DEATH (A DEALER),

TO HIS LONDON CORRESPONDENT.

PER post, sir, received your last invoice and letter, No consignment of your's ever suited me better: The burnt bones (for flour) far exceeded my wishes, And the coculus indicus beer was delicious.

Well, I'm glad that at last we have hit on a plan Of destroying that long-living monster, poor man: With a long-neck'd green bottle I'll finish a lord, And a duke with a paté à la perigord;

But to kill a poor wretch is a different case,

For the creatures will live, though I stare in their face.

Thanks to you, though, the times will be speedily alter'd,

And the poor be got rid of without being halter'd: For ale and beer drinkers there's nothing so proper as Your extracts of coculus, quassia, and copperas―

Call'd ale, from the hundreds that ail with them here, And beer, from the numbers they bring to their bier!*

In vain shall they think to find refuge in tea-
That decoction's peculiarly favoured by me;
Sloe-leaves make the tea-verdigris gives the bloom-
And the slow poison's sure to conduct to the tomb.
As for coffee, Fred. Accum well knows the word

means

Naught but sand, powder, gravel, and burnt peas

and beans.

But let us suppose that they drink only water-
I think there may still be found methods to slaughter
A few of the blockheads who think they can bam me
By swallowing that tasteless liqueur,—Well, then,
d-me

(You'll pardon my wrath), they shall drink till they're

dead

From lead cisterns-to me 'twill be sugar of lead!

When deeper-purs'd fellows, addicted to swill, would Drink port-I'll make use of your load of Brazil wood:

* Both these puns have been consecrated by Bishop Andrews, in his ex-ale-tation of ale. This poem has also been ascribed to Beau

mont.

But I wish you'd send more laurel-leaves and sweet

brier

For such as may like sherry flavoured much higher! For the bottles,—you know, sir, I'm fairly entrusting 'em

To your tartrate of potash for finely incrusting 'em. Laurel-water, oak saw-dust, and quicklime, have

come

Just in time to be mixed with the brandy and rum.

Beer, tea, coffee, wine, rum, brandy, water-I think We've prepared for the stomachs of all those who drink;

And you'll kindly assist me to work a like feat
By pois'ning the stomachs of all those who eat.
Alum, clay, bones, potatoes, shall mix in their bread,
And their Gloucester derive its deep blush from red
lead!

But why do I mention such matters to you,

Who without my poor hints know so well what to do? You provide for the grocer, the brewer, the baker, As they in their turn do for the undertaker.

P. S.-By the by, let me beg you, in future, my neighbour,

To send me no sugar that's rais'd by free labour,

Unless you can mingle a little less salt

In the pound-for the public presume to find fault With the new China sweet'ning-and though they allow

That they'll take the saints' sugar (attend to me now,) Even cum grano salis-they do say that such

An allowance as 30 per cent. is too much.

Your's, &c.

Death.

DEATH AND HIS ALLIES.

'Tis said, and when we find in rhyme
These words, to doubt them were a crime;
'Tis said, although I greatly fear
I can't exactly tell you where,
That Death one day began to think
His trade was just upon the brink
Of bankruptcy: so few there came
To his grim regions that he wanted game.
He thought his labours nearly o'er,
So little mischief was there brewing
To save him, as it seemed, from ruin.

"It was not thus," he cried, "of yore,
When many a great and glorious fray
Sent myriads to me in a day.
But men are grown so chicken-hearted
Since they with chivalry have parted,
They will not venture now their lives,
E'en for their better halves-their wives.
But live so prudently and quiet,
Without debauchery, war, or riot,