(His horns, it seems, are made t' unscrew;
So, he has but to take them out of the socket,
And-just as some fine husbands do—
Conveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he look'd extremely natty,

And ev'n contrived-to his own great wonderBy dint of sundry scents from Gattie, To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gentleman hoof'd about,

Unknown to all but a chosen few

At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt, He had many post-obits falling due.

Alike a gamester and a wit,

At night he was seen with Crockford's crew; At morn with learned dames would sit

So pass'd his time 'twixt black and blue.

Some wish'd to make him an M. P.,

But, finding Wilks was also one, he Swore, in a rage, «he'd be d-d if he Would ever sit in one house with Johnny.»>

At length, as secrets travel fast,

And devils, whether he or she, Are sure to be found out at last,

The affair got wind most rapidly.

The press, the impartial press, that snubs Alike a fiend's or an angel's capersMiss Paton's soon as Beelzebub's

Fired off a squib in the morning papers:

« We warn good men to keep aloof

From a grim old Dandy, seen about, With a fire-proof wig, and a cloven hoof, Through a neat cut Hoby smoking out.>>

Now, the Devil being a gentleman,

Who piques himself on well-bred dealings, You may guess, when o'er these lines he ran, How much they hurt and shock'd his feelings.

Away he posts to a man of law,

And 't would make you laugh could you have seen

'em,

As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw,

For oh, 't was nuts to the father of lies

(As this wily fiend is named in the Bible), To find it settled by laws so wise,

That the greater the truth, the worse the libel!

LITERARY ADVERTISEMENT.

WANTED-Authors of all-work, to job for the season, No matter which party, so faithful to neither :Good hacks, who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason, Can manage, like *****, to do without either.

If in gaol, all the better for out-o'-door topics;
Your gaol is for trav'llers a charming retreat;
They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,
And sail round the world, at their ease, in the Fleet.

For a Dramatist too, the most useful of schools

He can study high life in the King's Bench community:

Aristotle could scarce keep him more within rules, And of place he, at least, must adhere to the unity.

Any lady or gentleman come to an age

To have good «Reminiscences» (three-score, or higher),

Will meet with encouragement-so much, per page, And the spelling and grammar both found by the buyer.

No matter with what their remembrance is stock'd, So they'll only remember the quantum desired;Enough to fill handsomely Two Volumes, oct.,

Price twenty-four shillings, is all that's required.

They may treat us, like Kelly, with old jeux-d'esprits,
Like Dibdin, may tell of each farcical frolic,

Or kindly inform us, like Madame Genlis,1
That gingerbread-cakes always give them the colick.
There's nothing, at present, so popular growing
As your Autobiographers-fortunate elves,
Who manage to know all the best people going,
Without having ever been heard of themselves.

tween 'em.

Straight an indictment was preferr'd— And much the Devil enjoy'd the jest, When, asking about the bench, he heard

That, of all the Judges, his own was Best.

In vain Defendant profferr'd proof

That Plaintiff's self was the Father of EvilBrought Hoby forth, to swear to the hoof,

And Stultz, to speak to the tail of the Devil.

The Jury-saints, all snug and rich,

And readers of virtuous Sunday papers, Found for the Plaintiff-on hearing which The Devil gave one of his loftiest capers.

By « Farmers» and « Landholders»-(worthies whose

lands

Enclosed all in bow-pots, their attics adorn,

Or, whose share of the soil may be seen on their hands).

No-Popery Sermons, in ever so dull a vein,

Sure of a market;-should they, too, who pen 'em, Be renegade Papists, like Murtagh O'Sullivan,2 Something extra allow'd for the additional venom.

This lady also favours us, in her Memoirs, with the addresses of those apothecaries who have, from time to time, given her pills that agreed with her; always desiring that the pills should be ordered comme pour elle."

