
But the good souls were quickly reconcil'd
In admiration of their darling Child.
Old Johnny seem'd afraid he'd be too rash,
But Mother doated on the Sword, and Sash.
Soon Johnny grew ambitious of renown,
And sigh'd to flourish in some Country Town;
In some Militia Corps, at distant Quarters,
Act the Lothario with the Wives and Daughters.
Money, or Interest, never-failing friends,
Soon did the job, and Johnny gain'd his ends.
Translated then to a Militia Beau,
Dear, lively Captain _Newcome_'s all the go!
Damns smokey London, and the frowsy Cits;
With ardour talks of Marches, Camps, and Fight;
Such scenes as these would be his soul's delight.
At length, one day, his spirits flush'd with Wine,
Johnny resolved to go into the Line;
Writes to Mamma a coaxer to Petition
She'd make his Father buy him a Commission.
The doating Mother dwells with anxious pause,
Ere she could send her darling to the Wars.
But as she'd ne'er refused him what he wanted,
She paid the Cash, and his request was granted:
Soon now the Official letter made it known
That Ensign _Newcome_, Fourth or the King's Own,
Would on receipt immediately go,
And quick present himself at the Depot.
What thrilling tumults in his bosom came
To see amongst the Regulars his name!
So dash'd away in wondrous haste and pother,
To take a flying leave of Dad and Mother.
A soldier bold, now Johnny vaunts and vapours,
Anticipates his name in London papers.
'From admiration we cannot refrain,
'The gallant Ensign _Newcome_'s going to Spain;
'To shew our gratitude we don't dissemble,
'Heroes like him must make Massena tremble.'
Or, should a Battle ease him of his breath,
His Name's recorded in the list of Death;
The _Mortuum Caput_ then they thus would fill,
'Died Ensign _Newcome_, late of Ludgate Hill--
'Of twenty wounds receiv'd in an attack,
'All in his front, he scorn'd to turn his back.
'This sad event will be a grievous blow, Sir,
Young John was well aware to what extent
To purchase fame a golden guinea went;
At all the Shops where characters were sold,
He could be made a Hero for his gold;
A valiant Hero then at any rate,
Our John resolv'd to be or soon, or late.
An Order now arriv'd at the Depot,
'That Ensign _Newcome_ should to Hilsea go.'
Altho' John relish'd not these hasty ways,
He bolted off to Hilsea in a chaise;
And then a Note was handed to our Spark,
'That without loss of time he should embark.'
'Upon my soul,' says John, 'this is no jest,
'They won't allow a man a little rest.'
Boxes and trunks were cramm'd into a Boat,
And Johnny _Newcome_ found himself afloat.
John star'd with wonder when he got on Board,
To see himself surrounded by the Flood.
The rapid movements so confused his head,
He knew not what he did, nor what he said;
Had not his appetite, which never fail'd him,
With certain griping, knawing hints assail'd him:
For John to certain forms was true, and steady,
So eager ask'd when dinner would be ready?
'Dinner I'll warrant,' says a churlish Elf,
'If you want dinner, pray provide yourself;
'You'll get no dinner here, 'tis not the fashion,
'We only find you Cabin, Berth, and Ration!'
'Damme,' says John, 'is this your Transport way?
'What starve a body?--rot me if I stay!'
John's resolution now began to shake;
Did he for this his happy home forsake?
A brother Sub seeing Johnny so distrest,
Said, 'Come, Sir, let us council for the best;
'Money you have no doubt, and as 'tis fine
'Let us together go on shore to dine--
'Buy what we want, and send it to the Ship,
'Nor ask a favour of this Savage Rip.'
John liked the offer--shook him by the hand--
Jump'd in the Boat, and off they made for Land;
Din'd, drank their Bottle, and in merry glee
Purchas'd their Stock, and went next day to Sea.
But now friend John, when tossing on the Ocean,
Felt his poor bowels in a strange commotion;
Grew serious, then grew sick, and hung his head,
Reach'd, grunted, groan'd, and stagger'd to his bed;
A prey to sorrow, sickness, and dejection,
Restless he lay, imbitter'd with reflection--
Curs'd his own folly--had he but his will,
He'd sooner retail figs on Ludgate Hill.
Poor John thus lay, till by propitious blast,
The ready Anchor's in the Tagus cast.
Now motionless the Ship, the sickness flew,
His wondering eyes successive objects drew.
Saw the proud Tagus in smooth torrent Flow,
Greeting fair Lisbon, with its breast of Snow;
Saw Churches, Convents, o'er each other rise,
With stern devotion tow'ring to the Skies.
Our youthful Hero now we introduce,
Deck'd off in Uniform, and fiercely spruce,
With Hat of Wellington, stuck fore, and aft,
And crimson sash tied carelessly abaft.
Black Stock, Reg'mental Sword, and natty Spurs--
Without the latter there's no Hero stirs.
Spurs to a gallant youth are things of course,
To make folks fancy he has got a Horse;
But as in this, opinions may divide,
Yet all must think the gallant Youth can ride;
Thus gay equipt, his bosom proudly swelling,
Seeks the Town-Major's Office, or his Dwelling.
Now see him strutting through the sultry Streets,
Staring with all his eyes, at all he meets;
Bald-headed Friars, Ladies, hid in Veils,
Postboys with huge cock'd Hats, and monstrous Tails.
John thought they seem'd a motley group of quizzes,
With lankey jaws, black brows, and dingy phizzes.
Now reach'd the Office, in he boldly bounc'd,
And with erected front himself announc'd;
When a Staff-Officer, with a stately look,
A sort of frowning survey of him took:
'Pray who are you?' was pompously demanded:
'I'm Ensign _Newcome_, and from England landed.'
'To Belem go, where orders you'll receive;
'Write down your Name, Sir, and then Lisbon leave.'
John bolted out, saying 'Damme what a Beast,
'I reckon he's a General at least:
'O rot this Soldier's life, the Devil's in it,
'They will not let a body rest a minute;
'I'm fairly sick of it, and so I'll tell 'em.
'I say, my friend, is this the way to Belem?'
'_Senhor_,' with shoulders shrugged, _'no, no, intende_.'
'No, in ten day! if I go there,' says John, 'the Devil mend me.'
A British Soldier, who was near at hand
Said, 'Sir, our Lingo he don't understand:
''Tis but three Miles, strait forward if you please,
'There's no use axing them there Portuguese.'
John travell'd on--but soon he slack'd his pace,
The scorching Sun came full upon his face.
'O d----n their Climate, here's a pretty rig,--
'Curse me if I'm not sweating like a Pig.
'Could I but once get home, they soon should see,
'The Devil might have all Portugal for me.'
Grumbling and Mopping, John at length contrives,
And at the Belem Barracks he arrives.
But Johnny's spirit now was softened down,
He tremulously ask'd for Captain Brown;
Announc'd himself once more, and begg'd to know
What were his Orders? where was he to go?
The Commandant observing John was heated,
Mildly requested that 'he would be seated.'
John's spirits had been sinking in the wane,
But thus encouraged soon revived again.
'Why really, Sir, this service in the Line,
'At home we reckon to be monstrous fine;
'But since I was Gazetted, I'll declare
'A single moment I've not had to spare.'
The Captain smil'd to see poor John so sore,
And kindly said, 'You'll dine with me at four:
'In the mean time, as things to you are new,
'The Adjutant will tell you what to do.
'Here, Orderly! step to the barrack-yard,
'And say I wish to speak with Mr. Ward.
'But cool yourself, and then your Billet seek;
'I mean to keep you here at least a Week.'
John's heart was soft--thus taken by surprize,
He felt a sort of twinkling in his eyes;
He falter'd, stammer'd, felt himself distrest,
In vain his gratitude would have exprest;
When busy, bustling Ward attends his chief,
Broke up the conference, to John's relief.
Ward introduced, did Johnny kindly greet
(His was a heart we do not often meet);
Now arm in arm, they travell'd down the Stairs,
John found his spirits, and forgot his cares.
Tho' truly kind was Ward, yet be it known
He was himself a Sub in the King's Own.
A Billet got, the Serjeant mark'd the Door,
They took a Boat, and brought the Trunks on Shore.
'So now,' says Ward, 'I always work by rule,
'The first thing you must purchase is a Mule;
'And if you're flush of cash, why then, of course,
'The next thing you must purchase is a Horse.'
'A Servant have you got?' John answered, 'No.'
'Well, well,' says Ward, 'there's one I think I know;
'An honest fellow, who 'twixt you and me,
'Is just the sort of Man, you will agree.
'A D----n'd good Fellow, but I rather think,
'He now, and then, will take a drop of drink;
'But otherwise, good-humour'd, sharp, and civil,
'John Bull will drink, but fight like any Devil;--
'Paddy, and Sawney Scot are just the same--
'Here, Serjeant, tell me what's the Fellow's name?
''Tis Teague O'Connor, him I recommend,
'He'll suit you famously, my worthy Friend.'
So Teague was then install'd Valet, and Groom,
And sent to set to rights his Master's Room.
As dinner-time approach'd, Ward bid him stay,
He'd home to dress, and take him on his way;
And John, rigg'd out in his Best Coat and Feather,
Waited for Ward, and off they went together.
The Commandant, with every wish to please,
Scouted those chilling forms that banish'd ease;
Tho' plac'd in Power, Dignity, and Trust,
Was kind to all, and to the Service Just.
The dinner o'er, the festive glass did flow,
John found himself a little queer or so;
Felt too, a sort of swimming in his head,
So stole away, resolved to go to bed.
When oft to write a Book we undertake,
If from the subject we a circuit make,
Some apt allusions may our minds engage,
Perchance for profit, to swell out our Page;
The little I may venture to intrude,
I introduce, by way of Interlude.
Your mercy then, good Critics, I entreat,
Mine is a sort of stuffing to my Meat;
Something of Foreign matter I must tell,
Or this my tale will not go down so well.
In every Country there are customs known,
Which they preserve exclusively their own.
The Portuguese, by some odd whims infected,
Have Cloacina's temple quite rejected;
How they arrange _their Worship_, we shall know,
By the disaster that befel our Beau.
Our Hero gaily sporting out a Song,
And cutting angles as he glid along,
Some Damsel, heedlessly, from upper floor,
Pandora's incense on his head did pour.
Drench'd, buffeted, he had no time to think,
Saluted by a compound of such Stink;
Smother'd all over by the filthy souse,
He reach'd his heart up, ere he reach'd his House.
Teague, by his Master's nasty figure struck,
Dryly, 'He wished him joy of his good luck';
Then seiz'd a Tub, and with assiduous care,
With water wash'd the ordure from his hair.
'Here, prythee, ease me of my Hat and Coat;
'O C----t! the filthy stuff's gone down my throat.
'O curse them, and their beastly, D----n'd emulsions;
'O Lord! my wretched guts are in convulsions!
'Give me a Dram. 'Od rot the nasty Vixen,
'She's ruined my best Coat, with her d----n'd Mixen.'
Now scour'd, and sweeten'd, Johnny whining said,
'O Teague, I'm horrid sick, shew me to Bed.'
Teague spread the folded Blanket in a crack,
And for a Pillow, placed his own Knapsack.
Astonished John his Servant's conduct viewing,
In trem'lous accents ask'd what he was doing?
'O, no great matter, Sir,' replies O'Connor,
'I'm making up your Bed, an' plase your honour.'
'A Bed for me!' says John, half chok'd with rage,
Says Teague, 'You'll soundly sleep there, I'll engage.'
Poor John, exhausted now, and sighing deep,
In sadness stretch'd himself, and groan'd to sleep.
Scarce had the Sun arose in all his glory,
Ere Johnny flew to Ward to tell his story.
'Alas! dear Ward, 'tis fact what now I tell ye,
'My wretched bones are jumbled to a jelly.
'Then there's my best Reg'mentals all bedevil'd
'By that D----n'd Stink-pot which at me was levell'd.'
Ward felt an interest in his friend's behalf,
But for his soul could not restrain a laugh.
So bid him Breakfast, and forget his cares,
And then he'd try to manage his affairs.
So said, so done. 'And now,' says honest Ward,
'If I can't set you right, it is D----n'd hard:
'At B----'s Hotel you will get ev'ry comfort,
''Tis true he'll make you pay a lumping sum for't.'
'O D----n the expence,' says John, ''tis all as well';
So sent Teague, Trunks and all, to the Hotel.
With Teague, John went next day to buy his stud,
A Mule for baggage, and a bit of Blood.
Now see him in the Fair, with anxious face,
Trying this Dobbin's metal, t' other's pace.
'I say, you Whiskers, what do you ask for that?
'A Horse you call it--much more like a Rat.'
'How many Guineas, Mister?--what a bore he's!'
'No _Senhor_, no Guineas, _no Senhor, no say_.'
'Why how the Devil then am I to pay?'
But getting Dollars, he the Dobbin bought,
When something passing, his attention caught.
'Here, stop that Fellow, Teague, don't let him pass;
'I say, you Quiz, what ask you for that Ass?'
'By Ja--s, Sir,' says Teague, 'you're in a wrong Key,
'It is a thumping Mule, and not a Donkey.'
'What!' retorts John, 'do you think I am a fool?
'What! don't I know a Donkey from a Mule?'
But Teague was right, and so his master found,
And for the Beast, John offered Thirty Pound.
'No,' says the Owner, 'but perhaps you will
'Give Thirty-five, and I will take your Bill.'
'My Bill,' says John, 'a match, Sir; it is done,
'To touch old Daddy's pockets, no bad fun.'
