PROPOSALS FOR A GYNECOCRACY. ADDRESSED TO A LATE RADICAL MEETING. "Quas ipsa decus sibi dia Camilla Delegit pacisque bonas bellique ministras." VIRGIL. As Whig Reform has had its range, And since, of late, with he M. P.'s We've fared so badly, take to she's— Petticoat patriots, flounc'd John Russells, Burdetts in blonde, and Broughams in bustles. But 'tis but an affair of dress; Nor see I much there is to choose "Twixt Ladies (so they're thorough bred ones) In ribands of all sorts of hues, Or Lords in only blue or red ones. At least, the fiddlers will be winners, As then, instead of Cabinet dinners, We'll have, at Almack's, Cabinet dances; Nor let this world's important questions Depend on Ministers' digestions. If Ude's receipts have done things ill, Would settle Europe, if you'd let her: When Whigs or Tories have undone 'em, Whether they've danc'd through State affairs, Or simply, dully, din'd upon 'em? Hurrah then for the Petticoats! To them we pledge our free-born votes; Pert blues shall act as "best debaters," Old dowagers our Bishops be, And termagants our Agitators. If Vestris, to oblige the nation, Her own Olympus will abandon, And help to prop the' Administration, And, finally, to crown the whole, * A personage, so styling herself, who attained considerable notoriety at that period. Sir, TO THE EDITOR OF THE * Having heard some rumours respecting the strange and awful visitation under which Lord H-nl-y has for some time past been suffering, in consequence of his declared hostility to " anthems, solos, duets," &c., I took the liberty of making inquiries at his Lordship's house this morning, and lose no time in transmitting to you such particulars as I could collect. It is said that the screams of his Lordship, under the operation of this nightly concert, (which is, no doubt, some trick of the Radicals,) may be heard all over the neighbourhood. The female who personates St. Cecilia is supposed to be the same that, last year, appeared in the character of Isis, at the Rotunda. How the cherubs are managed, I have not yet ascertained. Yours, &c. P.P. LORD H-NL-Y AND ST. CECILIA. As snug in his bed Lord H-nl-y lay, Revolving much his own renown, And hoping to add thereto a ray, By putting duets and anthems down, Sudden a strain of choral sounds Mellifluous o'er his senses stole ; Whereat the Reformer mutter'd, "Zounds!" For he loath'd sweet music with all his soul. * In a work, on Church Reform, published by his Lordship in 1832. Then, starting up, he saw a sight That well might shock so learn'd a snorerSaint Cecilia, rob'd in light, With a portable organ slung before her. And round were Cherubs, on rainbow wings, Who, his Lordship fear'd, might tire of flitting, So begg'd they'd sit - but ah! poor things, They'd, none of them, got the means of sitting.* "Having heard," said the Saint, "you're fond of hymns, 66 "And indeed, that musical snore betray'd you, Myself, and my choir of cherubims, "Are come, for a while, to serenade you." In vain did the horrified H-nl-y say ""Twas all a mistake". "she was misdirected;" And point to a concert, over the way, Where fiddlers and angels were expected. * " Asseyez-vous, mes enfans."-" Il n'y a pas de quoi, mon Seigneur." |