PARODY OF A CELEBRATED LETTER.

Ar length, dearest FREDDY, the moment is nigh,

And it pleased me to find at the house where, you know,
There's such good mutton-cutlets and strong curaçoa,'
That the Marchioness called me a duteous old boy,
And my Y-Rм-TH's red whiskers grew redder for joy!

You know, my dear FREDDY, how oft, if I would,
By the law of last Sessions, I might have done good.
I might have withheld these political noodles

From knocking their heads against hot Yankee Doodles;
I might have told Ireland I pitied her lot,

Might have soothed her with hope-but you know I did

not.

And my wish is, in truth, that the best of old fellows
Should not, on recovering, have cause to be jealous,
But find that, while he has been laid on the shelf,
We've been all of us nearly as mad as himself.
You smile at my hopes, but the doctors and I
Are the last that can think the K-NG ever will die!

A new era's arrived-though you 'd hardly believe itAnd all things, of course, must be new to receive it.

And, as time now is precious, the first thing I do Is to sit down and write a wise letter to you.

I meant before now to have sent you this letter,

New saddles, new helmets, and-why not new friends?

I repeat it << new friends»-for I cannot describe

The delight I am in with this P-RC-V-L tribe.

Such capering-such vapouring!-such rigour-such

vigour !

North, South, East, and West, they have cut such a

figure,

To wait till the Irish affairs were decided

That is, till both houses had prosed and divided,
With all due appearance of thought and digestion-
For though H-RTF-RD House had long settled the ques-

tion,

I thought it but decent, between me and you, That the two other houses should settle it too.

I need not remind you how cursedly bad
Our affairs were all looking when Father went mad;
A strait-waistcoat on him, and restrictions on me,-
A more limited monarchy could not well be.
I was call'd upon then, in that moment of puzzle,
To chuse my own minister-just as they muzzle
A playful young bear, and then mock his disaster
By bidding him chuse out his own dancing-master.

I thought the best way, as a dutiful son,
Was to do as old Royalty's self would have done.
So I sent word to say I would keep the whole batch in,
The same chest of tools, without cleansing or patching-
For tools of this kind, like Martinus's sconce,'
Would lose all their beauty if purified once;
And think-only think-if our Father should find,
Upon graciously coming again to his mind,
That improvement had spoil'd any favourite adviser—
That R-SE was grown honest, or W-STM-REL-ND wiser-
That R-D-R was, even by one twinkle, the brighter-
Or L-V-R-PL's speeches but half a pound lighter-
What a shock to his old royal heart it would be!
No!-far were such dreams of improvement from me,

The antique shield of Martinus Scriblerus, which, upon scouring, turn'd out to be only an old sconce.

ears,

And leave us no friends-but Old Nick and Algiers.
When I think of the glory they 've beam'd on my chains,
'T is enough quite to turn my illustrious brains;
It's true we are bankrupts in commerce and riches,
But think how we furnish our Allies with breeches!
We 've lost the warm hearts of the Irish, 't is granted,
But then we've got Java, an island much wanted,
To put the last lingering few who remain
Of the Walcheren warriors out of their pain.
Then, how WELLINGTON fights! and how squabbles his
brother!

For papists the one, and with papists the other;
One crushing NAPOLEON by taking a city,
While t'other lays waste a whole Catholic Committee!
Oh, deeds of renown! shall I baggle or flinch,
With such prospects before me?-by Jove not an inch.
No-let England's affairs go to rack if they will,
We'll look after the affairs of the Continent still,
And, with nothing at home but starvation and riot,
Find Lisbon in bread, and keep Sicily quiet.

I am proud to declare I have no predilections,--
My heart is a sieve, where some scatter'd affections
Are just danced about for a moment or two,
And the finer they are, the more sure to run through :
Neither have I resentments, nor wish there should come

ill

To mortal-except (now I think on 't) BEAU BR-MM-L,
Who threatened, last year, in a superfine passion,
To cut me, and bring the old K-NG into fashion.
This is all I can lay to my conscience at present.
When such is my temper, so neutral, so pleasant,

The letter-writer's favourite luncheon.

So royally free from all troublesome feelings,
So little encumber'd by faith in my dealings
(And, that I'm consistent, the world will allow,—
What I was at Newmarket, the same I am now)—
When such are my merits (you know I hate cracking),
I hope, like the vender of best Patent Blacking,
«To meet with the generous and kind approbation
Of a candid, enlighten'd and liberal nation.»

By the by, ere I close this magnificent letter

(No man except POLE could have writ you a better), T would please me if those, whom I've humbugg'd so Jong

With the notion (good men!) that I knew right from wrong,

Would a few of them join me-mind, only a few-
To let too much light in on me never would do;
But even GREY's brightness shan't make me afraid,
While I've C-MD-N and ELD-N to fly to for shade;
Nor will HOLLAND'S clear intellect do us much harm,
While there 's W-STM-REL-ND near him to weaken the
charm.