The Beasts thus bought, by Teague were taken Home;
So having time, John thought he'd take a roam.
Strolling along, he saw the Portuguese,
Instead of hand, return a hugging squeeze.
What beasts! thinks John. I'm very sure no true man
Would hug a Fellow, as we do loved Woman;
In my dear country, Women are delightful--
None here I've seen as yet, but what are frightful.
Now Smith's Repository came in view,
'Ah! ah!' says John, 'I've something there to do.'
The stairs he quick ascended with a skip,
His eyes were first attracted by a Whip;
For John observ'd a Whip was most essential
To make a Martial Hero consequential.
For other matters he would then be jobbing,
A bridle, and a saddle for his Dobbin,--
Canteens, Pack-saddle, and an oil-skin Cloak;
Smith wisely said, 'the Rain here is no joke';
He then a small Portmanteau did propose:
'That thing,' says John, 'won't hold the half my cloaths.'
'True, Sir,' said Smith, 'but you'll have much to spare;
'Of Forage you will get but half a share.'
Such are the Orders; you may not have seen 'em;
Two Subs are but allow'd one Mule between 'em.
'Is that the case?' says John, 'then there's some danger,
'That my poor Beasts must live upon the Manger.
'No matter, 'gad I'll keep them while I can,
'And when I join, I then can change my plan.'
So every thing being purchased to his will,
He settled all by draft on Ludgate Hill.
This day to bus'ness he did give up solely,
And went to buy his Stock from Cavigole.
'Pray, Sir,' says John, 'do you sell Hams, and Cheese?'
'_Si Senhor_, I do sell all vat you please;
John crack'd his Whip, and swore 'twas all the dandy.
'Tea, Sugar, Salt, and vat of all most nice is,
'Pickles and Soda, good Segars and Spices.'
'Well said, my Hearty! now I'll tell you what,
'Pack some of all, but in a separate lot.'
John now another Draft on Daddy drew,
Gave his address and off to Belem flew.
His time now pass'd with pleasure, and delight,
Loitering all day, and getting drunk at night.
In scenes like these, John found the week had past,
And to his Reg'ment he must go at last:
A Route receiv'd to travel off next Day,
And march to Sacavem without delay;
And thus by daily journies was to go,
Until he reach'd the Santarem Depot.
Next morn, on Dobbin, off friend Johnny started;
Teague led the Mule, and so they both departed.
John's legs from Dobbin nearly scrap'd the road,
The Mule close following, tott'ring 'neath its load.
Poor Teague, esteem'd by all a hearty fellow,
With parting Glass had got a little mellow:
A trifling failing here I must disclose,
Teague swore 'twas for the honour of his Nose,
Whose lovely size, and colour, to his thinking,
Could only be maintained by hearty drinking.
Heedless he went, unmindful as he past,
The poor Mule stumbled, and the load was cast.
'Thunder & Turf! are those your tricks?' says Teague,
'What! tired you Spalpeen, and come but a League!'
John now dismounted, and with horror stood;
They'd told him of Banditti in the Wood.
'O, Teague! dear Teague! as we are only two,
'If the curst thieves should come, what shall we do?'
'Thieves! is it thieves you fear, Sir, G--d confound 'em!
'Teague and your Honour surely can surround 'em;
'By Ja--s, I would bodder half a score.'                        }
And then with anxious look pursued his Road.
As Sacavem came now full right in view,
He then enquired of Teague 'what he should do?'
''Tis him that sarves the Billet,' Teague replies.
'O, well!' says John, and to the Juis hies.
The Billet got, they travel to explore
The House was found, but wanting Door or Casement,
'Is this the place?' says John in wild amazement.
'Is it to such D----n'd sties as these they send us?
'A pretty way they treat their Brave Defenders!'
Entering, at length, he saw a squalid Wench,
Begrimed with dirt, and luxury of stench;
Then, in a filthy room, and almost dark,
Three wretched women squatted round a spark.
With out stretch'd hand his Billet he presents,
And stopp'd his nose t' escape the beastly scents.
A croaking voice exclaims, '_Aqui Senhor?_'
Teague, sober grown, now offer'd his advice,
'A Soldier, plase your honour, mayn't be nice.
'Becase your honour must consider; as why,
'There's a good Roof between us and the Sky:
'I'll first go out, and steal the Beasts some Food,
'And then I'll cook your honour something good.'
Alas! poor John; he wanted consolation,
Wrapp'd in the misery of meditation;
So bolting out in anguish to the Street,
A Sign suspended did his optics greet;
When in he rush'd, and to a room was led,
With Table, Chair, and something like a Bed.
Now from his Canteen culled sufficient fare,
The Brandy swallowed, and forgot his care,
In four days' time he reach'd the first Depot,
And at the Commandant's himself did show.
This was a Hero great, who treated Subs
As little better than a pack of Scrubs.
Himself from Ranks had risen by his merit,
But those advantages did not inherit
That in the best societies you find
Arising from a cultivated mind;
Imperiously made all beneath him feel
His rod of Power and his wond'rous zeal,
'Here, Sir, you Ensign, mind, on no pretext
'Must you neglect to call day after next.
'There, get you gone! for you I've nothing more,'
And with his finger pointed to the Door.
John travelled out, repeating, 'Nothing more!
'D----n me if e'er I met so rude a Bore!'
But by experience knew that to complain
Against such Brutal manners would be vain.
Accustom'd now, he quickly stirr'd about,
First to obtain, then make his Billet out.
This settled to his heart's content,
That Day and Night he comfortably spent;
Next morning call'd, and so without delay,
To reach the next Depot he bent his Way.
 The intention of government was no doubt to consult as much as
 With respect to the Officers at Lisbon, who were there either on
 'No intende,' in Portuguese, signifies 'don't understand.'
 The Barracks at Belem were assigned as a general receptacle for
unfortunately, the least necessary, a Provost-Marshal.
 At the commencement of the Campaign on the Peninsula, the
 The opening of the Odoriferous Sluices generally commences about
English Guineas, at that time, had no attraction. The Dollar, or
horribly offensive.
 The scarcity of forage rendered it necessary to curtail the
 The Juis de Fero is the Magistrate. The soldiers contracted the
 The Subaltern Officers, in the Portuguese service, were taken
 No disrespect is intended, but until one can 'make a Silk Purse
Now once on their Way we see the Pair,
When John, as passing, did around him stare;
Though flat the Country, oft he got a peep
At the smooth Tagus in its mazy sweep;
Whose Banks well covered by the richest soil,
Yielding abundant Crops, with scanty Toil.
''Tis a fine Country, Teague, one needs must say,
'But thousands should not tempt me here to stay.'
'I'd not live here,' says Teague, 'among the Craters;
'Give me dear Ireland, Whiskey and Paraters.'
Thus time beguil'd in social chat was past,
When John reflected he'd not broke his Fast.
When from the Road a narrow path he took,
And gain'd a Rocky Bank, hard by a Brook.
For now friend Sol had his meridian got--
John felt uneasy, 'twas so scorching hot.
With eager look a survey round he made,
To take advantage of some friendly Shade.
Alas! no friendly Bough would interpose
A shadow large enough to screen his nose,
So, near the spot at which his Dobbins drank,
He crept beneath the shelving of the Bank;
Whilst Teague, regardless of the Sultry ray,
Unpack'd the load, and let the Dobbins stray:
Then spread the Breakfast, which, to John's relief,
Proved a good store of Biscuit, Ham, and Beef.
John, now refresh'd, still closer in did creep,
With Brandy quench'd his thirst, and fell asleep.
Teague hearing now his Master snore profound,
With great composure squatted on the ground;
Then with the Brandy filled the largest Cup--
'Here's to good luck!' said he, then drank it up.
Again replenish'd, down again it goes,--
'And that's,' said Teague, 'in honour of my Nose.'
Another filled, Teague thought it mighty clever,
Though last, not least, 'twas 'Ireland for ever.'
Then cast a look around, to see all right,
Fell on his back, and wish'd himself good Night.
When now the Sun had three parts clear'd his Course,
Teague started up, and look'd for Mule and Horse;
Pack'd up and loaded, and with gentle stroke,
Touching his Master's shoulder, he awoke;
''Tis time to March, Sir, and more cool the weather.'
John was content, so off they went together;
Reach'd Gallega that night; Punhete next day.
Poor John knock'd up, began to curse the Way.
'O plase you, Sir,' said Teague, 'do just be asy;
'By Ja--s 'tis a turnpike, let me tell ye,
'To what you'll meet with at that Villa Velhe.'
John interrupted Teague in his Oration,
To know, was not Abrantes the next Station?
'Faith, and it is,' said Teague, 'there is no doubt;
'Is it not mintioned in your Honour's Route?'
'O! D----n the Route,' said John; 'I want to know,
'I'm so curst tired, how far we have to go!'
Abrantes Castle now came full in sight,
Much to John's consolation and delight.
A T----r was its Juiz; as folk say,
If not belied, and in the Frenchman's pay,
A Brutish Coxcomb--rough, and most uncivil,
Who slily wish'd our Army at the Devil;
On all occasions, it was his delight,
On British Officers to vent his spite;
Kept John, with Teague and Baggage, at his Door,
Kicking their heels for full three hours and more.
John fumed and fretted--but 'twas all in vain;
Till tired to death, his Billet did obtain.
But such a filthy, loathsome, beastly Hut
Mud walls, Mud floor, besmear'd with Slime & Smut!
'O L--d!' says John, 'pray how shall I contrive,
'In this D----n'd hole, to keep myself alive?'
A half-starved Taylor, vamping up old breeches,
Cried, '_Viva, Senhor!_' and pursu'd his stitches.
'This horrid place will put me in a Fever.'
Then with Grimaces, Sighs, and Groans, and Shrugs,
Explor'd this den of Lice, and Fleas, and Bugs.
It is a fact well known, the Portuguese
Cherish voluptuously both Lice and Fleas;
Some Bramin-like, are influenc'd by Piety,
But mostly for Amusement, and Society;
For Females oft in parties will carouse,
Scratching each other's Heads, t' entrap a Louse,
Whilst on their skins, the Fleas will Skip, & Scramble,
And wanton Lice through all their ringlets ramble.
Not that these Gamesome Merriments we find,
As in some Countries, to the Poor confin'd;
Here does their influence undisputed Reign,
From Courtly Nobles, to the humble Swain.
But to resume, poor John, as it was late,
Sadly submitted to his wretched fate;
Rejected Food, on Canteens stretch'd he lay,
And sullen watch'd for the returning Day.
Teague fed his Animals, then took his Dose,
And soon resign'd himself to his repose.
Restless poor John now pass'd the tedious Night,
Each minute starting from a greedy Bite;
With outstretch'd neck, his eyes he cast aloof,
Reliev'd at length by Day-light through the Roof,
Set Teague to work, and so without delay,
Saddled his Dobbins, and went on his way.
Now eagerly he sniffed the fragrant Gale,
The Tagus crossed, and travell'd in the Dale.
Govina, Niza, now left in their Rear,
When Dobbin stopped, and bristled up with fear.
'God rot the beast!' says John in some amaze,
Rose in his stirrups, and did round him gaze:
A sight beheld, that gave his nerves a shock,
A mangled human Body on the Rock.
Transfix'd, he stared with horror and affright,
And roared to hasten Teague with all his might.
Teague unconcerned, with shrug of nonchalance,
Said, 'O, by Ja--s! you'll ne'er get to France!
'He's a Frenchman, Master, that lies sprawling,
'The Wolves have given him a pretty mauling.'
'What, Teague,' said John, who felt another dread,
'Is't Wolves that have upon this Carcase fed?'
Again with horror did around him peer;
'Won't they attack us, Teague?' they must be near.
'Attack,' says Teague, 'your honour need not fright;
'If we were dead, and Travelling here, they might.'
John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble,
The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble;
Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes,
When Teague exclaims, 'These are the Devil's own Roads!'
Now from a Cliff they view'd a Gulph below,
Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow,
A narrow path they follow'd, jam'd with stones,
John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones:
Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge;
At length, the danger passed, they reach'd the Bridge.
Now on their Route we find them each day gaining,
But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas'd complaining;
Grown used to suffer Insolence and Pillage
In every beastly town and dirty Village;
To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;
To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.
As now to Salamanca near John drew,
Pleas'd that to Portugal he'd bid adieu,
Was told to hasten--there might be a Fight,
The Hostile foes were in each other's sight:
With British ardour thrilling thro' each vein;
Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain.
John's soul was meek, but he felt in truth
With all the bashful modesty of Youth;
From his blest native Soil he did inherit
A bold, determined mind, and active spirit;
Nought could his zealous energy oppose,
He'd join his Reg'ment, and he'd face its Foes--
Boldly push'd on to share in the Attack,
And found the brave King's Own in _Bivouac_.
All here to John appear'd both strange, and new,
He knew not what to say, nor what to do;
Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,--
Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.
Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,
Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.
And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,
In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.
And now a crowd of Officers he sees,
On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.
John went to seek the Officer Commanding:
An Officer replied, 'Sir, there he's standing.'
John now with modesty reveal'd his Name,
Told him the Rank he held, and how he came.
The Officer his aid now friendly lent him,
Proposing to the Colonel to present him.
To this John readily gave his assent,
And arm in arm they sociably went.
Arriv'd, the Officer first stepped before,
'I'm very glad to see you, Mr. _Newcome_;
''Tis charming weather: pray from whence do you come?'
