Classic Poem

I

I SING a matter of some sixty dogs,
That dined in the Peninsula on biscuit.
Under the old regime the French eat frogs;
Under the new some Englishmen would frisk it
If they had any thing besides their fogs.
I'd thank Apollo therefore to touch his kit,
While I strike up a dance, that I've a notion
Will set the whole of Puppydom in motion.

II

Attend then to me, puppies of all sorts,
All by whom hangs a tale, including you,
The blacker kind, who practise in the courts,
And from the back of whose strange curls hang two:
And you, of whom I hear such bad reports
In these great times, ye poor inferior crew,
Ye Men — do you too listen to my song:
I mean to show you that your claims are wrong.

III

And you, red-coated dogs, not commonly
So called, for ye are men, — but ye alone,
Who only when the drum sounds fidget ye,
And rise like men; and soon as it is done,
Fall to the earth like proper puppies, quae
Ventri obedientia sunt , and prone,
As Sallust has it, — hear what your Bard says,
And then (I ask no better) go your ways.

IV

And thou, thou other lucky dog, and diner,
Who from the Frenchman's biscuit-guiding hand
Munch'd out side faces of Voltaire, none finer,
Look from the dog-star down, that rules thy land!
'Twas thine to eat, no king's bitch embonpoint-er ,
When good-old-times'-men's legs could hardly stand:
And then thou bit'st, as some would say, for snacks,
Men out of countenance behind their backs!

V

Nor thou, great Duke of Wellington, disdain
To hear about the curs, for they are thine:
Nay, pardon my poor words, my common strain,
Disdain thou can'st not, though the strain is mine:
The subject will excuse me for my brain:
To write's but human, but of dogs divine.
I shamefully forgot, great Sir, that when
Dogs are to be considered, what are men?

VI

Many a jolly dog has been renowned,
Especially for eating people's dinners:
E'en men have merit when like them they're found
To hold well out, and make their masters winners:
But all the dogs on earth cur, whelp and hound
To these I speak of, have but been beginners.
Even the pack recorded by Herodotus
Knuckles before them; I declare to God it does.

VII

Herodotus says only that there were
Four villages allotted for their dog's-meat;
A handsome pension, I allow: but here
Warriors stand by, wanting, like proper rogues, meat,
Bread being even for a few too dear,
While the Duke's hounds to their respective progs meet.
Warriors, mind — hollow squares — without whom, marry! an
Arbiter I could name had now been carrion.

VIII

Yes, " Heav'n be praised! Thanks to our lucky stars!
Thanks to our wounds!" the five fatigued men said,
" This day, the happiest one of all our wars,
This day, this glorious day, we dine on bread!"
For why? " For why? look at these glorious scars.
This one, and this, and this upon my head;
To-day's our turn, by reason of these wounds,
To break up biscuit for the General's hounds."

IX

" Good God!" says one, " I fancy the bread here!
I think it's one o'clock — I think it's two —
I think I see my company appear —
Ah! Jowler, boy — and Towler, how-d'ye-do? —
And then the biscuit comes — excuse this tear,
But I'm to break it — oh, if you but knew —
But never mind — I know, and that's enough
To make me think no biscuit bad or tough.

X

" A word, Sir, in your ear — The other day,
I longed to eat a piece of the Duke's horse.
Another time, beside a ditch, there lay
Something, — I hate to think of it — but worse:
All said, — but never mind what people say —
The man who eat of it, felt no remorse.
'Twasn't, he said, like biscuit; and 'twas true:
But that was for the dogs — the happy few.

XI

" We are but human beings, — common men;
They are uncommon puppies, real riches;
We do but fight, and fight, and fight again;
They sometimes take surprising leaps o'er ditches:
We only are of use to the Duke, when
Unoccupied with his delightful bitches:
They are his ornaments, his dogs, his dulce ,
More fit to pat than our poor linsey-woolsey.

XII

" Again, we only saved his officers;
They sometimes got them taken by the French;
Our names were always in dispatches; theirs
Were modest, and kept back, like any wench;
In short, we had the impudence, the bears!
(For which our necks I own deserve a wrench)
To save the Duke from Old Mortality:
They, blessed creatures, saved him from ennui.

XIII

" Accordingly 'twas just that we should fight,
Hack, hew, stick, kick, be kicked, stuck, hacked and hewed,
Drowned also, lose our shoulder-blades and sight,
Our legs, arms, knee-pans, comforts, friends, and blood,
And then have nothing, Sir, to eat at night:
And, on the contrary, 'twas right and good
That the Duke's puppies, being no such sinners,
Should, like good boys, go in and have their dinners."

