The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

306
Those vales so verdant, and those hills so blue;
Enjoy the sunny world, so fresh, and fair,
But"--(how the simple legend pierced me through!)
"PRIEZ POUR LES MALHEUREUX."
With sweet kind natures, as in honeyed cells,
Religion lives and feels herself at home;
But only on a formal visit dwells
Where wasps instead of bees have formed the comb.
Shun pride, O Rae!--whatever sort beside
You take in lieu, shun spiritual pride!
A pride there is of rank--a pride of birth,
A pride of learning, and a pride of purse,
A London pride--in short, there be on earth
A host of prides, some better and some worse;
But of all prides, since Lucifer's attaint,
The proudest swells a self-elected Saint.
To picture that cold pride so harsh and hard,
Fancy a peacock in a poultry-yard.
Behold him in conceited circles sail,
Strutting and dancing, and now planted stiff,
In all his pomp of pageantry, as if
He felt "the eyes of Europe" on his tail!
As for the humble breed retained by man,
He scorns the whole domestic clan--
He bows, he bridles,
He wheels, he sidles,
As last, with stately dodgings in a corner,
He pens a simple russet hen, to scorn her
Full in the blaze of his resplendent fan!
"Look here," he cries (to give him words),
"Thou feathered clay--thou scum of birds!"
Flirting the rustling plumage in her eyes--
"Look here, thou vile predestined sinner,
Doomed to be roasted for a dinner,
Behold these lovely variegated dyes!
These are the rainbow colors of the skies,
That heaven has shed upon me con amore--