2 A gentleman, who distinguished himself by his evidence before the Irish Committees.

He had pledged a hate unto me and mine,
He had left to the future nor hope nor choice,
But seal'd that hate with a name divine,

And he now was dead, and—I could n't rejoice!
He had fann'd afresh the burning brands
Of a bigotry waxing cold and dim;
He had arm'd anew my torturers' hands,
And them did I curse-but sigh'd for him.
For his was the error of head, not heart,
And-oh! how beyond the ambush'd foe,
Who to enmity adds the traitor's part,

And carries a smile, with a curse below!

If ever a heart made bright amends

For the fatal fault of an erring headGo, learn his fame from the lips of friends, In the orphan's tear be his glory read.

A prince without pride, a man without guile, To the last unchanging, warm, sincere, For worth he had ever a hand and smile,

And for misery ever his purse and tear. Touch'd to the heart by that solemn toll, I calmly sunk in my chains again; While, still as I said, « Heaven rest his soul!» My mates of the dungeon sigh'd, « Amen!» January, 1827.

ODE TO FERDINAND.

QUIT the sword, thou King of men,
Grasp the needle once again;
Making petticoats is far
Safer sport than making war :-
Trimming is a better thing
Than the being trimm'd, O King!
Grasp the needle bright, with which
Thou didst for the Virgin stitch
Garment, such as ne'er before
Monarch stitch'd or Virgin wore.
Not for her, oh sempster nimble!
Do I now invoke thy thimble;
Not for her thy wanted aid is,
But for certain grave old ladies,
Who now sit in England's cabinet,
Waiting to be clothed in tabinet,
Or whatever choice étoffe is
Fit for dowagers in office.

First thy care, O King! devote
To Dame Eldon's petticoat.
Make it of that silk, whose dye
Shifts for ever to the eye,
Just as if it hardly knew
Whether to be pink or blue.
Or-material fitter yet—
If thou couldst a remnant get
Of that stuff with which, of old,
Sage Penelope, we 're told,
Still, by doing and undoing,
Kept her suitors always wooing-
That's the stuff which, I pronounce, is
Fittest for Dame Eldon's flounces.

After this, we'll try thy hand,
Mantua-making Ferdinand,
For old Goody Westmoreland;
One who loves, like Mother Cole,
Church and State with all her soul;
And has pass'd her life in frolics
Worthy of your Apostolics.
Chuse, in dressing this old flirt,
Something that won't show the dirt,
As, from habit, every minute
Goody Westmoreland is in it.
This is all I now shall ask:
Hie thee, monarch, to thy task;
Finish Eldon's frills and borders,
Then return for further orders.
Oh what progress, for our sake,
Kings in millinery make!
Ribands, garters, and such things,
Are supplied by other Kings-
Ferdinand his rank denotes
By providing petticoats.

HAT VERSUS WIG.

At the interment of the Duke of York, Lord Eldon, in order to guard against the effects of the damp, stood upon his hat during the whole of the ceremony."

metus omnes et inexorabile fatum Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.

'TWIXT Eldon's Hat and Eldon's Wig

There lately rose an altercation,-
Each with its own importance big,
Disputing which most serves the nation.

Quoth Wig, with consequential air,

Pooh! pooh! you surely can't design,
My worthy beaver, to compare

Your station in the state to mine.

<< Who meets the learned legal crew?
Who fronts the lordly senate's pride?
The Wig, the Wig, my
friend-while you
Hang dangling on some peg outside.
Oh, 't is the Wig, that rules, like Love,
Senate and Court, with like éclat-
And wards below, and lords above,

For Law is Wig, and Wig is Law!'

« Who tried the long, Long Wellesley suit,
Which tried one's patience, in return?
Not thou, oh Hat!-though, couldst thou do't,
Of other brims 2 than thine thou'dst learn.
«'T was mine our master's toil to share,
When, like 'Truepenny,' in the play,3
He, every minute, cried out 'Swear,'

And merrily to swear went they ;-4

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,

And men below and gods above,

For Love is Heav'n and Heav'n is Love.-SCOTT.

