Title: A Poem to the Memory of our late lamented Queen Caroline of England
Author: Parkerson, James
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.


*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A Poem to the Memory of our late lamented Queen Caroline of England" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

LAMENTED QUEEN CAROLINE OF ENGLAND***


Transcribed from the early 1800’s edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org.  Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library,
UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was
made.



                                  A POEM
                                  TO THE
                       Memory of our late lamented
                              QUEEN CAROLINE
                                    OF
                                _ENGLAND_.


                      [Picture: Decorative divider]

                          BY J. PARKERSON, JUN.

                      [Picture: Decorative divider]

                                  PRICE

                                * * * * *

                                 NORWICH:
           _PRINTED_, _BY R. WALKER_, _NEAR THE DUKE’S PALACE_



_A POEM_
TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LATE LAMENTED
Queen Caroline.


   As a Briton, this tribute I pay to my Queen,
   Who late fell a martyr to malice and spleen;
   To add to her sorrows in this fleeting life,
   Misfortune had made her a young widow’d wife.
   England saw Brunswick’s daughter surrounded by foes;
   And, therefore determin’d their arts to oppose.
   Corruption those minions so much can increase,
   As to play with our feelings and injure our peace.
   The vilest of reptiles oft jewels display;
   You may see them at courts and at levees each day:
   Lord D--- and his lady, not many years since,
   Unblushingly perjured themselves for a ---:
   Their conduct was such as rous’d England’s spleen,
   That after her trial they dare not be seen;
   May remorse and disgrace so harrass each breast,
   As during existance divest them of rest;
   Till despis’d and dishonour’d they yield to a fate
   That justly awaits the entitled ingrate.
   Scarce the delicate business had pass’d a short day,
   Ere my lord and my lady took themselves away
   From England’s old comforts and England’s lov’d shore;
   For they dare not by Britons be seen any more.
   The hired Italians’ could tell if they please,
   They liv’y by base lucre many years at their ease.
   They were fed for a purpose each Briton well know;
   Yet Perjury’s efforts late met a death blow;
   So effectual, I hope, she will ne’er try again,
   To injure the just, or to give any pain.
   To the innocent bosom unsconscious of blame—
   A very late trial brought on Briton’s shame.
   I mean to such Britons who try’d to run down,
   Our much injured Queen, late depriv’d of the crown;
   For reasons too plain, and known very well:
   I dare say, the court at St. James’s can tell.
   May the time soon approach that each freeman can say,
   My rights as a freeman I’ll not throw away;
   For I find that the great ones so impoverish the nation,
   It is time they are taken away from their station;
   They at present so manage, to our sorrow and grief:
   They feed us with hopes, yet with-hold us relief;
   A reform in all matters, and not things by halves,
   For England is pawn’d while she fattens her calves;
   The good funded system will plain show you how
   They can raise a supply, tho’ it injure the plough.
   To such a degree that it must remain still;
   What matters to them so there’s grist in the mill
   ’Tis just like a merchant on a dull market day,
   That will purchase your corn tho’ he can’t for it pay;
   Except he resort to a mortgaging plan,
   Which is certain at all times to ruin the man;
   Then a bankruptcy follows and nothing to pay,
   For extravagance makes all his assets away.
   Such is the case you may clear understand:
   They first tax the nation and then pawn the land;
   Till the farmer no longer his rental can pay,
   For parsons take half of his income away:
   At times like the present how much is he blest,
   When Georgie steps in and he takes the rest;
   For the good of the state, for the good of us all,
   They have plenty of soldiers we know at their call.
   To be sure they look handsome at a review:
   The question to us is, wouldn’t half of them do?
   But what would become of commanders I say;
   Were the army dismiss’d and to live on half pay.
   Why the son of a lord or a country ’squire,
   Must then from his wine and his lasses retire;
   There is many a youngster would soon be undone,
   And the reputed father must keep his own son.
   Let places and pensions be quick done away,
   At least so diminish’d as less is to pay;
   I mean to all such as the state can well spare,
