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Twould still keep a taste for Hell's music alive, Sixteen hundred and sixty, who only wants thawing

Could we get up a thund'ring No-Popery cry ;- To serve for our times quite as well as the Peer;That yell which, when chorus'd by laics and clerics, To bring thus to light, not the wisdom alone So like is to ours, in its spirit and tone,

Of our ancestors, such as we find it on shelves, That I often nigh laugh myself into hysterics, But, in perfect condition, full-wigg'd and full-grown,

To think that Religion should make it her own. To shovel up one of those wise bucks themselves! So, having sent down for the original notes

Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth and send him safe home, Of the chorus, as sung by your Majesty's choir,

Let him learn nothing useful or new on the way ; With a few pints of lava, to gargle the throats

With his wisdom kept snug, from the light let him Of myself and some others, who sing it " with

come, fire,"

And our Tories will hail him with "Hear” and

“Hurra!" Though I “if the Marseillois Hymn could command Such audience, though yell’d by a Sans-culotte What a God-send to them—a good—obsolete man,

Who has never of Locke or Voltaire been a crew, What wonders shall we do, who've men in our band,

reader;That not only wear breeches, but petticoats too.'

Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth, as fast as you can,

And the L-nsd-les and H-rtf-rds shall chuse him for Such then were my hopes; but, with sorrow, your leader.

I'm forced to confess—be the cause what it will,

Yes, sleeper of ages, thou shalt be their Chosen ; Whether fewness of voices, or hoarseness, or shy. To think that all Europe has, since thou wert frozen,

And deeply with thee will they sorrow, good men, ness,

So alter'd, thou hardly canst know it again.
Our Beelzebub Chorus has gone off but ill.
The truth is, no placeman now knows his right key,

And Eld-n will weep o'er each sad innovation
The Treasury pitch-pipe of late is so various ;

Such oceans of tears, thou wilt fancy that he

Has been also laid up in a long congelation, And certain base voices, that look'd for a fee

And is only now thawing, dear Roger, like thee At the York music-meeting, now think it precarious. Even some of our Reverends might have been war

THE MILLENNIUM. But one or two capital roarers we've had; Doctor Wise? is, for instance, a charming performer, SUGGESTED BY THE LATE WORK OF THE REVEREND And Huntingdon Maberly's yell was not bad.


A MILLENNIUM at hand!- I'm delighted to hear itAltogether, however, the thing was not hearty ;

As matters, both public and private, now go, Even Eld-n allows we got on but so so;

With multitudes round us all starving, or near it, And, when next we attempt a No-Popery party, A good rich Millennium will come a propos. We must, please your Highness, recruit from below.

Only think, Master Fred, what delight to behold, But, hark, the young Black-leg is cracking his whip

Instead of thy bankrupt old City of Rags, Excuse me, Great Sir-there's no time to be

A bran-new Jerusalem, built all of gold, civil;

Sound bullion throughout, from the roof to the The next opportunity shan't be let slip,

flags But, till then, I'm, in haste, your most dutiful

A city, where wine and cheap corn' shall abound, DEVIL. A celestial Cocuig ne, on whose buttery shelves

We may swear the best things of this world will be


As your saints seldom fail to take care of them


Thanks, reverend expounder of raptures elysian,? Sir, Living in a remote part of Scotland, and

Divine Squintifobus, who, placed within reach having but just heard of the wonderful resurrection of two opposite worlds, by a twist of your vision of Mr. Roger Dodsworth from under an avalanche,

Can casi, at the same time, a sly look at each ;where he had remained, bien frappe, it seems, for the Thanks, thanks for the hope thou hast given us, that last 166 years, I hasten to impart to you a few reflections on the subject.

May, even in our own times, a jubilee share,
Yours, etc.

Which so long has been promised by prophets like


And so often has fail'd, we began to despair. What a lucky turn-up!—just as Eld-n's withdrawing, To find thus a gentleman, frozen in the year 1 “A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures

of barley for a penny."-krv. c. 6. 1 Con fuoco-a music-book direction.

2 See the oration of this reverend gentleman, where he 2 This reverend gentleman distinguished himself at the describes the connubial joys of paradise, and paint the Reading election.

Jangels hovering around" each happy fair.




Dr. Eady, less bold, I confess,

Attacks but his maid of all work.'

