The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

265
Thanks, thanks for the hopes thou hast given us, that we
May, even in our times a jubilee share,
Which so long has been promised by prophets like thee,
And so often has fail'd, we began to despair.
There was Whiston, who learnedly took Prince Eugene
For the man who must bring the Millennium about;
There's Faber, whose pious predictions have been
All belied, ere his book's first edition was out;--
There was Counsellor Dobbs, too, an Irish M.P.,
Who discoursed on the subject with signal eclat,
And, each day of his life, sat expecting to see
A Millennium break out in the town of Armagh!
There was also--but why should I burden my lay
With your Brotherses, Southcotes, and names less deserving
When all past Millenniums henceforth must give way
To the last new Millennium of Orator Irv-ng,
Go on, mighty man--doom them all to the shelf--
And, when next thou with prophecy tronblest thy sconce,
Oh, forget not, I pray thee, to prove that thyself
Art the Beast (chapter 4) that sees nine ways at once!
THE LITTLE GRAND LAMA.
A FABLE FOR PRINCES ROYAL
THOMAS MOORE
In Thibet once there reign'd, we're told,
A little Lama, one year old--
Raised to the throne, that realm to bless,
Just when his little Holiness
Had cut--as near as can be reckoned--
Some say his FIRST tooth, some his SECOND,
Chronologers and verses vary,
Which proves historians should be wary
We only know the important truth--
His Majesty HAD cut a tooth.