   ’Twou’d make the expenditure less in the year:
   There are bed-chamber lords and ladies so gay;
   Such fine gaudy trappings waste money away:
   There are ladies of honor, of honor indeed,
   You must empty your purses, ere you can succeed.
   Their time and their beauty they’ll not throw away,
   It’s well known a duke spends a thousand a day
   On such baubles, but sometimes it’s done in the dark;
   To prove my assertion, pray ask Mrs. Clarke:
   Clarke’s there are many, as fame loud report,
   That do not wear breeches; yet live by a court.
   John Bull must pay all, and dare not complain,
   For if he is noisy, a goal must detain
   The troublesome urchin, and will him so tease,
   That, hereafter he’s silent, and do as you please:
   For bills are so fangled, they always can bind
   The tongue of a croker to a minister’s mind.
   Till we gain a REFORM, and do placemen away,
   We’ll at Liberty’s call, all her dictates obey.
   United as Englishmen; honour the Crown,
   And try all we can to put tyranny down.
   Success to our country, long live the King!
   May a speedy reform more happy days bring.
   But now to return to our subject again,
   That caus’d the emotions of sorrow and pain.
   I must now again speak of our good Caroline,
   Who I hope is now sitting beside the Divine;
   And guiltless I trust to her God she’ll appear:
   Have a trial much better than granted her here.
   There the crimes of the wicked are fully display’d,
   There Justice and Mercy are lively array’d.
   The wicked no longer can harrass her mind;
   To injure the Queen they were always inclin’d.
   May troubles of all sorts annoy each vile heart,
   Till life is extinguished, from them ne’er depart;
   May they live upon spleen, exist upon pain,
   Till a trial above shall renew them again;
   Depriv’d of all comforts attending this life;
   Depriv’d of her home, tho’ a virtuous wife.
   Tho’ truly accomplish’d, and in manners mild
   Was deprived of the pleasure of seeing her child.
   In England no longer thought fit for to stay,
   A vessel was granted to bear her away.
   No doubt but her presence at times brought to mind
   Unpleasant sensations to him left behind;
   For remorse will at all times keen anguish bring
   To an unfeeling bosom, tho’ he be a ---.
   Scarce had she rested on the Italic shore,
   Then means were employ’d to harrass her more.
   Spies and informers were fattened to say
   Our Queen in her conduct by far was too gay:
   When they witness’d a smile, they did not decline
   To make it a certain intrigue or a crime.
   May the book of false statements against them appear,
   When eternity’s trial is found to be near.
   Soon matters and plans for a new magazine,
   Made up of slander, corruption, and spleen;
   When all was made ready they at it anew;
   Again our Queen’s conduct was made a review.
   Corruption and art such a picture did draw,
   As what was surmis’d, was pass’d to a law.
   The ill fated trial at last did come on;
   The time that it lasted was all time too long.
   The perjur’d Italians were forc’d to give o’er;
   They had lied so much that they could lie no more;
   For Brougham and Denman plac’d them on the rack;
   And forc’d the vile reptiles to fly instant back.
   It’s a pity I say that a devouring wave
   Did’nt save the expence of digging a grave;
   In a country so famous for speaking the truth,
   Or to save the late trouble had died in their youth.
   The trial now over and guiltless appear;
   Long live the Queen, you might hear in each ear;
   Her rights and her honours we’ll ever support;
   Tho’ corruption again more Italians import;
   If there come a whole cargo, we’ll soon make them skip,
   To save future trouble we’ll scuttle the ship.
   The next thought of scheme for the good of the nation,
   Was to keep our good Queen from holding a station
   All delicate scruples of justice hurl’d down—
   It was soon determin’d she should not wear the Crown
   If ever a Queen was deserving that station,
   It was good Caroline the pride of the nation.
   The time will soon come when all things will change,
   The minions of minions will be forc’d for to range
   From stations they hold and from stations they fill:
   It’s good for the country they should not have their will.
   May the wings of bright liberty ne’er one feather loose—
   May freemen be freemen, and proper men choose
   To fill up such places as may be to fill;
   For corruption you see is now down on the hill.
   Disgrace and dishonour must to justice give way,
   For reason’s chaste dictates begin for to sway.
   The people of England must see very clear;—
   The vilest abuses to all do appear.

                                 THE END.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A Poem to the Memory of our late lamented Queen Caroline of England" ***

Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.