'Uncommon hot, Sir! but I push'd my Cattle,
'In hopes I should in time be for the Battle.'
'O! you're in famous time, you need not fear:
'But you must send your Baggage to the Rear.'
'The Devil!' quoth John, 'this is a queer beginning,
'So sweating Hot, and not a change of Linen.'
And then in modest accents did intreat,
He might reserve his Canteens and his Meat.
'By no means, Sir, just now, we Sons of Mars,
'Are glad to live on Brandy and Segars.
'In anxious times like these, it is our plan,
'To satisfy our hunger as we can;
'The Ground our Bed, where we contented lie,
'Nought interposes 'twixt us and the Sky.
'We first must drub yon Saucy Vapouring Elves,
'Then get our Baggage, and enjoy ourselves.'
John listen'd, scrap'd, and bow'd, and then retir'd:
(Not that the Colonel's speech he much admir'd.)
'Come,' said his Friend, 'cheer up, & don't be glum.
'I've got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.'
'No, no,' said John, 'I'll from my Canteens borrow,
'We'll feast to-day, altho' we starve to-morrow.
'Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare,
'And let us all the Prog amongst us share.'
Now see him careless stretch'd upon the ground,
Viewing with silent wonder all around.
His brother Officers so oddly drest,
Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest;
Reg'mental Great Coats, batter'd, bare, and old;
And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold.
Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace.
Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face.
Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay,
Full of their laughter--full of fun and play.
And now John's Hams and Tongues were all paraded,
And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;
The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,
They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.
In course of conversation there arose
A question, as to number of their Foes.
One said there's Twenty Thousand; others swore
There were, they thought, _at least_ as many more:
As many more at least they would maintain--
Look at their Columns stretching o'er the Plain.
John started up, astonish'd to descry
The Hostile Army just below them lie.
'O bless my heart!' said John, 'what lots of Foes,
'They're scattered all about as thick as Crows.'
He view'd them with a keen, astonish'd eye,
Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh.
But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast,
Fearful they'd turn his ignorance to jest.
Now evening closed, and cast a silent gloom;
'Come,' says his friend, 'lay down, we'll make you room:
'Here take this Blanket, and beneath you spread,
'And here's a Stone, as Pillow for your Head.'
John thankfully conformed to his advice,
And, like the rest, was snoring in a trice.
Now the bold Leader of each Hostile Band,
Manoeuvred for the 'vantage of the Land.
At length great Wellington, with his Allies,
Completely took the Frenchmen by surprize,--
Boldly descended in the midst of Day,
Attack'd the French as they supinely lay;
His Light troops skirmishing, began the Battle,
Then thundering Cannon thro' the Ranks did rattle.
Divisions to Divisions then oppose,
But British valour soon overwhelm'd its Foes.
Then burst the Cavalry with heroic speed,
Charging their Squares, and every where succeed.
Trust all to flight, and scamper from the Field.
Thus the brave British, German, Portuguese,
Fought, Conquer'd, Triumph'd at th' Arepiles;
And I, to deck my story, fain would sing,
How all the Salamanca Bells did ring;
How Peasants unconcerned, th' ensuing Day,
Plough'd thro' the honour'd soil where Heroes lay.
But no--content I'll to my story keep,
And so return to John I left asleep;
Who, wrapt in slumber, care forgetting, lies,
The Long roll Beat--he started, rubb'd his eyes.
'Why, what's the matter?--surely it is dark.'
'Aye,' says his friend, 'we rise before the Lark.
'Our Orders are to fall in every Morn,
'And stand to Arms an hour before the Dawn;
'Come, rouse my honest Fellow, don't be slack,
'At break of day the Frenchmen may attack.'
John rose, but grumbled out, 'If I'd been told,
'They'd start me up thus shivering in the Cold;
'To go Campaigning, I would ne'er been led.
'But stuck to my own Corps, and Feather-Bed.'
The Adjutant did now friend Johnny fix,
To Captain Bull's division, Number Six;
In Captain Buckett's company, when 'Lo!'
Says John, 'I think I Captain Buckett know;
'His uncle's Tub the Brewer, I've no doubt,--
'Old Buckett lives in Faringdon Without.'
Soon recogniz'd--the Morn began to break;
His Captain begg'd he'd half a biscuit take:
'Eat it, my boy, and mind what I shall say,
'I'm sure we shall have pepp'ring work to Day;
'And drink this Rum, for I'm apt to think
'We shall have more to do than eat and drink.'
And he was right; in truth they soon did hear--
A sort of busy Hum came from the Rear.
An Order from the General, to say,
'The Column was to move without delay.'
John to his Captain stuck, but was perplex'd
To think of what the deuce was coming next.
Now for three hours they March'd with steady pace,
Till they descended to the Mountain's base.
The Column halted--stood in close Array;
The Light Troops forward push'd to feel the way.
The Muskets' prittle prattle soon commences,
Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences.
Now, 'scaping from a distant patch of Smoke,
Shells from the Frenchmen's Mortars round them broke.
And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming,
Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming.
When John this skirmishing did first behold,
He thought the Little Light bobs desperate bold.
But when stray Bullets whistled by his Ear,
John rather shrunk--but 'twas not done through fear;
'Twas his first trial, he could not disguise
A natural impulse, taken by surprise.
Now Bullets, Balls, and Shells around them flew,
As to th' embattled Foe they nearer drew.
Now to its Right the Column did incline,--
Gain'd its Position, forming into Line;
With slow, but bold, intrepid pace, advance
The Battle soon with death-like fury rag'd.
John's mind, his Eye, his every thought engag'd.
Around him Slaughter dwelt with ruthless Blow,
And Heroes' blood did in sad torrents flow,
When Johnny suddenly receiv'd command,
He in his Captain's place should take his stand.
Struck by the fragments of a Broken Shell,
Fighting his country's cause, the Hero fell.
Undaunted, undismayed, our gallant John
Took the Command, and bravely led them on.
And now by British valour close assail'd
(For British valour every where prevail'd),
Three piercing shouts their Hostile Bands invade,
When desperately the British charge was made.
O'erthrown, disorder'd, down their arms they threw,
Whilst British Victors every where pursue.
Thousands lay drench'd in gore upon the plain,
Thousands led Captive in the Conqueror's train.
The Battle o'er, the foe now put to flight,
Chac'd by the Victors till the close of night.
The Gallant Bands to neighbouring heights retire,
In groupes collected, nestle round the Fire;
The conflicts of the day by turns relate,--
Count o'er the slaughtered, and lament their fate.
Stretch'd on the ground, they lay in sound repose,
Nor rous'd from slumber, till the Sun arose.
With melancholy zeal John bent his way
To seek the spot where his brave Captain lay--
Fain would I stop, but truth I must impart,
And spread a gloom o'er every British heart;
As slow his searching eye survey'd the ground,
Bestrew'd with Mangled Carcases around,
He saw, when speechless, horror-struck he stood,
The naked Body weltering in its Blood.
'Alas!' says John, with indignation heated,
'Is this the way a gallant Hero's treated?'
And now the Body to the earth he gave,
And with a friendly tear bedew'd the Grave.
When Johnny did a Letter home Indite,
To tell his mother all about the Fight.
'In few words I will contrive
'To let you know that I am safe alive.
'I know, dear Mother, it will give you joy--
'The Colonel said, I was a gallant Boy.
'But truly, Mother, my poor pen can't tell
'How we were Pepper'd by the Shots and Shell.
'Poor Buckett too, you know, old Buckett's son,
'Was kill'd, and fell before we made them run.
'And now, dear Mother, I'm sure for joy you'll cry,
'To know who led his Soldiers to the charge? but I.
'Our glorious General too, he lives as hard
'But I've no time, though much I have to say,
'We're order'd to March off without delay.
'I don't know where to give you my direction,
'So give my loving Father my affection.
'We shall have Peace, and then go home again,
'So I most dutifully do remain,
The Rations now arriv'd, each took his share,
And eagerly devour'd the scanty Fare;
And scanty Fare it was, consisting chief
Of flinty Biscuit, tough, and stinking Beef,
Tho' Teague's report at first made John look glum--
''Tis only half allowance, and no Rum.'
'O Damn those Commissaries! what a disaster,
'They've brought us down, you see, to Lath & Plaster.
'But, "Vive la guerre," 'tis useless to repine.'
So on they March, and in the pursuit join.
Now rapidly they on the vanquish'd prest,
Snatching at intervals a hasty rest.
Day after Day, and frequently all Night,
They speed to check the Frenchmen in their flight:
When luckily for John, an order came
To Halt--for John was wearied, & poor Dobbin lame.
Close to Medina now their Stations took,
Amidst the standing Barley, near a Brook.
Knock'd up was John, his spirits quite forsook him,
So to his Hospital the Doctor took him.
'Come cheer, my friend; come rally and be gay;--
'I've got some Lads to Dine with me to-day.'
John fain would rally, but was sick at heart;
Though at the dinner tried to play his part.
'Come,' says the Doctor, 'here's Rum and Segars;
'This is the way we carry on our Wars.
'Here, smoke, my boy, I know 'twill do you good;
'And try this Country wine, 'twill cool your Blood.'
John smoked, & drank, & drank, & smoked again,
But nought upon his Stomach would remain.
His head turn'd round--he tried to gain the door,
But miss'd his mark, and sp--d upon the floor.
'O Ja--s,' says a lively Irish Blade,
'I ne'er before saw such a grand Cascade.'
Holding his Nose, exclaim'd a chubbly Lad,
'Give me some Rum, or I shall be as bad.'
'True,' says a third, and winking as he spoke,
'Though well he stood the Fire, he can't the Smoke.'
'Aye,' says the Doctor, sagely, 'it a fact is,
'Tobacco fumes corrode for want of practice;
'Coming in contact with the Mesentery,
'Sickness produce, and sometimes Dysentery.'
'Aye,' says another, cramming up his Snuff,
'One at a time, the Cascade's quite enough.'
'Come, _Newcome_,' says the Doctor, 'once more try;
'Of this you'll get the better bye and bye.'
But now against the wall, John held his head,
And drawling out, 'Ah, no! I'm almost dead.'
So, on a Blanket stretch'd, in wretched plight,
And, parch'd with fever, groan'd away the Night.
Next morn the Doctor came, his Friend to seek,
And found poor Johnny, feverish, and weak.
'Ah! Sir,' says John, 'it is to me quite clear,
'That I'm a dead man, if they keep me here.'
The Doctor felt his Pulse, and gave a shrug;
The Constitution could not stand the Tug.
'Your health, poor _Newcome_, does so bad appear,
'That I shall send you straightways to the Rear.
'To Salamanca first, and when you're there,
'You will be ordered Home for change of Air.
'The Board of Surgeons will, I'm well assur'd,
'At once decide that here you can't be cured.'
Next Morn, by times, John in a cart was laid,
Follow'd by Teague, and to the Rear convey'd;
Dragg'd in the midst of Donkies, Mules, and Carts,
With sick, and wounded, Johnny now departs,--
Expos'd to jolting Roads, to Dust, and Heat--
Expos'd for hours, in some vile Road or Street;
The livelong Day, no comfort, food, or rest,
Waking all Night, by sad disease opprest:
Around him anguish speaks in languid tones,
And wounded Heroes, stifling in their groans.
But from such dismal scenes I must refrain,--
The dreadfull retrospect gives only pain,
As 'tis my wish, in this my humble measure,
To give my gentle Reader only pleasure;
Tho' in this story of one Vent'rous Youth,
_I give the truth, and nothing but the truth._
At length to Salamanca John was taken,
His mind afflicted; frame and body shaken.
And once more Housed, in temporary dose,
His worn-out, wearied Carcase sought repose,
The Surgeons found, as Dissolution border'd,
That he to England must straightways be order'd.
By easy journies, (tho' estrang'd from ease),
He once more travell'd in the land of Fleas.
Onward was dragg'd o'er many a weary League,
His only comfort left was honest Teague.
Silent and sad he lay, and scarcely spoke,
But '_Oh Patron, oh! sparum, sparum poke_.
'Oh, mind the Rascal, Teague, don't let him spill me;
'The horrid Brute I'm sure's resolv'd to kill me.'
And, now when many a tedious Day had past,
Half-dead at Lisbon, he arriv'd at last.
His piteous case was now by Teague convey'd,
And in due form before the General laid.
A Fleet of Transports in the Tagus lay,
And was to Sail for England the next day.
The General kindly sent poor Johnny word--
A Birth was order'd; he might go on Board;
With kind indulgence, and which did him honour,
Permission gave that he might take O'Connor.
Teague's honest joy now kindled in his heart,
When from his Master he was not to part.
'He'd been his Friend, his Nurse, his Consolation;
'No braver Lad,' says Teague, 'lives in the Nation;
'I'll get him snug on Board, and then I think,
'I'll to my Friends, and to take a hearty drink.'
Now John by Teague was safely stow'd on Board,
And Teague got staggering drunk to keep his word.
Next morn by times, to Johnny's great surprize,
Teague had a broken Nose, and two Black Eyes.
Teague thought by some excuse to make amends--
'I _tuck_ a Drink, your Honour, with some Friends.'
'With Friends,' said John, 'no, Teague, you mean your Foes;
'The Devil's in't, if Friends would break your Nose.'
'Ah no, your Honour,' says Teague, ''twas Friends for _sartin_--
'We drank like Friends, _but had a fight at parting_.'
'O! aye,' said John, 'you Paddies like a joke,
'So friendly-like, you took a parting Stroke.'