XIV

Thus spoke the Soldier from the Frith of Forth,
Who wrote the " Journal" t'other day; which see
He did not say it all — he's " frae the North," —
But then his inward man spoke, if not he.
However, what's a common soldier worth?
Or fifty thousand such, 'twixt you and me?
The man may stuff him with his native fogs:
But where, I want to know, where are the dogs?

XV

Other great brutes concerned in that campaign
Are kept before the public: others have
Their lives and deeds recorded, to a sprain,
Their genealogies, and faces brave,
Their huntings too, and when they'll hunt again,
And how in drawing-rooms the dogs behave:
I've seen a Paris print of one o' the brutes
Betwixt two ladies, actually in boots.

XVI

Now those I speak of are not less than they,
Be sure of that: just as great brutes they are:
Have as good coats and faces, have their day,
At least have had, and should have time to spare;
Live just such lives, now hunting down one's prey,
Now all agog for their respective fair;
And above all, though men should want a dinner,
The dev'l a bit will they grow any thinner.

XVII

The best of us are proud of being thought
To have the qualities of dogs like these:
The Duke himself, I doubt not, might be caught,
Doing things equally well formed to please.
I wouldn't swear, that if you went and bought
A horn, or whistled " Molly", or " Green Pease",
You wouldn't see him come, through thick and thin,
Leaping and panting to you, all a-grin.

XVIII

King Charles was famous for a breed of puppies,
Which was kept up; and is so, I've no doubt on't;
Lord Chesterfield most tenderly brought up his,
And would have made his son one, but he couldn't:
In Naples a dog's music beats Galuppi's,
Though music comes next to it, which it shouldn't;
For next to pointers, guns, and such resources,
Long before anything like men, come horses.

XIX

" Talk", cries a wag, " of parting with one's studs,
In decency to Irish famishings,
At least of lessening them.! Why, d — n their bloods,
Or rather no bloods, for they've no such things,
(In fact they are but two such precious floods,
In horses' families, and those of kings)
I'd not have giv'n them What's-his-name's " quietus " .
And stopt one gilded oat from Incitatus"

XX

Heliogabalus and his horse's mention
May render this suspected — for its reading;
I own it seems some Irishman's invention,
Light in the head perhaps, for want of feeding:
But then it somehow meets one's apprehension
In times of human starving and brute breeding:
And as to learning, you would cease to stare
If you took up the Racing Calendar.

XXI

There (not to waste the family head in books)
A youth may learn much Latin appellation;
Much French too, and Italian, if he looks,
Besides the sense, sly supererogation!
There he may learn, how Dolthead matched the Duke's,
And Blacklegs was thrown out by Acclamation;
How Olive was own cousin to Old Cupid,
And how Legitimate was got out to Stupid.

XXII

But what he'll find, which is the best of all.
Is how completely there the human creatures
Are cast in shade, I mean in general,
By the dear horses and their Houyhnhnm natures:
The Gullivers obey their proper call,
And wait aloof, and doat upon their features;
By no means the worst thing they do, poor rogues!
And this again reminds me of my dogs

XXIII

My dogs! Yes, mine — every one's dogs — the nation's,
For were they not of extreme use to it?
Did they not give the Great Lord relaxations,
When taken with his minor slaughtering fit?
And had they not their proper mastications,
Of which occasional Scotchmen filched a bit?
" Can such things overcome us like a summer
Cloud," and but serve to make us all the dumber!

XXIV

I like that patriot in Tiberius' days,
Who having proposed to make him absolute,
Apologized for such presumptuous ways;
But said, that being man, it did not suit
With his free soul to dread the court's dispraise,
And in the commonwealth's great cause be mute.
There was another such as bold to Cromwell;
Fellows I much prefer to Kettledrumle.

XXV

I'll be as free: there's not a stick at court
Shall beat me in a thing I have to say;
Tailors shan't cut me out, nor tongues cut short,
Envying my very independent way;
Croker himself shall cry out " That's your sort",
And loads of " lofty Scotchmen" cry Huzza!
At least if they do not, 'twill only show
How far one's rivals' jealousy can go.

XXVI

'Tis true, the Duke, at my free proposition,
May think fit to be modest, like a woman;
May say his brutes are not of that condition
To warrant it, being only more than human;
And that base men might get up a petition;
To all which I should humbly answer, " True, mun;"
But then, though more than both, a Prince himself
Is proud to be called jolly dog, and Guelph.

XXVII

There was a prince in Italy, called Can Grande,
Which means Great Dog, the lord too of Verona,
A mighty petty sovereign, and a dandy,
Who in his wit once threw a bard a bone a-
Cross his high board, which made 'em every man die.
The bard agreed 'twas princely. I have known a-
Nother, of whom the people used to say,
A greater puppy never had his day.

