The Benthamite hears-amazed that ghosts

Could be such fools—and away he posts, A patriot still! Ah no, ah noGoddess of Freedom, thy scrip is low, And, warm and fond as thy lovers are, Thou triest their passion when under par.

The Benthamite's ardour fast decays, By turns he weeps, and swears, and prays,

Nothing in doors, or out of doors, But endless Catholics and Corn!

cross,

Ere he had been forced to sell at a loss. They quote him the stock of various nations,

But, spite of his classic associations, Lord! how he loathes the Greek

While Ministers, still worse than either,

Skilled but in feathering their nests, Bore us with both, and settle neither.

So addled in my cranium meet

Popery and Corn, that oft I doubt Whether, this year, 'twas bonded wheat Or bonded papists they let out.

Here landlords, here polemics, nail you, Armed with all rubbish they can rake

Themselves together by the ears!

While, leaders of the wheat, a row

Of Poppies, gaudily declaiming, Like Counsellor O'Bric and Co., Stand forth, somniferously flaming! In short, their torments never cease; And oft I wish myself transferred off To some far, lonely land of peace, Where Corn or Papists ne'er were heard of.

Oh waft me, Parry, to the Pole;

For-if my fate is to be chosen "Twixt bores and icebergs-on my soul, I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!

THE PERIWINKLES AND THE LOCUSTS.

A SALMAGUNDIAN HYMN.

To Panurge was assigned the Lairdship of Salmagundi, which was yearly worth 6,789,106,789 ryals, besides the revenue of the Locusts and Periwinkles, amounting one year with another to the value of 2,425,768,' etc. etc.-Rabelais. 'HURRA! Hurra!' I heard them say, And they cheered and shouted all the

way,

As the Laird of Salmagundi went
To open in state his Parliament.

The Salmagundians once were rich,
Or thought they were-no matter
which-

For, every year, the Revenue1

From their periwinkles larger grew;
And their rulers, skilled in all the trick,
And legerdemain of arithmetic,
Knew how to place 1, 2, 3, 4,

5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 and 10,
Such various ways, behind, before,
That they made a unit seem a score,
And proved themselves most wealthy

men!

But folks at length began to doubt What all this conjuring was about; For, every day, more deep in debt They saw their wealthy rulers get :'Let's look (said they) the items through,

And see if what we're told be true
Of our Periwinkle Revenue.'

But, lord, they found there wasn't à tittle

Of truth in aught they heard before; For they gained by Periwinkles little, And lost by Locusts ten times more! These Locusts are a lordly breed Some Salmagundians love to feed. Of all the beasts that ever were born, Your Locust most delights in corn; And though his body be but small, To fatten him takes the devil and all!

Nor this the worst, for, direr still,

Alack, alack, and well-a-day! Their Periwinkles-once the stay And prop of the Salmagundian tillFor want of feeding, all fell ill!

And still, as they thinned and died away,

The Locusts, ay, and the Locusts' Bill,
Grew fatter and fatter every day!

'Oh fie! oh fie!' was now the cry,
As they saw the gaudy show go by,
And the Laird of Salmagundi went
To open his Locust Parliament !

(Twere a libel, perhaps, to mention where),

Came up incog., some winters ago,

To try, for a change, the London air.

So well he looked, and dressed, and talked,

And hid his tail and his horns so handy,

You'd hardly have known him, as he walked, From

or any other Dandy.

(N.B.-His horns, they say, unscrew So he has but to take them out of the socket, And-just as some fine husbands doConveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he looked extremely natty, And even contrived to his own great wonder

By dint of sundry scents from Gattie, To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gentleman hoofed about,

Unknown to all but a chosen few At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt,

He had many post-obits falling due.

Alike a gamester and a wit,

At night he was seen with Crockford's crew;

At morn with learned dames would sit

So passed his time 'twixt black and blue.

Some wished to make him an M.P.;

But, finding W-lks was also one, he Was heard to say 'he'd be d- -d if he Would ever sit in one house with Johnny.'

At length, as secrets travel fast,
And devils, whether he or she,
Are sure to be found out at last,

The affair got wind most rapidly.

How much they hurt and shocked his feelings

Away he posts to a man of law,

And oh, 'twould make you laugh to 've seen 'em,

As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw,

And 'twas 'Hail, good fellow, well met,' between 'em.

Straight an indictment was preferred-
And much the Devil enjoyed the jest,
When, looking among the judges, he
heard

That, of all the batch, his own was
Best.

In vain Defendant proffered proof

That Plaintiff's self was the Father of Evil

Brought Hoby forth to swear to the hoof,

And Stultz to speak to the tail of the Devil.

The Jury-saints, all snug and rich,

And readers of virtuous Sunday

THE SLAVE.

I HEARD, as I lay, a wailing sound, 'He is dead-he is dead, the rumour flew ;

And I raised my chain, and turned me round,

And asked, through the dungeonwindow, 'Who?"

I saw my livid tormentors pass,
Their grief 'twas bliss to hear and see!
For never came joy to them, alas,

That didn't bring deadly bane to me. Eager I looked through the mist of night,

And asked, 'What foe of my race hath died?

Is it he-that Doubter of law and right, Whom nothing but wrong could e'er decide

'Who, long as he sees but wealth to win, Hath never yet felt a qualm of doubt What suitors for justice he'd keep in,

Or what suitors for freedom he'd shut out

'Who, a clog for ever on Truth's ad

'Whose name is one of the ill-omened words

They link with hate on his native plains;

And why?—they lent him hearts and swords,

And he gave, in return, scoffs and chains!

'Is it he? is it he?' I loud inquired, When, hark--there sounded a royal knell ;

And I knew what spirit had just expired, And, slave as I was, my triumph fell.

He had pledged a hate unto me and mine,

He had left to the future nor hope nor choice,

But sealed that hate with a name divine,

And he now was dead, and-I couldn't rejoice!

He had fanned afresh the burning brands

Of a bigotry waxing cold and dim; He had armed anew my torturers' hands,

And them did I curse-but sighed for him.

Old Man of the Sea, and are the first who ever escaped strangling by his malicious tricks.'Story of Sinbad.