Blue Peter hoisted, and the Wind was fair;
John much refresh'd inhal'd the saline air.
Stretch'd on the Deck, he oft did take his Station,
His empty stomach offer'd no oblation:
His wand'ring thoughts would retrospective cast,
Dwelling on all the Scenes that he had pass'd;
And fancy oft would pleasurably roam
To his lov'd Parents, and his happy Home.
Now passing Ushant from the Bay of Biscay,
'Don't I,' said Teague, 'smell Ireland & Whiskey?'
'Why, Teague,' said John, 'I think we're drawing near
'The coast of Ireland, that is called Cape Clear.
'Here, take the Spy-Glass--look with all your might.'
'I see't, by Ja--s, 'tis Clear out of sight.'
As to the Northward now the Wind did veer,
They trimm'd the Sails, and up the Channel steer;
Smoothly they ran, and, by the Convoy led,
They shortly cast their Anchor at Spithead.
Tho' weak was John, and trembled at each joint,
He took a Boat, and landed at the point;
Popp'd Teague and Baggage in a Chaise and Four,
And quickly travell'd to his Father's Door.
The honest Grocer was in daily use,
When he had din'd, to take a quiet snooze;
Whilst his good Dame, whose anxious mind was fill'd
With dread her dearest Johnny might be kill'd,
Sat pensively, lamenting her sad case--
In burst her Son, and flew to her embrace:
She sigh'd, she sobb'd, and press'd him to her breast,
And all the Mother's fondest love exprest.
The honest Grocer, waking in amaze,
Rubbing his eyes, did on our Hero gaze,--
'Why dang it now, do my old eyes tell true?
'Is it my boy,--dear Johnny, is it you?
'When did you come? how got you leave, my Boy?
'Zounds! I'm so glad, I can't contain my joy!'
John now explain'd how England he did reach;
Th' enraptur'd Parents hung upon his speech.
His anxious Mother sadly now survey'd
The alteration that disease had made;
Saw his pale look, his sunk, and languid Eye,
Then gently said (with a Maternal sigh),
'I see you're ill, my Son, with pain, and grief:
'What shall we do to give our John relief?'
'Ah, Dame! your slops and stuffs I see no good in--
'Give him a belly-full of beef and pudding;
'The Boy's half-starv'd--o'drat that cursed Spain:
'Thank God! my child's come back alive again.'
Our John 'tween Dad and Mother took a Chair,
And now more tranquil grew the happy pair;
Related what he'd seen, and how he felt
When first in action he the powder smelt:
Then prattled on until old Dad was yawning--
When tucked up by Mamma, he slept till morning.
And now strange thoughts pervaded Johnny's brain,--
He'd seen enough of Fighting, and of Spain;
So, after dinner, with his honest Sire,
With good old Port, and near a blazing Fire,
'I think,' says John, 'Campaigning is no joke
'With us poor _Subs_, it only ends in smoke:
'For my own part, I've got a sort of notion,
'That I, by other means, may get Promotion.'
'How's that?' says Dad, 'dear Johnny don't be rash.'
'Father, I mean by interest, or by Cash.'
'O aye, my Son, aye, now I think I take you--
'If Cash will do't, I'll soon a Colonel make you.'
'True, Sir,' says John; 'when the Gazette I read,
'There's many by that way I see succeed.'
'If that's your way,' again replies the Dad,
'I'll soon promote you, never fear my lad.
'I'll tell you what, dear John, since off you ran,
'A Banker I'm become, and Alderman:
'And what's still better, as you will agree,
'I represent the City, an M.P.'
'An M.P., dear Dad--that's devilish well,
'Campaign at Carlton House--is't that you say?'
'Aye, aye, dear Dad, you take me--that's the way.
'Who gets Promotion now? tell me who hears?
'Do the poor Subs who've fought so many Years?
'A Captain, now and then, may make a shift
'By some odd accident to get a lift.
'I know a man of whom 'tis truly said
'He bravely twice a Storming party led;
'And Volunteer'd both times--now here's the rub,
'+The gallant fellow still remains a Sub+.'
'That's cruel hard, my boy, there is no doubt,
'Enough to break a heart, tho' e'er so stout;
'But never mind, +I've Cash at my Command+.'
'They've touch'd it somewhere. Eh! you understand.'
'If that's your Plan, gadzooks! I'll bet a wager
'I soon shall see you Captain! aye! and Major.'
 It was shocking to behold the number of dead bodies (chiefly of
 In the Portuguese language various meanings are attached to the
 It is a _general observation_, 'that One Campaign at St. James's
 Lieutenant Dyas, of 51st Light Regiment.
Friends, Fashion, Fortune, will deceptive veer,
Like fickle Seasons, in the varying Year.
A sad it is, but melancholy Truth,
How small, how slippery is the path of Youth:
Many, no doubt, incautious, weak, and blind,
Betraying want of prudence, want of mind,
Impetuously advance, nor look before--
They unlamented sink--to rise no more:
Others again, by observation guided,
Step firmly on, determined, and decided;
One solid Object steadily pursue,
Nor e'er lose sight of what they have in view.
Such was our Youth. If truly we him scan,
He knew the World, and was a Worldly man;
For deep intrigue, or artifice was fit,
Endued with ample store of Mother wit:
Apt was his mind, and his perception keen,
To meditate on what he'd heard and seen.
Tho' few years converse with the World he'd held,
He saw how much by folly 'twas impell'd;
Saw to their passions that Mankind were Slaves,
The dupes to flattery, and the sport of Knaves;
Saw exultation, which no art could smother,
Greedy enjoy the downfall of each other;
Saw honest poverty, by pride opprest,
And worthless Scoundrels for their wealth carest;
Saw titled Miscreants, to all feeling lost,
Disgrace the noble Pedigree they boast;
Saw Wealth and Honours shamefully misplac'd,
Fortune's best gifts flagitiously disgrac'd:
So much he saw--he found he could insure
The Road to Wealth, and Honours quite secure.
The first was in his grasp, he knew old John
Was wond'rous rich, and he an only Son;--
And for the next, he could, some how, or other,
Arrange that too, with aid of his good Mother.
The Plan now laid, he open'd his approach,
'Mother,' says he, 'you ought to keep a Coach.
'In that, dear Mother, I should feel a pride.'
(Johnny well knew his Mother's weakest side.)
'See Lady Jane Tobacco's gay Parade--
'She drives about, tho' her good Man's in Trade.'
'Ah! my dear John, all this is very true,--
'But how to manage it? what must I do?'
'O! as to that, I'll put it in a Train;
'You know, dear Mother, Dad's a little vain:
'So now between ourselves I will disclose
'A famous scheme, which I have to propose:
'Old Dad is rich enough, as you can tell--
'He first must be, a Banker in Pall Mall;
'And having once, dear Mother, fixed him there,
'We'll have a Mansion in St. James's Square;--
'Then at the Ministers old Dad shall set,
'To make a Lord of him, or Baronet:
'Then Lady _Newcome's_ Equipage so neat,
'With two smart Footmen rattling in the Street;
'And with your Routs, your grandeur to evince,
'Have half a score of Lords, and perhaps a Prince.
'What, tho' the great may exercise their wit,
'Themselves are Scions from some honest Cit!
'Then here again am I, whom no one knows,
'A Grocer's Son, among our City Beaux.
'I in the Wars who have obtained some credit.'
'It shall be done, dear John, and I have said it.'
John's picture he so artfully had drest,
Ambition's flame now kindled in her breast.
It is an apt old adage, known of course,
'The Grey Mare often proves the better Horse.'
Her end she gain'd; but how, I'm not to name,
For many thrifty Wives have done the same.
True to her text, the prudent Dame was right,
Our honest Grocer soon was dubb'd a Knight;
Soon in the West, establish'd in his Bank,
My Lady too, which is not vastly rare,
She had her Mansion in St. James's Square.
Now Cards of invitation flew about,
Sir John's gay Dinners, and my Lady's Rout.
The Fashionable World would not decline
To touch her Guineas, and to drink his Wine.
Thus in gay Circles lavishly they sport,
And Lady _Newcome_'s introduced at Court.
John's turn now came to enter on the Stage;
John had perceived how much on wealth depends;
He was surrounded by an Host of Friends:
His lively skiff on Fashion's surface floated,
'Twas but to ask, and Johnny was promoted.
His Game in hand, so well he play'd his Cards,
Renounc'd the Line, and glitter'd in the Guards;
In fashion's sportive ring set all agoing--
Deep at Newmarket, and at Brookes's knowing.
In love affairs John managed well his part,
He had a golden rule to reach the heart.
In the gay vortex now you see him dash,
Lively, and volatile, but far from rash;
Where dissipation led was always ready,
But to his interest firm, and ever steady.
Panting to shine in Military fame,
For valourous Enterprize to get a Name,
He with this feeling mingled with the bevy,
And paid his humble duty at the Levee:
He knew full well the miserable chance
_Subs_ in the Line had ever to advance;
He had strong claims to urge in his behalf,
A Captain now, he look'd for Higher Rank,
And knew th' influence of his Father's Bank.
But all in vain, the odious Regulation
That fix'd the time of service to each Station,
His object check'd; altho' in his behest
Sir John push'd forward all his interest.
All would not do, nor interest, nor wealth,
Nor all the wily stratagem of stealth,
(Altho' no doubt there was much deep finesse
By some employed, unknown to his Highness),
Could move the Duke, who, to his applause,
Would not infringe the Military Laws:
'If Captain _Newcome_'s ardour and his zeal
'Panted for Honour, or his Country's weal,
'The Road to all was evident and plain.'
'Why then,' says John, 'I'll to the Wars again.
'And so, dear Dad, go speak in my behalf,
'A word from you will get me on the Staff.'
Sir John was proud to see his boy high-mettled,
So made his Bow, and every thing was settled.
'Go then, my Son, rejoin that valiant Host,
'Led by Old England's pride, and Erin's boast;
'For him does every heart's best wishes flow,
'Who taught the Allies how to beat the Foe.'
Now once more Johnny greets the Azure Main,
Four gallant Chargers flourish in his Train;
Canteens, with Plate, and Prog completely stor'd,
To form an elegant and sumptuous board.
A Valet, and two Grooms, his Route attends,
Teague was gone dead, carousing with his Friends;
For scarce was John well settled at his home,
When Teague soon felt a secret wish to roam:
Long'd for his Native Cot, his Country dear,
So Friends, and Whiskey, finish'd his career.
As now Sir John in the first Circle rolls,
Important objects his great mind unfolds.
The Ministers he counted as his own,
And got a thumping portion of the Loan.
The Livery now harangued with bold Oration,
Extoll'd the prosperous credit of the Nation;
The laughter, scoffs, and hisses could receive--
Sir John laugh'd too--but it was in his sleeve.
Let him who loses laugh, in spite of dins,
Laugh those that will, he'll surely laugh that wins.
Tho' W--n, W--d, and Q--n would snarl and bite--
Sir John, like others, knew 'twas merely spite:
With all their hustlings, hoaxings, and grimaces,
They only bellow'd for a change of places.
Patriots, no doubt a useful appellation,
A treacherous Figure to mislead a Nation,--
Are flaming Patriots--if out of Place;
No doubt 'tis useful in some way, or other,
And serves one wily Rogue to oust his Brother.
Sir John and Lady _Newcome_ now agree
He should attend his Son down to the Sea.
Sir John had mighty matters to relate
About their present, and their future state;
Much to consult about, much to advise--
Sir John had suddenly grown wond'rous wise;
And Lady _Newcome's_ fashionable friends,
For her dear Johnny's absence made amends.
Now in a Chaise and Four they onwards travell'd,
When thus Sir John his sentiments unravell'd:
'D'ye see, my Son, as it has been my fate
'I'm rich enough, no doubt, all that is true,
'But then the Minister--he knows who's who.
'Financial knowledge I'll not yield to Necker--
'Full well they know my value at th' Exchequer.
'And you, my Son, I mean when next we meet,
'Shall at St. Stephen's Chapel take a Seat.
'In the mean time, dear John, it would be wise
'That you in every thing should scrutinize;
'Transmit your observations in a Note--
'They may be useful by and bye, to quote;
'At present 'tis our plan, you will agree--
'All's right and proper, we no fault must see:
'But, should a change take place, our Party out,
'We then shall see most diff'rently, no doubt.
'Let nothing, John, your observation pass,
'Purveyors, Commissaries, all that Class;
'As for the Staff, there's nothing now to blame,
'The Duke's wise measures have cut up that Game.
'In former Wars we heard of Depredation,
'A sort of Military Peculation,
'But now, indeed, 'tis quite a diff'rent story,
'They nought pursue but Honour, Fame, and Glory.
'And as in Arms Old England's proudly grown,
'The Honour, Fame, and Glory's all their own.'
To this address John deep attention paid;
There was much policy in what he said:
For the advice, his gratitude exprest,
And in his mind he treasur'd up the rest.
Thus mutually on future prospects counting,
They Portsmouth reach, and rattle to the Fountain.
A Chaise and Four creates a famous bustle--
Landlords and Waiters 'gainst each other hustle.
Obsequiously the Landlord bows the way--
Expensive work, for every Bow you pay.
But more of that anon--all things arrang'd;
The Dinner order'd, and apparel chang'd.
John said, 'Dear Dad, we first must pay our Court
'To the great Naval Chieftain of the Port';
And slily whispering, 'It is my drift
'On board a Man-of-War to get a lift.'
