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Quoth Corn then, in answer to Cotton, Perceiving he meant to make free,"Low fellow, you've surely forgotten

The distance between you and me!

"To expect that we, peers of high birth,
Should waste our illustrious acres
For no other purpose on earth

Than to fatten curst calico-makers!

"That bishops to bobbins should bend,Should stoop from their bench's sublimity, Great dealers in lawn, to befriend

Your contemptible dealers in dimity! "No--vile manufacture! ne'er harbour A hope to be fed at our boards; Base offspring of Arkwright, the barber, What claim canst thou have upon lords? "No-thanks to the taxes and debt,

And the triumph of paper o'er guineas, Our race of Lord Jemmys, as yet,

Many defy your whole rabble of Jennys !"

So saying, whip, crack, and away

Went Corn in his cab through the throng, So madly, I heard them all say

Squire Corn would be down, before long.

THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS

A FABLE.

fessus jam sudat asellus, Parce illi; vestrum delicium est asinus.-Virgil Copa.

A DONKEY, whose talent for burdens was wondrous, So much that you'd swear he rejoiced in a load, One day had to jog under panniers so pond'rous, That-down the poor donkey fell, smack on the road.

His owners and drivers stood round in amazeWhat! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy So easy to drive through the dirtiest ways,

For every description of job-work so ready! One driver (whom Ned might have "hail'd" as a "brother")

Had just been proclaiming his donkey's renown, For vigour, for spirit, for one thing or other,When, lo, 'mid his praises, the donkey came down!

But, how to upraise him?-one shouts, t' other whis tles,

While Jenky, the conjuror, wisest of all, Declared that an "over-production" of thistles-2 (Here Ned gave a stare)—was the cause of his fall

Another wise Solomon cries, as he passes,"There, let him alone, and the fit will soon cease

1 Alluding to an early poem of Mr. Coleridge's addressed to an ass, and beginning, "I hail thee, brother!"

2 A certain country gentleman having said in the House, "that we must return at last to the food of our ancestors," somebody asked Mr. T. "what food the gentleman meant ?" -"Thistles, I suppose," answered Mr. T

The beast has been fighting with other jack-asses, And this is his mode of 'transition to peace.""

Some look'd at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces, Pronounced that too long without shoes he had gone

"Let the blacksmith provide him a sound metal basis, (The wiseacres said,) and he's sure to jog on."

But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic, Exclaim'd, "Hoot awa, mon, you 're a' gane astray,"

And declared that, "whoe'er might prefer the metallic, They'd shoe their own donkeys with papier mache."

Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear,
Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan,
And-what was still dolefuller-lending an ear

To advisers whose ears were a match for his own.

At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far

As to see others' folly, roar'd out, as he pass'd"Quick-off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are, Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last!"

REFLECTIONS

SUGGESTED BY A LATE CORRESPONDENCE ON THE CATHOLIC QUESTION.

POOR Catholics, bitter enough,

Heaven knows, are the doses you've taken; You've swallow'd down L-V-RP-L's stuff, His nonsense of ether, "well shaken;" You've borne the mad slaver of LEES,

And the twaddle of saintly Lord L-RT-N; But-worse, oh ye gods, than all theseYou've been lectured by Mr. Sec. H-RT-N! Alas for six millions of men!

Fit subjects for nought but dissection,

When H-RT-N himself takes the pen,

To tell them they 've lost his protection!

Ye sects, who monopolise bliss,

While your neighbours' damnation you sport on, Know ye any damnation like this

To be cut by the Under Sec. H-RT-N?

ODE TO THE SUBLIME PORTE.
GREAT Sultan, how wise are thy state compositions!
And oh, above all, I admire that decree,
In which thou command'st that all she politicians
Shall forthwith be strangled and cast in the sea.

"Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster-
A maid, who her faith in old JEREMY puts;
Who talks, with a lisp, of "the last new Westminster,"
And hopes you 're delighted with "Mill upon
Gluts;"

Who tells you how clever one Mr. F-NBL-NQUE is,
How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility;—
And assures you, that even a gentleman's rank is,
In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.

