Part 249 (1/2)

_tu Regibus alas eripe_ VERGIL, _Georg. lib_. iv.

--Clip the wings Of these high-flying arbitrary Kings.

DRYDEN'S _Translation_.

DEDICATION.

TO LORD BYRON.

Dear Lord Byron,--Though this Volume should possess no other merit in your eyes, than that of reminding you of the short time we pa.s.sed together at Venice, when some of the trifles which it contains were written, you will, I am sure, receive the dedication of it with pleasure, and believe that I am,

My dear Lord,

Ever faithfully yours,

T. B.

PREFACE.

Though it was the wish of the Members of the Poco-curante Society (who have lately done me the honor of electing me their Secretary) that I should prefix my name to the following Miscellany, it is but fair to them and to myself to state, that, except in the ”painful pre-eminence” of being employed to transcribe their lucubrations, my claim to such a distinction in the t.i.tle-page is not greater than that of any other gentleman, who has contributed his share to the contents of the volume.

I had originally intended to take this opportunity of giving some account of the origin and objects of our Inst.i.tution, the names and characters of the different members, etc.--but as I am at present preparing for the press the First Volume of the ”Transactions of the Pococurante Society,” I shall reserve for that occasion all further details upon the subject, and content myself here with referring, for a general insight into our tenets, to a Song which will be found at the end of this work and which is sung to us on the first day of every month, by one of our oldest members, to the tune of (as far as I can recollect, being no musician,) either ”Nancy Dawson” or ”He stole away the Bacon.”

It may be as well also to state for the information of those critics who attack with the hope of being answered, and of being thereby brought into notice, that it is the rule of this Society to return no other answer to such a.s.sailants, than is contained in the three words ”_non curat Hippoclides_” (meaning, in English, ”Hippoclides does not care a fig,”) which were spoken two thousand years ago by the first founder of Poco- curantism, and have ever since been adopted as the leading _dictum_ of the sect.

THOMAS BROWN.

FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE.

FABLE I.

THE DISSOLUTION OF THE HOLY ALLIANCE.

A DREAM.

I've had a dream that bodes no good Unto the Holy Brotherhood.

I may be wrong, but I confess-- As far as it is right or lawful For one, no conjurer, to guess-- It seems to me extremely awful.

Methought, upon the Neva's flood A beautiful Ice Palace stood, A dome of frost-work, on the plan Of that once built by Empress Anne,[1]

Which shone by moonlight--as the tale is-- Like an Aurora Borealis.

In this said Palace, furnisht all And lighted as the best on land are, I dreamt there was a splendid Ball, Given by the Emperor Alexander, To entertain with all due zeal, Those holy gentlemen, who've shown a Regard so kind for Europe's weal, At Troppau, Laybach and Verona.

The thought was happy--and designed To hint how thus the human Mind May, like the stream imprisoned there, Be checkt and chilled, till it can bear The heaviest Kings, that ode or sonnet E'er yet be-praised, to dance upon it.