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Then come again, with, in thy hand,
Ejectments 'gainst my neighbour's land,
And plenteous suits, with good retainer,
'Bout 'states in fee or in renainder.
Next, teach me all thy tricks of art,
And from thy court I'll ne'er depart.
Give me to know these wiles of trade,
And then, by Jove, my fortune's made.
Teach me, while clients on me gape,
While judges take their custom'd nap
While culprits list with eager hope,
And Ketch prepares the slipp’ry rope,
While wearied jury's sidelong glance
Announce th' expected sheriff's dance-
Teach me to talk, though right or wrong,
With blushless face and flippant tongue, ·
Of jointures, gaolers, ipso facto,
Of writs for debt, or parco fracto,
Of habeas corp. ad prosequendum,
Or caught some knave, ad respondendum,
Cui in vita, custom, cucking,
More seemly, now, 'tis call’d a ducking;
Of nudum pactum, levant couchant,
Of vagrant beasts, or maidens Aippant;
Of strolling rogues who hen-roosts rob,
Or villains dire who pay the mob.
But chief of all, oh! with thee bring
“ Him that you soars on golden wing.”
Let him but hold the tempting fee,
And I'll ne'er plead a double plea;
Thee client oft, the crowd among,
I'll seek amid th' exchange's throng,
And missing thee, I'll walk or hop,
Right straightway to the barber's shop;* * Here and in other parts of this delectable performance, it seemeth that our author hath laid his scene in one of the southern cities. But since this poem was writ, divers changes bave occurred there, at which his heart
Here I'n behold thy undrawn purse,
My honorarium to disburse.
Like boys, who by the gutter's side,
With lifted hands, and jaws stretch'd wide,
Watch the bright pennies turning round,
And wish, yet fear them on the ground.
Oft too, as in my office, near,
Our crier's Stentor voice I'll hear-
“ Court met oh yes-oh yes oh yes,"
My client's caust to curse or bless.
Or, if the judges do not sit,
At home, I'll frame the wily writ:
And teach the knaves to pay their losses,
Or else beware of lawyers' crosses.
But if I get not fee diurnal,
GIVE ME SUBSCRIBERS TO MY JOURNAL.
Far from all rude resort of men,
Save the rough tip-staff now and then,
Or the grim gaoler’s glad report,
ci Defendant, now sir’s safe in court,”
May I at last, in weary age,
Find out the judge's “hermitage.”
“ Where I may sit, and rightly spell”
Which cause is bad, and which is well.
would greatly rejoice, if he were now living. It is true, that at the shop here alluded to, shaving doth continue to be carried on as it was in his time; for there is no lack of beards, whatever may be said of brains, in the said town. The street, however, is no longer adorned with the stately edifice, which was the admiration of all who travelled in those parts; it hath been rased to the very foundation. But it cannot be said now, as it was writ in the days of merry king Charles,
Undone, undone, the lawyers are,
Since Charing-Cross hath tumbled down,
sith they have erected another house, under the brow of a hill, lest justice might be stared out of countenance by the monstrous doings of wicked men, of which our author had a perilous experience.-SCRIBLERUS.
And where, without the lawyer's strife,
My income settled is for life.
These things, judge Coke, oh! deign to give,
“ And I with thee will choose to live.”
THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS.*
UNORUMBLED yet, the sacred fane uprears
Its brow majestic in the storm of years;
Time has but slightly dar'd to steal away
The marks of beauty from its columns gray;
Each sculptur'd capital in glory stands,
As once the boast of those delighted lands,
Nor barbarous hand has pluck'd their honours down,
Some baser monument of art to crown.
Girt with the sculptur'd deeds achiev'd of yore,
That once the vision say but to adore,
Rich with the proud exploits of Æthra's son,
And lofty conquests by Alcides won,
The splendid pile still claims a holy fear,
The passing pilgrim pauses to revere,
The pensive poet views its columns proud,
And fancy hears again the Anthem loud
From kindling bards that once arose on high,
A tuneful chorus trembling on the sky.
The inner shrine no more protects the slave,
No more the holy walls th’ opprest can save,
No more the wretch protection there can claim,
And live secure in Theseus' honour'd name;
Sunk are his honours, in oblivion's tomb,
His deeds forgotten in a night of gloom,
* The temple of Theseus, at Athens, is one of the most beautiful and entire remains of ancient architecture. It was once a sanctuary for slaves, and men of mean condition. It is now a church, dedicated to St. George, and revered as much as ever by the Athenians. See Potter, Stuart and Revett, &c. &c.
No more he shines, Athena's glowing star,
Friend of the wretch, and pattern of the war::
To holier uses rise those walls on high,
And holier anthems murmur on the sky,
The shrine is crumbled to its native soil,
And Pagan grandeur given to the spoil;
No worshipp'd Theseus decks the beauteous fane,
And none prolong to him th' adoring strain,
A Christian temple now, it proudly spreads
Its Dorian pillars' venerable beads,
Devoted still to worship and to heaven,
To purer skies and holier creed 'tis given;
And, oh! may thus the Christian worship shine
O'er the wide world in every Pagan shrine!
New York, 19th Sept. 1816.
Who contemplated her prospects in life through a gloomy vista.
Where'er thou mov'st full many an eye
Glistens with beams of ecstacy;
And oft the deep-drawn sighs proclaim,
The nymph whose charms each youth inflame.
No envious gnomes thy peace invade,
No treacherous vows to thee are paid;
For thee no anguish points its sting,
Nor floats thy name on slander's wing.
Then why should sorrow's sadd’ning gloom,
O'erspread with care thy beauty's bloom?
Why should distrust thy bosom move-
Thy gentle bosom form’d for love?
ON A BAD POET. HERE lies a poor fellow, who once was a poet! “ Aye, a very poor fellow be quiet, I know it.'”.
Embellished with a curious engraving.
Correspondence, - 90 Humorous song, . . 151
Epigram, - -
152 General Washington to Gover Dottator et Lineator, .' . 153
nier Morris, • - - 91 Love, by Orlando, - . 154 Mr. Adams to Judge Cushing, 92 To Mary, • . Dr. Franklin to Mazzei, : 94 Gibbon and Voltaire,--Lord Letter from Cortez to the king
Byron, - - - - 156 of Spain, on the conquest of Lines to E.
A dolphus, . ib. Mexico,
127 Serenade,-Leigh Hunt, . 157 CRITICISM.
Night described, same, . ib. On the character of Racine, 95 From the Persian of Hairuti, 158 Johnson's Tour in North Wales, 105 Epigran,-Quevedo, - . ib. Boothroydon, the authorized
Burns, - - 159 version of the Bible, - 112 Town and Country,–Capt. RURAL ECONOMY.
Morris, • • '. ib. Western Plaister-Cauliflow LITERARY INTELL KENCE, - 161
ers-Strawberries-Liquorg MISCELLANEOUS PARAGRAPHS, 165 -Cows— Potatoes---Lupe Proceedings of Public Institunella grass, . - . 147 tions, . . . , 174 POETRY.
The Tour of the President, 176 To Myrå, by X. Y. Z. . .
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