THO

SAINTHOOD.

[From the same, May 1.]

HOUGH our luckless inquiries have shown us of late Many samples of rogues, both in church and in state"; Yet who would have thought of corruption extending To those who mankind are eternally mending, Who all common religion and virtue disown, And travel to heav'n through by-ways of their own? Yea, who would have thought the contagion could taint That lank-hair'd and long-visag'd mortal, a saint? Oh, calumny foul!-Oh, Committee profane! On the children of grace to affix such a stain; To catch in unhallow'd, unmannerly clutch, With a Flemish account, the Commissioners Dutch; And amongst them-O publish it not to the scorner! That grave and good man, Johnny B-les, in a corner; Who, spite of his visage so ruefully long,

Must now take his turn and be hitch'd in a song.

Oh, Johnny! bethink thee what desperate handle
Thou giv'st the ungodly for scoffing and scandal:
Thy offence is a rank one indeed; for there's that in 't
That shames Christianity vital and patent,

And makes the empirical savers of souls

Cry, wringing their hands, "Oh, John B-les! Oh, John

B-les!

When we thought thee advancing, we find thee backsliding
Sure Satan himself is thy shoulders bestriding,

And his whip's at thy tail, and his spurs thy sides goad,
As thou joggest along in the high way and broad."
From Clapham to Hampstead, I hear them exclaim,
And Hampstead to Clapham re-echoes the blame;
Yet this uproar and outcry amongst the devout,
Is only because thou 'rt a sinner found out;
And their pious pretensions dost cruelly mar,
By showing the world what they really are;
On Sundays, so saintly, so rigid, so meek,
Yet such terrible rogues all the rest of the week.
Who will now by a sanctified outside be blinded,
When they find thee so worldly and carnally minded?
Who will care for thy proper observance of Sunday,
When they see thee at such pretty work on the Monday?

Thou

THE INS AND THE OUTS.

Thou foe to all fun, thou up-shutter of shops,
Thou suppressor of vice and of six-penny hops,
Say, where were those scruples and conscience so nice,
When you took off the national loaf such a slice?
And how do professions so pious agree,

With property public with making so free?

Is it thus that the world, and all evil, 's eschew'd?
I might ask long enough-but my song must conclude;
So I'll end with a text that comes over you pat→→→

You swallow a camel, and strain at a gnat.

SIMON PURES

EPIGRAM.

ON THE MOVER-OP THE COMMON COUNCIL RESOLUTIONS, [From the Satirist.]

CR

RIED Giles, fresh from York, as he stood in the hall, And heard the renown'd common-councilmen bawl Against princes and laws-" These do traitors appear; A curse vor zuch counzilmen!-No Good-be-here!"

THE INS AND THE OUTS::

MOST

AN IRREGULAR ODE.

[From the Morning Post, May 4.]..

OST worthy Signors; why this rout?
And why d' ye ask us to go out?

First lovingly, with kind and soft persuading,
Then louder, in the voice of stern upbraiding,:
And lastly, really you make such a pother,
Ye fall to loggerheads with one another.
Besides, Signors, the truth to tell,

We're very well-indeed we 're very well
We do not want a change of air,
Although indeed you offer very fair,

And tell us, that, upon mature reflection,

To take our seats the while you've no objection.
What can ye do if people have no nous?

We're obstinate, and like the air o' the House,

E 5

Worn

Worn out with listening to your exhortations,
(We mean those same confounded long orations
That kept us up so late, night after night,

And vex'd us sadly)-yes-we'll stop for spite.
"But, good Lord Castlereagh-won't you go out?"

Says Signor Brewer-" So many people think you ought, that if you don't—”

"No, d

me!" says Lord Castlereagh, "I won't ; I neither want your speeches, nor your stout." "But, Gentlemen," Lord Baron Stiff-back cries, (Who always wore his hat over his eyes,)"Have you no consciences?—it's quite a sin To think how very long you have been in, And we've been shivering out o' doors the while, And such a winter!-ah! ye well may smile; But every one cries shame-no arts can win them, Nor will they take a hint the devil's in them!" No, Signors, no, we cannot take a hint,

However broad-and if you'll call to mind There's nothing wondrous novel in 't :

To stay i' the House ye once were much inclin'd, Ye feign'd yourselves all very sick,

And on your broad-ends sat-as dying,

Ye would not stir without a shocking kick
That sent ye flying!

And as 't was said, gave you such woful pain,
Ye never could be fit to sit again!

Howe'er, your case, it seems, was not so hard,
From sitting in the House you're not debarr'd;
Ye still can sit not without pain perhaps,
And making of some few grimaces,
But truly you're such discontented chaps,
Nothing will serve your ends-but our places.
PUSS IN THE CORNER.

AN

( 83 ).

AN HYPOTHETICAL PROPOSITION:

[From the Morning Chronicle, May 4.]

F Lord Castlereagh ceases in his career of public

IF

services;

If Mr. John Bowles refuses to act any longer as a Dutch Commissioner;

If Mr. Thellusson declines to fill again the office of a Director of the East India Company;

If Colonel Charmilly shall withdraw himself from the cause of England;

If all these things should come to pass-Oh! Mr. Wardle! Mr. Wardle! what have you not to answer for?

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.
[From the same, May 4.]

W HEREAS John Bull has of late got so extremely testy, touchy, and troublesome, as to loath his usual diet, and even to insult his physicians: this is to offer a handsome reward to any man of prolific invention who ean conjure up, and give casual currency to some original spectre, that shall appal his fortitude, and subdue his feverish symptoms.

J. R. is informed, that his Republican and Levelling war-whoop is become so exceedingly old, that it would be useless in him to make any farther application; as it appears but too plain, that the gibberish of the Alien Office, and the translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, have long since reduced him to the condition of commissioner of intellectual bankrupts.

J. B. is also informed, that his No-Popery, and Church in danger, Antijacobin-howl (or any other howl from him), can answer no good purpose, until the receipts of the Dutch prizes are properly and fully accounted for.

The Noble Viscount, also, who has written his "history on a nation's back," and who has been most honourably acquitted of bartering writerships in India for seats in St. Stephen's, is respectfully informed, that his illustrious conspiracy against the House of Brunswick is a dose much too strong for the present ticklish state of John's appetite; and as to his Lordship's hackneyed bawl of Jacobin faction, it has been sounded so long and loud, that it is now as destitute of interest as of novelty.

If any of the descendants of the bottle conjuror, or of the managers of the Cock Lane ghost, will supply something sufficiently new, appropriate, and alarming, to engage John Bull's attention while the doctor bleeds and blisters him, they shall, by applying to Barrister Popery, Downing Street, or to Dr. Paddy Bluster, chairman of the Orange Punch Club, receive a liberal reward.

N. B. No stale matter can be received, or any thing short of the truly tremendous and original.

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.
[From the General Evening Post, May 4.]

THE check which the inquiries have received during the present month, has been very trifling; both the inquiries and discoveries exhibit a luxuriance of crop, such as the oldest farmers do not remember to have seen. Writers and cadets look very promising, and a very wide field has been opened for other experiments on the same scale.

The cattle that have been reared on cabbage have not turned out so favourable; those particularly who have been for some time fattening upon Dutch cabbage, are now so sickly, that they are in danger of disgorging their favourite food.

The