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Title: Epistle From Tom Crib To Big Ben
Author: Thomas Moore [
More Titles by Moore]
Epistle from Tom Crib to Big Ben.[1]
CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.[2]
_"Ahi, mio Ben!"_
--METASTASIO.[3]
What! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown?
Is _this_ the new _go_?--kick a man when he's down!
When the foe has knockt under, to tread on him then--
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN!
"Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaim--
CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified--BELCHER spits flame--
And MOLYNEUX--ay, even BLACKY[4] cries "shame!"
Time was, when JOHN BULL little difference spied
'Twixt the foe at his feet and the friend at his side:
When he found (such his humor in fighting and eating)
His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating.
But this comes, Master BEN, of your curst foreign notions,
Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and lotions;
Your Noyaus, Curacoas, and the devil knows what--
(One swig of _Blue Ruin_[5] is worth the whole lot!)
Your great and small _crosses_--my eyes, what a brood!
(A _cross_-buttock from _me_ would do some of them good!)
Which have spoilt you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise,
Of pure English _claret_ is left in your _corpus_;
And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad,
Of the Fancy you're up to, is _fibbing_, my lad.
Hence it comes,--BOXIANA, disgrace to thy page!--
Having floored, by good luck, the first _swell_ of the age,
Having conquered the _prime one_, that _milled_ us all round,
You kickt him, old BEN, as he gaspt on the ground!
Ay--just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got any--
Kickt him and jawed him and _lagged_[6] him to Botany!
Oh, shade of the _Cheesemonger_![7] you, who, alas!
_Doubled up_ by the dozen those Moun-seers in brass,
On that great day of _milling_, when blood lay in lakes,
When Kings held the bottle, and Europe the stakes,
Look down upon BEN--see him, _dung-hill_ all o'er,
Insult the fallen foe that can harm him no more!
Out, cowardly _spooney_!--again and again,
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN.
To _show the white feather_ is many men's doom,
But, what of _one_ feather?--BEN shows a _whole Plume_.
NOTES:
[1] A nickname given, at this time, to the Prince Regent.
[2] Written soon after Bonaparte's transportation to St. Helena.
[3] Tom, I suppose, was "assisted" to this Motto by Mr. Jackson, who, it is well known, keeps the most learned company going.
[4] Names and nicknames of celebrated pugilists at that time.
[5] Gin.
[6] Transported.
[7] A Life-Guardsman, one of _the Fancy_ who distinguished himself and was killed in the memorable _set-to_ at Waterloo.
[The end]
Thomas Moore's poem: Epistle From Tom Crib To Big Ben
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