1 Nor tremble, my lad, at the state of our granaries: Should there come famine,

Still plenty to cram in

You always shall have, my dear Lord of the Stannaries.

Brisk let us revel, while revel we may;

For the gay bloom of fifty soon passes away,

And then people get fat,

And infirm, and all that,

And a wig (I confess it) so clumsily sits,

That it frightens the little Loves out of their wits;

4 Thy whiskers, too, Y-rm-th!-alas, even they, Though so rosy they burn,

Too quickly must turn

(What a heart-breaking change for thy whiskers!) to Grey.

Then why, my Lord Warden, oh! why should

you fidget

Your mind about matters you don't understand? Or why should you write yourself down for an

idiot,

Because "you," forsooth, "have the pen in your hand!"

Think, think how much better

Than scribbling a letter,

(Which both you and I

Should avoid, by the by,)

How much pleasanter 'tis to sit under the bust
Of old Charley, my friend here, and drink like

a new one;

While Charley looks sulky and frowns at me, just As the Ghost in the Pantomime frowns at Don Juan.

To crown us, Lord Warden,

In C-mb-rl-nd's garden

Grows plenty of monk's hood in venomous sprigs:

While Otto of Roses

Refreshing all noses

Shall sweetly exhale from our whiskers and wigs

• What youth of the Household will cool our Noyau In that streamlet delicious,

That down 'midst the dishes,
All full of gold fishes,

Romantic doth flow?

10 Or who will repair

Unto Mch—r Sq―e,
And see if the gentle Marchesa be there?
Go-bid her haste hither,

11 And let her bring with her

The newest No-Popery Sermon that's going-
Oh! let her come, with her dark tresses flowing,
All gentle and juvenile, curly and gay,
In the manner of-Ackermann's Dresses for
May!

HORACE, ODE XXII. LIB. I.

FREELY TRANSLATED BY LORD ELD-N.

THE man who keeps a conscience pure, (If not his own, at least his Prince's,) Through toil and danger walks secure,

Looks big and black, and never winces.

14 No want has he of sword or dagger, Cock'd hat or ringlets of Geramb;

Though Peers may laugh, and Papists swagger, He doesn't care one single d-mn.

15 Whether midst Irish chairmen going, Or through St. Giles's alleys dim, 'Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing, No matter, 'tis all one to him.

grumble;

Sweet Church and State, like Jack and Jill, So lovingly upon a hill—

Ah! ne'er like Jack and Jill to tumble!

pists of Spain, and had translated the words "quæ loca fabulosus lambit Hydaspes" thus-"The fabling Spaniard licks the French;" but, recollecting that it is our interest just now to be respectful to Spanish Catholics, (though there is certainly no earthly reason for our being even commonly civil to Irish ones,) he altered the passage as it stands at present.

1

Namque me silvâ lupus in Sabina,
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.

• 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.

quizzers,

"The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissors."

So saying, he calls C-stl-r-gh, and the rest

For, grant me so faithless a bride, Such sinners as we, are a little too lowly, To hope to have Law on our side.

tion,

Cuts up, all at once, a large Cath'lic Petition

In long tailors' measures, (the P-e crying "Welldone!")

And first puts in hand my Lord Chancellor Eld-n.

CORRESPONDENCE

BETWEEN A LADY AND GENTLEMAN,

UPON THE ADVANTAGE OF (WHAT IS CALLED) "HAVING LAW ON ONE'S SIDE."

The Gentleman's Proposal.

"Legge aurea,

S'ei piace, ei lice."

COME, fly to these arms, nor let beauties so bloomy To one frigid owner be tied;

Your prudes may revile, and your old ones look gloomy,

But, dearest, we've Law on our side.

Oh! think the delight of two lovers congenial,
Whom no dull decorums divide ;

Their error how sweet, and their raptures how venial,
When once they've got Law on their side.

1 In allusion to Lord Ell-nb-gh.

o'er 'em

As for actors, we've got the old Company yet,
The same motley, odd, tragi-comical set;

And consid'ring they all were but clerks t'other day,
It is truly surprising how well they can play.
Our Manager,' (he, who in Ulster was nursed,
And sung Erin go Brah for the galleries first,
But, on finding Pitt-interest a much better thing,
Changed his note of a sudden, to God save the King,)
Still wise as he's blooming, and fat as he's clever,
Himself and his speeches as lengthy as ever,
Here offers you still the full use of his breath,
Your devoted and long-winded proser till death.

THE SALE OF THE TOOLS.

Instrumenta regni.-TACITUS.

HERE'S a choice set of Tools for you, Ge'mmen and Ladies,

They'll fit you quite handy, whatever your trade is; (Except it be Cabinet-making;—no doubt,

In that delicate service they're rather worn out; Though their owner, bright youth! if he'd had his own will,

Would have bungled away with them joyously still.)

perverse on,

We had to engage (as a block to rehearse on)
One Mr. V-ns-tt-t, a good sort of person,
Who's also employ'd for this season to play,
In "Raising the Wind," and the "Devil's to Pay."
We expect too—at least we've been plotting and
planning-

To get that great actor from Liverpool, C-nn-g;
And, as at the Circus there's nothing attracts

Like a good single combat brought in 'twixt the acts, If the Manager should, with the help of Sir P-ph-m,

Get up new diversions, and C-nn-g should stop 'em,

Who knows but we'll have to announce in the papers,

alack!

What tool is there job after job will not hack?
Their edge is but dullish, it must be confess'd,
And their temper, like E-nb'r-h's, none of
the best;

But you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upon trying,

Wer't but for their brass, they are well worth the buying;

They're famous for making blinds, sliders, and

screens,

And are, some of them, excellent turning machines.

The first Tool I'll put up (they call it a Chancellor)

"Tis ready to melt at a half minute's notice." Who bids? Gentle buyer! 'twill turn as thou