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Said "damn you" often, or as bad Laid claim to other people's purses – In short, grew either knave or mad.

As work like this was unbefitting,

And flesh and blood no longer bore it, The Court of Common Sense, then sitting,

Summoned the culprits both before it.

Where, after hours in wrangling spent (As Courts must wrangle to decide well),

Religion to St. Luke's was sent,

And Royalty packt off to Bridewell.

With this proviso should they be Restored, in due time, to their senses, They both must give security,

In future, against such offences

Religion ne'er to lend his cloak,

Seeing what dreadful work it leads to;

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NOVELLA, a young Bolognese, The daughter of a learned Law Doctor,1

Who had with all the subtleties

Of old and modern jurists stockt her, Was so exceeding fair, 't is said,

And over hearts held such dominion, That when her father, sick in bed, Or busy, sent her, in his stead,

To lecture on the Code Justinian, She had a curtain drawn before her, Lest, if her charms were seen, the students

Should let their young eyes wander o'er her,

And quite forget their jurisprudence.2 Just so it is with Truth, when seen,

Too dazzling far,· 't is from behind A light, thin allegoric screen,

She thus can safest teach mankind.

FABLE.

In Thibet once there reigned, we 're told,
A little Lama, one year old
Raised to the throne, that realm to bless,
Just when his little Holiness
Had cut
- as near as can be reckoned-
Some say his first tooth, some his
second.

Chronologers and Nurses vary,
Which proves historians should be wary.
We only know the important truth,
His Majesty had cut a tooth.3

1 Andreas.

2 Quand il étoit occupé d'aucune essoine, it envoyoit Novelle, sa fille, en son lieu lire aux escholes en charge, et, afin que la biauté d'elle n'empêchât la pensée des oyants, elle avoit une petite courtine devant elle. - Christ. de Pise, Cité des Dames, p. 11. cap. 36.

3 See Turner's Embassy to Thibet for an account of his interview with the Lama. — “Teshoo Lama [he says] was at this time eighteen months old. Though he was unable to speak a word, he made the most expressive signs, and conducted himself with astonishing dignity aud decorum."

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But short this calm; for, just when he Had reached the alarming age of three, When Royal natures and no doubt Those of all noble beasts break outThe Lama, who till then was quiet, Showed symptoms of a taste for riot; And, ripe for mischief, early, late, Without regard for Church or State, Made free with whosoe'er came nigh; Tweakt the Lord Chancellor by the nose,

Turned all the Judges' wigs awry,

And trod on the old Generals' toes; Pelted the Bishops with hot buns,

Rode cock-horse on the City maces, And shot from little devilish guns,

Hard peas into his subjects' faces. In short, such wicked pranks he played, And grew so mischievous, God bless him!

That his Chief Nurse-with even the aid

Of an Archbishop-was afraid,

When in these moods, to comb or dress him.

Nay, even the persons most inclined Thro' thick and thin, for Kings to stickle,

Thought him (if they 'd but speak their mind,

Which they did not) an odious pickle.

At length some patriot lords- - a breed Of animals they 've got in Thibet, Extremely rare and fit indeed

For folks like Pidcock, to exhibit Some patriot lords, who saw the length To which things went, combined their strength,

And penned a manly, plain and free
Remonstrance to the Nursery;
Protesting warmly that they yielded

To none that ever went before 'em,
In loyalty to him who wielded

The hereditary pap-spoon o'er 'em; That, as for treason, 't was a thing

That made them almost sick to think of

That they and theirs stood by the King, Throughout his measles and his chin

cough,

When others, thinking him consump tive,

Had ratted to the Heir Presumptive!
But, still tho' much, admiring Kings
(And chiefly those in leading-strings),
They saw, with shame and grief of soul,
There was no longer now the wise
And constitutional control

Of birch before their ruler's eyes;
But that of late such pranks and tricks
And freaks occurred the whole day
long,

As all but men with bishoprics

Allowed, in even a King, were wrong. Wherefore it was they humbly prayed

That Honorable Nursery,

That such reforms be henceforth made,

As all good men desired to see;— In other words (lest they might seem Too tedious), as the gentlest scheme For putting all such pranks to rest,

And in its bud the mischief nipping They ventured humbly to suggest

His Majesty should have a whipping!