XXVIII

I do propose then, that a deputation
First wait upon the dogs and bring them out,
To glad the eyes of public admiration;
It being a shame that beasts so cared about,
And by such hearts, and not before the nation.
Only conceive the enthusiastic shout
That would be raised at sight of their sweet faces,
In all their pride of jowl, in public places!

XXIX

Fancy the beasts, or any one of them,
At Drury-Lane, or in an Opera-box:
The proper masters have accomplished him,
The dancing ones I mean, and such-like folks!
He rises, bows, looks mutual esteem;
The band strikes up; and players and " hearts of oaks"
(Save here and there a Jacobinic growler)
Perform the national anthem of. " Old Towler".

XXX

Then a procession, with the dogs all seated,
Is what I next propose. Rouge-Lion first
Prepares the way, looking extremely heated;
Sir William Curtis then, ready to burst
With beef and joy at being so finely treated.
He's drest in dog-skin. May the man be curst
Who does not, as the King does (who's no fool)
Count him the finest specimen of John Bull.

XXXI

Besides, he's biscuit-baker. Next the trumpets
Appear, some blowing in F sharp and some in E;
And then the bishops, plump as plates of crumpets,
Singing the psalm beginning with " Cur, Domine":
A kettle-drummer next with many a thump hits
His brass, to show, betwixt those Piccolomini
Of the Church Militant, and the state's forces,
The delicate connexion there of course is.

XXXII

Then come the soldiers, — but what's this? How odd
And thin they look, unfit for such a show?
Excuse me: they look just as soldiers should;
They've had no dinners for this week or so;
Just to insinuate, by their want of blood,
The heroic privilege they have to go
Without their food, and if required, be starved,
Till all the puppies in the land are served.

XXXIII

Last come the dogs, the climax of the sight,
All in their coaches, all in due decorum,
All seated, a la " Siffle", bolt upright
The Master of the Hounds being set before 'em.
They grin, they bow, look sidelong and polite;
The ladies at the windows all adore 'em,
See — there's the King too bowing — and look! there is
Her Royal Highness Mrs. Wilmot Serres.

XXXIV

After processions, people have a feast:
The brutes of course must have theirs at Guildhall;
There's precedent: so heralds say, at least.
'Twas merry formerly, when beards wagged all;
Now tails proclaim the pleasure of the beast:
The grace is said, the turtle groweth small,
The talk then rises, but let that be sunk;
As usual, after dinner, the King's drunk.

XXXV

The glee succeeds of " Glorious Apollo"
By Messrs. Southey and the Makingfaces;
" The Duke of York and Army" used to follow,
But now the soldiers better know their places:
The Duke of Wellington and his View Hollow
Is given, and " May heav'n prosper all their graces":
Hip-Hip-Guildhall resounds through all its logs,
And Bread-street echoes back " The Dogs! the Dogs"!

XXXVI

The puppy in the chair returns his thanks,
Like Doctor Johnson, " in his bow-wow way":
Then Eldon (cursing, first of all, his shanks)
Gets up, and weeps to see this blessed day:
Then his gilt chain the new old Lord Mayor clanks;
Then Mr. Some-one has his blessed say,
In which he proves that 'tis to save the nation
When puppies flourish during men's starvation.

XXXVII

I see all England flocking to the sight:
Peers quit their parks, the peasantry the poor-house;
Some drive, some die upon the road: it's flight
All Scotland takes, like " hairpies coming o'or uz:"
All Wales puts forth, to see to what a height
Arthur's great name can go, and join in chorus:
And missing England, as they pierce the fogs,
Ask where it's gone: — cries Echo, " To the Dogs".

XXXVIII

But eager most, lo! lo! all Ireland comes —
All that is left of it at least, — sharp set
With hungry joy to think upon the crumbs,
And see how the brutes jollify, and get
A sight of their great Duke, who picks his gums;
And wonder if the Absentees have yet
Any similitude to human faces,
Seeing them countenanced like the canine races.

XXXIX

All eyes, a moment, even on that day,
Turn at the name of Ireland, to look at
The nation whom a king's nod made so gay:
Even some certain members cry " What's that"?
" Only the Irish," — " Oh — the Irish — eh?
What do they want? I'd thank ye for some fat"
" The Irish, eh? Send 'em the soldiery
And eighteen-pence. Hock, if you please, for me."

