The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with notes &c

A CASE OF LIBEL.

A CERTAIN old Sprite, who dwells

below

(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 do-Conveniently 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-iks 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.

to 've seen 'em,

As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw,

And 'twas 'Hail, good fellow, wel' 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 papers

Found for the Plaintiff; on hearing which

The Devil gave one of his loftiest capers

For oh, it was nuts to the father of lies (As this wily fiend is named in the Bible),

To find it settled by laws so wise, That the greater the truth, the worse the libel !

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.

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

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-ll-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 dungeon. window, '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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For his was the error of head, not | A prince without pride, a man without heart,

And-oh, how beyond the ambushed

guile,

To the last unchanging, warm, sin

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

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 sets on himself.

FROM THE FRENCH.

Of all the men one meets about

There's none like Jack, he's everywhere, At church-park-auction-dinner-rout,Go where and when you will he's there. Try the world's end; he's at your back, Meets you, like Eurus, in the east: You're called upon for- How do, Jack?' One hundred times a day at least. A friend of his, one evening, said, As home he took his pensive wayUpon my soul, I fear Jack's dead, I've seen him but three times to-day!'

ILLUSTRATION OF A BORE.

If ever you've seen a gay party

Relieved from the presence of NedHow instantly joyous and hearty

They've grown when the damper was fledYou may guess what a gay piece of work, What delight to champagne it must be To get rid of its bore of a cork,

And come sparkling to you, love, and me.

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