'You must, my Boy; I fancy there are few come
'With so much wealth and power as Sir John _Newcome_.'
The Admiral was civil and polite,
And courteously receiv'd the worthy Knight.
The Card announc'd his dignity full well,
The Admiral grew sociable and free,
And very much increas'd his courtesy.
'My Son, a Captain of the Guards, intends
'Once more in Portugal to see his Friends:
'I would not suffer him to take this trip,
'You know, dear Admiral, in a common Ship.'
'Oh, by no means, Sir John, I'm pleased, I own;
'A Frigate soon will sail; 'tis the Pomone.
'Your Son on board can go when he has leisure,
'Carteret I'm sure'll receive him with great pleasure;
'He'll find in him, you safely may depend,
'A thorough Seaman, Gentleman, and Friend.'
Sir John express'd his hopes some future Day
He might his kind civility repay.
Should the good Admiral to Town repair,
He hoped to see him in St. James's Square;
Or should he some small object have in hand,
His little interest was at his Command.
The time now pass'd in viewing every Sight,
The Dock-yards, Ramparts, and the Isle of Wight.
Our Knight, to help his memory, now wrote
His observations down, by way of Note.
The Lines, and Ramparts his attention takes,                    }
Then o'er the Dock-yard eagerly he pores,
Surveys around the Barrels, Masts, and Stores.
The Anchors, Rope-house, and the Piles of Staves;
Note--'I'm sure these Fellows are a pack of Knaves.
'Sad Peculation here midst great and small,
'There's waste of Hemp enough to hang them all.'
The Shoals of Vessels too, that lay in Ordinary,
Our honest Knight considered most extraordinary.
While of our Ships, the French did Prizes make,
And at our Harbours' mouth our Vessels take.
Note--'Something here was very much amiss;
'And were they not our _Friends_, should swing for this.'
Not at this time a word he meant to say,
But snugly kept it for some future Day.
While Dad was gravely making each remark,
John saw his Nags and Baggage safe embark;
Saw the dexterity with which they whip
The horse with Tackle safely in the Ship.
So firmly managed, yet with so much care,
Rais'd from the ground, suspended in the air,
The astonish'd Animal without a check
Is gently lower'd till he gains the Deck.
John found the Knight, whose head now chiefly run
On the sad way the Nation's work was done;
When having Dined, and o'er the social Glass,
He said--'Dear Boy, strange things may come to pass,
''Tis right, as now our Party has the sway,
'All must be right they do, and all they say.
'But, should the Minister get his dismission,
'Our Party then will be in Opposition;
''Tis then for us to Badger, and to vex 'em--
'I've got some ticklers here, that will perplex 'em.
'Interest now tells us it would be absurd
'Of these vile Rogueries, to say a word,
'But if they oust us, then without a doubt
'Our bounden Duty is to tell it out;
'For should my Friends so shamefully be treated,
'I'll let the Nation know how it is cheated.'
Next morn a Midshipman by times brought word
That Captain _Newcome_ must repair on Board;
The Captain's compliments, to let him know
The Wind was fair, the Ship to Sea must go.
The Knight his Son saw ready to depart,
Affectionately press'd him to his heart:
'Adieu! dear Johnny! I shall be in pain
'Until I see you safe return again;
'Adieu! dear Son! my happiness enfold you,
'But pray remember all that I have told you:
'Write to me, John, whenever you are able,
'Disguise your meaning, wrap it up in Fable.
'You understand me, John'--then squeez'd his hand;
John in the Boat was quickly row'd from Land--
Soon reach'd the Frigate, which without delay
Her Topsails haul'd, and gently bore away.
And now our Knight with solitary pace
Did to the Fountain Inn his way retrace;
Tired of himself, he there express'd his will--
'To have his Chaise and Four, and have his Bill.'
The bill produced; 'What's this I see? why Zounds!
'For three days' living, six and fifty pounds!
'Myself, and Son, two Servants, and no more--
'A Bill like this I never saw before.'
''Twas true, Sir John, but _meat_, Sir John, was dear;
'It was, Sir John, a bad time of the Year.'
'Aye, aye, 'tis plain, egad! I see it now,
'You charge D----d dear, my friend, for every Bow.'
In Carriage seated--paid; but swore he meant
'To lay the Bill before the Parliament.'
To London went Post-haste, with thoughtful cares,
Brisk was the Gale, with clear, uncloudy Weather;
Brisk was John's heart, for he was in high Feather.
His rising Prospects, as he looked around--
What limits now could his Ambition bound?
In Fortune, Fashion, Rank, conspicuous shone,
At Starting Posts, with Note-book, took his stand,
Or, midst the gaping throng, drove Four in hand--
He'd gamed with Princes, drank with Duke and Peer,
Was foremost in the Field in Leicestershire.
All this, 'tis true, conspired to give a claim,
A _Newcome_ Title to notorious Fame;
And was, no doubt, most grateful to his Vanity--
Ardent he longed with gallant Hosts to Muster,
And by Achievement gain a Warlike lustre.
He wish'd 'mongst Heroes to be rank'd and known,
An Emanation from himself alone.
Alert and active, stretched is every Sail,
To catch the impulse from the ready Gale;
The Frigate glides with smooth and steady sweep
O'er the wide surface of th' unfathomed Deep.
In elegance and ease they pass'd each Day,
The willing Breeze impell'd them on their Way.
The Rock of Lisbon, towering in height--
St. Julian's Castle open'd to their Sight.
With press of Sail the Tagus now explore,
And Johnny greets the Lusitanian Shore.
His thanks return'd for this most pleasant Trip,
With glowing spirits soon he left the Ship.
With all the Guardsman's Nonchalance and Grace,
First to the Envoy's he directs his pace.
A kind reception he should meet he knew,
A Guardsman's Costume is, a _passe par tout_.
Besides from People in the highest Station
He'd Letters too of strongest commendation.
The Envoy was a Man of shrewd discerning,
Perused the Letters, said, in Friendly way,
'You'll make my House your home, Sir, while you stay;
'For you must know this Casa where I dwell,
'Is by the Quizzers called, the Guards' Hotel.'
Our Hero thanked him for the Friendly offer--
It was a pleasing and a flattering proffer.
Sir Charles possessed, with elegance and ease,
The power of pleasing, and the will to please.
Our John was pleas'd--such offers don't offend,
A sumptuous Table, with a lively Friend.
All this arranged, John thought it right he now
Should on the General wait, and make his Bow;
A Guardsman too, and strictly to his tether,
Adhered to the Old adage, 'Birds of a Feather,'
John, as a Guardsman soon had his _entre_,
Greeted, and closeted without delay.
For Men in power great etiquette observe
(A necessary caution, and reserve),
Not that I would insinuate that here
There was more exercised than should appear.
The General was obliging, courteous, kind,
A Man of much urbanity of Mind;
But, Guardsman like, as I have said before,
Felt, as a Guardsman, the _Esprit du corps_.
One observation I must introduce
By way of hint, it perhaps may be of use;
A grateful system by the Duke observ'd,
That he who first arrives, the first is serv'd.
An honour to his head and heart eternal,
The Ensign's often seen before the Colonel.
I'm warranted in this my Postulatum,
For it, by general sanction, _est Probatum_.
John seated, now did Anecdotes relate
Who lost at Boodles--who supposed the winner--
In Fashionable life, who went astray--
Whose Daughter slipped--whose Wife had ran away;
Who was the reigning beauty--who the Toast--
Who at a certain House now ruled the Roast;
Whose gay Barouche was sporting in the Park--
What was become of W----l and Ma'am C----k;
What Wolf in patriot clothing went disguis'd--
What Machinations 'gainst the State devis'd;
Who of our Army systems made a Route--
Who talked of Things, which they knew nought about.
The General listen'd, and enjoy'd the jokes
(He'd herded too with Fashionable Folks);
Shook Johnny by the hand, express'd his sorrow
'He was engaged to-day, but hoped to-morrow
'The Captain would at half-past five repair
'To meet some Friends, and take his homely Fare.'
'Twas late, but Johnny nicked it to a T,
The Envoy's dinner hour was half-past Three.
John heartily enjoy'd the good Repast,
And Bumpers fill'd when e'er the Bottle pass'd.
At Envoys' Tables, and some others, I think
They give full time to Eat, but not to Drink.
I know not that to Wine they have a loathing,
Perhaps 'tis a custom, something like their Clothing:
For I've observ'd at all their Routes and Balls
Legation Gentry put on Reg'mentals.
At early hour our Envoy did insist
Our noble Captain should cut in at Whist
Before he went to bed--he rose a Winner;
Then with the General next day took his Dinner.
By times in Morn, again he travell'd down
To Belem, purposely to call on B----n.
No change had driven from his grateful Mind
The former conduct--gentle, mild, and kind;
Nor Wealth, nor Grandeur could his heart controul,
His was the impulse of an honest soul.
'Feeling!' could Johnny now expose that vulgar passion,
'Exploded, obsolete, so out of Fashion':
But Johnny was not spoiled in that particular,
Old Friends to meet erect, and Perpendicular;
So flew with rapture to the Barrack-yard,
To seek his former Chum, kind-hearted Ward.
His hand thrust out, when his Friend he espies,
With honest pleasure sparkling in his Eyes.
'How are you, Ward? by Jove, I'm glad to meet you;
'Give me your Fist--I with much pleasure greet you.
'How fat you're grown! I say, you lively Varlet,
'You're still a stickler for the bit of Scarlet.
'I'll tell you what it is, you D----d old Sinner,
'I purposely came down to Storm your Dinner--
'Parade your Beef, my Boy, and don't be fine.
'I say, Friend Ward, how stands your stock of Wine?'
Then whispered in his Ear, of Men in power;
Dinners D----d fine, but Wine for half an Hour.
Ward was delighted, charm'd, and gratified,
To find Friend John, without a spark of pride;
He thought his former Friends would off be thrown,
When, for the Guards, he'd quitted the King's Own.
'And I,' said Ward, 'dear _Newcome_, for my part,
'Am glad to see you back, with all my heart.
'But come along--I do not boast variety,
'The poorest fare's a Feast with good Society.
'We will reverse the thing, for at my Treat,
'We'll drink like Fishes, tho' no Fish to eat.
''Tis thus we Soldiers live, it can't be worse,
'Always on Beef, and with an empty Purse.'
'Of honest Beef,' says John, 'pray don't speak slighting;
''Tis thought, you know, our stimulant to Fighting:
'Its loss to Britons is the worst of Evils--
'Give them but Beef enough, they'll fight like Devils.
'But this I know,' says John, 'at our great Battle
'Our Commissaries really had no Cattle;
'And though our Lads had scarcely aught to Eat,
'The Enemy in famous style they Beat.'
An Officer observed, 'Now where's the wonder?
'The hardy Vagabonds, smelt out the Plunder:
'I've seen the Rogues dash to the very Muzzle,
'Come, come,' says John, 'now that a mere pretence is,
'Tho' drunk the Foe, we Fight in sober senses.
'For if a Drunkard Fights, they can't do less to him--
'First beat him, then get Drunk, Drinking success to him.'
The Commandant now took up the debate:
'Our Troops no doubt at first were in sad state;
'All Ranks and all Departments were the same;
'The Chief harsh censures was obliged to frame:
'The way I estimate a British Soldier--
'He's stouter than a Frenchman, and is bolder;
'But such a set of wanton idle Knaves!
'You're forced, by G--d! to treat them all like Slaves.
'It shocks one's nature, outrages one's feeling,
'Compell'd to use such rough and rigorous dealing.'
'Idle,' says one, 'see them on out-post planted,
'A cold and frosty Night, and firing wanted;
'Tho' merely for their comfort and their good,
'No man will Volunteer to fetch in wood.
'Orders I've given, and very often Rum for't--
'You're forced to coax them, to consult their comfort.
'Look at the French; those active lively Elves
'Are always Devilish careful of themselves.
'John Bull will Fight, and take their Post by Storm,
'Then coolly round their Fires have a warm.'
The Toast went round, & then with brimmers flowing,
The Guests were getting wiser, and more knowing.
'Here come, my friends,' says Ward, 'each take your Potion,
'Here's to a speedy and a quick Promotion!'
'Aye,' says another, 'that's all mere derision;
'Promotion's one thing--give me the provision.
'What signifies the Rank; with truth I say,
'Some Generals have but half a pound a Day;--
'High Rank no doubt is merely but a Cheat,
'Unless with it we something get to eat.
'Men who have interest rise, there is no doubt;
'The Rich get all--the poor Man goes without.'
'Merit,' says B--n, 'it is my fixed belief,
'Leads merely to Promotion with our Chief.
'Some instances, I candidly must own,
'That don't originate with Him alone.
'Others are oft indulged to recommend
'(A small convenience to serve a Friend);
'And when for folly, interest makes a Push,
'The Chief assents, no doubt, but with a Blush.'
'Ah, well! some rise, we know, without _Achievance_.
'You know, Friend B--n, we've every one our Grievance.
'Come, push about the Glass, and drown Hostilities--
'Men who have interest rise, D--n their Abilities.'
'True, honest Ward,' says John; 'I'm one I know it:
'Give us a Song, my Boy! a good one--go it!'
Now Song and Glass, and Glee alternate roll,
Reason now left it to the flow of Soul.
At length, good Night! and John got in his Chaise;
He'd not forgot the Feast of former Days.
The Fleet arriv'd, his Equipage on Shore,
As John considered purchasing a Bore.
His Groom four Mules had bought, for he was heedful,
With all the Tackle, every thing was needful.
