. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. edded m a canter,And made me a Levanter, In foreign lands to si-h for the Favourite ! * The late favourite of the Kings Theatre, who left the pas j^/of life foia perpetual Ball. Is not that her ^y now commonly borne about by theItalian miage vendors-an ethereal form holding a wreath with both handsabove her head-and her husband, in emblem, beneath her foot ? ri6 A COMPLAINT AGAINS7 GREATNESS. , Then next Miss M. A. TreeI adored, so sweetly she Could warble like a nightingale and quaver it,^-But she left that course of lifeTo be Mr Br
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. edded m a canter,And made me a Levanter, In foreign lands to si-h for the Favourite ! * The late favourite of the Kings Theatre, who left the pas j^/of life foia perpetual Ball. Is not that her ^y now commonly borne about by theItalian miage vendors-an ethereal form holding a wreath with both handsabove her head-and her husband, in emblem, beneath her foot ? ri6 A COMPLAINT AGAINS7 GREATNESS. , Then next Miss M. A. TreeI adored, so sweetly she Could warble like a nightingale and quaver it,^-But she left that course of lifeTo be Mr Bradshaws wife, And all the world lost on the Favourite ! But out of sorrows surfSoon I leapd upon the turf, Where fortune loves to wanton it and waver it;—But standing on the pet,* O my bonnie, bonnie Bet! Black and yellow puUd short up with the Favourite! Thus flung by all the crack,I resolved to cut the pack,— The second-raters seemd then a safer hit!So I laid my little oddsAgainst Memnon ! O ye Gods ! Am I always to be floord by the Favourite 1. Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt 1 A COMPLAINT AGAINST GREATNESS. I AM an unfortunate creature, the most wretched of all that groanunder the burden of the flesh. I am fainting, as thev sav of kings,under my oppressive greatness. A miserable Adas, I sink under theworld of—myself. A COMPLAINT AGAINS T GREA TNESS. Iiy But the curious will liere ask me for my name. I am, then, or theysay I am, The Reverend Mr Farmer, a four-years old Durham Ox,fed by himself, upon oil-cake and mangel-wurzel: but I worthy agricultural Vicar only in my fat living. In plain truth,I am an unhappy candidate for the show at Sadlers—not the Wells,but the Repository. They tell me I am to bear the bell (as if I hadnot enough to bear already !) by my surpassing tonnage—and, doubt-less, the pzize-emblem will be proportioned to my uneasy merits. Witha great Tom of Lincoln about my neck—alas ! what will it comfortme to have been c
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidchoiceworkso, bookyear1881
