If seated snugly on the Treasury Bench, 'This mighty Force,' yet did his friends _Retrench_; But if on t' other side he took his Post, 'This mighty Force,' _th' enormous sums it Cost_. He culled high-sounding words too, for th' occasion, Material, Bivouac, Demoralization. Yet poor Sir John, tho' much he'd heard, and read, Felt still aware how treacherous was his Head; Tho' yet he laboured like a Brewer's Dray-Horse, 'Twas but to Bother, and increase the Chaos. Tho' battled hard some fixt idea to gain, No, not one particle would ere remain.
A sudden brilliant thought, just then occurred, Which to accomplish he'd not be deterred. Then anxious on this darling object bent, Purchased a Seat for John in Parliament. Thus reinforc'd, he'd take up his Position-- Johnny could give him Stores of Ammunition, And if deserted by his treacherous Mind, Johnny might snugly prompt him from behind.
Our Knight now with redundancy of Joy His thoughts communicated to his Boy, In haste indites a Letter to Sir John, Explaining every thing he would have done; Hoped with his aid, his object he'd complete-- Wished him all happiness in his new Seat. 'Write, my dear John, as often as you can, 'But as we're circumstanced, pursue this Plan,-- 'The prying Folks my object now to pose is, 'So frame your Letter in a metamorphosis. 'One Letter you can straight direct to me-- 'Another send to Ludgate, as the Key. 'That by this means we shall our secret smother, 'One can't be understood, without the other.' 'Twas odd enough that Johnny in his mind Was working at a plan of similar kind. Dad's welcome News his spirits did elate, That he was now a Member of the State. New hopes were busy in his sanguine breast, Perhaps by th' Speaker he might be addrest. Should he by chance some Gallant deed Achieve, He might th' Honourable Speaker's thanks receive. 'Twas usual that, when Heroes took their Seat, A flowery flow of grateful thanks to meet. Whate'er John thought, he'd not point out a Flaw, The Speaker surely'd not offend the Law. His praise, so general, savour'd of Insanity, Tho' often just--it flatter'd each one's Vanity. Now in true earnest set about his Task, Followed old Dad's advice and took the Mask. He knew in Martial Life that Truth no jest is, Their Courts of Honour were their Courts of Justice. He would, if possible, the Truth relate, Devoid of malice, naught extenuate. Dad would his secret keep, he could depend; As for himself, he meant not to offend: But should perchance his secret be let out, 'Twas a mere Bagatelle to laugh about. Should he in Metaphoric style transpose Men into Beasts, or Parsons into Crows-- Those who could be displeased he should disarm, His was mere trifling, really meant no harm; If, tho' in his delineation free, It would be seen, 'twas mere necessity.