CORONATION SOLILOQUY

OF HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE THE FOURTH

[First published in The Examiner, July 29, 1821, as 'A Lesson for Kings'; reprinted 1860 from a revised and augmented copy, superseding the first imperfect sketch, and never before published'. Text, 1860. For earlier version, see Notes.] To the tune of

CROKER'S MOUNTINGS

[Being three favourite Glees sung with great applause during the present Irish Voyage of Recovery; and written by Mr. HARRY BROWN in honour of that illustrious Godfather of rising Situations.1]

[First published in The Examiner, August 19, 1821; not reprinted.]

Tune-Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins to rise.

A NEW SONG BY MR. HARRY BROWN, SUNG BY THE R******R AND C****N S******T AT THE JUDGES' DINNERS

TUNE-A-Hunting we will go.

[First published in The Examiner, September 2, 1821; not reprinted.]

THE Dusky Knight 2 puts down the

For a-hanging he will go,

He's always saying so;

He'd as lief hang us all as a crow,

We called them "Croaker's Mountains.".-Voyage to the North Pole [H.]

⚫ Commonly called by the less poetical Black Jack-perhaps for a triple reason.

.[H.]

[First published in The Liberal, Vol. I, 1822; not reprinted.]

'I at this time got a post, being for fatigue, with other four. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington's Hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time; as we got our own fill, while we broke the biscuita thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the Prodigal Son was never once out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the Dogs, over my humble situation and my ruined hopes.'-Journal of a Soldier of the 71st Regt. during the War in Spain.

I SING a matter of some sixty dogs,

That dined in the Peninsula on biscuit.

Under the old regime the French eat frogs;
Under the new some Englishmen would frisk it
If they had any thing besides their fogs.
I'd thank Apollo therefore to touch his kit,
While I strike up a dance, that I've a notion
Will set the whole of Puppydom in motion.

II

Attend then to me, puppies of all sorts,

All by whom hangs a tale, including you,

The blacker kind, who practise in the courts,

And from the back of whose strange curls hang two:
And you, of whom I hear such bad reports

In these great times, ye poor inferior crew,

Ye Men-do you too listen to my song:

I mean to show you that your claims are wrong.

III

And you, red-coated dogs, not commonly
So called, for ye are men,-but ye alone,
Who only when the drum sounds fidget ye,
And rise like men; and soon as it is done,

Fall to the earth like proper puppies, quae
Ventri obedientia sunt, and prone,

As Sallust has it,-hear what your Bard says,
And then (I ask no better) go your ways.

IV

And thou, thou other lucky dog, and diner,
Who from the Frenchman's biscuit-guiding hand
Munch'd out side faces of Voltaire, none finer,
Look from the dog-star down, that rules thy land!
'Twas thine to eat, no king's bitch embonpoint-er,
When good-old-times'-men's legs could hardly stand:
And then thou bit'st, as some would say, for snacks,
Men out of countenance behind their backs!

V

Nor thou, great Duke of Wellington, disdain
To hear about the curs, for they are thine :
Nay, pardon my poor words, my common strain,
Disdain thou can'st not, though the strain is mine:
The subject will excuse me for my brain :
To write's but human, but of dogs divine.
I shamefully forgot, great Sir, that when
Dogs are to be considered, what are men ?

VI

Many a jolly dog has been renowned,
Especially for eating people's dinners:

E'en men have merit when like them they're found
To hold well out, and make their masters winners:
But all the dogs on earth, cur, whelp, and hound,
To these I speak of, have but been beginners.
Even the pack recorded by Herodotus

Knuckles before them; I declare to God it does.

VII

Herodotus says only that there were

Four villages allotted for their dog's-meat;

A handsome pension, I allow but here

Warriors stand by, wanting, like proper rogues, meat,

Bread being even for a few too dear,

While the Duke's hounds to their respective progs meet.

Warriors, mind-hollow squares-without whom, marry an
Arbiter I could name had now been carrion.

VIII

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40

50

Yes, 'Heav'n be praised! Thanks to our lucky stars!
Thanks to our wounds!' the five fatigued men said,
'This day, the happiest one of all our wars,
This day, this glorious day, we dine on bread!'

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