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LITERARY ADVERTISEMENT.

WANTED Authors of all-work, to job for the season,
No matter which party, so faithful to neither :—
Good hacks, who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason,
Can manage, like to do without either.

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If in gaol, all the better for out-o'-door topics;
Your gaol is for travellers a charming retreat;
They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,
And sail round the world, at their ease, in the Fleet.

For Dramatists, too, the most useful of schools

They may study high life in the King's Bench community :
Aristotle could scarce keep them more within rules,

And of place they're at least taught to stick to the unity.

Any lady or gentleman come to an age

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To have good Reminiscences' (threescore, or higher),
Will meet with encouragement-so much per page,

And the spelling and grammar both found by the buyer.
No matter with what their remembrance is stocked,
So they'll only remember the quantum desired ;—
Enough to fill handsomely Two Volumes, oct.,

Price twenty-four shillings, is all that's required.
They may treat us, like Kelly, with old jeux-d'esprits,
Like Reynolds, may boast of each mountebank frolic,
Or kindly inform us, like Madame Genlis,1

That gingerbread cakes always give them the colic.
There's nothing at present so popular growing

As your Autobiographers-fortunate elves,
Who manage to know all the best people going,
Without having ever been heard of themselves!

Wanted, also, a new stock of Pamphlets on Corn,

·

By Farmers' and 'Landholders'-(gemmen, whose lands
Enclosed all in bow-pots, their attics adorn,

Or whose share of the soil may be seen on their hands).

No-Popery Sermons, in ever so dull a vein,

Sure of a market;-should they, too, who pen 'em,
Be renegade Papists, like Murtagh O'S-1l-v-n,2
Something extra allowed for the additional venom.
Funds, Physic, Corn, Poetry, Boxing, Romance,
All excellent subjects for turning a penny;-
To write upon all is an author's sole chance
For attaining, at last, the least knowledge of any.

1 This lady, in her Memoirs, also favours us with the address of those apothecaries who have from time to time given her pills that agreed

with her; always desiring that the pills should be ordered comme pour elle.

2 A gentleman who distinguished himself by his evidence before the Irish Committees.

Nine times out of ten, if his title be good,

His matter within of small consequence is ;-
Let him only write fine, and, if not understood,
Why, that's the concern of the reader, not his

N.B.-A learned Essay, now printing, to show
That Horace (as clearly as words could express it)
Was for taxing the Fundholders, ages ago,

When he wrote thus-' Quodcunque in Fund is, assess it."

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

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'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.

For his was the error of head, not | A prince without pride, a man without heart,

And-oh, how beyond the ambushed

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guile,

To the last unchanging, warm, sin

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'I NEVER give a kiss,' says Prue,
'To naughty man, for I abhor it.'

She will not give a kiss 'tis true,

She'll take one though, and thank you for it.

ON A SQUINTING POETESS.

To no one Muse does she her glance incline,
But has an eye at once to all the nine.

A JOKE VERSIFIED.

'COME, come,' said Tom's father, 'at your time of life,
There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-

It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife.'

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Why so it is, father,-whose wife shall I take?'

-

ON

LIKE a snuffers this loving old dame,
By a destiny grievous enough,

Though so oft she has snapped at the flame,
Hath never caught more than the snuff.

A SPECULATION.

Of all speculations the market holds forth,
The best that I know, for a lover of pelf,

Is to buy up, at the price he is worth,

And then sell him at that which he gets on himself.

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BALLADS AND SONGS.

BLACK AND BLUE EYES.

THE brilliant black eye May in triumph let fly All its darts, without caring who feels 'em;

But the soft eye of blue, Though it scatter wounds too, Is much better pleased when it heals 'em.

Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!
The soft eye of blue,
Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleased when it heals 'em, dear Fanny!

The black eye may say,
'Come and worship my ray,-

By adoring, perhaps you may move

me!'

But the blue eye, half hid,
Says, from under its lid,

'I love, and I'm yours if you love me!'
Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!
The blue eye, half hid,
Says, from under its lid,

I love, and am yours if you love me!' dear Fanny!

Then tell me, oh! why,

In that lovely eye,

Not a charm of its tint I discover ; Or why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said 'No' to a lover?
Dear Fanny dear Fanny!
Oh! why should you wear
The only blue pair

That ever said 'No' to a lover, dear
Fanny ?

CEASE, OH CEASE TO TEMPT.

CEASE, oh cease to tempt
My tender heart to love!

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