To see her, ye Gods, a new Number devouring-
Art. 1-"On the Needle's variations," by Snip ;-
Art. 2-"On the Bondage of Greece," by JOHN
B-R-NG

(That eminent dealer in scribbling and scrip ;)—

Art. 3" Upon Fallacies," JEREMY's own—

(The chief fallacy being his hope to find readers ;)— Art. 4-"Upon Honesty," author unknown;

Art. 5-(by the young Mr. M-) "Hints to Breed

ers.'

Oh Sultan, oh Sultan, though oft for the bag

And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to callThough drowning 's too good for each blue-stocking hag,

I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all!

Ay, and-lest she should ever again lift her head
From the watery bottom, her clack to renew,—
As a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,

I would hang round her neck her own darling Review

THE GHOST OF MILTIADES.

Ah quoties dubius Scriptis exarsit amator-Ovid.

THE ghost of Miltiades came at night,
And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite,
And he said, in a voice that thrill'd the frame,
"If ever the sound of Marathon's name
Hath fired thy blood, or flush'd thy brow,
Lover of liberty, rouse thee now!"

The Benthamite, yawning, left his bed--
Away to the Stock Exchange he sped,
And he found the scrip of Greece so high,
That it fired his blood, it flush'd his eye,
And oh! 't was a sight for the ghost to see,
For there never was Greek more Greek than he !
And still, as the premium higher went,
His ecstasy rose-so much per cent.
(As we see, in a glass that tells the weather,
The heat and the silver rise together,)
And Liberty sung from the patriot's lip,
While a voice from his pocket whisper'd, " Scrip"

The ghost of Miltiades came again ;-
He smiled, as the pale moon shines through rain,
For his soul was glad at that Patriot strain;
(And, poor, dear ghost-how little he knew
The jobs and tricks of the Philhellene crew!-
"Blessings and thanks!" was all he said,
Then melting away, like a night-dream, fled!
The Benthamite hears--amazed that ghosts
Could be such fools-and away he posts.
A patriot still? Ah no, ah no-
Goddess of Freedom, thy scrip is low,
And, warm and fond as thy lovers are,
Thou triest their passion when under par.
The Benthamite's ardour fast decays,
By turns, he weeps, and swears, and prays,
And wishes the D-1 had crescent and cross,
Ere he had been forced to sell at a loss

They quote him the stock of various nations,
But, spite of his classic associations,
Lord! how he loathes the Greek quotations'
"Who'll buy my scrip? Who'll buy my serip?"
Is now the theme of the patriot's lip,
As he runs to tell how hard his lot is
To Messrs. Orlando and Luriottis,
And says, "Oh Greece, for liberty's sake,
Do buy my scrip, and I vow to break
Those dark, unholy bonds of thine-
If you'll only consent to buy up mine?'

The ghost of Miltiades came once more;-
His brow, like the night, was lowering o'er,
And he said, with a look that flash'd dismay,
"Of Liberty's foes the worst are they
Who turn to a trade her cause divine,
And gamble for gold on Freedom's shrine!"
Thus saying, the ghost, as he took his flight,
Gave a Parthian kick to the Benthamite,
Which sent him, whimpering, off to Jerry-
And vanish'd away to the Stygian ferry!

Oft, too, the Corn grows animate,

And a whole crop of heads appears, Like Papists, bearding Church and StateThemselves, together by the ears!

While, leaders of the wheat, a row

Of Poppies, gaudily declaiming, Like Counsellor O'Bric and Co.,

Stand forth, somniferously flaming! In short, their torments never cease; And oft I wish myself transferr'd off To some far, lonely land of peace, Where Corn or Papist ne'er were heard of. Oh waft me, Parry, to the Pole; For-if my fate is to be chosen 'Twixt bores and ice-bergs-on my soul, I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!

CORN AND CATHOLICS.

