_A loose parody of “Alonzo the Brave, and the Fair Imogine,” relating to George IV. and Queen Caroline._ (_Written in October_ 1820.) A warrior so bold, and a virgin so bright, Conversed as they sat o’er their wine; They gaz’d on each other with tender delight; St. George was the name of that pot-belly’d knight,[91] The maid’s was the _Fair Caroline_. And “Oh!” said in rapture, the amorous beau, As of Champagne he tipp’d off a quart, The passion’s so ardent with which I now glow, That ne’er on another a thought I’ll bestow, You shall share both my throne and my heart. “Then hush all suspicion,” the Cavalier said, “Believe me, this heart’s all your own; For whilst I am living, if you be not dead, I swear by these whiskers, that none in your stead, Shall sit by my side on the throne.”[92] But alas! by caprice or intrigue led aside, His recreant affections soon roam; He spurn’d the fair damsel who late was his pride, E’en access to her own belov’d infant deny’d, And the poor childless mother, the sad widow’d bride, An exile became from her home. * * * * * For the grand coronation, now see the Archbishop, Prepare; for at hand was the day. At a cabinet dinner, they’d just served the fish up, And a waiter had brought a _spare rib_, the top dish up, When a _belle_ struck them all with dismay. Then, oh! with amazement, the courtiers found, ’Twas fair Caroline stood by their side; St. George was confounded, he utter’d no sound; He spoke not, he mov’d not, nor dar’d look around, Lest his eyes should encounter his bride. Her mien was majestic, her aspect so bright, That her enemies shrunk from the view; All their pleasure and laughter were hushed at the sight, Callous Canning and Castlereagh shrunk in affright, Pious Eldon and Sidmouth look’d blue! * * * * * “Begone!” to the base borough-faction she cry’d; “Your malice and hatred I brave; To deceive England’s monarch all arts you have try’d, He has sworn that none else but his own lawful bride At the grand coronation should sit by his side, Unless I should be in my grave.” (_Here follow four more verses._) From _The Melange_, Liverpool, 1834. ―――― COLENSO THE BRAVE. _By our own Monk Lewis._ A Bishop so wise, and a native so tame, Conversed in an African mead, Colenso the Brave was the Suffragan’s name, But the pensive Zulu’s is not given to fame, And they talked upon questions of creed. “O hush those suspicions,” the Suffragan said, “Offensive to Church and to me.” But something the native put into his head, He mused on at board, and he mused on in bed, And he talked of the same in his see.