There was Whiston,' who learnedly took Prince

For the man who must bring the Millennium about ;
There's Faber, whose pious predictions have been

All belied, ure his book's first edition was out;-
There was Counsellor Dobbs, too, an Irish M. P.,

Who discoursed on the subject with signal eclat, And, each day of his life, sat expecting to see

A Millennium break out in the town of Armagh !2 There was also—but why should I burden my lay With your Brotherses, Southcotes, and names less

When all past Millenniums henceforth must give way

To the last new Millennium of Orator Irv-ng.
Go on, mighty man,—doom them all to the shelf-
And, when next thou with Prophecy troublest thy

Oh forget not, I pray thee, to prove that thyself
Art the Beast (chapter 4) that sees nine ways at

once !

Dr. S-they, for his grand attack,

Both a laureate and senator is;
While poor Dr. Eady, alack,

Has been had up to Bow-strect, for his !
And truly, the law does so blunder,

That, though little blood has been spilt, he
May probably suffer as, under

The Chulking Act, known to be guilty.
So much for the merits sublime

(With whose catalogue ne'er should I stop) Of the three greatest lights of our time,

Doctor Eady and S-they and Slop!
Should you ask me, to which of the three

Great Doctors the preference should fall,
As a matter of course, I agree

Dr. Eady must go to the wall.
But, as S—they with laurels is crown'd,

And Slop with a wig and a tail is,
Let Eady's bright temples be bound

With a swinging “Corona Muralis!"


Doctoribus latamur tribus.

Though many great Doctors there be,

Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard,
There are three that all Doctors o'ertop,

Put mourning round thy page, Debrett,
Dr. Eady, that famous M. D.

For here lies one, who ne'er preferr'd

A Viscount to a Marquis yet.
Dr. S—they, and dear Doctor Slop.

Beside him place the God of Wit,
The purger—the proser—the bard-
All quacks in a different style;

Before him Beauty's rosiest girls,
Dr. S—they writes books by the yard,

Apollo for a star he'd quit,

And Love's own sister for an Earl's.
Dr. Eady writes puffs by the mile!

Did niggard fate no peers afford,
Dr. Slop, in no merit outdone
By his scribbling or physicking brother,

He took, of course, to peers' relations ;
Can dose us with stuff like the one,

And, rather than not sport a lord,

Put up with even the last creations.
Ay, and doze us with stuff like the other.
Dr. Eady good company keeps

Even Irish names, could he but tag 'em
With “No Popery” scribes on the walls ;

With “ Lord" and “Duke," were sweet to call, Dr. S--they as gloriously sleeps

And, at a pinch, Lord Ballyraggum

Was better than no Lord at all.
With“ No Popery" scribes, on the stalls.
Dr. Slop, upon subjects divine,

Heaven grant him now some noble nook,
Such bedlamite slaver lets drop,

For, rest his soul, he'd rather be
That, if Eady should take the mad line,

Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke,

Than saved in vulgar company.
He'll be sure of a patient in Slop.
Seven millions of Papists, no less,
Dr. Sthey attacks, like a Turk ;)


OF TIIE ORANGEMEN OF IRELAND. 1 When Whiston presented to Princo Eugene the Essay To the People of England, the humble Petition in which he attempted to connect his victories over the Turks with revelation, the Princo is said to have replied that Of Ireland's disconsolate Orangemen, showing"he was not aware he had ever had the honour of being known to St. John."

every irreligious and seditions journalist, every open an! 2 Mr. Dobbs was a Member of the Irish Parliament, and, every insidious enemy to Monarchy and to Christianity." on all other subjects but the Millennium, a very sensible per- i See the late accounts in the newspapers of the appear. son. He chose Armagh as the scene of the Millennium, on ance of this gentleman at one of the police offices, in const account of the name Armageddon, mentioned in Revelation ! quence of an all-ged assault upon his “maid of all work."