Utrum horum

Dirius borum ?--Incerti Auctores.

WHAT! still those two infernal questions, That with our meals, our slumbers mixThat spoil our tempers and digestions

Eternal Corn and Catholics!

Gods! were there ever two such bores? Nothing else talk'd of, night or mornNothing in doors or out of doors,

But endless Catholics and Corn!

Never was such a brace of pests

While Ministers, still worse than either, Skill'd but in feathering their nests,

Bore us with both, and settle neither.

So addled in my cranium meet
Popery and Corn, that oft I doubt,
Whether, this year, 't was bonded wheat,
Or bonded papists, they let out.

Here landlords, here polemics, nail you,
Arm'd with all rubbish they can rake up ;
Prices and texts at once assail you-

From Daniel these, and those from Jacob.

And when you sleep, with head still torn,

Between the two, their shapes you mix,
Till sometimes Catholics seem Corn,-
Then Corn again seems Catholics.

Now Dantzic wheat before you floats-
Now, Jesuits from California—
Now Ceres, link'd with Titus Oats,

Comes dancing through the "Porta Cornea."

[blocks in formation]

CROCKFORDIANA

EPIGRAMS.

1.

Mala vicini pecoris contagia lædunt.

WHAT can those workmen be about?
Do, C-
-D, let the secret out,

Why thus your houses fall.

Quoth he, "Since folks are not in town,
I find it better to pull down,
Than have no pull at all."

2.

SEE, passenger, at C- -D's high behest,
Red coats by black-legs ousted from their nest,—
The arts of peace, o'ermatching reckless war,
And gallant Rouge undone by wily Noir!

3.

Inpar congressus--

FATE gave the word-the King of dice and eards
In an unguarded moment took the Guards;
Contrived his neighbours in a trice to drub,
And did the trick by-turning up a Club

Nullum simile est idem.

'T Is strange how some will differ-some advance That the Guard's Club-House was pull'd down by chance;

While some, with juster notions in their mazard,
Stoutly maintain the deed was done by hazard.

THE TWO BONDSMEN.

WHEN Joseph, a Bondsman in Egypt, of old,
Shunn'd the wanton embraces of Potiphar's dame,
She offer'd him jewels, she offer'd him gold,
But more than all riches he valued his fame.
Oh Joseph! thou Bondsman of Greece, can it be
That the actions of namesakes so little agree?
Greek Scrip is a Potiphar's lady to thee.
When with 13 per cent. she embellish'd her charms,
Didst thou fly, honest Joseph? Yes-into her arms

Oh Joseph! dear Joseph! bethink thee in time,
And take a friend's counsel, though tender'd in rhyme.
Refund," honest" Joseph: how great were the shame,
If, when posteriority' sits on thy name,

They should sternly decree, 'twixt your namesake and you,

That he was the Christian, and thou wert the Jew.

THE PERIWINKLES AND THE LOCUSTS.

A SALMAGUNDIAN HYMN.

"To Panurge was assigned the Lairdship of Salmagundi, which was yearly worth 6,789,106,789 ryals, besides the revenue of the Locusts and Periwinkles, amounting one year with another to the value of 2,425,768, etc. etc."Rabelais.

"HURRA! Hurra!" I heard them say,

And they cheer'd and shouted all the way,
As the Laird of Salmagundi went,
To open in state his Parliament.

The Salmagundians once were rich,

Or thought they were-no matter which-
For, every year, the Revenue?
From their Periwinkles larger grew;

And their rulers, skill'd in all the trick,
And legerdemain of arithmetic,
Knew how to place 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, and 10,
Such various ways, behind, before,
That they made a unit seem a score,

And proved themselves most wealthy men!

So, on they went, a prosperous crew,

The people wise, the rulers clever,And God help those, like me and you, Who dared to doubt (as some now do) That the Periwinkle Revenue

Would thus go flourishing on for ever.

"Hurra! hurra!" I heard them say,
And they cheer'd and shouted all the way,
As the Great Panurge in glory went,
To open his own dear Parliament.

