The morn was splendid, and the glorious sun

Obliquely darted his enliv’ning rays,
Tho' few hours only since his course begun,

He fill'd my chamber with a burning blaze
So bright, so brilliant, I was sure 'twas one,

And woke with disappointment and amaze,
Having resolv'd that day to idly rove,
On board O'Brien's Steam Boat, down to Core.

But gladly, by my oracle, perceiving

'Twas early, I arose, and set in motion All apparatus fit for dressing, shaving,

Resolving to proceed to my devotion
Before my breakfast.- I can't help believing

That public prayer on sunday, is a notion
Highly becoming in a mind religious,
Tho' some, perhaps, may think me 100 fastidious.

But if there be Omnipotence divine,

And that there is, “all nature cries aloud "Thro' all her works," then why should man decline,

The only being in creation's crowd, -
His grateful homage joyful to combine

Each sabbath day, ere death's appalling shroud
Inclose him sudden in its icy fold,
And ? but the rest had better not be told !

Being at length in sunday-suit attir'd

I sallied forth, on holy purpose bent,
But whither, or what form I most admired,

To tell the reader is not my intent;
Altho' I know a matter most desir'd

By those who love religious argument. But as I court admirers in all nations, I'll be, Napoleon-like, of all persuasions!

For seriously, I cannot be persuaded

One sect stands nearer heaven than another, Or is by holier inspiration aided,

As if we were not the offspring of one mother !
I know for this, by some I'll be upbraided,

But as I view each mortal as my brother,
I think our Father will his aid afford,
Whether address'd, " Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.”

For who can think the spirit of Lee Boo

Dwells not within the mansions of the blest?
Who can suppose thy children, O Loo Choo,

Repose not in a state of blissful rest?
What man that Kenny, Callanan, Abell, knew,

Can have conviction on his mind impress'd
That two of these can never see God's throne,
Because their manual differ'd from his own?

M

Ah! wherefore then this fiendelike hellish strife,

Where love and peace and harmony should dwell ? Can the fir'd faggot, and the bloody knife

Exalt to heaven, precipitate to hell ?
Why aims the Christian at the Christian's life,

A diff'rent form of worship to compell?
As if the gates of everlasting glory
Clos'd on all else! --but to resume my story:

Hungry I enter'd the Commercial room

To breakfast,--but was scarcely seated, when A waiter, with a look portending gloom,

Approach'd, (ye gods! avert such pests from men!) And whisper'd, " you're of the army, I presume,

“Or navy, sir?" "I'm neither, sir, what then ?" “None else can breakfast here, such my instruction, “Save a subscriber, or by introduction.”

Indignant at such treatment, I exclaim'ů,

“Is this the boasted liberality "Of this great modern Tyre,—this city fam'd

“Once for its trade and hospitality? " Alas ! how few can now be " Merchants" nam'd

“Where is their “Change?" none in reality

Yes, but there is—from Merchants into Factors, “Brokers, Assurance Agents, and Contractors.

"O shade of Gresham!" but the pinching squeeze

Of hunger, check'd apostropbising more ;
So bounding off-like " bark before the"-breeze,

I quickly gain'd the “Chamber's” open door,
Where eggs, and toast, and coffee, by degrees,

Fail'd not my sweet good humour to restore. Hunger should ne'er be suffered in a nation, For nothing's so rebellious as starvation.

Sated-down Patrick-Street 1 bent my way,

Call’d at the Post-Office, and got my letters, Which somewhat cool'd the ardour of the day,

Two having come from ruin'd bankrupt debtors, Forebodiug scarcely any thing to pay.

But as much grieving ne'er misfortune betters, These tales of wor, I plung'd into my pockets, Resolving to forget both debts and dockets.

This is a happy philosophic state

Of mind, for any mortal to be bless'à with, But men of business bear these strokes of fate

With pious patience; we're so often press’d with Our fellow-traders' sufferings, that we hate

To appear angry; nay, we often jest with Each other on our losses--nor seem vex'd : Blanks we draw one day—prizes on the next.

That is, provided in trade's lottery wheel,

We several chances have. Tho' now and then A slight misfortune, we percbance may feel,

All is not lost ;-we still have many men Solvent and prosperous debtors, and who deal

With certainty of payment,--and again, When the ship rides by many anchors moor'd, Tho' one give way, she's by the rest secur'da

But frantic he, who in commercial pride,

Or rather desperation, sinks his all
In one sole venture, or who dares confide

That all to one, unknown what may befall
The freighted ressel on the stormy tide

Of commerce, tho' the risk appear but small, She sometimes founders ;-headlong then she's hurld, Condemn'd, despis'd, and laughed at by the world!

Onward proceeding towards Merchants' Quay,

The bugle's merry sounds salute the ear,
Some folks conceive these tunes profane the day,

And certainly, 'twere better far to hear
More sober music than they sometimes play.

“Music's the food of love." I therefore fear We must beware what dishes we supply, Lest “ surfeiting," he "sicken, and so die.”

“ The roast beef of old England,” is a dish

By Love's young tender palate ne'er enjoy'd; Tho'“ peas-upon a trencher" he may wish,

Hence, hence away, if tasted, he's destroy'd, And “ drops of brandy,” tho' good after fish,

Must nerer in his banquet be employ'd, -Give him “ a heart," he'll carve it with his arrow, And sip 'the streamlet," and the " braes of Yarrow,"

Lo! on the wheel, O'Brien takes his stand,

Courteous alike gentleman and lady, Giring to all around the loud command,

“ Make fast that rope there, let the plank be ready, “llere, Jack, why don't you take that lady's hand ?

“ Don't be afraid ma'am, ev'ry thing is steady," While now and then, exulting in his glory, He sidelong eyes the “Waterloo" and " Story !"

Now throng the hurying passengers aboard,

Old age advancing cautious and secure :
Wild giddy youth—disdaining to afford

Attention to advice for footing sure.
Next comes the hamper with provisions stor'd,

Cold beef, ham, chicken, porter, wine, liqueur, While, crowding in, come servant-girls, and fellows Laden with baskets, jars, great coats, umbrellas.

'Tis half-past ten, the tide is ebbing fast,

The murmur of delay is buzzing round,
The Captain asks “five minutes, 'tis the last,"

And bids the bugle blow a parting sound,
“ Come, hurry, gentlemen, our time is pass'd,

“ Quick, quick, for God's sake, or we'll take the ground," Thrice shook the plank, as seeming to move in, But thrice a ten-penny steadied it again!.