EPISTLE FROM CAPTAIN ROCK TO LORD L — NDII — T.
[We learn from the C urier, that Mn. Titomas MOORE, NS hose gems of wit and sarcasm illustrated the columns of the Times in the better days of that journal, now tunes his lyre for the Morning Chronicle. The following is its latest lay.] Dear L—ndh—t, you'll pardon my making thus free,
But form is all fudge 'twixt such " comrogues " as we ; Who, whate'er the smooth views we in public may drive at,
Have both the same praiseworthy object in private ;- Namely, never to let the old regions of riot
Where Rock bath long reigned, have one instant of quiet;
But keep Ireland still in that liquid we've taught her To love more than meat, drink, or clothing—hot water.
All the diff'rence betwixt you and me, as I take it, Is simply that you make the law and I break it; And never of big-wigs and small were there two Played so well into each other's bands as we do: Insomuch, that the laws you and yours manufacture Seem all made express for the Rock-boys to fracture.
Not Birmingham's self, to her shame be it spoken, E'er made things more neatly-contrived to be broken ; And hence, I confess, in this island religious,
The breakage of Lws and of leads is prodigious.
And long may it thrive, my ex-Big-wig, say I; Though of late much I feared all our fun was gone by ; As, except when some tithe-bunting parson showed sport, Some rector—a cool band at pistols and port,
Who " keeps dry" his powder, but never himself,—
One who, leaving his Bible to rust on the shelf, Sends his pions texts home in the shape of ball-cartridges, Shooting his " Dearly Beloved" like partridges ; Except when some hero of this sort turned out,
Or th' Exchequer sent, flaming, its tithe-writs' about—
A contrivance more neat, I may say, without flattery, Than e'er yet was thought of for bloodshed and battery;
So neat, that e'en I might be proud, I allow, To have hit off so rich a receipt for a row :
Except for such rigs turning up now and then I was actually growing the dullest of men; And, had this blank tit been allowed to increase, Might have snored myself down to a Justice of Peace.
Like you, reformation in Church and in State
Is the thing of all things I most cordially hate. If once these cursed Ministers do as they like, All's o'er, my good Lord, with your wig and my pike,
And one may be hung up on t'uther henceforth, Just to show what such Captains and Chancellors were worth.
But we must not despair ; e'en already hope sees
You're about, my bold Baron, to kick up a breeze, Of the true, baffling sort, such as suits rue and you, Who have box'd the whole compass of Party right through', And care not one farthing, as all the world knows,
So we but raise the wind, from what quarter it blows.
Forgive me, dear Lord, that thus rudely I dare My own small resources with thine to compare:
Not e'en Jerry Diddler, in "raising the wind," durst
Compete, for one instant, with thee, my dear L—nd—t . But, hark, there's a shot !—sonie parsonic practitioner? No—merely a bran-new Rebellion Commissioner ; The Courts having now, with true Law erudition, l'ut even Rebellion itself "in commission."
As seldom, in this way, I'm any man's debtor, I'll just pay my shot, and then fold up this letter.
In the mean time, hurrah fur the Tories and Rocks !
'hurrah for the parsons who fleece well their flocks!
Hurrah for all mischief, in all ranks and spheres, And, above all, hurrah for that:dear House of Peers !
• Exchequer Tithe Processes, served under a Commission of Rebellion.