These shall the Gout tormenting rack, The Vampire of the toes, Night-mare, Lumbago in the back, And Cholic’s painful throes; Or languid liver waste their youth, Or caries of a double tooth, Its victim’s nerves that nightly gnaws. Vertigo――Apoplexy――Spleen, The feverish hand――the visage green, The lengthen’d lanthorn jaws. This, a _consommé_, precious prize! Is tempted now to try; To restless nights a sacrifice, And dire acidity. Till throbs of heart-burn――ague’s pangs, And Cholera’s fiercely fixing fangs, Have left him, liverless, to moan, The bloated form――the pimpled face, The tottering step――th’ expiring trace Of good digestion gone. To each his twitches, all are men, Condemned to pick their bone; The poor man in another’s den, The rich man in his own. Yet, why should I of torments treat? Since we were made to drink and eat, Why should I prophesy their pain? Stomachs were form’d for holding food―― No more――while our digestion’s good, ’Tis folly to abstain. From _Blackwood’s Magazine_, May, 1828. ―――― ODE ON A PROSPECT OF THE ABOLITION OF ETON MONTEM. Ye distant spires, ye antique tow’rs. That crown the wat’ry glade, Where Aristocracy’s young flowers Bless Henry’s holy shade, For culture which the monarch meant For scholars poor and indigent; Unable for their lore to pay―― Some grumbling churls, in language strong, Pronounce this change a wicked wrong, No matter what they say! Ah hapless tow’rs! ah luckless spires! Ah statutes shirk’d amain! That high-born sons of noble sires Might learning _gratis_ gain; The gales that from your quarters blow Oppress me with a sense of woe; For they a horrid rumour bring That Eton Montem is to be At length abolish’d――Goodness me! Oh what a shocking thing! Say, Hill of Salt, for thou hast seen Full many a noble race Do what might be considered mean In any other case―― With cap in hand, and courtly leg, Waylay the traveller, and beg; Say, was it not a pleasing sight Those young Etonians to behold, For eleemosynary gold, Arrest the passing wight! Whilst some, of more excursive bent, Their vagrant arts to ply, To all the various places went, That in the neighbourhood lie; To Datchet, Slough, or Horton they, Or e’en to Colnbrook, took their way, Or ancient Windsor’s regal town; Stopp’d everybody they could meet, Knock’d at each house in every street, In hopes of half-a-crown. Gay clothes were theirs, by fancy made; Some were as Romans drest, Some in the Grecian garb array’d, Some bore the knightly crest; Theirs was attire of every hue, Of every fashion, old or new, Various as Nathan’s ample store: Angelic beings! Ladies! say, Will ye let these things pass away? Must Montem be no more?