Montem Ode, June 9, 1829. - From Eton College Poem by Anonymous British

Behold me once more your old poet ecstatic,
Thought old, blind, and nearly three parts rheumatic,
Yet, alert in my car,
Like a young man-of-war,
Or a horse,
Or a shay,
Or (I'm quite at a loss
What next I should say):
So with out anymore gaytropes and fine figures,
Hail! masters, young, old, white, dusky, or n- - .
Late as I lay upon my bed,
And snugly dream't upon my pillow,
Great Phoebus self stood at my head,
And cried, with voice emphatic, hillo,
Get up and sing of Montem, and of salt.
He said and vanished like a pint of malt.
Pregnant with inspiration, up I rose,
First snatched my lyre - then put on my clothes,
Harnessed my steed,
I did indeed,
And, as I drank a pint of purl, I
Wrote upon the hurly-burly.
Hark! by the sound of the fifes and drums,
I think the Marshal surely comes;
And here he is, Oh! only look!
In red and gold like a leaving book;
Then march on Mr. Hughes,
In your boots 'stead of shoes;
And y'r servants follow two by two,
But none so gaily dress'd as you.
But see! how grand, with pages fine,
Comes the Captain quite divine!
Ah! my noble Captain Brown
Sure your coat was made in town;
And your pages dress'd as Greeks,
I've not seen such for many weeks;
See they walk so nobly by, humph!
Fit to grace a Roman triumph.
But they're gone by,
And, oh! my eye,
Th Sergeant Major,
With a page, or
Two in his train,
Stalks o'er the plain:
March on then Yonge
Your praise I've sung,
So do'nt be vex'd;
But who comes next?
By my fame, I think 'tis Barrett,
Dress'd as fine as any parrot;
In his clothes of brilliant red,
With his hat upon his head.
But only see, sir,
Sergeant Measor,
Just look at him if you please, sir.
Behind him sergeant Hibbert moves,
In a pair of new white gloves;
Then comes Creasy,
Don't he please ye?
Lo! as bright
As night
By the harvest moon or star-lit;
With gloves on his knuckles,
And shoes and buckles,
March away, march away, Mr. Scarlett.
Not less enchanting,
See Mr. Carlton, saunter in
With his legs in leather boots.
Moving to the sound of flutes;
And the portly Mr. Craven,
Greatly skims along the field:
And Mr. Armstrong nearly raving,
With a sword but not a shield.
Then comes Mr. Snow,
Whose red coat as you know
Is as fine as it can be,
With lace very handy;
And Jilp the very pink of fashion,
With breeches, shoes, and hat, and sash on,
After him comes gallant Moore,
And he looks any thing but poor;
And see behind him Mr. Hulse,
With beating heart, and beating pulse,
Dress'd as gay
As any jay,
In honor of the Montem day.
Then, behold, comes colonel Monck,
Admiring thousands cry 'quid nunc;'
See his sword upon his thigh,
See his feathers towering high;
Now, however, he's gone by.
But soft, with a flag,
What ensign is this;
Were I now a wag,
I might say Adonis;
No, sirs, in a word,
Let the plain truth be heard;
Ensign Elliot, advance
With your new step from France,- -
Wave the flag, see how funny
The people all talk,
The gents cry out 'well done he!'
The mob cry out 'Oh lauk!'
Next the gay lieutenant Theed
Struts along; he's fine indeed!
Methinks I hear each lady sigh
As the lieutenant marches by;
To say the truth,
He's a noble youth,
So full of grace and dignity.
But the ladies like, I know,
Most of all the motley show,
Mr. Price,
Who looks as nice
As king Cambys -
Es,
Or Achilles.
And brave Mr. Yard,
With a mantle of velvet,
If it should, rain ill-starr'd
Young man! 'twill be well-wet.
The march is done,
Not so my song;
I'd near forgot
(Oh no! I'd not),
The steward Ford,
Upon my word,
Without the aid of silk and lace;
His native dignity and grace
Make him a good one for his place.
My tale is o'er, my lyre unstrung,
The last, last rhyme upon my tongue;
My donkey, first and best of asses,
Well fed to day, at least, on grass is;
Farewell, then! should the toward muse
Expire, e're the next Montem views,
O, give a pearly drop of tear,
If not, - a pint of purl, or beer -
To Herbert Stockhore,
Punctual as clock, or
Bailiff, or dun,
Or Tartar, or Hun.
Farewell, the world hath been, and must be,
To poets, statesmen, fiddlers, and to me.