"For I'm credibly told by respectable folks,

"What with this Jack of Styles and that other of Nokes, "Your two black-coats I mean, whose deserts I've discuss'd

"Quite impartial-for, faith! I don't know which is

worst.

"That confusion at church has took place of devotion, "Men, women, and children, are all in commotion, "Girls titter, as if they were looking a farce on,

"When to publish the banns comes your galloping Parson:

"And when, in his turn, reads your Reverend Drone, "Your ailes they all cough, all your galleries groan ; "Your wives cry; "Good by t'ye."-Your brats turn their backs,

"And old maids, stiff as buckram, their muscles relax.

"But to strike you with dread, consternation, and awe, "Know, to boot, the great Lord at the head of the law "To this scandalous state of affairs is no stranger.

""Tis not fit that He should, when the church is in danger.

"This calamitous truth, sirs, it shocks me to mention : "To have taken a pew was his Lordship's intention, "And had my good Lord at Q****'s square took a pew, Why-perhaps you had seen there John H******y too.

66

"His Lordship, to shew he was not over nice, "Condescended to visit your church once or twice; "And, I'll stake all my vast Biographical fame !— "Twice my Lord went away, sirs, as wise as he came.

"Sirs, believe me, my Lord went away quite disgusted: "Or-Conveyancer H******y 's not to be trusted! "And, if there you can catch him again, for your pains "You shall take out and butter John H******y's brains.

"No,-depend on't, his Lordship has beat his retreat : "For he since at the Foundling applied for a seat, "Where all things, of course, must be done with de

corum ;

"Since Conveyancer H******y 's one of the quorum."

Thus Conveyancer H******y clos'd his attack,

Thought his worship:-The Curate I've thrown on his

back:

I've in Chancery put him ;-he ne'er can appeal,
Since sentence against him has pass'd the Great Seal.

The church-bell it rang;-hied the Curate away,
Glad enough to escape with old ladies to pray,
And "Deliver us"-'tis thought in his Litany cried—
"From Conveyancers, Lord, and the Devil beside !"

But when he got home and had wetted his whistle,
Of the noble Law-Lord, in respectful epistle,
To be told if his Lordship's opinion-he pray'd-
Had been by this Conveyancer truly convey'd.

And, whate'er you may think on't, with great condescension

To his query my Lord gave immediate attention;

And absolv'd from all censure the church of Q****'s Square:

For his Lordship-God bless us !-had never been there !!!

And obligingly deign'd to inform him beside;
For a seat at the Foundling he ne'er had applied!
And to worship his Maker his Lordship's research
Was confin'd to the pale of his own parish church.—

Then for LYING John H******y who cares a straw ?
Let the Tail of the church bless the Head of the law.
And may Providence-mending their morals and din-

ners

From Conveyancing Saints guard all Clerical Sinners!

Derry down, &c.

THE NOBLE SANS-CULOTTE.

A BALLAD,

IN HONOUR OF A CERTAIN EARL

WHO STYLED HIMSELF

A SANS-CULOTTE CITIZEN,

IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

RANK, character, distinction, fame,

And noble birth forgot,

Hear Stanhope, modest Earl, proclaim

Himself a Sans-Culotte !

Of pomp and splendid circumstance

The vanity he teaches;

And spurns, like Citizen of France,

Both coronet and breeches.