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HOLD, Prompter, hold ! a word before your nonsense !
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.
My pride forbids it ever should be said
My heels eclipsed the honours of my head ;
That I found'humour in a piebald vest,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. [Takes off his inask.
Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth ?
Nature disowns and reason scorns thy mirth.
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.
How hast thou filled the scene with all thy brood
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursued !
Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,
Whose only plot it is to break our noses ;
Whilst from below the trap-door demons rise,
And from above the dangling deities.
And shall I mix in this unhallowed crew ?
May rosined lightning blast me if I do!
No-I will act, I'll vindicate the stage :
Shakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off, off, vile trappings! a new passion reigns !
The maddening monarch revels in my veins.
Oh for a Richard's voice to catch the theme !
Give me another horse! bind up my wounds !- soft ; 'twas but

a dream.”
Ay, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating:
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.
'Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blameless,
Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless,
Once on the margin of a fountain stood,
And cavilled at his image in the flood.
“The deuce confound,” he cries, “these drumstick shanks;
They never have my gratitude nor thanks;
They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead !
But for a head ; yes, yes, I have a head.
How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow !
My horns !—I'm told horns are the fashion now.”
Whilst thus he spoke, astonished, to his view,
Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew ;
“Hoicks! hark forward !" came thundering from behind.
He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind ;
He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways ;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length his silly head, so prized before,
Is taught his former folly to deplore ;
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bound he saves himself,—like me.

[Taking a jump through the stage-door.




LOGICIANS have but ill defined

Nor ever cringe to men in place ; As rational the human mind;

Nor undertake a dirty job, Reason, they say, belongs to man, Nor draw the quill to write for Bob ; But let them prove it if they can. Fraught with invective they ne'er go Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius,

To folks at Pater-Noster Row; By ratiocinations specious,

No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, Have strove to prove with great precision, No pickpockets, or poetasters, With definition and division,

Are known to honest quadrupeds : Homo est ratione præditum :

No single brute his fellow leads. But for my soul I cannot credit 'em ; Brutes never meet in bloody fray, And must in spite of them maintain Nor cut each other's throats for pay. That man and all his ways are vain, Of beasts, it is confessed, the ape And that this boasted lord of nature Comes nearest us in human shape : Is both a weak and erring creature; Like man he imitates each fashion, That instinct is a surer guide

And malice is his ruling passion ; Than reason-boasting mortals' pride; But both in malice and grimaces And that brute beasts are far before 'em : A courtier any ape surpasses. Deus est anima brutorum.

Behold him humbly cringing wait Who ever knew an honest brute

Upon the minister of state ;
At law his neighbour prosecute,

View him soon after to inferiors
Bring action for assault and battery, Aping the conduct of superiors :
Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? He promises with equal air,
O’er plains they ramble unconfined, And to perform takes equal care.
No politics disturb their mind ;

He in his turn finds imitators :
They eat their meals and take their sport, At court the porters, lacqueys, waiters,
Nor know who's in or out at court ; Their master's manners still contract,
They never to the levee go,

And footmen lords and dukes can act : To treat as dearest friend a foe ;

Thus at the court both great and small They never importune his Grace,

Behave alike, for all ape




AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart,
Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,

And quells the raptures which from pleasure start.
O Wolfe! to thee a streaming food of woe,

Sighing, we pay, and think e'en conquest dear;
Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow,

Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear.
Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,

And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes :
Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead !

Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.

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“This is a poem! This is a copy of verses ! Your mandate I got,

An order went out, You may all go to pot;

For the foot guards so stout Had your senses been right,

To wear tails in high taste, You'd have sent before night;

Twelve inches at least : As I hope to be saved,

* Now I've got him a scale I put off being shaved ;

To measure each tail, For I could not make bold,

To lengthen a short tail,
While the matter was cold,

And a long one to curtail.) —
To meddle in suds,
Or to put on my duds;

Yet how can I when vext
So tell Horneck and Nesbitt

Thus stray from my text ? And Baker and his bit,

Tell each other to rue And Kauffman beside,

Your Devonshire crew, And the Jessamy bride;

For sending so late
With the rest of the crew,

To one of my state.
The Reynoldses two,

But 'tis Reynolds's way
Little Comedy's face

From wisdom to stray,
And the Captain in lace.

And Angelica's whim (By the bye, you may tell him,

To be frolic like him.
I have something to sell him ; But, alas! your good worships, how could
Of use I insist,

they be wiser,
When he comes to enlist.

When both have been spoiled in to-day's
Your worships must know

Advertiser ?
That a few days ago,






It was

The following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. prepared for the composer in little more than two days ; and may therefore rather be considered as an industrious effort of gratitude than of genius. In justice to the composer it may likewise be right to inform the public, that the music was composed in a period of time equally short.