John took his leave, with all things in good plight,
Dashed with his Suite, for Santarem that Night.
 It is certainly a gross imposition on the Public, but falls
particularly heavy on the Naval and Military departments.
 The Officer whose gallantry took a praam in Boulogne Harbour, in
 A _true_ Bill.
 Many 'wise Men have come from the East,' of late Years.
 The custom was introduced by H.R.H. the Duke of York, and is as
A similar system is observed at the Offices of the Adjutant and
 I am afraid I expose my ignorance in making this remark; but, as
 This has happened in a variety of instances; but particularly at
 The handsome addition of Pay to General Officers is highly
 I am but a poor Poet, and if I have taken the advantage in the
In respect to the term Grievance, I conceive it does not require
explanation in our Military classes.
John lost no time, saw Guarda, and Almeida,
Then rattled 'cross the Mountains to Freinada;
In haste repaired to the great Chieftain's Hall,
To give his Letters, and to make his Call.
John enter'd in, and in that temper found him,
Diffusing ease and pleasure all around him.
'Your ardour, _Newcome_, much deserves requiting,
'To leave St. James's Square and share our Fighting.
'Here, Aylmer! in next Orders let there be
'_Newcome_'s appointment, extra A. D. C.
'Well, what's the fancy now, and what's the Hoax?
'Our list of broken heads may please the Folks?
'If we're successful, then 'tis mighty well;
'If not--by God! they send us all to Hell.'
'Why, true, my Lord!' says John, 'it is well known
'That any small reverse will cast them down;
'But by success crown'd, our City Stumpers
'Will, with their Venison, swallow us in Bumpers.
'To talk of War, and Blood, no doubt is fine
'In a whole Skin--and that Skin full of Wine.'
'Why don't they hand us out their Goods & Chattles?
'We should with much more pleasure Fight their Battles.
'But, as it is, I trust the next Campaign
'I shall drive all the Rascals out of Spain.
'_Newcome_, remember you're attached to me:
'Good Morning now--you'll find your way at Three.'
Thus spoke the Noble Chief; in whom combin'd
A sportive fancy, an immortal Mind--
Who Pomp repell'd, and Pageantry of Show,
And scorn'd the Homage, which from thence did flow;
Simply attir'd, he sought th' embattled Plain,                  }
This was an Honour rather unexpected,
And John's acknowledgments were not neglected.
Congratulations flowed from all around--
Such follows favour, whensoe'er it's found.
What ever Way he did his Footsteps bend,
Johnny was sure to meet a hearty Friend.
I'm High in Luck, such Friendships do accrue me--
'But when I was Sub, why no one knew me.'
For John full well knew where the secret lay--
Those were the Friendships of a Prosperous Day.
Prosperity, like Poverty, you'll find.
Holds a strange influence o'er the Human Mind.
On Memory's Compass are so adverse set,
Remember, and, Remember to forget.
John knew his Friends, & at what price he bought 'em,
So nods, and How d'ye's, gave to all that sought 'em.
Now smiling Spring (such are Poetic Styles)
Saluted John with her effulgent Smiles:
This led him to commence his Operations,
To make, as Dad advised, his Observations.
Though for an A. D. C. the Chief did take him,
Neither his sense, or judgment did forsake him.
When his Bucephoelus he got astride
'Twas for more purposes than merely ride;
Something picks up, which ever way he Steers,
Making a proper use of Eyes, and Ears.
Some Men have Eyes, and Ears, and yet you find
They merely see the Day, and hear the Wind;
But ask them, and 'tis plain they do not know
What causes Light of Day, or Wind to Blow.
John was a famous Horseman, and oft went
With various Orders, by the Chieftain sent;
Eager, and bold, he round the Country rode,
True cut of Leicestershire, and Cattle good.
At various times, with various Parties mixt,
On different Objects his attention fixt;
Saw all the Stations in his varying Courses,
Artillery, Hospitals, Forage-yards, and Stores,
Made it his Business, took much pains and care
To ascertain the State in which each were:
Dined with the Great, and mingled with their Minions,
Treasur'd their observations, and opinions.
As in the World those know each other best
Where much familiarity's the Test,
A shallow Rogue may secret up a Comment,
Or free expression of unguarded Moment;
But urged by vanity, he can't be Mute,
And blabs to shew he's Clever and Acute.
Then wiser Folks, with very little Pains,
Will undermine his Head, and pick his Brains.
John angled well, and to his fullest Wish,
Lured with the small, and took the largest Fish:
Nor slacked his search, nor object did forget,
'Till with rich Stores he'd fairly fill'd his Net.
Sir John had often made a resolution,
To speechify about the Constitution.
He with the Livery stood in some repute,
'That there's,' 'as how's,' 'd'ye see's,' did just them suit.
And then each day in Speech he bolder grew,
And 'midst their Broils, shoved in a word, or two.
But in the House, when he to speak arose,
And would the labours of his mind disclose,
When all was silent, every Muzzle Mum--
He could not make a Speech--who made a Plum.
But Johnny's turn had kindled fresh his hopes,
He'd now in Figures flourish, and in Tropes.
This secret in his heart he'd closely pent;
This it was led him wholly to consent,
When John express'd his ardent wish again
To join Lord Wellington the next Campaign;
This led him all his influence to use,
That John might go, to send him Home the News;
This led to giving John his strict directions
To bid him earnestly take special care
To see the Troops, and write him what they were:
Meaning on this to make a grand Oration,
Both to astonish, and amaze the Nation.
His adverse system too had not forgot--
His Speech should hit like double-headed Shot.
If seated snugly on the Treasury Bench,
'This mighty Force,' yet did his friends _Retrench_;
But if on t' other side he took his Post,
'This mighty Force,' _th' enormous sums it Cost_.
He culled high-sounding words too, for th' occasion,
Yet poor Sir John, tho' much he'd heard, and read,
Felt still aware how treacherous was his Head;
Tho' yet he laboured like a Brewer's Dray-Horse,
'Twas but to Bother, and increase the Chaos.
Tho' battled hard some fixt idea to gain,
No, not one particle would ere remain.
A sudden brilliant thought, just then occurred,
Which to accomplish he'd not be deterred.
Then anxious on this darling object bent,
Thus reinforc'd, he'd take up his Position--
Johnny could give him Stores of Ammunition,
And if deserted by his treacherous Mind,
Johnny might snugly prompt him from behind.
Our Knight now with redundancy of Joy
His thoughts communicated to his Boy,
In haste indites a Letter to Sir John,
Explaining every thing he would have done;
Hoped with his aid, his object he'd complete--
Wished him all happiness in his new Seat.
'Write, my dear John, as often as you can,
'But as we're circumstanced, pursue this Plan,--
'The prying Folks my object now to pose is,
'So frame your Letter in a metamorphosis.
'One Letter you can straight direct to me--
'Another send to Ludgate, as the Key.
'That by this means we shall our secret smother,
'One can't be understood, without the other.'
'Twas odd enough that Johnny in his mind
Was working at a plan of similar kind.
Dad's welcome News his spirits did elate,
New hopes were busy in his sanguine breast,
Perhaps by th' Speaker he might be addrest.
Should he by chance some Gallant deed Achieve,
He might th' Honourable Speaker's thanks receive.
'Twas usual that, when Heroes took their Seat,
A flowery flow of grateful thanks to meet.
Whate'er John thought, he'd not point out a Flaw,
The Speaker surely'd not offend the Law.
Tho' often just--it flatter'd each one's Vanity.
Now in true earnest set about his Task,
Followed old Dad's advice and took the Mask.
He knew in Martial Life that Truth no jest is,
Their Courts of Honour were their Courts of Justice.
He would, if possible, the Truth relate,
Devoid of malice, naught extenuate.
Dad would his secret keep, he could depend;
As for himself, he meant not to offend:
But should perchance his secret be let out,
'Twas a mere Bagatelle to laugh about.
Should he in Metaphoric style transpose
Men into Beasts, or Parsons into Crows--
Those who could be displeased he should disarm,
His was mere trifling, really meant no harm;
If, tho' in his delineation free,
It would be seen, 'twas mere necessity.
At length his ardent object to pursue,
A Schedule of his means he briefly drew,
All that had come within his observation,
And thus proceeded on with his Narration.
'By way of Introduction, you must know,
'It was, I think, but a few Years ago
'The Widow's intellects here were at a stand;
'Her Son then took to Farming of the Land.
'If there's bad management, it always shows,
''Twas out of Heart, and overrun with Crows.
'Such a D----n'd flight of Crows did shocking harm--
'A few, we know, are useful to a Farm.
'The Squire, 'tis said, did naught but Eat, & Pray,
'Fearing his precious Soul might go astray.
'The Farm tho' bad, and in such piteous case,
'Was situated in a lovely Place.
'The Air was charming, and the Soil was sound--
'No wonder Neighbours hanker'd for the Ground.
'So Foreign Ants, and Locusts left their Station,
'With other Vermin from a distant Nation,
'Advanced in Hosts, and soon without controul,
'With little trouble occupied the whole.
'Fled to a Ship, the Squire the Canvas fills,
'But he, before he boldly ventured forth,
'Trusting he would without delay determine
'To send some clever Chap to kill the Vermin:
'When that was done, he should return again,
'And so his loving Cousin did remain.
'The honest Man to whom he sent his Letter,
'A wealthy Farmer was, none could be better;
'He'd famous Implements, and famous Stock,
'And truly was a Father to his Flock.
'Were all well chosen, capitally good:
'His Stock at times with wild vagaries tired him,
'But in their hearts they honour'd and admir'd him;
'One here and there would not from mischief keep--
'You find in every Flock, a few bad Sheep.
'This Letter gave the Farmer much alarm--
''Twas like enough they might infest his Farm.
'He'd send a Shepherd, who with little labour,
'Should clear the Lands of his poor frighten'd neighbour.
'So sent a Stock best suited for the Soil,
'Led by a Shepherd from a Neighbouring Isle;
'Who wisely at the first a footing got,
'Then drove the Vermin from around that Spot;
'Would, as 'tis said, completed soon the job,--
'Spite, like a Thief, did from his Laurels rob.
'Two elder Shepherds came--and what was hard,
'With their D----n'd nonsense all his projects mar'd.
'If they were sent his active powers to fetter,
'Of those who did it, less that's said the better.
'Ere since that time he's toil'd both Night and Day,
'And from this Farm the Vermin clear'd away.
'Pre-eminently now he stands alone,
'Lov'd, and obey'd by all as Chief Patrone;
'In manners easy, wonderful in Mind,
'Jocose, familiar with the humblest Hind.
'But that's so wisely temper'd, so superior,
'Commanding due respect from each Inferior.
'His Shepherds tho' have caused him much anxiety,
'Such numbers sent from Home, and such variety;
'Some from all Countries, German, Irish, British--
'Some staid enough, but many Cursed skittish:
'Many from Envy--rancorous, and jealous,
'Esteem'd themselves most mighty clever Fellows,
'Would mar the Scheme that he'd so ably planned,
'Had he not held them with a steady Hand.
'Some swore he always studied to insult them,
'There peep'd the Cloven foot--he'd not consult them.
'He wisely judged, and smiled at the attack--
'He knew the whole concern was on his Back:
'Had things gone wrong, he knew so well their trim,
'Done what he would, they'd shoved the Blame on Him.
'Lots of Young Shepherds came, and it a fact is,
'Some Prudence wanted, but all wanted Practice.
'So proud to tend a Flock, they'd scorn denial,
'The Patron therefore took them all on Trial:
'Kept those with him he thought most apt to learn,
'The others recommended to return.
'Now, my good Friend, 'tis thus the matter stands,
'No farmer can produce more able Hands.
'One more Patron also, there will be found
'Who Farms exclusively this Bit of Ground.
'Of him I cannot speak, I know him not,
'You'll get his Character from Walter Scott:
'Of his pretensions I am in the Dark,
'But Folks pronounce him a D----n'd lucky Spark.
'That wond'rous Poet's praise I can't him grudge,
'As Mr. Scott must be a better judge.
'A largish Family our Chief attends,
'Two, or three Shepherds, he retains his Friends.
'One that inspects the Roads, the Lands Survey,                 }
'Corrects the Bills, and adds up the Amounts:
'A third, his Private matters does indite,--
'They're both extremely Clever, and Polite.
'Then he's a numerous Gang of Shepherd Boys,
'Some go on errands, others kept as Toys.
'One Youth amidst this lively Group appears,
'Victim to Miscreants in his early Years,
'Nobly came forth to act an humble part,
'T' obtain a knowledge of the Farming Art:
'Fearless encounters Danger and Disaster,
'To be the Pupil of so great a Master.
'A Youth like him to every virtue prone,
'Britannia's lovely Gem must make her own.
'Then shoals of Salesmen, travelling in all Weathers,
'You know them by their Spur, long Swords, and Feathers.
'Smuggling, 'tis said, is grown to such a Pitch,
'That all these Feather'd Rogues are getting Rich.
'But Folks say any thing for the sake of chatter--
'I don't believe a word about the matter:
'If in their course of Duty, and Employment,
'A Hare pick up, by way of some enjoyment,
'That's quite enough to give the Rogues a Name--
'"See, these D----n'd Salesmen! why, they live on Game!"
'Then here's a swarm of Butchers, great and small,
'Some for the Carcase, others for the Stall.
'One Master Butcher o'er the rest presides,
'And with the Patron usually resides:
'Distributed among each Flock and Pen.