3 This Seraphic Doctor, in the preface to his last work 2 A crown granted as a reward among the Romans to per (Vindicia Ecclesiæ Anglicana,) is pleased to anathema- sons who performed any extraordinary exploits upon walls tize not caly all Catholics, but all advocates of Catholics :- such as scaling them, battering them, etc. No doubt " They have for their immediate allies (he says) every fac- writing upon them, to the extent ihat Dr. Eady does, would tion that is banded against the State, every demagogue, equally establish a claim to the honour.

rbat sad, very sad, is our present condition ;- That relying on England, whose kindness already That our jobs are all gone, and our noble selves So often has help'd us to play the game o'er, going;

We have got our red coats and our carabines ready

And wait but the word to show sport, as before. That, forming one seventh-within a few fractions

Of Ireland's seven millions of hot heads and hearts, That, as to the expense—the few millions, or so, We hold it the basest of all base transactions

Which for all such diversions John Bull has to To keep us from murdering the other six parts ;


'T is, at least, a great comfort to John Bull to know That, as to laws made for the good of the many,

That to Orangemen's pockets 't will all find its We humbly suggest there is nothing less true;

way. As all human laws (and our own, more than any) Are made by and for a particular few ;

For which your petitioners ever will pray,

etc. etc. etc. etc. etc That much it delights every true Orange brother

To see you, in England, such ardour evince,
In discussing which sect most tormented the other,

And burn'd with most gusto, some hundred years
since ;-

BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL That we love to behold, while Old England grows One hasty orison whirl'd me away

“ Up!” said the Spirit, and, ere I could pray faint, Messrs . Southey and Butler near coming to blows, Above or below, in earth or air ;

To a limbo, lying I wist not where To decide whether Dunstan, that strong-bodied saint, All glimmering o'er with a doubtful light, Ever truly and really pull'd the devil's nose;

One could n't say whether 't was day or night, Whether t other saint, Dominic, burnt the devil's And crost by many a mazy track,

One did n't know how to get on or back ; pawWhether Edwy intrigued with Elgiva's old mo- And, I felt like a needle that 's going astray ther

(With its one eye out) through a bundle of hay; And many such points, from which Southey doth When the Spirit he grinn'd, and whisper'd me, draw

“ Thou 'rt now in the Court of Chancery!" Conclusions most apt for our hating each other.

Around me flitted unnumber'd swarms That 't is very well known this devout Irish nation Of shapeless, bodiless, tailless forms ; Has now, for some ages gone happily on,

(Like bottled up babes, that grace the room Believing in two kinds of Substantiation,

Of that worthy knight, Sir Everard Home) One party in Trans, and the other in Con;? All of them things half kill'd in rearing;

Some were lame-some wanted hearing ; Chat we, your petitioning Cons, have, in right Some had through half a century run,

Of the said monosyllable, ravaged the lands, Though they had n't a leg to stand upon. And embezzled the goods, and annoy'd, day and Others, more merry, as just beginning, night,

Around on a point of law were spinning; Both the bodies and souls of the sticklers for Or balanced aloft, twixt Bill and Answer, Trans ;

Lead at each end-like a tight-rope dancer.That we trust to Peel, Eldon, and other such sages,

Some were so cross, that nothing could please 'em ;

Some gulp'd down affidavits to ease 'm ;-
For keeping us still in the same state of mind;

All were in motion, yet never a one,
Pretty much as the world used to be in those ages,
When still smaller syllables madden’d mankind;- u These," said the Spirit

, “ you plainly see,

Let it move as it might, could ever move on. When the words er and perd served as well, to annoy Are what are called Suits in Chancery One's neighbours and friends with, as con and trans

I heard a loud screaming of old and young,

Like a chorus by fifty Velutis sung;
And Christians, like Southey, who stickled for oi,
Cut the throats of all Christians, who stickled for or an Irish Dump (“ the words by Moore")

At an amateur concert scream'd in score :-
So harsh on my ear that wailing fell

of the wretches who in this Limbo dwell!
1 To such important discussions as these the greater part It seem'd like the dismal symphony
of Dr. Southey's Vindiciæ Ecclesia Inglicano is devoted. Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see;

2 Consubstantiation--the trug reformed belief; at least, Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous cook
the belief of Luther, and, as Mosheim asserts, of Melanc-Cut off, and left the frogs in the brook,
thon also.

3 When John of Ragusa went to Constantinople (at the To cry all night, till life's last dregs,
time the dispute between"ex" and "per" was going on,) "Give us our legs!-give us our legs !"
he found the Turks, we are told,“ laughing at the Chris- Touch'd with the sad and sorrowful scene,
tians for being divided by two such insignificant particles."