When this was read, no Congreve rocket, Discharged into the Gallic trenches.

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The alarm thus given, by these and other Grave ladies of the Nursery side, Spread thro' the land, till, such a pother,

Such party squabbles, far and wide, Never in history's page had been Recorded, as were then between The Whippers and Non-whippers seen. Till, things arriving at a state,

Which gave some fears of revolution, The patriot lords' advice, tho' late, Was put at last in execution.

The Parliament of Thibet met

The little Lama, called before it, Did, then and there, his whipping get, And (as the Nursery Gazette

Assures us) like a hero bore it.

And tho', 'mong Thibet Tories, some
Lament that Royal Martyrdom
(Please to observe, the letter D
In this last word 's pronounced like B),
Yet to the example of that Prince

So much is Thibet's land a debtor,
That her long line of Lamas, since,
Have all behaved themselves much
better.

FABLE VII.

THE EXTINGUISHERS.
PROEM.

THO' soldiers are the true supports,
The natural allies of Courts,
Woe to the Monarch, who depends
Too much on his red-coated friends;
For even soldiers sometimes think-

Nay, Colonels have been known to
reason,

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A Lord of Persia, rich and great,
Just come into a large estate,
Was shockt to find he had, for neigh-
bors,

Close to his gate, some rascal Ghebers,
Whose fires, beneath his very nose,

In heretic combustion rose.

But Lords of Persia can, no doubt,

Do what they will-so, one fine morning,

He turned the rascal Ghebers out,

First giving a few kicks for warning. Then, thanking Heaven most piously, He knockt their Temple to the ground,

Blessing himself for joy to see

Such Pagan ruins strewed around. But much it vext my Lord to find,

That, while all else obeyed his will, The Fire these Ghebers left behind,

Do what he would, kept burning still. Fiercely he stormed, as if his frown Could scare the bright insurgent down; But, no- such fires are headstrong things,

And care not much for Lords or Kings.
Scarce could his Lordship well contrive
The flashes in one place to smother,
Before hey presto! all alive,
They sprung up freshly in another.

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All that, in scrapes like this, is left
To great men is - to cut and run.
So run he did; while to their grounds,
The banisht Ghebers blest returned;
And, tho' their Fire had broke its
bounds,

And all abroad now wildly burned, Yet well could they, who loved the flame,

Its wandering, its excess reclaim;
And soon another, fairer Dome
Arose to be its sacred home,
Where, cherisht, guarded, not confined,
The living glory dwelt inshrined,
And, shedding lustre strong, but even,
Tho' born of earth, grew worthy heaven.
MORAL.

The moral hence my Muse infers

Is, that such Lords are simple elves, In trusting to Extinguishers,

That are combustible themselves.

FABLE VIII.

LOUIS FOURTEENTH'S WIG.

THE money raised

the army ready Drums beating, and the Royal Neddy Valiantly braying in the van,

To the old tune "Eh, eh, Sire Ane!" 2. Naught wanting, but some coup dramatic,

To make French sentiment explode, Bring in, at once, the goût fanatic,

And make the war "la dernière mode"

Instantly, at the Pavillon Marsan,
Is held an Ultra consultation
What's to be done, to help the farce on?
What stage-effect, what decoration,
To make this beauteous France forget,
In one, grand, glorious pirouette,
All she had sworn to but last week,
And, with a cry of " Magnifique !"
Rush forth to this, or any war,
Without inquiring once-"What for?"

2 They celebrated in the dark ages, at many churches, particularly at Rouen, what was called the Feast of the Ass. On this occasion the ass, finely drest, was brought before the altar, and they sung before him this elegant anthem, "Eh, eh, eh, Sire Âne, eh, eh, eh, Sire Ane." WARTON'S Essay on Pope.

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