2 Brim, a naughty woman.-GROSE.

3 Ghost [eneath]-Swear!

Handet.-Ha, ha! say'st thou so? Art thou there, Truepenny?

Come on."

4 His Lordship's demand for fresh affidavits was incessant.

<< When, loth poor Wellesley to condemn, he With nice discrimination weigh'd, Whether 't was only 'Hell and Jemmy,'

Or 'Hell and Tommy' that he play'd.

« No, no, my worthy beaver, noThough cheapen'd at the cheapest hatter's, And smart enough, as beavers go,

Thou ne'er wert made for public matters.>>

Here Wig concluded his oration,
Looking, as wigs do, wondrous wise;
While thus, full cock'd for declamation,
The veteran Hat enraged replies:-

<< Ha! dost thou then so soon forget
What thou, what England owes to me?
Ungrateful Wig!-when will a debt,
So deep, so vast, be owed to thee?
«Think of that night, that fearful night,
When, through the steaming vault below,
Our master dared, in gout's despite,

To venture his podagric toe!

Who was it then, thou boaster, say, When thou hadst to thy box sneak'd off, Beneath his feet protecting lay,

And saved him from a mortal cough?

<<Think, if Catarrh had quench'd that sun, How blank this world had been to thee! Without that head to shine upon,

Oh Wig, where would thy glory be?

«You too, ye Britons,-had this hope

Of Church and State been ravish'd from ye, Oh think, how Canning and the Pope Would then have played up 'Hell and Tommy." «At sea, there's but a plank, they say, 'Twixt seamen and annihilation;-A Hat, that awful moment, lay Twixt England and Emancipation!

« Oh!!!--»

At this «Oh!!! » The Times' Reporter
Was taken poorly, and retired;
Which made him cut Hat's rhetoric shorter
Than justice to the case required.

On his return, he found these shocks
Of eloquence all ended quite;
And Wig lay snoring in his box,
And Hat was-hung up for the night.

THE PERIWINKLES AND THE LOCUSTS.

A SALMAGUNDIAN HYMN.

To Panurge was assigned the Lairdship of Salmagundi, which was yearly worth 6.789,106,789 ryals, besides the revenue of the Locusts and Periwinkles, amounting one year with another to the value of 2,435,768, etc. etc.-RABELAIS.

« HURRA! Hurra!» I heard them say,

And they cheer'd and shouted all the way,

As the Laird of Salmagundi went,

Το

open

in state his Parliament.

The Salmagundians once were rich,

Or thought they were-no matter which-
For, every year, the Revenue

From their Periwinkles larger grew;

And their rulers, skill'd in all the trick,

And legerdemain of arithmetic,

Knew how to place 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 and 10,
Such various ways, behind, before,
That they made a unit seem a score,

And proved themselves most wealthy men! So, on they went, a prosperous crew,

The people wise, the rulers clever,-
And God help those, like me and you,
Who dared to doubt (as some now do)
That the Periwinkle Revenue

Would thus go flourishing on for ever.
« Hurra! hurra!» I heard them say,
And they cheer'd and shouted all the way,
As the Great Panurge in glory went,
To open his own dear Parliament.
But folks at length began to doubt
What all this conjuring was about;
For, every day more deep in debt
They saw their wealthy rulers get;—
« Let's look (said they) the items through,
And see if what we 're told be true
Of our periwinkle Revenue.»>

But, lord! they found there was n't a tittle

Of truth in aught they heard before;
For, they gain'd by Periwinkles little,

And lost by Locusts ten times more!
These Locusts are a lordly breed
Some Salmagundians love to feed.
Of all the beasts that ever were born,
Your Locust most delights in corn;
And, though his body be but small,
To fatten him takes the devil and all!
Nor this the worst, for, direr still,

Alack, alack and a well-a-day!
Their Periwinkles,-once the stay
And prop of the Salmagundian till-
For want of feeding, all fell ill !