OVERTURE. -A solemn Dirge. In vain, to charm thy ravished sight,
Air.— Trio.

A thousand gifts would fortune send ;

In vain, to drive thee from the right, ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise,

A thousand sorrows urged thy end : And waken every note of woe ! Like some well-fashioned arch thy patience When truth and virtue reach the skies,

stood, 'Tis ours to weep the want below.

And purchased strength from its increasChorus.

ing load :

Pain met thee like a friend that set thee When truth and virtue, &c.

Affliction still is virtue's opportunity ! MAN Speaker. The praise attending pomp


power, The incense given to kings,

SONG. -By a MAN. Are but the trappings of an hour

Virtue, on herself relying, Mere transitory things :

Every passion hushed to rest, The base bestow them ; but the good Loses every pain of dying, agree

In the hopes of being blest. To spurn the venal gifts as flattery.

Every added pang she suffers But when to pomp and power are joined

Some increasing go bestows, An equal dignity of mind;

And every shock that malice offers When titles are the smallest claim ;

Only rocks her to repose.
When wealth and rank and noble blood
But aid the power of doing good ;

WOMAN Speaker.
Then all their trophies last—and flattery
turns to fame.

Yet, ah ! what terrors frowned upon her

fateBlest spirit thou, whose fame, just born Death with its formidable band, to bloom,

Fever, and pain, and pale consumptive Shall spread and flourish from the tomb care, How hast thou left mankind for Heaven! Determined took their stand. Even now reproach and faction mourn,

Nor did the cruel ravagers design And, wondering how their rage was born, To finish all their efforts at a blow; Request to be forgiven !

But, mischievously slow, Alas! they never had thy hate;

They robbed the relic and defaced the Unmoved in conscious rectitude,

shrine. Thy towering mind self-centred stood,

With unavailing grief, Nor wanted man's opinion to be great.

Despairing of relief,

Her weeping children round Where all the humble, all the great,
Beheld each hour

Promiscuously recline ;
Death's growing power,

Where, wildly huddled to the eye,
And trembled as he frowned. The beggar's pouch and prince's purple lie,

May every bliss be thine !
As helpless friends who view from shore

And, ah! blest spirit, wheresoe'er thy The labouring ship, and hear the tempest flight, roar,

Through rolling worlds or fields of liquid While winds and waves their wishes

light, cross,

May cherubs welcome their expected guest, They stood, while hope and comfort fail, May saints with songs receive thee to their Not to assist, but to bewail

rest, The inevitable loss.

May peace, that claimed while here thy Relentless tyrant, at thy call

warmest love, How do the good, the virtuous fall!

May blissful, endless peace, be thine above! Truth, beauty, worth, and all that most engage,

SONG.-By a WOMAN. But wake thy vengeance and provoke thy

Lovely, lasting Peace below, rage.

Comforter of every woe,

Heav'nly born, and bred on high, When vice my dart and scythe supply,

To crown the favourites of the sky; How great a king of terrors I!

Lovely, lasting Peace appear: If folly, fraud, your hearts engage,

This world itself, if thou art here, Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage !

Is once again with Eden blest,

And man contains it in his breast. Fall, around me fall, ye little things, Ye statesmen, warriors, poets, kings!

WOMAN Speaker. If Virtue fail her counsel sage,

Our vows are heard! long, long to mortal Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage!

eyes, MAN Speaker.

Her soul was fitting to its kindred skies;

Celestial-like her bounty fell, Yet let that wisdom, urged by her example, where modest want and patient sorrow Teach us to estimate what all must suffer; Let us prize death as the best gift of Want passed for merit at her door, nature;

Unseen the modest were supplied, As a safe inn, where weary travellers, Her constant pity fed the poor, When they have journeyed through a Then only poor, indeed, the day she died. world of cares,

And, oh! for this, while sculpture decks May put off life and be at rest for ever.

thy shrine, Groans, weeping friends, indeed, and And art exhausts profusion round, gloomy sables,

The tribute of a tear be mine, Mayoft distract us with their sad solemnity; A simple song, a sigh profound: The preparation is the executioner. There Faith shall come, a pilgrim grey, Death, when unmasked, shows me a To bless the tomb that wraps thy clay; friendly face,

And calm Religion shall repair And is a terror only at a distance ;

To dwell a weeping hermit there. For as the line of life conducts me on

Truth, Fortitude, and Friendship shall To Death's great court, the prospect

agree, seems more fair.

To blend their virtues while they think 'Tis Nature's kind retreat, that's always of thee.

To take us in when we have drained the cup

Of life, or worn our days to wretchedness. Let us, let all the world agree,
In that secure, serene retreat,

To profit by resembling thee,

dwell ;

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