The Fudges In England. Letter X. From The Rev. Mortimer O'mulligan, To The Rev. ---- Poem Rhyme Scheme

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These few brief lines my reverend friend	A
By a safe private hand I send	A
Fearing lest some low Catholic wag	B
Should pry into the Letter bag	B
To tell you far as pen can dare	C
How we poor errant martyrs fare	C
Martyrs not quite to fire and rack	D
As Saints were some few ages back	D
But scarce less trying in its way	E
To laughter wheresoe'er we stray	E
To jokes which Providence mysterious	F
Permits on men and things so serious	F
Lowering the Church still more each minute	G
And injuring our preferment in it	H
	-
Just think how worrying 'tis my friend	A
To find where'er our footsteps bend	A
Small jokes like squibs around us whizzing	I
And bear the eternal torturing play	E
Of that great engine of our day	E
Unknown to the Inquisition quizzing	I
Your men of thumb screws and of racks	J
Aimed at the body their attack	D
But modern torturers more refined	K
Work their machinery on the mind	K
Had St Sebastian had the luck	L
With me to be a godly rover	M
Instead of arrows he'd be stuck	L
With stings of ridicule all over	M
And poor St Lawrence who was killed	N
By being on a gridiron grilled	N
Had he but shared my errant lot	O
Instead of grill on gridiron hot	O
A moral roasting would have got	O
	-
Nor should I trying as all this is	P
Much heed the suffering or the shame	Q
As like an actor used to hisses	P
I long have known no other fame	Q
But that as I may own to you	R
Tho' to the world it would not do	R
No hope appears of fortune's beams	S
Shining on any of my schemes	S
No chance of something more per ann	T
As supplement to Kellyman	T
No prospect that by fierce abuse	U
Of Ireland I shall e'er induce	U
The rulers of this thinking nation	T
To rid us of Emancipation	T
To forge anew the severed chain	T
And bring back Penal Laws again	T
	-
Ah happy time when wolves and priests	V
Alike were hunted as wild beasts	V
And five pounds was the price per head	W
For bagging either live or dead	W
Tho' oft we're told one outlawed brother	M
Saved cost by eating up the other	M
Finding thus all those schemes and hopes	X
I built upon my flowers and tropes	X
All scattered one by one away	E
As flashy and unsound as they	E
The question comes what's to be done	T
And there's but one course left me one	T
Heroes when tired of war's alarms	X
Seek sweet repose in Beauty's arms	X
The weary Day God's last retreat is	X
The breast of silvery footed Thetis	X
And mine as mighty Love's my judge	Y
Shall be the arms of rich Miss Fudge	Y
	-
Start not my friend the tender scheme	Z
Wild and romantic tho' it seem	Z
Beyond a parson's fondest dream	Z
Yet shines too with those golden dyes	X
So pleasing to a parson's eyes	X
That only gilding which the Muse	X
Can not around her sons diffuse	X
Which whencesoever flows its bliss	X
From wealthy Miss or benefice	X
To Mortimer indifferent is	X
So he can only make it his	X
There is but one slight damp I see	X
Upon this scheme's felicity	X
And that is the fair heroine's claim	Q
That I shall take her family name	Q
To this tho' it may look henpeckt	X
I can't quite decently object	X
Having myself long chosen to shine	T
Conspicuous in the alias line	T
So that henceforth by wife's decree	X
For Biddy from this point won't budge	Y
Your old friend's new address must be	X
The Rev Mortimer O'Fudge	Y
The O being kept that all may see	X
We're both of ancient family	X
	-
Such friend nor need the fact amaze you	R
My public life's a calm Euthanasia	A2
Thus bid I long farewell to all	B2
The freaks of Exeter's old Hall	B2
Freaks in grimace its apes exceeding	I
And rivalling its bears in breeding	I
Farewell the platform filled with preachers	X
The prayer given out as grace by speechers	X
Ere they cut up their fellow creatures	X
Farewell to dead old Dens's volumes	X
And scarce less dead old Standard's columns	X
From each and all I now retire	C2
My task henceforth as spouse and sire	M
To bring up little filial Fudges	X
To be M P s and Peers and Judges	X
Parsons I'd add too if alas	X
There yet were hope the Church could pass	X
The gulf now oped for hers and her	M
Or long survive what Exeter	M
Both Hall and Bishop of that name	Q
Have done to sink her reverend fame	Q
Adieu dear friend you'll oft hear from me	X
Now I'm no more a travelling drudge	Y
Meanwhile I sign that you may judge	Y
How well the surname will become me	X
Yours truly	X
MORTIMER O'FUDGE	Y

Thomas Moore

The Fudges In England. Letter X. From The Rev. Mortimer O'mulligan, To The Rev. ---- Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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