As for Mota's high spirit, if aught can subdue it,
Sure joining with H-RTF-RD and Y-RM-TH will do it!
Between R-D-R and WH-RT-N let SHERIDAN sit,
And their fogs will soon quench even SHERIDAN'S Wit;
And against all the pure public feeling that glows
Even in WHITBREAD himself we 've a host in G-RGE
R-SE!

So, in short, if they wish to have places, they may,
And I'll thank you to tell all these matters to GREY,
Who, I doubt not, will write (as there's no time to lose)
By the two-penny post, to tell GRENVILLE the news;
And now,
dearest FRED (though I've no predilection),
Believe me yours always with truest affection.

P. S.-A copy of this is to P-RC-V-L going-
Good Lord! how St Stephen's will ring with his crowing!

ANACREONTIC.

TO A PLUMASSIER.

FINE and feathery artisan!
Best of Plumists, if you can
With your art so far presume,
Make for me a P--E's plume-
Feathers soft and feathers rare,
Such as suits a P--E to wear!

First, thou downiest of men!
Seek me out a fine pea-hen;
Such a hen, so tall and grand,
As by Juno's side might stand,
If there were no cocks at hand!
Seek her feathers, soft as down,
Fit to shine on P--E's crown;
If thou canst not find them, stupid!
Ask the way of Prior's Cupid.
Ranging these in order due,
Pluck me next an old cuckoo;
Emblem of the happy fates
Of easy, kind, cornuted mates!
Pluck him well-be sure you do----
Who wouldn't be an old cuckoo,
Thus to have his plumage bless'd,
Beaming on a r-y-l crest?

Bravo, Plumist!-now what bird
Shall we find for plume the third?
You must get a learned owl,
Blackest of black-letter fowl→
Bigot bird that hates the light,
Foe to all that's fair and bright!
Seize his quills (so form'd to pen
Books that shun the search of men,-
Books that far from every eye,
In «swelter'd venom sleeping» lie!)
Stick them in, between the two,
Proud pea-hen and old cuckoo!

Now you have the triple feather,
Bind the kindred stems together
With a silken tie whose hue
Once was brilliant buff and blue;
Sullied now-alas! how much!-
Only fit for Y-RM-TH's touch.
There-enough-thy task is done;
Present worthy G-GE's son!
Now beneath, in letters neat,
Write «I SERVE,» and all 's complete.

EXTRACTS

FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN.

Wednesday.

THROUGH M-NCH-ST-R Square took a canter just nowMet the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow. This I did, of course, thinking 't was loyal and civil, But got such a look-oh, it was black as the devil! How unlucky!-incog. he was travelling about, And I, like a noodle, must go find him out!

Mem. When next by the old yellow chariot I ride, To remember there is nothing princely inside.

Thursday.

At Levee to-day made another sad blunder-
What can be come over me lately, I wonder?
The P-E was as cheerful as if, all his life,
He had never been troubled with Friends or a Wife-
Fine weather,» says he-to which I, who must prate
Answer'd, «Yes, Sir, but changeable rather, of late »
He took it, I fear, for he look'd rather gruff,
And handled his new pair of whiskers so rough,
That before all the courtiers I fear'd they'd come of
And then, Lord! how GERAMB would triumphandy s
Mem. To buy for son Dicky some unguent or lotion
To nourish his whiskers-sure road to promotion

Saturday

Last night a concert-vastly gay-
Given by Lady C-STL-R-GH.
My Lord loves music, and, we know,
Has two strings always to his bow.
In chusing songs, the R-G-NT named
« Had I a heart for falsehood framed.»

1 England is not the only country where merit of this kind *** ticed and rewarded. . I remember,■ says Tavernier, to har one of the King of Persia's porters, whose mustachios were si lor, he could tie them behind his neck, for which reason he had a de prusion.

Not a single ex-curl on his forehead he traces—
For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is,
The falser they are, the more firm in their places.

His coat he next views-but the coat who could doubt?
For his Y-RM-TH's own Frenchified hand cut it out;
Every pucker and seam were made matters of state,
And a grand Household Council was held on each plait!

Then whom shall he dress? Shall he new rig his brother,
Great C-MB-RL-ND's Duke, with some kickshaw or other?
And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes?
Ah! no-here his ardour would meet with delays,
For the Duke had been lately pack'd up in new Stays,
So complete for the winter, he saw very plain

'T would be devilish hard work to unpack him again!

So what's to be done?—there's the MINISTERS, bless

'em!