And still, as they thinn'd and died away, The Locusts, ay, and the Locusts' Bill,

Grew fatter and fatter every day! «Oh fie! oh fie!» was now the cry, As they saw the gaudy show go by, And the Laird of Salmagundi went To open his Locust Parliament!

NEW CREATION OF PEERS. BATCH THE FIRST.

His 'prentice han'

He tried on man,

And then he made the lasses.

« AND now,» quoth the Minister (eased of his panics, And ripe for each pastime the summer affords),

Accented as in Swift's line

Not so a nation's revenues are paid.

Having had our full swing at destroying mechanics, By way of set-off, let us make a few Lords.

'Tis pleasant-while nothing but mercantile fractures, Some simple, some compound, is dinn'd in our earsTo think that, though robb'd of all coarse manufactures, We still keep our fine manufacture of Peers;

« Those Gobelin productions, which Kings take a pride In engrossing the whole fabrication and trade of; Choice tapestry things, very grand on one side,

But showing, on t' other, what rags they are made of.>> The plan being fix'd, raw material was sought,

No matter how middling, if Tory the creed be; And first-to begin with-Squire Wortley,'t was thought, For a Lord was as raw a material as need be. Next came, with his penchant for painting and pelf, The tasteful Sir Charles, so renown'd, far and near, For purchasing pictures, and selling himself,

And both (as the public well knows) very dear. Beside him Sir John comes, with equal éclat, in ;Stand forth,chosen pair, while for titles we measure ye; Both connoisseur baronets, both fond of drawing,

Sir John, after nature, Sir Charles, on the Treasury. But, bless us!-behold a new candidate come

In his hand he upholds a prescription, new written; He poiseth a pill-box 'twixt finger and thumb,

And he asketh a seat 'mong the Peers of Great Britain! << Forbid it,» cried Jenky, «ye Viscounts, ye Earls!— Oh Rank, how thy glories would fall disenchanted, If coronets glisten'd with pills 'stead of pearls, And the strawberry-leaves were by rhubarb supplanted! «No-ask it not, ask it not, dear Doctor HalfordIf nought but a Peerage can gladden thy life, And if young Master Halford as yet is too small for 't, Sweet Doctor, we 'll make a she Peer of thy wife. Next to bearing a coronet on our own brows

Is to bask in its light from the brows of another; And grandeur o'er thee shall reflect from thy spouse, As o'er Vesey Fitzgerald 't will shine through his mother.»

Thus ended the First Batch-and Jenky, much tired
(It being no joke to make Lords by the heap),
Took a large dram of ether-the same that inspired
His speech against Papists-and prosed off to sleep.

SPEECH ON THE UMBRELLA QUESTION.

BY LORD ELDON.

Vos inumbrelles video.»-Ex Juvenil. Georgii Canningii.

My Lords, I'm accused of a trick that, God knows, is The last into which, at my age, I could fall—

1 Among the persons mentioned as likely to be raised to the peerage are the mother of Mr Vesey Fitzgerald, etc.

A case which interested the public very much at this period. A gentleman, of the name of Bell, having left his umbrella bebind him in the House of Lords, the door-keepers, standing, no doubt, on the privileges of that noble body, refused to restore it to him; and the above speech, which may be considered as a pendant to that of the Learned Earl on the Catholic Question, arose out of the transaction.

From Mr Canning's translation of Jekyl's-
I say, my good fellows,

As you 've no umbrellas.

Of leading this grave House of Peers, by their noses,
Wherever I chuse, princes, bishops, and all.

My lords, on the question before us at present,
No doubt I shall hear, «'t is that cursed old fellow,
That bugbear of all that is lib'ral and pleasant,
Who won't let the Lords give the man his umbrella!»>

God forbid that your Lordships should knuckle to me;
I am ancient-but were I as old as King Priam,
Not much, I confess, to your credit 't would be,
To mind such a twaddling old Trojan as I am.

