M.P. For Galway.

“Martin in this has proved himself a very good man!”

—Boxiana.
1.

How many sing of wars,

Of Greek and Trojan jars —

The butcheries of men!

The Muse hath a “Perpetual Ruby Pen!”

Dabbling with heroes and the blood they spill;

But no one sings the man

That, like a pelican,

Nourishes Pity with his tender Bill!
2.

Thou Wilberforce of hacks!

Of whites as well as blacks,

Pyebald and dapple gray,

Chestnut and bay —

No poet’s eulogy thy name adorns!

But oxen, from the fens,

Sheep — in their pens,

Praise thee, and red cows with their winding horns!

Thou art sung on brutal pipes!

Drovers may curse thee,

Knackers asperse thee,

And sly M.P.‘s bestow their cruel wipes;

But the old horse neighs thee,

And zebras praise thee —

Asses, I mean — that have as many stripes!
3.

Hast thou not taught the Drover to forbear,

In Smithfield’s muddy, murderous, vile environ —

Staying his lifted bludgeon in the air!

Bullocks don’t wear

Oxide of iron!

The cruel Jarvy thou hast summon’d oft,

Enforcing mercy on the coarse Yahoo,

That thought his horse the courser of the two —

Whilst Swift smiled down aloft! —

O worthy pair! for this, when ye inhabit

Bodies of birds —(if so the spirit shifts

From flesh to feather)— when the clown uplifts

His hands against the sparrow’s nest, to grab it —

He shall not harm the MARTINS and the Swifts!
4.

Ah! when Dean Swift was quick, how he enhanc’d

The horse! — and humbled biped man like Plato!

But now he’s dead, the charger is mischanc’............