The English Spy: An Original Work Characteristic, Satirical, And Humorous. C. M. Westmacott

When witty scholars, to their shame,

       'Gainst masters hurl a satire trite.{3}

       But fare thee well, Ad Montem's bard,{4}

       Farewell, my mem'ry's early friend

       2 The author of "the Pleasures of Hope," and the editor of

       the New Monthly; but-"Tardè, quo credita lodunt, credimus." 3 It has long been the custom at Eton, particularly during Montem, to give Herbert Stockhore the credit of many a satirical whim, which he, poor fellow, could as easily have penned as to have written a Greek ode. These squibs are sometimes very humorous, and are purposely written in doggrel verse to escape detection by the masters, who are not unfrequently the principal porsons alluded to. 4 The following laughable production was sold by poor Herbert Stockhore during the last Montem: we hardly think we need apologise for introducing this specimen of his muse: any account of Eton characteristics must have been held deficient without it.

THE MONTEM ODE. May 20, 1823.

       Table of Contents

      Muses attend! the British channel flock o'er,

       Call'd by your most obedient servant, Stockhore.

       Aid me, O, aid me, while I touch the string;

       Montem and Captain Barnard's praise I sing;

       Captain Barnard, the youth so noble and bright,

       That none dare dispute his worthy right

       To that gay laurel which his brother wore,

       In times that 1 remember long before.

       What are Olympic honours compared to thine,

       0 Captain, when Majesty does combine

       With heroes, their wives, sons and daughters great,

       To visit this extremely splendid fête.

       Enough! I feel a sudden inspiration fill

       My bowels; just as if the tolling bell

       Had sent forth sounds a floating all along the air

       Just such Parnassian sounds, though deaf, I'm sure I hear.

      May misery never press thee hard,

       Ne'er may disease thy steps attend:

       Listen, ye gents; rude Boreas hold your tongue!

       The pomp advances, and my lyre is strung.

       First comes Marshal Thackeray,

       Dress'd out in crack array;

       Ar'nt he a whacker, eh?

       His way he picks,

       Follow'd by six,

       Like a hen by her chicks:

       Enough! he's gone.

       As this martial Marshall

       Is to music partial,

       The bandsmen march all

       His heels upon.

       He who hits the balls such thumps,

       King of cricket-bats and stumps—

       Barnard comes;

       Sound the drums—

       Silence! he's past.

       Eight fair pages,

       Of different ages,

       Follow fast.

       Next comes the Serjeant-Major,

       Who, like an old stager,

       Without need of bridle

       Walks steadily; the same

       Dolphin Major by name,

       Major Dolphin by title.

       Next struts Serjeant Brown,

       Very gay you must own;

       With gallant Mr. Hughes,

       In well-polish'd shoes;

       Then Sampson, who tramps on,

       Strong as his namesake.

       Then comes Webb, who don't dread

       To die for his fame's sake.

       Next shall I sing

       Of Serjeant King,

       And Horace Walpole,

       Holding a tall pole,

       Who follows King and Antrobus,

       Though he's "pulchrior ambobus."

      Be all thy wants by those supply'd,

       Whom charity ne'er fail'd to move{5}:

       5 This eccentric creature has for many years subsisted

       entirely upon the bounty of the Etonians, and the

       inhabitants of Windsor and Eton, who never fail to

       administer to his wants, and liberally supply him with many

       little comforts in return for his harmless pleasantries.

       Then to Salthill speed on,

       While the troops they lead on;

       Both Mr. Beadon,

       And Serjeant Mitford,

       Who's ready to fi't for't.

       Then Mr. Carter follows a'ter;

       And Denman,

       Worth ten men,

       Like a Knight of the Garter;

       And Cumberbatch,

       Without a match,

       Tell me, who can be smarter?

       Then Colonel Hand,

       Monstrous grand,

       Closes the band.

       Pass on, you nameless crowd,

       Pass on. The Ensign proud

       Comes near. Let all that can see

       Behold the Ensign Dansey;

       See with what elegance he

       Waves the flag—to please the fancy.

       Pass on, gay crowd; Le Mann, the big,

       Bright with gold as a guinea-pig,

       The big, the stout, the fierce Le Mann,

       Walks like a valiant gentleman.

       But take care of your pockets,

       Here's Salt-bearer Platt,

       With a bag in his hand,

       And a plume in his hat;

       A handsomer youth, sure small-clothes ne'er put on,

       Though very near rival'd by elegant Sutton.

       Thus then has pass'd this grand procession,

       In most magnificent progression.

       Farewell you gay and happy throng!

      Etona's motto, crest, and pride,

       Is feeling, courage, friendship, love.

       Farewell my Muse! farewell my song'

       Farewell Salthill! farewell brave Captain;

       As ever uniform was clapt in;

       Since Fortune's kind, pray do not mock her;

       Your humble poet,

       HERBERT STOCKHORE.

      Herbert Stockhore was originally a bricklayer, and now resides at a little house which he has built for himself, and called Mount Pleasant, in a lane leading from Windsor to the Meadows. He has a wife and daughter, honest, industrious people, who reside with him, and are