I own, of our Protestant laws I am jealous,

And, long as God spares me, will always maintain, That, once having taken men's rights, or umbrellas, We ne'er should consent to restore them again.

What security have you, ye Bishops and Peers,

If thus you give back Mr Bell's parapluie, That he may n't, with its stick, come about all your ears, And then-where would your Protestant periwigs be?

No, heav'n be my judge, were I dying to-day,

Ere I dropp'd in the grave, like a medlar that's mellow, « For God's sake»-at that awful moment I'd say<< For God's sake, don't give Mr Bell his umbrella, »>

[This address, says a ministerial journal, delivered with amazing emphasis and earnestness, occasioned an extraordinary sensation in the House. Nothing since the memorable address of the Duke of York has produced so remarkable an impression.»]

Thus, Erin! my love, do I show

Thus quiet thee, mate of my bed! And, as poison and hemp are too slow, Do thy business with bullets instead. Should thy faith in my medicine be shaken, Ask Roden, that mildest of saints; He'll tell thee, lead, inwardly taken,

Alone can remove thy complaints;— That, blest as thou art in thy lot,

Nothing's wanted to make it more pleasant But being hang'd, tortured, and shot, Much oft'ner than thou art at present. Even Wellington's self hath averr'd

Thou art yet but half sabred and hung, And I loved him the more when I heard Such tenderness fall from his tongue.

So take the five millions of pills,

Dear partner, I herewith inclose; 'Tis the cure that all quacks for thy ills, From Cromwell to Eldon, propose.

And you, ye brave bullets, that go,

How I wish that, before you set out,
The Devil of the Freischutz could know
The good work you are going about.

For he 'd charm ye, in spite of your lead,
Into such supernatural wit,

That
you 'd all of you know, as you sped,
Where a bullet of sense ought to hit.

A PASTORAL BALLAD.

BY JOHN BULL.

Dublin, March 13, 1827.-Friday, after the arrival of the packet bringing the account of the defeat of the Catholic Question, in the House of Commons, orders were sent to the Pigeon House to forward 5,000,000 rounds of musket-ball cartridge to the different garrisons round the country.-Freeman's Journal,

I HAVE found out a gift for my Erin,
A gift that will surely content her,
Sweet pledge of a love so endearing!
Five millions of bullets I've sent her.
She ask'd me for Freedom and Right,
But ill she her wants understood;-
Ball-cartridges, morning and night,

Is a dose that will do her more good.

There is hardly a day of our lives

But we read, in some amiable trials,
How husbands make love to their wives
Through the medium of hemp and of phials.

One thinks, with his mistress or mate
A good halter is sure to agree-
That love-knot which, early and late,
I have tied, my dear Erin, on thee.

While another, whom Hymen has bless'd
With a wife that is not over placid,
Consigns the dear charmer to rest,

With a dose of the best Prussic acid.

A LATE SCENE AT SWANAGE.

Regnis Ex-sul ademtis.-VIRG.

To Swanage,-that neat little town, in whose bay
Fair Thetis shows off, in her best silver slippers,—
Lord Bags took his annual trip t' other day,
To taste the sea breezes, and chat with the dippers.
There-learn'd as he is in conundrums and laws-
Quoth he to his dame (whom he oft plays the
wag on),
Why are chancery suitors like bathers?-Because
Their suits are put off, till-they have n't a rag 00.»

Thus on he went chatting,-but, lo' while he chats,
With a face full of wonder around him he looks;
For he misses his parsons, his dear shovel-hats,
Who used to flock round him at Swanage like rooks.

« How is this, Lady Bags?-to this region aquatic
Last year they came swarming, to make me their bow,
As thick as Burke's cloud o'er the vales of Carnatic,
Deans, rectors, D.D.'s-where the dev'l are they