REMAINS

OF

THEODORE E. HOOK.

POLITICAL SONGS, &c.

AN IMITATION OF BUNBURY'S LITTLE GREY MAN

Preserved among the "Tales of Wonder," and, without permis-
sion inscribed to a Major-General of the British Army, Knight
Commander of the Order of the Bath, Agent for the Ionian
Islands, and a Pensioner of the present Administration, &c.

OH! deep was the sorrow, and sad was the day,
When death took our gracious old Monarch away,
And gave us a Queen, lost to honour and fame,
Whose manners are folly, whose conduct is shame;
Who with aliens and vagabonds long having stroll'd,
Soon caught up their habits, loose, brazen, and bold.

!

Oh! what will the rancour of party not do!
Ye Howards and Russells this sigh is for you
To an union so base can ye bend your proud will?
Yes, great though the peril, unmeasur❜d the ill,
Through the country delusion and clamour must ring,
And your rivals to strike, you must menace your King.

VOL. II.

B

In Suffolk, to aid in so loyal a plan,

From Mildenhall upstarts a little dark man;

His hue it was bilious, his eyes they were ghast,

Long and pale were his fingers that held a quill fast, And grimly he scowl'd, whilst his rancour and spleen Distill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.

How spotless and pure was this paragon shewn!

How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne !
Their motives were wicked, their actions were base,-
Some wonder'd no doubt at so alter'd a case,
Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain that he can,
The favours they heap'd on this dark little man?

From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,
Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shar'd;
With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,
He outstripp'd the foremost of line or of staff;
But soon from the chances of service withdrew,
With the profits and safety of office in view.

To Liverpool, Bathurst, and colleagues he bow'd;
He courted their smiles, and attachment he vow'd;
Obtain'd a snug place, with the means to do ill,
To some who despis'd, but remember it still:
He was fearlessly trusted, and laugh'd in his sleeve-
Those you mean to betray you must ever deceive.

Indulg'd by his patrons the confident elf,
No talent imagined except in himself;
Of the merits of others a censor severe,

Ev'n Wellington might not escape from his sneer;
But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,
Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!

Next a gen'ral's apparel he put on, so new,
The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,
With gold all embroider'd so costly; and last

The loop with the plume that wav'd high in the blast,
'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,
To have gazed on the dizen'd out little dark man,

That order, of heroes the dying bequest,

Its ribbon that blush'd as it cover'd his breast;
The Star and the Badge that tried valour should wear,
As if he had earn'd them, he took to his share:
Like a pigmy he climb'd up on honour's high tree,
And blazon'd his name with a large K. C. B.

Now the battle of battles was won!!-O'er his foes
Triumphant the lion of England arose,

And gave peace to the world,—no longer, 'twas plain,
The little dark man could his office retain;
Reluctant he went, but he pocketed clear,
In pension and place fifteen hundred a year.

He growled and intrigued but in vain-he is gone!
Soon forgotten by most, and regretted by none:
But to sink in oblivion he cannot endure,

The moment seems tempting, the victims secure.
Strike

strike at your friends! The foul blow it was sped,

And with terrible justice recoil'd on his head.

The little dark man then he set up a yell,

And the Hundred of Lackford was roused by the spell;
He rais'd up his head, and he rais'd up his chin,
And he grinn'd and he shouted a horrible grin,
And he laugh'd a faint laugh, and his cap up he cast ;
But pension and sinecure still he holds fast.

When a score and three days make the age of the year,
To St. Stephen's, the Lords and the Commons repair:
Ere a score and three more, so the King might decree
The country another election may see.

But the brave men of Suffolk have seen through his plan,
And will baffle the arts of the little dark man.

THE QUEEN'S SUBSCRIPTION.

Tune-" Sprig of Shillelagh."

WHOE'ER knows St. James's, knows where the Whigs met In behalf of the Queen, a subscription to get,

For her Black Wig and her Character white.

By Truth and by Wisdom supported she stood―

Truth's part play'd by B-m, that of Wisdom by W—d,
They vow'd and they swore that she ne'er did amiss,
Though the Baron, they own'd, was so rude as to kiss
The Black Wig with the Character white.

At Brookes's they met-but demurr'd to the call
Of producing the cash-as they had none at all,

For the Black Wig and the Character white.

* On a motion being made, Jan. 31, 1821, in the House, respecting the Queen's annuity, Mr. Brougham rose and presented a message on the part of her Majesty: "She feels it due to the House and to herself respectfully to declare, that she perseveres in the resolution of declining any arrangement while her name continues to be excluded from the Liturgy." A subscription equivalent to the proposed allowance was talked of; but her Majesty was eventually induced to reconsider her determination, and accept the 50,000l. per annum.

C-e growl'd about rents, swore the funds ought to pay;
But B-g grimac'd, and R-o squeak'd "Nay!"
And the young ones exclaim'd, in a querulous tone,
They each had to pay for a saint of their own,

With a Black Wig and a Character white.

But though the subscription was tardy, and they
Had nothing to give, they had plenty to say

For the Black Wig and the Character white. Lord T-k stammer'd three words in her praise, And S-n his voice and his shoulders did raise; And C-t his nose cock'd, and G-t cock'd his And H-y G-y B-t pretended to cry

eye,

For the Black Wig and her Character white.

F—m, that reverend proselyte rose—

(We'll make him speak verse since he cannot speak prose) For the Black Wig and her Character white. "You seem," quoth the sage, "all averse to give cash, And in truth you are right—what is money but trash? Let's give something better to end all those quarrels, And raise a subscription of virtue and morals,

For the Black Wig and her Character white."

Old T-y set down, with a sorrowful face,
The hopes of his life, all the prospects of place,

To the Black Wig and her Character white.

The message which Brougham had advis'd and had penn'd, Poor T-y had rashly advanced to defend,

And not to subscribe would be rather uncivil,

So he gives very frankly-he gives-to the Devil

The Black Wig and her Character white.

Such cheap contributions delighted the pack,
And, for once, they were ready their leaders to back,

For the Black Wig and her Character white.