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Who knows but we'll have to announce in the papers,
'Grand fight--second time-with additional capers.'
Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad,
There is plenty of each in this house to be had;
Where our manager ruleth, there weeping will be,
For a dead hand at tragedy always was he;
And there never was dealer in dagger and cup,
Who so smilingly got all his tragedies up,
His powers poor Ireland will never forget,
And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet.

So much for the actors-for secret machinery,
Traps and deceptions, and shifting of scenery,
Y-rm-th and Cum are the best we can find,
To transact all that trickery business behind.
The former's employ'd too to teach us French jigs,
Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs.

In taking my leave now, I've only to say
A few Seats in the House not as yet sold away,
May be had of the manager, Pat C-stl-r-gh.

THE SALE OF THE TOOLS.

Instrumenta regni.-Tacitus.

HERE'S a choice set of Tools for you, gemmen and ladies,
They'll fit you quite handy, whatever your trade is;
(Except it be Cabinet-making--I doubt

In that delicate service they're rather worn out;

Though their owner, bright youth! if he'd had his own will,
Would have bungled away with them joyously still.)
You can see they've been pretty well hack'd-and alack!
What tool is there job after job will not hack?
Their edge is but dullish, it must be confess'd,
And their temper, like E-nb'r-h's none of the best,
But you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upon trying,
Were't but for their brass they are well worth the buying;
They're famous for making blinds, sliders, and screens,
And they're, some of them, excellent turning machines!

The first Tool I'll put up (they call it a Chancellor)
Heavy concern to both purchaser and seller-
Though made of pig iron, yet worthy of note 'tis,
'Tis ready to melt at a half minute's notice.

Who bids? Gentle buyer! 'twill turn as thou shapest
'Twill make a good thumb-screw to torture a Papist;
Or else a cramp-iron, to stick in the wall

Of some church that old women are fearful will fall;
Or better, perhaps (for I'm guessing at random),
A heavy drag-chain for some lawyer's old Tandem.

Will nobody bid? It is cheap, I am sure, sir-
Once, twice, going, going, thrice, gone !—it is yours, sir.
To pay ready money you shan't be distress'd,
As a bill at long date suits the Chancellor best.

Come, where's the next Tool?-Oh! 'tis here in a trice-
This implement, gemmen, at first wasa Vice
(A tenacious and close sort of Tool that will let
Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get),
But it since has received a new coating of Tin,
Bright enough for a prince to behold himself in !
Come, what shali we say for it? briskly! bid on,
We'll the sooner get rid of it--going-quite gone!
God be with it, such tools, if not quickly knock'd down,
Might at last cost their owner-how much? why a Crown!

The next Tool I'll set up has hardly had handsel or
Trial as yet, and is also a Chancellor--

Such dull things as these should be sold by the gross ;
Yet, dull as it is, 'twill be found to shave close,
And like other close shavers, some courage to gather,
This blade first began by a flourish on leather!

You shall have it for nothing-then marvel with me
At the terrible tinkering work there must be,

Where a tool such as this is (I'll leave you to judge it)
Is placed by ill luck at the top of the Budget!

LITTLE MAN AND LITTLE SOUL.

A BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF THERE WAS A LITTLE MAN, AND HE WOOED A LITTLE MAID,' DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HON. CH-RL-S ABB—T.

'Arcades ambo

Et cant-are pares.'

THERE was a little Man, and he had a little Soul,
And he said, 'Little soul, let us try, try, try,

Whether it's within our reach
To make up a little Speech,
Just between little you and little I, I, I,
Just between little you and little I !'

Then said his little Soul,
Peeping from her little hole,

'I protest, little Man, you are stout, stout, stout,
But, if it's not uncivil,

Pray tell me what the devil

1813.

Must our little, little speech be about, bout, bout,
Must our little, little speech be about?"

The little Man look'd big,

With th' assistance of his wig,

And he call'd his little Soul to order, order, order,

Till she fear'd he'd make her jog in

To jail like Thomas Croggan

(As she wasn't Duke or Earl), to reward her, ward her, ward her, As she wasn't Duke or Earl, to reward her.

The little Man then spoke,
'Little Soul, it is no joke,

For as sure as J-cky F-ull-r loves a sup, sup, sup,
I will tell the Prince and People

What I think of Church and Steeple,

And my little patent plan to prop them up, up, up,
And my little patent plan to prop them up.'

Away then, cheek by jowl,

Little Man and little Soul

Went and spoke their little speech to a tittle, tittle, tittle,
And the world all declare

That this priggish little pair

Never yet in all their lives look'd so little, little, little,
Never yet in all their lives look'd so little !

