Merchant of Venice

A Poodle, Judge-like, with emphatic paw,Dogmatically laying down the law,--A batch of canine Counsel round the table,Keen-eyed, and sharp of nose, and long of jaw,At sight, at scent, at giving tongue, right able:O, Edwin Landseer, Esquire, and R.A.,Thou great Pictorial Æsop, say,What is the moral of this painted fable?O, say, accomplished artist!Was it thy purpose, by a scene so quizzical,To read a wholesome lesson to the Chartist,So over partial to the means called Physical,Sticks, staves, and swords, and guns, the tools of treason?To show, illustrating the better course,The very Brutes abandoning Brute Force,The worry and the fight,The bark and bite,In which, says Doctor Watts, the dogs delight,And lending shaggy ears to Law and Reason,As uttered in that Court of high antiquityWhere sits the Chancellor, supreme as Pope,But works--so let us hope--In equity, not iniquity?

Or was it but a speculationOn transmigration,How certain of our most distinguished Daniels,Interpreters of Law’s bewildering book,Would lookTransformed to mastiffs, setters, hounds, and spaniels(As Brahmins in their Hindoo code advance)With that great lawyer of the Upper HouseWho rules all suits by equitable nous,Become--like vile Armina’s spouse--A Dog, called Chance?Methinks, indeed, I recogniseIn those deep-set and meditative eyesEngaged in mental puzzle,And that portentous muzzle,A celebrated judge, too prone to tarryTo hesitate on devious ins and outs,And, on preceding doubts, to build re-doubtsThat regiments could not carry--Prolonging even Law’s delays, and stillPutting a skid upon the wheel up-hill,Meanwhile the weary and desponding clientSeem’d--in the agonies of indecision--In Doubting Castle, with that dreadful GiantDescribed in Bunyan’s Vision!

So slow, indeed, was justice in its ways,Beset by more than customary clogs,Going to law in those expensive daysWas much the same as going to the Dogs!But possibly I err,And that sagacious and judicial creature,So Chancellor-like in feature,With ears so wig-like, and a cap of fur,Looking as grave, responsible, and sage,As if he had the guardianship, in fact,Of all poor dogs, or crackt,And puppies under age--It may be that the Creature was not meantAny especial Lord to represent,Eldon or Erskine, Cottenham or Thurlow,Or Brougham (more like him whose potent jawIs holding forth the letter of the law),Or Lyndhurst, after the vacation’s furlough,Presently sitting in the House of Peers,On wool he sometimes wishes in his ears,When touching Corn Laws, Taxes, or Tithe-piggery,He hears a fierce attack,And, sitting on his sack,Listens in his great wig to greater Whiggery!

So, possibly, those others,In coats so various, or sleek, or rough,Aim not at any of the legal brothers,Who wear the silken robe, or gown of stuff.Yet who that ever heard or sawThe Counsel sitting in that solemn Court,Who, having passed the Bar, are safe in port,Or those great Sergeants, learned in the Law,--Who but must trace a feature now and thenOf those forensic men,As good at finding heirs as any harrier,Renown’d like greyhounds for long tales--indeed,At worrying the ear as apt as terriers,--Good at conveyance as the hairy carriersThat bear our gloves, umbrellas, hats, and sticks,Books, baskets, bones, or bricks,In Deeds of Trust as sure as Tray the trusty,--Acute at sniffing flaws on legal grounds,--And lastly--well the catalogue it closes!--Still following their predecessors’ noses,Through ways however dull or dusty,As fond of hunting precedents, as houndsOf running after foxes more than musty.

However slow or fast,Full of urbanity, or supercilious,In temper wild, serene, or atrabilious,Fluent of tongue, or prone to legal saw,The Dogs have got a Chancellor, at last,For Laying down the Law!And never may the canine race regret it,With whinings and repinings loud or deep,--Ragged in coat, and shortened in their keep,Worried by day, and troubled in their sleep,With cares that prey upon the heart and fret it--As human suitors have had cause to weep--For what is Law, unless poor Dogs can get itDog-cheap?