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Would I suffer what-ev'n in the heart that thou hast

All mean as it is—must have consciously burn'd, When the pittance, which shame had wrung from thee at last,

And which found all his wants at an end, was
return'd;58

"Was this then the fate,"-future ages will say,
When some names shall live but in history's curse;
When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day
Be forgotten as fools, or remember'd as worse;—

"Was this then the fate of that high-gifted man,
"The pride of the palace, the bow'r and the hall,
"The orator,-dramatist,-minstrel,-who ran
"Through each mode of the lyre, and was master
of all ;-

"Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art
"From the finest and best of all other men's

pow'rs:

"Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, "And could call up its sunshine, or bring down its show'rs;

"Whose humor, as gay as the fire-fly's light,

"Play'd round every subject, and shone as it
play'd ;-

"Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright,
"Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade;-

"Whose cloquence-bright'ning whatever it tried,
"Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave,
"Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide,
"As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!"

Yes-such was the man, and so wretched his fate ;—

When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him
then-

By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN!
"Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaim-
CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified-BELCHER spits
flame-

And MOLYNEUX-ay, even BLACKY" cries" shame!"
Time was, when JOHN BULL little difference spied
"Twixt the foe at his feet, and the friend at his side:
When he found (such his humor in fighting and
eating)

His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating.
But this comes, Master BEN, of your cursed foreign
notions,

Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace, and lotions;

Your Noyeaus, Curaçoas, and the Devil knows what

(One swig of Blue Ruin" is worth the whole lot!) Your great and small crosses- -(my eyes, what a brood!

A cross-buttock from me would do some of them good!)

Which have spoil'd you, till hardly a drop. my old

porpoise,

Of pure English claret is left in your corpus;
And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad,
Of the Fancy you're up to, is fibbing, my lad.
Hence it comes,- BOXIANA, disgrace to thy page!-
Having floor'd, by good luck, the first swell of the
age,

Having conquer'd the prime one, that mill'd us all
round,

You kick'd him, old BEN, as he gasp'd on the ground!

And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, Ay-just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got

Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the
Great,

And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve.

In the woods of the North there are insects that prey
On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh;50
Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they,
First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to
die!

EPISTLE

FROM TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN,60 CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.61 "Ahi, mio BEN!"-METASTASIO.62

WHAT! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown?
Is this the new go?-kick a man when he's down!

any

Kick'd him, and jaw'd him, and lagg'd him to

Botany!

Oh, shade of the Cheesemonger! you who, alas,
Doubled up, by the dozen, those Mounseers in brass,
On that great day of milling, when blood lay in
lakes,

When Kings held the bottle, and Europe the stakes,
Look down upon BEN-see him, dunghill all o'er,
Insult the fall'n foe, that can harm him no more!
Out, cowardly spooney !—again and again,
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN.
To show the white feather is many men's doom,
But, what of one feather?-BEN shows a whole
Plume.

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(44)

Namque me silvâ lupus in Sabinâ,
Dum meam canto Lalagen, et ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditis,
Fugit inermem.

I cannot help calling the reader's attention to the peculiar ingenuity with which these lines are paraphrased. Not to mention the happy conversion of the Wolf into a Papist, (seeing that Romulus was suckled by a wolf, that Rome was founded by Romulus, and that the Pope has always reigned at Rome,) there is something particularly neat in supposing “ultra terminum" to mean vacation-time: and then the modest consciousness with which the Noble and Learned Translator has avoided touching upon the words "curis expeditis," (or, as it has been otherwise read, " causis expeditis,") and the felicitous idea of his being "inermis" when "without his wig," are altogether the most delectable specimens of paraphrase in our language.

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(49) That model of Princes, the Emperor Commodus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to burn off his beard-"timore tonsoris," says Lampridius. (Hist. August. Scriptor.) The dissolute Ælius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of his wig. (See Jul. Capitolin.)-Indeed, this was not the only princely trait in the character of Verus, as he had likewise a most hearty and dignified contempt for his Wife. See his insulting answer to her in Spartianus. (50) In allusion to Lord Ellenborough.

(51) Lord Castlereagh.

(52) He had recently been appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer.

(53) An allusion to Lord Eldon's lachrymose tendencies.

(54) "Of the taxes proposed by Mr. Vansittart, that principally opposed in Parliament was the additional duty on leather."-Ann. Register.

(55) The character given to the Spanish soldier, in Sir John Murray's memorable dispatch.

(56) 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 rosa fartum," 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 favors 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 Honorable 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 words "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.

(57) In consequence of an old promise, that he should be allowed to wear his own hair, whenever he might be elevated to a Bishopric by his Royal Highness.

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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

OCCASIONAL EPILOGUE.

SPOI EN BY MR. CORRY, IN THE CHARACTER OF VAPID, AFTER THE PLAY OF THE DRAMATIST, AT THE KILKENNY THEATRE.

(Entering as if to announce the Play.)

LADIES and Gentlemen, on Monday night,
For the ninth time-oh accents of delight
To the poor author's ear, when three times three
With a full bumper crowns his Comedy !
When, long by money, and the muse, forsak❜n,
He finds, at length, his jokes and boxes tak'n,
And sees his play-bill circulate-alas,
The only bill on which his name will pass!
Thus, Vapid, thus shall Thespian scrolls of fame
Through box and gall'ry waft your well-known

name,

While critic eyes the happy cast shall con, And learned ladies spell your Dram. Person.

'Tis said our worthy Manager' intends

To help my night, and he, you know, has friends.
Friends, did I say? for fixing friends, or parts,
Engaging actors, or engaging hearts,
There's nothing like him! wits, at his request,
Are turn'd to fools, and dull dogs learn to jest;
Soldiers, for him, good "trembling cowards" make,
And beaus, turn'd clowns, look ugly for his sake;
For him ev'n lawyers talk without a fee,
For him (oh friendship!) I act tragedy!
In short, like Orpheus, his persuasive tricks
Make boars amusing, and put life in sticks.

With such a manager we can't but please,
Though London sent us all her loud O. P.'s,
Let them come on, like snakes, all hiss and rattle,
Arm'd with a thousand fans, we'd give them battle ;
You, on our side, R. P.' upon our banners,
Soon should we teach the saucy () P.'s manners:

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