As he made the puppets, why should n't he dress 'em? <«< An excellent thought!-call the tailors-be nimbleLet CCM bring his spy-glass, and H-ATF-RD her thimble; While Y-RM-TH shall give us, in spite of all quizzers, The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissars,>>

So saying, he calls C-STL-R-GH, and the rest
Of his heaven-born statesmen, to come and be dress'd.
While Y-R-M-TH, with snip-like and brisk expedition,
Cuts up, all at once, a large Catholic Petition

In long tailors' measures (the P- ——E crying, « Well done!»)

And first puts in hand my Lord Chancellor ELD-N.

OCCASIONAL ADDRESS,

For the Opening of the New Theatre of St St-ph-n, in

One Mr V-NS-TT-RT, a good sort of person,
Who's also employ'd for this season to play
In «< Raising the Wind,» and « the Devil to Pay.»
We expect too-at least we've been plotting and plan-
ning-

To get that great actor from Liverpool, C-NN-NG;
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-NG should stop 'em,
Who knows but we 'll have to announce in the papers,
Grand fight-second time-with additional capers.
Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad,
There is plenty of each in this House to be had;
Where our Manager ruleth, there weeping will be,
For a dead hand at tragedy always was he;
And there never was dealer in dagger and cup,
Who so smilingly got all his tragedies up.
His powers poor Ireland will never forget,
And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet.

So much for the actors.-For secret machinery,
Traps, and deceptions, and shifting of scenery,

Y-RM-TH and CUM are the best we can find
To transact all that trickery business behind.
The former's employ'd too to teach us French jigs,
Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs.

In taking my leave, now I've only to say
A few Seats in the House, not as yet sold away,
May be had of the Manager, PAT C-STL-R—GH.

THE SALE OF THE TOOLS.

Instrumenta regni.-TACITUS.

THIS day a New House, for your edification,
We open, most thinking and right-headed nation!
Excuse the materials-though rotten and bad,

They're the best that for money just now could be had;
And, if echo the charm of such houses should be,
You will find it shall echo my speech to a T.

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

Ladies,

Would have bungled away with them joyously still). You can see they 've been pretty well hack'd—104, alack!

What tool is there job after job will not hack?

It is truly surprising how well they can play.

Our manager (he who in Ulster was nursed,

And Erin
sung go Bragh 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!

And their temper, like ELL-NB'R—GH's, none of the bestBut you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upr

Or better, perhaps (for I'm guessing at random),
A heavy drag chain for some Lawyer's old Tandem!
Will nobody bid? It is cheap, I am sure, Sir-
Once, twice-going, going-thrice-gone !-It is yours,
Sir.

To pay ready money you sha'n't be distress'd,
As a bill at long date suits the CHANCELLOR best.

Come, where's the next Tool?-Oh! 't is here in a trice

This implement, Gemmen! at first was a Vice-
(A tenacious and close sort of Tool, that will let
Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get)-
But it since has received a new coating of Tin,
Bright enough for a Prince to behold himself in!
Come, what shall we say for it?-briskly! bid on,
We'll the sooner get rid of it-going-quite gone!
God be with it! Such Tools, if not quickly knock'd
down,

Might at last cost their owner-how much? why, a
Crown!

The next Tool I'll set up has hardly had handsel or
Trial as yet, and is also a Chancellor-

Such dull things as these should be sold by the gross;

Yet, dull as it is, 't will be found to shave close,
And, like other close shavers, some courage to gather,
This blade first began by a flourish on leather!
You shall have it for nothing-then, marvel with me
At the terrible tinkering work there must be,
Where a Tool, such as this is (I'll leave you to judge it)
Is placed by ill luck at the top of the Budget!

We may thus make them useful to England at last.
C-STL-R-GH in our sieges might save some disgraces,
Being used to the taking and keeping of places;
And Volunteer C-NN-NG, still ready for joining.
Might show off his talent for sly undermining.
Could the Household but spare us its glory and pride,
Old H-DF-T at horn-works again might be tried,
And the Ch-f J-ST-CE make a bold charge at his side!
While V-NS-TT-RT could victual the troops upon tick,
And the Doctor look after the baggage and sick.

Nay, I do not see why the great R-G-NT himself
Should, in times such as these, stay at home on the
shelf:-

Though through narrow defiles he's not fitted to pass,
Yet who could resist if he bore down en masse?
And though oft, of an evening, perhaps he might

prove,

Like our brave Spanish Allies, « unable to move ;>>1 Yet there's one thing in war, of advantage unbounded, Which is, that he could not with ease be surrounded!

In my next, I shall sing of their arms and equipment. At present no more but-good luck to the shipment!

LORD WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS. 1813.

So gently in peace Alcibiades smiled,

While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand, That the emblem they graved on his seal was a child, With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand.

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