For fighting on soup meagre

"And yet, (as thou would'st add,) the French have seen A Marshal Tureen!"

VII

Great was thy Evening Cluster !—often grac'd
With Dollond-Burgess-and Sir Humphry Davy!
'Twas there M'Dermot first inclin'd to Taste,—
There Colborn learn'd the art of making paste
For puffs and Accum analysed a gravy.
Colman the Cutter of Coleman Street, 'tis said
Came there, and Parkins with his Ex-wise-head,
(His claim to letters)-Kater, too, the Moon's
Crony, and Graham, lofty on balloons,-
There Croly stalk'd with holy humour heated,
Who wrote a light-horse play, which Yates completed—
And Lady Morgan, that grinding organ,

And Brasbridge telling anecdotes of spoons,-
Madame Valbrèque thrice honour'd thee, and came
With great Rossini, his own bow and fiddle,-

The Dibdins, Tom, Charles, Frognall,-came with tuns
Of poor old books, old puns!

And even Irving spar'd a night from fame,—
And talk'd-till thou didst stop him in the middle,
To serve round Tewah-diddle!

VIII

Then all the guests rose up, and sighed good-bye!
So let them thou thyself art still a Host!

:

Dibdin—Cornaro-Newton-Mrs. Fry!

Mrs. Glasse, Mr. Spec !-Lovelass-and Weber,
Matthews in Quot'em-Moore's fire-worshipping
Gheber-

Thrice-worthy Worthy, seem by thee engross'd!
Howbeit the Peptic Cook still rules the roast,
Potent to hush all ventriloquial snarling,-
And ease the bosom pangs of indigestion !
Thou art, sans question,

The Corporation's love-its Doctor Darling!
Look at the Civic Palate-nay, the Bed
Which set dear Mrs. Opie on supplying
"Illustrations of Lying!"

Ninety square feet of down from heel to head
It measured, and I dread

Was haunted by a terrible night Mare,
A monstrous burthen on the corporation !—
Look at the Bill of Fare for one day's share,
Sea-turtles by the score-Oxen by droves,
Geese, turkeys, by the flock-fishes and loaves
Countless, as when the Lilliputian nation
Was making up the huge man-mountain's ration !

IX

Oh! worthy Doctor! surely thou hast driven
The squatting Demon from great Garratt's breast-
(His honour seems to rest!)

And what is thy reward?-Hath London given
Thee public thanks for thy important service?
Alas! not even

The tokens it bestowed on Howe and Jervis !-
Yet could I speak as Orators should speak
Before the worshipful the Common Council
(Utter my bold bad grammar and pronounce ill,)
Thou should'st not miss thy Freedom, for a week,
Richly engross'd on vellum :-Reason urges
That he who rules our cookery-that he
Who edits soups and gravies, ought to be
A Citizen, where sauce can make a Burgess!

THE LAST MAN

I

"TWAS in the year two thousand and one,
A pleasant morning of May,

I sat on the gallows-tree, all alone,
A chaunting a merry lay,-

To think how the pest had spared my life,
To sing with the larks that day!

II

When up
the heath came a jolly knave,
Like a scarecrow, all in rags:

It made me crow to see his old duds
All abroad in the wind, like flags;—
So up he came to the timber's foot
And pitch'd down his greasy bags.—

III

Good Lord! how blythe the old beggar was!

At pulling out his scraps,

The very sight of his broken orts

Made a work in his wrinkled chaps :

"Come down," says he, "you Newgate-bird,

And have a taste of my snaps!"

IV

Then down the rope, like a tar from the mast,

I slided, and by him stood:

But I wish'd myself on the gallows again
When I smelt that beggar's food,-

A foul beef-bone and a mouldy crust ;

"Oh!" quoth he, "the heavens are good!"

V

Then after this grace he cast him down:
Says I, "You'll get sweeter air

A pace or two off, on the windward side"
For the felons' bones lay there—

But he only laugh'd at the empty skulls,
And offer'd them part of his fare.

VI

"I never harm'd them, and they won't harm me: Let the proud and the rich be cravens!"

I did not like that strange beggar man,

He look'd so up at the heavens—

Anon he shook out his empty old poke ;"There's the crumbs," saith he, "for the ravens !"

VII

It made me angry to see his face,

It had such a jesting look;

But while I made up my mind to speak,

A small case-bottle he took :

Quoth he, "Though I gather the green water-cress, My drink is not of the brook!"

VIII

Full manners-like he tender'd the dram;

Oh it came of a dainty cask!

But, whenever it came to his turn to pull,

"Your leave, good sir, I must ask;

But I always wipe the brim with my sleeve,
When a hangman sups at my flask!"

IX

And then he laugh'd so loudly and long,
The churl was quite out of breath;

I thought the very Old One was come

To mock me before my death,

And wish'd I had buried the dead men's bones
That were lying about the heath!

X

But the beggar gave me a jolly clap-
"Come, let us pledge each other,
For all the wide world is dead beside,
And we are brother and brother—
I've a yearning for thee in my heart,
As if we had come of one mother.

ΧΙ

"I've a yearning for thee in my heart
That almost makes me weep,
For as I pass'd from town to town
The folks were all stone-asleep,-
But when I saw thee sitting aloft,
It made me both laugh and leap!'

XII

Now a curse (I thought) be on his love,

And a curse upon his mirth,

An it were not for that beggar man

I'd be the King of the earth,

But I promis'd myself, an hour should come

To make him rue his birth !—

XIII

So down we sat and bous'd again

Till the sun was in mid-sky,

When, just as the gentle west-wind came,

We hearken'd a dismal cry:

"Up, up, on the tree," quoth the beggar man,

"Till those horrible dogs go by!"

XIV

And, lo! from the forest's far-off skirts,

They came all yelling for gore,

A hundred hounds pursuing at once,

And a panting hart before,

Till he sunk adown at the gallows' foot,

And there his haunches they tore !