But folks at length began to doubt
What all this conjuring was about;
For, every day, more deep in debt
They saw their wealthy rulers get :-
"Let's look (said they) the items through,
And see if what we're told be true
Of our Periwinkle Revenue."
But, lord, they found there was n't a tittle
Of truth in aught they heard before;
For, they gain'd by Periwinkles little,

And lost by Locusts ten times more!
These Locusts are a lordly breed
Some Salmagundians love to feed.

1 Remote posterity-a favourite word of the present Attorney-General's.

2 Accented as in Swift's line

"Not so a nation's revenues are paid."

Of all the beasts that ever were born,
Your Locust most delights in corn;
And, though his body be but small,
To fatten him takes the devil and all!

Nor this the worst, for direr still,

Alack, alack and a well-a-day! Their Periwinkles,-once the stay And prop of the Salmagundian tillFor want of feeding, all fell ill!

And still, as they thinn'd and died away, The Locusts, ay, and the Locusts' Bill Grew fatter and fatter every day!

"Oh fie! oh fie!" was now the cry,
As they saw the gaudy show go by,
And the Laird of Salmagundi went
To open his Locust Parliament !

A CASE OF LIBEL.

A CERTAIN Old Sprite, who dwells below ('T were 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 dress'd and talked,
And hid his tail and his horns so handy,
You'd hardly have known him, as he walk'd
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 doConveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he look'd extremely natty,

And ev'n contrived-to his own great wonderBy dint of sundry scents from Gattie,

To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gentleman hoof'd 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 pass'd his time 't wixt black and blue.

Some wish'd to make him an M. P.,
But, finding W-lks 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.

The press, the impartial press, that snubs
Alike a fiend's or an angel's capers-
Miss Paton's soon as Beelzebub's→
Fired off a squib in the morning papers

"We warn good men to keep aloof

From a grim old Dandy, seen about,

With a fire-proof wig, and a cloven hoof,
Through a neat-cut Hoby smoking out."
Now, the Devil being a gentleman,

Who piques himself on his well-bred dealings, You may guess, when o'er these lines he ran, How much they hurt and shock'd his feelings.

Away he posts to a man of law,

[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,'

That ginger-bread cakes always give them the colick.

There's nothing, at present, so popular growing As your Autobiographers-fortunate elves,

And oh, 't would make you laugh to 've seen Who manage to know all the best people going, 'em, Without having ever been heard of themselves!

As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw,

And 't was "hail, good fellow, well met," be- Wanted, also, new stock of Pamphlets on Corn, tween 'em. By "Farmers" and "Landholders"—(gemmen, whose lands

Straight an indictment was preferr'd-
And much the Devil enjoy'd the jest,
When, looking among the judges, he heard
That, of all the batch, his own was Best.

In vain Defendant proffer'd proof

That Plaintiff's self was the Father of EvilBrought 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 trav'llers 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

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 allow'd 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. 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 learn'd Essay, now printing, to show,

That Horace (as clearly as words could express it Was for taxing the Fund-holders, 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 turn'd me round, And ask'd, through the dungeon window, “who ?"

I saw my livid tormentors pass;

Their grief't was bliss to hear and see; For never came joy to them, alas,

That did n't bring deadly bane to me.

Eager I look'd through the mist of night,
And ask'd, "What foe of my race hath died?
Is it he-that Doubter of law and right,
Whom nothing but wrong could e'er decide-

To have good "Reminiscences" (three-score, or "Who, long as he sees but wealth to win,

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 stock'd,

So they'll only remember the quantum desired; Enough to fill handsomely Two Volumes, oct., Price twenty-four shillings, is all that 's required.

Hath never yet felt a qualm or doubt

1 This lady, in her Memoirs, also favours us with the ad dress 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."

before the Irish Committees. 2 A gentleman, who distinguished himself by his evidence

3 According to the common reading "quodcunque infun dis, acescit."

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