A Speech From The Throne, To The Senate Of Lunataria

INTRODUCTION.

I lately dream'd that, in a huge balloon, All silk and gold, I journey'd to the Moon, Where the same objects seem'd to meet my eyes That I had lately left below the skies;

And judge of my astonishment, on seeing All things exactly, to a hair, agreeing: The mountains, rivers, cities, trees, and towers, On Cynthia's silver surface, seem'd like ours; Men, women, children, language, dress, and faces, Lords, Commons, Lackies, Pensioners, and Places, Whigs, Tories, Lawyers, Priests, and men of blood, And even Radicals--by all that's good!

In a long street, just such as London's Strand is, 'Midst Belles and Beggars, Pickpockets and Dandies, Onward I went, between a brazen horse, And a large Inn which bore a Golden Cross, Then through a passage, narrow, long and dark, That brought my footsteps to a spacious park.

It chanc'd that morning that the Sovereign Dey, The Prince of Lunataria pass'd that way-- Gods! what a sight! what countless crouds were there, What yells, and groans, and hootings, rent the air! By which, I learn'd, the Lunatarian nation Are wont to testify their admiration; We don't do so on earth--but that's no matter-- The Dey went onward, midst a hideous clatter To meet the Senators; for'twas appointed, That, on that morning, He--the Lord's anointed-- Should make a grand Oration from the throne, That his most royal pleasure might be known.

Respecting certain great affairs of State:-- I heard the speech; Oh! could the muse relate The "elegance the sweet "distinctiveness" With which his Royal Deyship did address That reverend body of Moonarian sages, I'd write a book that should endure for ages.

Alas! such heights are not for me to reach; I'll therefore, from my note-book, take the Speech, And you must say, as'tis by Pope exprest, "Give all thou canst, and we will dream the rest!"

THE SPEECH.

MY L--rds and G--tl--n, I grieve to say, That poor old Dad, Is just as--bad, As when I met you here the other day.

'Tis pity that these cursed State Affairs Should take you from your pheasants and your hares Just now:

But lo!

Conspiracy and Treason are abroad!

Those imps of darkness, gender'd in the wombs Of spinning-jennies, winding-wheels, and looms,

In Lunashire--

Oh, Lord!

My L--ds and G--tl--n, we've much to fear!

Reform, Reform, the swinish rabble cry-- Meaning, of course, rebellion, blood, and riot-- Audacious rascals! you, my Lords, and I, Know 'tis their duty to be starved in quiet: But they have grumbling habits, incompatible With the repose of our august community-- They see that good things are with us come-at-ible, And therefore slyly watch their opportunity To get a share;

Yes, they declare That we are not God's favorites alone-- That they have rights to food, and clothes, and air, As well as you, the Brilliants of a throne! Oh! indications foul of revolution-- The villains would destroy the Constitution!

I've given orders for a lot of Letters, From these seditious, scribbling, scoundrels' betters N--d--n and N--rr--s, F--ch--r, W--t and H--y 'To lie, for your instruction,'

Upon the table;

From which said premises you'll soon be able To make a fair deduction,

That some decisive measures must be taken, Without delay,

To quell the Radicals,

and save our bacon.

And now, my faithful C--m--ns, You must find

The means to raise the wind:

For Derry Down, and Sid, have thought it wise, To have--besides the Spies-- A few more Cut-throats, to protect the rhino Of loyal people,--such as you and I know.

Van's estimates will come before you straight; And, I foresee That your opinions will with mine agree,

No lighter weight Can well be placed on

Who is, you know,

a very willing hack.

The revenue has fluctuated slightly--

See the Courier--

But it's been found to be

improving nightly--

For two weeks past,--

therefore we've nought to fear.

Some branches of our trade are still deprest,

And those dependant on them wanting food,

But that's a sort of

temporary evil--

'Twill wear away:

perhaps'tis for the best At all events,'twill do no good To let the starving wretches be uncivil.

Five years ago, you know, our sad condition Was partly owing to

'the quick transition From war to peace'--then,

we had 'scanty crops'-- Then, something else--and now-- our weavers' shops Are full of Radicals,

and Flags, and Caps; But 'temporary' still

are these mishaps--

The 'quick transition's' gone,

the 'crops' are good, And though the Radicals

may still want food,

A few