_regnis_ EX _sul ademptis_.--Verg. 1827.
To Swanage--that neat little town in whose bay
Fair Thetis shows off in her best silver slippers--
Lord Bags[2] took his annual trip t'other day,
To taste the sea breezes and chat with the dippers.
There--learned as he is in conundrums and laws--
Quoth he to his dame (whom he oft plays the wag on),
"Why are chancery suitors like bathers?"--"Because
Their _suits_ are _put off_, till they haven't a rag on."
Thus on he went chatting--but, lo! while he chats,
With a face full of wonder around him he looks;
For he misses his parsons, his dear shovel hats,
Who used to flock round him at Swanage like rooks.
"How is this, Lady Bags?--to this region aquatic
"Last year they came swarming to make me their bow,
"As thick as Burke's cloud o'er the vales of Carnatic,
"Deans, Rectors, D.D.'s--where the devil are they now?"
"My dearest Lord Bags!" saith his dame, "_can_ you doubt?
"I am loath to remind you of things so unpleasant;
"But _don't_ you perceive, dear, the Church have found out
"That you're one of the people called _Ex's_, at present?"
"Ah, true--you have hit it--I _am_, indeed, one
"Of those ill-fated _Ex's_ (his Lordship replies),
"And with tears, I confess--God forgive me the pun!--
"We X's have proved ourselves _not_ to be Y's."
[1] A small bathing-place on the coast of Dorsetshire, long a favorite
summer resort of the ex-nobleman in question and, _till this season_, much
frequented also by gentlemen of the church.
[2] The Lord Chancellor Eldon.