both let our wits run away with our sentiments; for I am sure that we are both Queen's men at bottom.[1] But there is no resisting a clinch—it is so clever! Apropos of that—we have a "diphthong" also in this part of the world—not a Greek, but a Spanish one—do you understand me?—which is about to blow up the whole alphabet. It was first pronounced at Naples, and is spreading; but we are nearer the barbarians, who are in great force on the Po, and will pass it, with the first legitimate pretext.
There will be the devil to pay, and there is no saying who will or who will not be set down in his bill. If "honour should come unlooked for"[2] to any of your acquaintance, make a Melody of it, that his ghost, like poor Yorick's, may have the satisfaction of being plaintively pitied—or still more nobly commemorated, like "Oh breathe not his name."[3] In case you should not think him worth it, here is a Chant for you instead—
When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home,
Let him combat for that of his neighbours;
Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome,
And get knock'd on the head for his labours
- ↑ Moore was a supporter of the Queen. In his Diary for November 11, 1820 [Memoirs, etc., vol. iii. p. 168), he writes, "The decision of the House of Lords against the Queen occupying every one's mind and tongue. What a barefaced defiance of all law and justice, and what precious scoundrels there are in the high places of the world!"
- ↑ Henry IV., Part I. act v. sc. 3. Compare Pope's Temple of Fame, line 513.
- ↑ Moore's song, of which the first stanza runs as follows:—
"O breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid;
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head;"appeared in No. i. of the Irish Melodies.