''Tis wisely done to have them on the Spot,
'To keep them free from Murrain, and the Rot:
'Dexterous they are, and in their judgment sound,
'To amputate a Limb, and cure a Wound.
'Our Worthy, good Patron, with grief it fills
'To send the Farmer Home their Monstrous Bills.
'Much as he likes the Chase--it does him shock
'To see so many worried of his Flock.
'In their Profession admirably skilled;
'That Arm, no doubt, could not be better filled.
'Skilful as they extract, and Bleed, and Cup,
'I hope my worthy Friends won't Cut me up.
'Our Patron too, has got a Lot of Dogs
'To clear the Woods and Fences, Fields and Bogs:
'They're chiefly Pointers, but of various sorts--
'Some Guard the Flocks, others for Field Sports.
'They're wond'rous docile, so well Broke, and Tame,
'Whene'er they point, they're certain of their Game.
'Many attach'd to Herds--but all have Marks,
'The Deep-toned, Wide-mouth'd ones are kept in Parks.
'Steady, and staunch, whene'er the Huntsman calls,
'They follow up the Game, nor heed Stone Walls.
'The Master Huntsman is a Man well known
'To be in favour with the great Patron.
'And then his underlings of every sort,
'Are Keen, and able Fellows for the Sport.
'Added to these, should Flocks or Herds run riot,
'There's Whippers-in enough to keep them quiet.
'The various Stock is parcelled with precision,
'So many Herds are put in each Division.
'Distinguished are by Marks upon their Coats.
'The Mules are in one Drove, and altogether,
'They're chiefly Stalled, or fastened to a Tether:
'Tho' famous Animals, it does appear
'They rather wildish ran the latter Year;
'Their Grooms were careless, so 'tis given out,
'Or knew not, really, what they were about.
'The Mules, it seems, were after Forage lurking,
'And so, to fill their Paunch, avoided working,
'I'll only this observe, as all is past,
'It was a general fault, from first to last.
'A few pick'd Shepherds too, 'tis fair to Name,
'Tho' all are good, not good alike the same.
'The First who stands upon our Patron's Book
'For Foreign Parts, he early Home forsook--
'Good-humoured, gay, yet one can well descry
'There's much intelligence marked in his Eye;
'He's oft detached with largish Flocks, and Droves
'To take advantage of the neighbouring Groves:
'I have not room his qualities to tell,
'He does his business, and he does it well;
'From sturdy Stem of Shropshire he's a Limb,
'The proud Salopians may be proud of Him.
'Then there's a rich old Shepherd, fra' the North,
'A braver Man ne'er stept on this side Forth.
'Tho' master of a Farm, and oldish grown,
'He slighted all to serve with our Patron;
'Lively, and brisk, and, tho' good-temper'd, rough--
'Scott's praise of Him is scarcely praise enough.
'Here's too a gaudy Shepherd, come from Cheshire,
'Much like the rest I think, but rather fresher.
'The little I shall say needs no apology,
'The Speaker has, I know, pronounc'd his Eulogy.
'He manages the Mules, mark'd Red and Blue,
'Doing it well, he has enough to do.
'Then there's another Roister, also, fra' the North,
'And like his Countryman, as High in worth;
'I know him well, and my opinion's such,
'Say what I will, I cannot say too much.
'With Southern Farmers, this may cause a Smile,
'The Scots are Farmers in superior Style.
'Another Shepherd also in request
'Is very justly placed amongst the Best;
'Ardent, and Brave, for Glory does aspire,
'And such a sentiment one must admire.
'If any trifling fault we to him lay,
'He's anxious over-much--for so they say.
'Here's a brisk Irish Lad too, Devil a better,
'Who at the Vermin is a rattling Setter;
'Connected with the great Patron, 'tis true,
'But his Abilities will bear him through.
'Fain would I now describe in Epigram
'A bold descendant of Sir David Gam.
'Connected to this Taffy blood, we find
'A noble Soul, and an expansive Mind;
'In Fields of Glory he such progress made,
'His Laurels now afford him ample Shade.
'Another too, a lively Irish Fellow,
'Time, perhaps, may soften down, and render mellow;
'Impetuous by Nature, often Rash,
'But Stout, and Sturdy, famous at a Dash.
'And one more fra' the North, that I must mention,
'Who's influenc'd no doubt by just intention;
'For Zeal, and Ardour he to none may yield,
'And thought an active Fellow in the Field.
'One more I'll mention, as I think it fair,
'That where there's merit, it should have its share;
'Liked by his charge, from Herdsman to the Peasant.
'There's Lots of others too, most Gallant Spirits,
'Volumes would not do justice to their merits;
'Suffice it must to say, their Country's weal
'Can never be sustain'd by nobler Zeal.
'I'll now describe how is arrang'd the Stock,
'The distribution of each Herd, and Flock:
'A Master Shepherd is attach'd to each,
'The whole to manage, ignorant to teach.
'A Junior to each Flock, Clerk, Surveyor,
'A Whipper-in also, to catch the Strayer,--
'Herdsmen and Salesmen--perhaps two Dogs or more,
'To scare away the Vermin with their Roar;
'These, well dispos'd, and parcell'd o'er the Land,
'At once pourtrays the able Master's Hand.
'All are so excellent, and in such Heart,
'Thirsting for Glory, panting for the Start.
'Some Flocks there are, the produce of those Lands,
'Whose Shepherds were not reckon'd able Hands:
''Twas evident their Stock should be new moulded,
'And under skilful Hands, fresh Penn'd, and Folded.
'An Irish Shepherd, now a Patron named,
'Who for Interior management was famed,
'Was bid to put, and in good order keep,
'This Lot of loose, disorder'd, scurvy Sheep.
'It was an arduous job, with danger fraught,
'And justly so describ'd by Mr. Scott.
'But, ere he could this business undertake,
'Some Shepherds, Herdsmen, Hinds, was forced to make,
'Many from Britain, most from Ireland chose,
'Interest, they say, in this did interpose.
'There's something always blameable appears,
'Whate'er's the job, where interest interferes;
'But in this case, amongst the Numbers sent,
'Saving a Few, the rest were excellent,--
'Who by their Skill, and active perseverance,
'Soon gave the Flocks a different appearance,--
'And in small Herds, now Brousing with the rest,
'Are estimated as the Second best.
'Their Herdsmen too, once ignorant no doubt,
'Seem now to understand what they're about.
'There's also come, I'm told, some Fam'd Borachios,
'With shortish Tails, but monstrous large Mustachios;
'One really would suppose, from their D----d braying,
'No Vermin in the Country dare be staying.
'They're wondrous favourites with the Squire, I've heard,--
'Some think their Trappings foolish, and absurd.
'Their Herdsman too, tho' he so often blunders,
'At home has got the Name for doing wonders.
'Be that as't may--tho' this Drove came the latest,
'They're much the finest Asses, and the Greatest:
'But really I do think, when forward Straying,
'They'll in a Gallant Style make good their Braying.
'From Lisbon, also, on the Road to join,
'Is a prime Lot of Large, and Royal Swine;
'They're no great Favourites with the Farmer's Heir,
'And that He'd sell them all did oft declare.
'He's of a different turn, and rests his Basis
'On rearing up a famous Breed of Asses.
'As for these Swine, I'm told they're large, and good,
'At first were much averse to foreign Food.
'Such a wild Row was kick'd up by the Brutes,
''Twas all dismay, disasters, and disputes:
'As for dismay each bristled up his Chine,
'Grunted for finest Wheat, and then for Wine,
'Then for disaster, their Swineherds pretend,
'They chose to Roam, refused to be close Penn'd.
'Disputes they had, no doubt, one with another,
'The Swine, and Swineherds grunted at each other.
'No wonder that these Animals play'd tricks,
'Their Senior Swineherds all, they say, are Sticks.
'A drove from Oxford too, are with the rest,
'And judges say, are much by far the Best.
'Loose as they are, the Patron has no doubt,
'Bold as the best, they'll route the Vermin out.
'I've now to tell you, that in all Directions
'Dry Forage is amassed in vast Collections,
'That when by heat, or cold the Grass is dead,
''Tis from these Stores the Flocks & Droves are fed.
'Warerooms of Medicine, kept with the intent
'To cure those Sick, or hurt by accident.
'In short, my Friend, without exaggeration,
'The whole reflects much credit on the Nation.
'A nobler Stock, more healthy and complete,
'Travel where'er you will, you'll scarcely meet.
'No doubt Material has been well supplied;
'But in your judgment you will soon decide,
'That raw Materials, spoil without the aid
'Of Workmen highly eminent in Trade,--
'So, the perfection of this Stock alone
'Springs from the genius of our great Patron.'
'One word, or two I merely wish to say,
'A trifling circumstance, about the Pay:
'If an Artificer a Work engages,
'He contracts to receive a certain Wages;
'If that's withheld, he strikes--but here 'tis clear,
'Our's daily strike, tho' paid but once a Year.
'They only Strike, 'tis true; but when we need 'em,
'Then not for Lucre, but their Country's freedom.
'Grumble they don't, but yet it would be best,
'To have, no doubt, some little in the Chest.'
John having thus transcrib'd all he'd Collected,
The Letter sent, as honest Dad directed.
The Summer Solstice did with strides advance--
The Chief jocosely said, 'Prepare for France,'
The joke passed on, but yet it will appear,
There was more meaning lurk'd than met the Ear.
His wond'rous projects now might be effected,
Success must crown where'er his power directed.
Tho' in Field-sports he join'd for recreation
His Nobler pursuits kept in reservation.
A Gallant Army, in the finest state,
Panting for glory, did his nod await.
The toils, and labours of the late Campaigns,
His great exertions, all his cares, and Pains,
Were well repaid--for now he could fulfil
The boldest object of his Mighty Will.
Now busy rumour of anticipation
Whispers the general movement from each Station.
And now the Staff, with air of consequence,
A question cannot solve on no pretence--
'When do we move? you know; come, tell us, pray.'
You move him not--he gravely moves away;
His chill reserve, his cold repulsive mien,
But hides the mighty nothings of his brain.
'Here, _Newcome_'s in the secret; he will tell us.'
'No, D--n me if I can, my honest Fellows.
'I'll tell you what, my Boys, 'tis my belief,
'There's no one in the secret but our Chief,
'The advantages of secresy he knows,
'No one can tell, what no one can disclose.'
As for John's part, whether 'twere False, or True,
He freely told the trifle that he knew;
It was a littleness he did despise,
The poor conceit of being suspected Wise;
But with the World he saw, that was the rule,
The resource, and refuge, of each Fool.
'Twas now the middle of the Month of May,
When o'er the Hills the Warlike Hosts display--
The Colours waving in the flitting Wind,
The lengthened Columns tailing far behind.
Now the steep Mountain-cliff their steps assail,
Again descending, Wind into the Vale.
The undulating Columns o'er the Plain
Proclaim a Host in motion once again.
Fain would my Muse depict the Warlike scenery,
The awful Grandeur of the vast Machinery;
Fain make familiar to imagination
Th' effect of moving War by combination;
Fain teach unletter'd Minds to understand,
The nice cohesion of the Warlike band--
With diffidence, this object to obtain,
I'll try the subject in my humble Strain.
Full Eighty thousand Men, in partial Bands,
Extending wide in Quarters o'er the Lands;
All well equipp'd, by Winter's preparation,
In order most complete to quit each Station.
Cheerful, Repose, and Luxury they yield,
Following their Mighty Chieftain to the Field;
And thus in part the Warlike arts display'd
This numerous force, so skilfully array'd.
In various Bodies, Marching to one Point,
Communication kept, and no disjoint;
Parallel move--so uniformly Led,
None deviate, no Column shoots a-head.
So well preserve the distance from each other,
Contiguous Columns flanking one another.
Day, after Day, this rigidly maintain
O'er the rude Mountain, or extended Plain.
Then Glittering Herds of Cavalry appear,
So form'd, so organiz'd, this Mighty Host,
All know their Station, every Man his Post.
Can ought be seen more wond'rous, more Sublime,
This great Machine in motion at one time;
So well dispos'd, and all so closely cling,
Receiving impulse from one active Spring?
'Twas thus our Army open'd the Campaign,
And Lusitania left, to burst on Spain.
Thus our great Captain led his gallant Band,
O'er the wide Plains of Leon's fertile Land;
Directed by Gazon, and great King Joe,
Spread o'er the Country round, in varied Route,
Bewilder'd in perplexity, and doubt:
When t'wards the South their eager looks addrest,
The Allied Troops surpriz'd them from the West;
With all their Force array'd on Douro's Bank,
Our skilful Hero took them on the Flank;
From Salamanca bravely chased them forth,
And drove them in dismay towards the North.
Burgos blown up, Pencorva forc'd to yield,
Nor check'd their flight 'till reach'd Vittoria's Field.
Whilst o'er the Mountains, Bands of Spaniards prowl,
With little order, and with less controul;
While desolation o'er their Country spread,
The High-toned Blood, the Warlike soul was fled;
Whate'er the Cause, the Motive, or the Reason,
Whilst Hosts on Hosts did in succession grow,
Judge from events, they merely were for Show;
With other Troops they hold no sort of Rivalry,
Cervantes quizz'd them out of all the Chivalry.
Now all the Gallic force suspends its Flight,
Joe, and Gazon had check'd its volitation,
And in array the Army round it Station.
Both Imbecile, and Vain, they treat with slight
The Hero and his Troops who'd caus'd their Flight.
Puff'd with conceit, they Espionage neglected,
So got a visit, sooner than expected.