I ask'd what all this yell might mean?
4 The Arian controversy.--Before that time, saya Hooker, When the Spirit replied, with a grin of glee,
" in order to be a sound believing Christian, men were not
curious what syllables or particles of spouch they used." “ T is the cry of the suitors in Chancery '"



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look'd, and I saw a wizard rise,

In N. lat. 21.)--and his Highness Burmese, With a wig like a cloud before men's eyes.

Being very hard prest to shell out the rupees, In his aged hand he held a wand,

But not having much ready rhino, they say, meani Wherewith he beckon'd his embryo band,

To pawn his august golden foot' for the payment.And they moved, and moved, as he waved it o'er, (How lucky for monarchs, that can, when they chuse, But they never got on one inch the more ;

Thus establish a running account with the Jews !) And still they kept limping to and fro,

The security being what Rothschild calls “goot," Like Ariels round old Prospero

A loan will be forthwith, of course, set on foot ;-Saying, “ Dear Master, let us go ;"

The parties are Rothschild-A. Baring and Co., But still old Prospero answer'd, "No."

And three other great pawnbrokers--each takes a toe, And I heard the while, that wizard elf,

And engages (lest Gold-foot should give us leg-bail, Muttering, muttering spells to himself,

As he did once before) to pay down on the nail. While over as many old papers be turn'd, As Hume ere moved for, or Omar burn'd.

This is all for the present,--what vile pens and paper! He talk'd of his Virtue, though some, less nice,

Yours truly, dear Cousin,--best love to Miss Draper (He own'd with a sigh) preferr'd his ViceAnd he said, “I think"_“I doubt"_“I hope," Call’d God to witness, and damn'd the Pope ;

With many more sleights of tongue and hand

I could n't, for the soul of me, understand,
Amazed and posed, I was just about

AIR" Come with me, and we will go
To ask his name, when the screams without,

Where the rocks of coral grow."
The merciless clack of the imps within,
And that conjuror's mutterings, madè such a din,

Come with me, and we will blow
That, startled, I woke-leap'd up in my bed-

Lots of bubbles, as we go ; Found the Spirit, the imps, and the conjurer fled,

Bubbles, bright as ever Hope And bless'd my stars, right pleased to see

Drew from Fancy-or from soap;
That I was n't as yet, in Chancery.

Bright as e'er the South Sea sent
From its frothy element !

Come with me, and we will blow

Lots of bubbles as we go.
DEAR Coz, as I know neither you nor Miss Draper,

Mix the lather, JOHNNY W-LKS,
When Parliament's up, ever take in a paper,

Thou who rhymest so well to " bilks :"9
But trust for your news to such stray odds and ends Mix the lather-who can be
As you chance to pick up from political friends-

Fitter for such task than thee,
Being one of this well-inform'd class, I sit down,

Great M. P. for Sudsbury ! To transmit you the last newest news that 's in town,

Now the frothy charm is ripe, As to Greece and Lord Cochrane, things could n't

Puffing Peter, bring thy pipe, look better

Thou, whom ancient Coventry,
His Lordship (who promises now to fight faster) Once so dearly loved, that she
Had just taken Rhodes, and despatch'd off a letter

Knew not which to her was sweeter,
To Daniel O'Connel, to make him Grand Master; Peeping Tom or puffing Peter--
Engaging to change the old name, if he can,
From the Knights of St. John to the Knights of St.

Puff the bubbles high in air,

Puff thy best to keep them there
Or, if Dan should prefer, as a still better whim,

Bravo, bravo, Peter M-RE!

Now the rainbow humbugs" soar, Being made the Colossus, 't is all one to him.

Glittering all with golden hues, From Russia the last accounts are, that the Czar

Such as haunt the dreams of JewsMost generous and kind, as all sovereigns are,

Some, reflecting mines that lie
And whose first princely act (as you know, I suppose,)

Under Chili's glowing sky;
Was to give away all his late brother's old clothes- Some, those virgin pearls that sleep
Is now busy collecting, with brotherly care,

Cloister'd in the southern deep;
The late Emperor's night-caps, and thinks of be-

1 This Potentate styles himself the Monarch of the Gold One night-cap a-piece (if he has them to spare) en Fout.

On all the distinguish'd old ladies now going. 2 Strong indications of character may be sometimes (While I write, an arrival from Riga" the Bro-raced in the rhymes to names. Marvell thought so, when

he thers"

-“ Sir Edward Sutton, Having night-caps on board for Lord Eld-n and The foolish knight who rhymes to mutton." others.)

