“It came into my head that it might peradventure be a fit thing for the Poet-Laureate to write certain verses upon the peace to the personages who are now dragging all London after their horses’ heels. I was very well inclined to put the thought out of my head, if some of the very few persons whom I see here had not shown me by their inquiries that it would come into other heads as well as mine. The subjects for their kind were the best possible; so I fell to in good earnest, and have written three odes* in Thalaba’s verse. The Carmen was an oration in rhyme. These are odes without rhyme, but in manner and matter altogether lyric. I shall have no time even to correct the press. I have written to Croker, saying that it may be proper to present copies to the persons be-oded, or that such presentations might be improper, and that in my ignorance of such things I requested him to act for me. . . . .
“I am in some trouble about my old correspondent, Don Manual Abella, a man of letters and a staunch
* To the Prince Regent, the Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia. |
| Ætat. 40. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 79 |
“An officer of Suchet’s army, who served at the siege of Tarragona, and was afterwards taken by Eroles, was brought here last week by Wordsworth, to whom he had letters of recommendation from France;—a young man, and apparently one of the best of these Frenchmen. He had grace enough to acknowledge that the Spanish business was an unjust one, which he said all the officers knew; and he amused me by complaining that the Spaniards were very hard-hearted. To which I replied that they had not invited him and his countrymen. He said ‘they did make beautiful defence;’ and I gathered from him some information upon points of consequence. . . . .
“I have sent to the Courier a doggrel March to Moscow, written months ago to amuse
the children, and chiefly upon the provocation of an irresistible
| 80 | LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE | Ætat. 40. |
|
“The Emperor Nap, he talked
so loud,
That he frightened Mr. Roscoe;
John Bull, he cries, if
you’ll be wise,
Ask the Emperor Nap if he will please
To grant you peace upon your knees,
Because he’s going to Moscow!
He’ll make all the Poles come out of their holes,
And eat the Prussians, and beat the Russians;
The fields are green, and the sky is blue,
Morbleu! Parbleu!
He’ll certainly get to Moscow!
|
“There is some good doggrel in the rest, and Morbleu, &c. is the burden of the song. . . . .