Tho' he in Leon had their minds astonish'd,
Joe, and his Chum were not to be admonish'd.
For Joe was heard amidst his Dames to say,
'That our great Lord should Dine with him that Day.
'And when he had prepar'd Ragouts and Soups,
'He'd take the noble Lord, and Route his Troops.'
Forgetting he'd to deal with one so arch,
Who on the Vaunter neatly stole a March.
Then reconnoitring how they were dispos'd,
To all his Generals his mind disclos'd--
The one great object, anxious to obtain,
'To drive the Rascals fairly out of Spain.'
On twenty-first of June, made Disposition
To force the Enemy from their Position.
Full Sixty thousand Men, arrang'd in Sight
(But more inclin'd, I think, to run than Fight),
Tho' seeming bent his progress to dispute,
Receiv'd his Visit with a grand Salute.
First on our right the great, the gallant Hill,
Obedient to our noble Chieftain's will,
The Enemy, tho' strongly posted found,
Their Left drove in--they quickly left the Ground.
Dalhousie, Picton, then the conflict enter,
Intrepidly advance against the Centre:
This forc'd, they hastily commenced the flight,
For Graham, boldly press'd upon their Right.
Tho' Cannon, Mortars, play'd from every part
Sufficient to appal the bravest heart--
Tho' show'rs of Bullets whizzing from each Spot
(The French are rather partial to long Shot),
Not for one moment check'd them on their Way;
But Slow and Firm, progressively they move,
And from each Post, the Hostile miscreants Drove.
In vain th' embattl'd Foe, with Warlike Band,
Bristled with Cannon, could the Charge withstand.
Slaughter, and Death, on every side they meet,
And only find their safety in Retreat.
The fact was this, the Fellows ran away,
Commenc'd their Flight so early in the Day;
In haste the Road to Pampeluna took,
And Ladies, Baggage, Cannon, all forsook;
Fighting gave up, and had recourse to Cunning--
They're sure to beat us if it comes to Running.
This I've observ'd, whene'er we Battle make,
We overcome, but seldom overtake.
And tho' our Gallant Cavalry would fain
Have shar'd the Glory of th' ensanguin'd Plain,
Their anxious wishes could not be effected,
'Twas so by Ditches, and Ravines, protected.
Joe, and Gazon, as Generals, must be scouted--
First out Manoeuvred, then completely Routed.
But of their Conduct, what we most upbraid is,
They wanted Courage to protect their Ladies.
Secure themselves, the Devil take the hindmost,
And now it was the Hussars got their share,
Not of their Gallantry I would speak slighting,
No Troops, I'm sure, can beat them at fair Fighting.
This was the Day on which our Gallant John
Would crown his Fame, as he had told upon:
Being by Order of his Chief dispatch'd--
Bent on his purpose, he th' occasion watch'd;
Eager in search of Glory, and Renown,
Dash'd, with some Hussars, boldly into Town.
Joe, who had heard of the Hussars' approach,
Had with his Ladies hustled to his Coach;
There, finding they were close upon his Back,
Quickly bounc'd out, and jump'd upon a Hack;
In wild disorder, and in strange dismay,
Spurr'd thro' the Crowd, in hopes to steal away.
Our Hero, in mean time, dash'd to and fro,
By accident o'ertook poor scampering Joe--
And with his Sabre lent him such a Lick,
'Twas lucky that poor Joe's skull was Thick,
Who, to avoid the Blow, was stooping down--
The Sabre from his Hat, cut off the Crown.
Whilst hapless Joe, escaping, tho' full sad,
He'd lost that Day the only Crown he had,
But felt consol'd, when at a distance fled,
His Crown had lost, but still had got his Head.
John, in the bustle, thought Joe's Head had tumbled,
And 'mongst the Ladies furbelows was jumbled.
The poor Madames, arrested in their flight,
Were sprawling in the Street, in woeful plight--
Screaming, and fainting, prostrate sought protection,
'Midst Hussars pillaging in all direction,
Such struggling, rifling, squeezing, 'mongst the Folks,
When John, in eager search, fell oddly flat on
Madame Gazon, with Marshal Jourdon's Baton;
This charming Woman, tho' a General's Wife,
Would much give up, in hopes to save her Life;
And tho' a careful Guardian of her honour,
Freely resign'd whate'er John found upon her.
Who rais'd the fair, and saw where she had sat,
Not Joey's Head, 'tis true, but bit of Hat.
John, who had long on Glory anxious bent,
This Day succeeded to his heart's content:
Honour, renown, he fairly now bespoke,
For this Day's job had been a lucky Stroke.
Joe's Head was gone, no doubt--but what of that?
He'd got the Baton, and the bit of Hat;
So from the noise, and tumult in the Street,
He led the lovely Lady, and her Suite;
And in full hopes by politesse to win her,
Gave Her poor Joey's Bed, and Joey's Dinner.
The Battle o'er, the French to flight resign'd 'em,             }
Whilst I of other matters shall relate.
The Victory gain'd, the Chieftain sought repose,
When John in modest accents did disclose
His great exploits, the wond'rous Feats he'd done--
The Trophies that he had so nobly won.
The Chief, astonish'd, look'd with much amaze on
The noble Chief in contemplation Sat,
Admir'd the Dame, and archly touch'd the Hat:
Tho' at her charms in secret look'd askance,
He, great, like Scipio, sent her back to France.
And then, his humble duty to evince,
Would send the Hat, and Baton, to the Prince.
The Baton would be, in his Country's Eyes,
Deem'd both a noble, and a glorious Prize;
And, p'rhaps, in spite of rumour, and of Chat,
Some Folks might like a bit of Royal Hat.
'_Newcome_ should have the honour to present,
'Relate of Cannon taken, and the Pelf,
'The Victory would best explain itself.'
And now, almost as quick as I can tell,
John found himself once more in dear Pall Mall.
But, as he'd not from usual custom vary,
In Chaise and Four, called on the Secretary.
The Minister, with admiration struck,
Soon advertised his Friends of their good Luck;
This Victory, with all its consequences,
Would seat them firmly on the Treasury Benches.
Read the Dispatch--wrote off to the Lord Mayor,
Who to the Cits should the great News declare;
And they, Rich, Lusty Rogues, without alloy,
As usual, Ate and Drank, to shew their joy.
And now what hearty peals of exclamation,
What Cannon firing, and what Conflagration;
Such shouts, such grinning, 'mongst all Ranks of Men,
You'd thought they ne'er would shut their mouths again.
Such horizontal stretching of each Muzzle,
Such Drinking healths, such roaring, and such Guzzle.
But should some small mishap be buzz'd auricular,
The horizontal would be perpendicular.
John, who in most things had his share of Nouse,
His humble duty left at Carlton House;
And was inform'd, with certain pompous gravity
(At Courts one seldom stumbles upon suavity),
Should be presented early in the Week;
It was the R----t's will, at sights so pleasant,
The Q----n, and all her Ladies, should be present.
Down to the ground our Hero made his bow,
And to the Knight and Lady, off he flew.
'So, my dear John, you made poor Joey truckle';
Whilst at the Hat he slily gave a chuckle.
My Lady, too, the Baton did explore--
'She'd never seen so fine a thing before.'
Johnny then told them of his feats of Arms,
Of Joe's escape, and Madame Gazon's charms.
'Come, John,' says Dad, 'from truth you cannot screen us;
'You were her Mars, my Boy, and she your Venus.'
John now at every House was in request,
And every where receiv'd a welcome Guest.
He thought he ne'er should finish with his Glory,
So often pester'd to repeat the story.
We give him credit there for a pretence,
He rather lik'd being made of Consequence.
The Battle, Trophies, Folks were so much wrapt in,
They made a mighty bustle 'bout the Captain.
Captain no more--for in the next Gazette,
Tho' envious ones did vastly fume and fret,
In recompence for wonderous Renown,
Who seiz'd a Baton, and cut off a Crown:
As C----n for a precedent was quoted,
Lieutenant Colonel was at once Promoted.
And now the Day arriv'd, as deem'd expedient,
John should present the Trophies to the R----t.
Th' illustrious R----t sat in Regal State,
The Lords and Ladies did around him wait.
John made his Triple Bows, and kneeling down,
Humbly presented the Baton, and Crown.
It so fell out, perhaps no one could say why,
The Noble Prince, in his great self collected,
He first the Baton from the Hat selected.
In manners dignified, and all his own,
He thus his R----l sentiments made known--
'This Baton, Sir, is in my firm belief,
'The noblest Gift a Sovereign can receive;
'And when so merited, we all must know,
'The noblest Gift a Sovereign can bestow.
'Here! take this back, with gratitude I yield it,--
'His is the only Arm that's fit to Wield it.
'As for this French Machine, with its obliquities,
'T----r shall find it room with my Antiquities.'
Then graceful fingering the bit of Felt,
His condescending smiles around him dealt--
'Tho' this poor Crown is something worn and Flat,
'Still 'tis a precious morsel of old Hat;
'And as to aged relics I am partial,
''Twill suit my purpose better than the Marshal.
'You, gallant Colonel, shall appointed be,                      }
The Baton struck the Dames with much surprise,
They all admir'd the painting, shape, and size:
'It was a Stick, no doubt, 'twas made of Oak;
'And heavy too--'twould give a monstrous Stroke.'
As for the Hat, as round about they dealt it,
When each great Lord, & noble Knight had felt it--
'For such a Prize 'twas not worth while to Roam,
'They all could boast a better one at Home.'
John now of his new Dignities felt proud,
So quietly withdrew from out the Crowd.
And thus quite happy, and elate with joy,
The Knight and Lady hugg'd their darling Boy.
The Lady's head could nothing run upon,
The Knight, who'd long been brooding on his Speech,
With Prop, and Prompter close within his reach,
Now told his Son, Sir John, 'twas his intent
'To make a flaming speech in Parliament.
'Your Letter too, dear John--Sir John, your pardon;
'I've in my vacant hours labour'd hard on.
'I'm well prepar'd--but you must be so kind,
'Should I forget, to prompt me from behind;
'But first, my Son, Sir John, it will be mete,
'That you in Parliament should take your Seat:
'Having so done, we then can at our pleasures,
'Together both consult, about my measures.'
And now our Hero, without more delay,
Went with his Dad, to make his first Entre.
The Ceremony o'er, and in his place,
The S----r, with much Gravity, and Grace,
His right Hand on his Chair he gently press'd,
And thus our Hero solemnly address'd:
'I'm to observe, that here are very few come
'With such distinguished honours to their Name--
'So high in Glory, and so great in Fame;
'Your active Vigour, and your gallant Feats
'In Arms, when in Vittoria's Streets
'Your weapon boldly flourish'd 'mongst the Fair,
'Joe's Crown cut off, and every thing left bare;
'Drove the poor King from Town, without his Hat on,
'Seiz'd Madam Gazon, and the Marshal's Baton.
'The C----ns, Sir, out of their high regard
'For deeds of Valour, grant this proud Reward
'For your Exploits, so Great, and so Magnanimous,
'Thro' me present their hearty thanks unanimous.'
Albeit, unused to speaking, John arose,
In first attempt determin'd not to prose;
Resolv'd that no one should his sense impeach,
By drawling out a long, and labour'd Speech:
Then said, 'Sir, if from great Example,
'I in some late affairs have shewn my Sample;
''Tis to the Hero whose Dispatch I bring,
'So great, so wonderful in every thing.
'His be the praise, who Foe, and Fair disarms,
'All yield to his Celebrity in Arms.'
Some further honours too did John await,
Which caus'd with him and Dad, a small debate.
'A Badge of Merit, my dear Boy d'ye see,
'Is a fine Ornament, 'twixt you and me;
''Twill look so grand, you know, hung at your button,
'When you Reg'mentals condescend to put on.'
'Such Ornaments, dear Dad, I'd fain not reap,
'Desert, and Interest no distinction keep;
'That bane to Justice, we must all deplore,
'Merit does much, but interest does much more.'
And now friend John more Honours did obtain,
The gratitude of Portugal and Spain;
Family be as follows: A bit of old Hat, supported by two
 The thermometer of Mr. John Bull's spirits is so delicately
 Another instance of effect on Memory: how many young Men have we
 Our most gracious Sovereign.
 It was supposed the intention of Buonaparte, after having
 Sir A. Wellesley was sent to Portugal with a small force.
 The A----s d-- C---- to the Commander of the Forces on the
 Return of killed and wounded.
 Great guns and mortars, &c. &c.
affection, I may call it, for the noble animal that bears them.
A German Soldier will sell his Bread to feed his Horse--a British
 Officers taken from the British and German regiments.
 The H----ld T----ps.--In respect of those fine Regiments, much,
very much, should be considered in their favour.
Unaccustomed to Foreign service--unaccustomed to any duty but
 F----d O----rs, Gold and Silver Sticks in the Court Regalia.
 The pay of the Army is six months in arrear; the Contingent
allowance Ten months.
 However formidable the Spanish Armies are on Paper, what we have
 It was ascertained as fact, that King Joe was so certain of
beating the Allied Army, it was his and Gazon's intention to have
 The Hussars made a gallant charge through the Town, and in their
 King Joe, or, as the Spaniards properly style him, the Intruder,
 Madame, the Countess Gazon, a charming woman, was taken by the
 The numerous Carriages of all descriptions, and Tumbrils, so
promoted in the same Gazette, Major and Lieut.-Colonel.
 A Badge of Merit is a most honourable Distinction, as the reward