3 An humble imitation of one of our modern poets, who Last advices from India—Sir Archy, 't is thought,

in a poem against war, after describing the splendid habiliWas near catching a Tartar (the first ever caught

ments of the soldier, apostrophizes him thou rainbow ruffian !"

Others, as if lent a ray

A goodly man, with an eye so merry,
From the streaming Milky Way,

I knew 't was our Foreign Secretary,
Glistening o'er with curds and whey

Who there, at his ease, did sit and smile,
From the cows of Alderney!

Like Waterton on his crocodile;

Cracking such jokes, at every motion,
Now's the moment--who shall first

As made the turtle squeak with glee,
Catch the bubbles ere they burst?

And own that they gave him a lively notion
Run, ye squires, ye viscounts, run,

Of what his own forced-meat balls would be.
John W-LKs; junior, runs beside ye,

So, on the Sec., in his glory, went,
Take the good the knaves provide ye!!

Over the briny element,
See, with upturn's eyes and hands,

Waving his hand, as he took farewell,
Where the Chareman,” BR-GD-N, stands, With a graceful air, and bidding me tell
Gaping for the froth to fall

Inquiring friends, that the turtle and he
Down his swallow ye and all !

Were gone on a foreign embassý-
See !

To soften the heart of a Diplomate,
But hark, my time is out--

Who is known to doat upon verdant fat,
Now, like some great water-spout,

And to let admiring Europe see,
Scatter'd by the cannon's thunder,

That calipash and calipee
Burst, ye bubbles, all asunder!

Are the English forms of Diplomacy!
Here the stage darkens,--a discordant crash is heard
from the orchestrathe broken bubbles descend in a

a saponaceous bret uncleanly mist over the heads of
the Dramatis Persone, and the scene drops, leaving O FOR a voice, as loud as that of Fame,
the bubble hunters-all in the suds.]

To breathe the word-Arise !
From Pindus to Taygetus to proclaim-

Let every Greek arise !

Ye who have hearts to strike a single blow,

Hear my despairing cries !

Ye who have hands to immolate one foe, "T was evening time, in the twilight sweet

Arise! arise! arise !
I was sailing along; when—whom should I meet,
But a turtle journeying o'er the sea,

From the dirt fields of Asphodel beneath, “ On the service of his Majesty !"

Upborne by cloudy sighs

Of those who love their country still in death, When I spied him first, in the twilight dim,

E'en 1-e'en Larise!
I did not know what to make of him;
But said to myself--as low he plied

These are not hands for earthly wringing—these ! His fins, and roll'd from side to side,

Blood should not blind these eyes !

Yet here I stand, untomb'a MilTIADES, Conceitedly over the watery path" 'Tis my Lord of St-w-LL, taking a bath,

Weeping-arise! arise ! And I hear him now, among the fishes,

Hear ye the groans that heave this burial-field ?Quoting Vatel and Burgerdiscius!"

Old Græcia's saviour-band But, no-'t was, indeed, a turtle, wide

Cry from the dust—" Fight on! nor DARE to yield ! And plump as ever these eyes descried ;

Save ye our father-land ! A turtle, juicy as ever yet

“ Blunt with your bosom the barbaric spear ! Glued up the lips of a baronet !

Break it within your breast; Ah, much did it grieve my soul to see

Then come, brave Greek! and join your brothers That an animal of such dignity,

here Like an absentee, abroad should roam,

In our immortal rest!" When he ought to stay and be ate, at home.

Shall modern Datis, swoln with Syrian pride,
But now," a change came o'er my dream,"

Cover the land with slaves ?-
Like the magic lantern's shifting slider ;- Ay-let them cover it, both far and wide,
I look'd, and saw by the evening beam,

Cover it with their graves!
On the back of that turtle sat a rider,-

Much has been done-but more remains to do

Ye have fought long and well! 1. "Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

The trump that, on the Egean, glory blew,
Take the good the gods provide thee."

Seem'd with a storm to swell!
% So called by a sort of Tuscan dulcification of the ch, in
the word " Chairman."
3 We are told that the passport of the late grand diplo-

Asia's grim tyrant shudder'd at the sound,
matic turtle described him as on his Majesty's service. He leap'd upon his throne !
dapibus supremi

Murmur'd his horse-tail'd chieftainry around
Grata testudo Jovis

" Another Marathon!"

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