REINFORCEMENTS FOR LORD WELLINGTON.

suosque tibi commendat Troja PENATES

Hos cape fatorum comites.- Virgil.

As recruits in these times are not easily got,

1813.

And the Marshal must have them-pray, why should we not,
As the last and, I grant it, the worst of our loans to him,

Ship off the Ministry, body and bones to him?

There's not in all England, I'd venture to swear,

Any men we could half so conveniently spare,

And, though they've been helping the French for years past,
We may thus make them useful to England at last.

C-stl-r- -gh in our sieges might save some disgraces,
Being used to the taking and keeping of places;
And Volunteer C-nn-g, still ready for joining,
Might show off his talent for sly undermining.
Could the Household but spare us its glory and pride,
Old H-df-t at horn-works again might be tried,
And the Ch-f J-st-e make a bold charge at his side!
While V-ns-tt-t could victual the troops upon tick,
And the Doctor look after the baggage and sick.

Nay, I do not see why the great R-g-t himself

Should, in times such as these, stay at home on the shelf;--
Though through narrow defiles he's not fitted to pass,
Yet who could resist, if he bore down en masse ?

And though oft, of an evening, perhaps, he might prove,
Like our brave Spanish allies, unable to move,"

Yet there's one thing in war of advantage unbounded,
Which is that he could not with ease be surrounded!
In my next I shall sing of their arms and equipment!
At present no more but-good luck to the shipment!

HORACE, ODE I. LIB. III.

A FRAGMENT.

Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.
Favete linguis: carmina non prius
Audita, Musarum sacerdos,
Virginibus puerisque canto.

Regum timendorum in proprios greges,
Reges in ipsos imperium est Jovis.

HATE thee, O Mob! as my lady hates delf,

1813.

To Sir Francis I'll give up thy claps and thy hisses,

Leave old Magna Charta to shift for itself,

And, like G-dw-n, write books for young masters and misses.

Oh! it is not high rank that can make the heart merry,

Even monarchs themselves are not free from mishap,

Though the Lords of Westphalia must quake before Jerry,
Poor Jerry himself has to quake before Nap.

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TRANSLATED BY A TREASURY CLERK, WHILE WAITING DINNER FOR THE RIGHT
HON. G-RGE R-SE.

Boy, tell the Cook that I hate all nick-nackeries,
Fricassées, vol-au-vents, puffs and gim-crackeries→
Six by the Horse-Guards!-old Gregory is late--
But come-lay the table-cloth-zounds! do not wait,
Nor stop to inquire, while the dinner is staying,
At which of his places old R-e is delaying !2

*

**

*

The character given to the Spanish soldier, in Sir John Murray's memorable despatch.

2 The literal closeness of the version here cannot but be admired. The translator has added a long, erudite, and flowery note upon Roses, of which I can merely give a specimen at

present. In the first place, he ransacks the Rosarium Politicum of the Persian poet Sadi, with the hope of finding some Political Roses, to match the gentleman in the text-but in vain: he then tells us that Cicero accused Verres of reposing upon a cushion 'Melitensi rosâ furtum,'

IMPROMPTU.

UPON BEING OBLIGED TO LEAVE A PLEASANT PARTY, FROM THE WANT OF A PAIR OF BREECHES TO DRESS FOR DINNER IN.

1810.

BETWEEN Adam and me the great difference is,
Though a Paradise each has been forced to resign,
That he never wore breeches till turn'd out of his,
While, for want of my breeches, I'm banish'd from mine.

LORD WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS.

So gently in peace Alcibiades smiled,

1813.

While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand,
That the emblem they graved on his scal was a child,
With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand.

O Wellington! long as such Ministers wield

Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do;
For while they're in the Council and you in the Field,
We've the babies in them, and the thunder in you!

which, from the odd mixture of words, he supposes to be a kind of Irish Bed of Roses, like Lord Castlereagh's. The learned Clerk next favours us with some remarks upon a well-known punning epitaph on Fair Rosamond, and expresses a most loyal hope, that, if 'Rosa munda' mean 'a Rose with clean hands,' it may be found applicable to the Right Honourable Rose in question. He then dwells at some length upon

the Rosa aurea,' which, though descriptive, in one sense, of the old Treasury statesman, yet, as being consecrated and worn by the Pope, must, of course, not be brought into the same atmosphere with him. Lastly, in reference to the 'old Rose,' he winds up with the pathetic lamentation of the poet, consenuisse Rosas.' The whole note, indeed, shows a knowledge of Roses that is quite edifying.

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