XL

Such is the way to treat those sorry fellows,
Called fellow creatures: one should be above
One's fellows, as all true aspirers tell us,
And then we rank with dogs, and get the love
Of hearts enough to make a turnspit jealous.
So to return — The next thing that I move,
Is, that the puppies and their heirs for ever
Have settlements: for men may want, brutes never.

XLI

I say (to use the words of a great poet)
" That adequate provision should be made"
For all the race to have their biscuit to eat
For ever — Next, that money should be paid
Into the hands of those here, that cry " go it",
For kennels, — palaces I should have said, —
To be new built ( Mem. workmen to be bustled)
Where every puppy may have his own household.

XLII

'Tis cheap, — these ways of doing public good,
The world can't do without 'em, take my word for it;
Besides, if the world could, could isn't should,
And those who say it is, are a base herd for it.
The Americans, for instance, have no food,
No cash, no ships, no land (although preferred for it),
No name; and all because they want such things
As puppies with huge pensions, Dukes, and Kings.

XLIII

Our dogs then have establishments: 'tis done:
Recorded too, of course, as others are,
In a new Red-book, which may bind in one
(Calf-gilt) the Sporting and Court Calendar.
Exempli gra : Establishment of Hun:
Comptroller, — No one; Baker and Purvey'r,
Sir William Curtis; Groom, Sir Hudson Lowe;
Surveyors of the Collars, George and Co.;

XLIV

Bed-maker, Mrs. Leech; Scratcher Extr'or'nary,
Right Honourable the Earl of Lauderdale;
Breakers of Bones and Biscuits, Men in or'nary;
Tickler and Tail-bearer (some spell it Tale)
J. W. Croker, chiefly when it's borne awry;
Chaplain (Church Dog-Vane, going with the gale)
The Reverend Nero Wilson; Scavengers,
The Beacons, Blackwoods, Bulls, and Gazetteers.

XLV

The names of their Canine-nesses — Prince, Jowler,
Jolly, and Folly, Tippler, Fop, and Tough,
Duke, Dundee, Slim, Fang, Whistler, Gamester, Growler,
Standfast, and Steady, Waterloo, Chance, Rough,
Charge, Trooper, Glutton, Hollo-boy, Old Towler,
Blucher, Spot, Shriek, Jump, Victor, Old Boy, Puff,
Rascal, Force, Bourbon, Throat, Spite, Promise, Viper,
Moonshine, and Betty, Riot, Rage, and Piper:

XLVI

Hungry, Old England, Hot, Shot, Scot, and Lot,
Old Soldier, Gaunt, and Grim, Seize-him-boy, Eat-'em,
Tally-ho, Thief, Fool, Devil, Brute, and Sot.
A pretty list. Ovid has one (see Metam.
Lib Ter. ) but Ovid's pack of hounds was not
The moral, order-loving, plumb, legitim-
Ate hounds, that these are. These, to run the faster
Eat but one's men, but those eat up their master.

XLVII

And at the last (for oh! indecent fate,
And envious! even dogs, like men, must die!)
But at the last (for ah! may it be late,
And every dog have many days, say I!)
Then with huge shouts, I vote that we translate,
Exalt, and raise them to the starry sky!
Men's pious notions have already given,
To welcome them, much brute renown to heav'n.

XLVIII

The Bull, Crab, Serpent, Scorpion, Wolf, are there,
The Lion and Unicorn, and glorious Goose;
Canis the Major too, by which it's clear
That army-rank with dogs is of old use:
Canicula stands next him, little dear!
Nay, things are there which absolute blocks produce.
The Altar's next the Wolf: then, there's the Chair,
The Cup, the Crown, and a strange Head of Hair.

XLIX

But what is most remarkable, the book
In which I study my astronomy
(The new Guide to the Stars by Henry Brooke)
Showed me a thing enough to make a stone o' me,
So very much astonished did I look.
I saw there, bright as the Duke's physiognomy,
His dogs, by some divine anticipation,
Shining already in their proper station.

L

It's fact. The Dogs, the glorious dogs, are there
In soul at least, right claimants of the sky:
Betwixt his namesake Arthur and the Bear
The whole pack stands — " Canes Venatici ":
And twixt the dogs and the above Head of Hair
Stands, as it ought to do, " Cor Caroli ":
That is to say, the Heart of Charles the Second:
Were ever souls, bound heav'nwards finelier beaconed?

LI

So here I stop, covering beneath the sight
My fancy's cowering eyes, dashed with the blaze:
But don't, I beg of you, ye suns of night,
Ye flaming brutes, don't hide your precious ways.
Shine on, shine on, and be a burning light
To help us onward to our better days;
And show us (never to want proof again)
What very different things are brutes and men.