Beside him come L-6-st-r, with equal éclât, in ;

Stand forth, chosen pair, while for titles we measure ye;
Both connoisseur baronets, both fond of drawing,

Sir John after nature, Sir Charles on the Treasury.
But, bless us !-behold a new candidate come-

!
In his hand he upholds a prescription, new written ;
He poiseth a pill-box ’twixt finger and thumb,

And he asketh a seat 'mong the Peers of Great Britain !
• Forbid it,' criel Jenky, 'ye Viscounts, ye Earls ! -

Oh Rank, how thy glories would fall disenchanted,
If coronets glistened with pills 'stead of pearls,

And the strawberry-leaves were by rhubarb supplanted !
Vo--ask it not, ask it not, dear Doctor H-1f-rd-

If nought but a Peerage can gladden thy life,
And if young Master H-1f-rd as yet is too small for't,

Sweet Doctor, we'll make a she Peer of thy wife.
• Next to bearing a coronet on our own brows,

Is to bask in its light from the brows of another;
And grandeur o'er thee shall reflect from thy spouse,

As o'er Vesey Fitzgerald 'twill shine through his mother. 'l
Thus ended the First Batch-and Jenky, much tired,

(It being no joke to make Lords by the heap),
Took a large dram of ether-the same that inspired

His speech against Papists—and prosed off to sleep.

A CAMBRIDGE BALLAD. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray;

Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. 'I authorized my Committee to take the step which they did, of proposing a fair comparison of Each a different mode pursues, strength, upon the understanding that whichever of the two should prove to be the weakest, should

Each the same conclusion reaches; give way to the other.'- Extract from Mr. W. B-nkes is foolish in Reviews, J. Bankes's Letter to Mr. Goulburn.

G-]b-rn foolish in his speeches. Νικα μεν ουδ' αλλος, αν ΑΣΣατοι δ' εγενοντο.

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray;

Theocritus. Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. B-NKES is weak, and G-lb-rn, too, Each a different foe doth damın, No one e'er the fact denied ;

When his own affairs have gone ill; Which is weakest of the two,

B-nkes he damneth Buckingham, Cambridge can alone decide.

G-lb-rn damneth Dan O'Connell. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray; Choose between them, Cambridge, pray; Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. G-1b-rn of the Pope afraid is, B-nkes, accustomed much to roam, B-nkes as much afraid as he,

Plays with Truth a traveller's pranks; Never yet did two old ladies

G–1b-rn, though he stays at home, On this point so well agree.

Travels thus as much as B-nkes.

Among the persons mentioned as likely to be raised to the Peerage are the mother of Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, etc,

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray;| So, whichever first shall bray,
Which is weakest, Cambridge, say.

Choose him, Cambridge, for thy own.

Choose him, choose him by his bray; Once, we know, a horse's neigh Thus elect him, Cambridge, pray.

Fixed the election to a throne;

COPY OF AN INTERCEPTED DESPATCH. FEOM HIS EXCELLENCY DON STREPITOSO DIABOLO, ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY TO

HIS SATANIC MAJESTY.

St. James' Street, July 1.
GREAT Sir, having just had the good luck to catch

An official young Demon, preparing to go,
Ready booted and spurred, with a black-leg despatch,

From the Hell here, at Cr-ckf-rd's, to our Hell below-
I write these few lines to your Highness Satanic,

To say that, first having obeyed your directions,
And done all the mischief I could in the Panic,'

My next special care was to help the Elections.
Well knowing how dear were those times to thy soul,

When every good Christian tormented his brother,
And caused in thy realm such a saving of coal,

From their all coming down, ready grilled by each other;
Remembering, besides, how it pained thee to part

With the old Penal Code,--that chef-d'ouvre of Law,
In which (though to own it too modest thou art)

We could plainly perceive the fine touch of thy claw ;-
I thought, as we ne'er can those good times revive

(Though Eld-1, with help from your Highness, would try)
'Twould still keep a taste for Hell's music alive,

Could we get up a thundering No-Popery cry ;-
That yell which, when chorused by laics and clerics,

So like is to ours, in its spirit and tone,
That I often nigh laugh myself into hysterics,

To think that Religion should make it her own.
So, having sent down for the original notes

Of the chorus, as sung by your Majesty's choir,
With a few pints of lava, to gargle the throats

Of myself and some others, who sing it with fire,'
Thought I, if the Marseillais Hymn could command

Such audience, though yelled by a Sans-culotte crew,
What wonders shall we do, who've men in our band,

That not only wear breeches, but petticoats too !'

1

! Con fuoco- a music-book direction,

a

Such then were my hopes; but, with sorrow, your Highness,

I'm forced to confess—be the cause what it will,
Whether fewness of voices, or hoarseness, or shyness, -

Our Beelzebub Chorus has gone off but ill.
The truth is, no placeman now knows his right key,

The Treasury pitch-pipe of late is so various ;
And certain base voices, that looked for a fee

At the York music meeting, pow think it precarious.
Even some of our Reverends might have been warmer-

But one or two capital roarers we've had;
Doctor Wise' is, for instance, a charming performer,

And Huntingdon Maberly's yell was not bad.
Altogether, however, the thing was not hearty ;-

Even Eld-1 allows we got on but 80-so;
And when next we attempt a No-Popery party,

We must, please your Highness, recruit from below.
But, hark, the young Black-leg is cracking his whip-

Excuse me, Great Sir—there's no time to be civil;-
The next opportunity shan't be let slip,
But, till then,
I'm, in haste, your most dutiful

DEVIL.

MR. ROGER DODSWORTH.

To the Editor of the Times. SIR, - Living in a remote part of Scotland, and having but just heard of the wonderful resurrection of Mr. Roger Dodsworth from under an avalanche, where he had remained, bien frappé, it seems, for the last 166 years, I hasten to impart to you a few reflections on the subject.

Yours, etc.,

LAUDATOR TEMPORIS ACTI.
What a lucky turn-up!-just as Eld-n's withdrawing,

To find thus a gentleman, frozen in the year
Sixteen hundred and sixty, who only wants thawing

To serve for our times quite as well as the Peer ;-
To bring thus to light, not the wisdom alone

Of our ancestors, such as we find it on shelves,
But, in perfect condition, full-wigged and full-grown,

To shovel up one of those wise bucks themselves !
Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth and send him safe home,-

Let him learn nothing useful or new on the way;
With his wisdom kept snug from the light let him come,

And our Tories will hail him with Hear' and · Hurra!'

This reverend gentleman distinguished himself at the Reading election,

What a God-send to them-a good, obsolete man,

Who has never of Locke or Voltaire been a reader ;-
Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth as fast as you can,

And the L-nsd-les and H-rtf-rds shall choose him for leader.
Yes, sleeper of ages, thou shalt be their Chosen ;

And deeply with thee will they sorrow, good men,
To think that all Europe has, since thou wert frozen,

So altered, thou hardly canst know it again.
And Eld-n will weep o'er each sad innovation

Such oceans of tears, thou wilt fancy that he
Has been also laid up in a long congelation,

And is only now thawing, dear Roger, like thee.

THE MILLENNIUM.
SUGGESTED BY THE LATE WORK OF THE REVEREND MR. IRV-NG ON

PROPHECY.'
A MILLENNIUM at hand !—I'm delighted to hear it-

As matters, both public and private, now go,
With multitudes round us all starving, or near it,

A good rich Millennium will come à propos.
Only think, Master Fred, what delight to behold,

Instead of thy bankrupt old City of Rags,
A bran-new Jerusalem, built all of gold,

Sound bullion throughout, from the roof to the flags-
A city, where wine and cheap corn? shall abound, -

A celestial Cocaigne, on whose buttery shelves
We may swear the best things of this world will be found,

As your saints seldom fail to take care of themselves !
Thanks, reverend expounder of raptures elysian,

Divine Squintifobus, who, placed within reach
Of two opposite worlds, by a twist of your vision

Can cast, at the same time, a sly look at each ;-
Thanks, thanks for the hope thou hast given us, that we

May, even in our own times, a jubilee share,
Which so long has been promised by prophets like thee,

And so often has failed, we began to despair.
There was Whiston, 3 who learnedly took Prince Eugene

For the man who must bring the Millennium about;

2

"'A measure of wheat for a penny, and three 3 When Whiston presented to Prince Eugene measures of barley for a penny.' Rev. c. 6. the Essay in which he attempted to connect his

? See the oration of this reverend gentleman, victories over the Turks with revelation, the where he describes the connubial joys of para: Prince is said to have replied that he was not dise, and paints the angels hovering around aware he had ever had the honour of being 'each happy fair.'

There's Faber, whose pious predictions have been

All belied, ere his book's first edition was out;

There was Counsellor Dobbs, too, an Irish M.P.,

Who discoursed on the subject with signal éclát,
And each day of his life, sat expecting to see

A Millennium break out in the town of Armagh !!

There was also—but why should I burden my lay

With your Brotherses, Southcotts, and names less deserving,
When all past Millenniums hencefonth must give way

To the last new Millennium of Orator Irv-ng?

Go on, mighty man, — doom them all to the shelf

And, when next thou with Prophecy troublest thy sconce,
Oh forget not, I pray thee, to prove that thyself

Art the Beast (chapter 4) that sees pine ways at once !

Doctoribus lætamur tribus.

THE THREE DOCTORS. Dr. S--they as gloriously sleeps

With “No-Popery' scribes, on the

stalls. Though many great doctors there be, There are three that all Doctors o'er- Dr. Slop, upon subjects divine, top,-

Such bedlamite slaver lets drop, Dr. Eady, that famous M.D.,

That if Eady should take the mad line, Dr. S—they, and dear Doctor Slop. He'll be sure of a patient in Slop. The purger-the proser—the bard -

Seven millions of Papists, no less,
All quacks in a different style;
Dr. s--they writes books by the yard, Dr. Fady, less bold, I confess,

Dr. S--they attacks like a Turk ;Dr. Eady writes puffs by the mile.

Attacks but his maid of all-work.3 Dr. Slop, in no merit outdone

By his scribbling or physicking Dr. S—they, for his grand attack, brother,

Both a laureate and senator is; Can dose us with stuff like the one,

While poor Dr. Eady, alack, Ay, and doze us with stuff like the

Has been had up to Bow Street, for other.

his ! Dr. Eady good company keeps And truly, the law does so blunder, With · No-Popery'scribes on the That, though little blood has been walls;

spilt, he