But that we turn'd them to our dirty uses?

My tool I've lately placed upon the shelf, So patronize my cockney now who chooses;

I've ta'en to do my dirty work myself.
I find, too, that in fashion my abuse is,

And brings-not that I value it-the pelf;
But, let me hint, there's need of cash to victual ye
E'en in this cheapest of all countries-Italy.

I've turn'd him off! He's gone! I've made the ninny stir His stumps! For on my stomach his pathetic,

His cockney rurals, drivellings, phrases sinister

And affectations act as an emetic.

Besides, he thinks he's fit to be prime minister !

The whimpering, simpering, Horse-monger ascetic! And there he's grown so horribly familiar,

And paws and "dears" one so-I vow 'twould kill you.

--

There, my dear friend-and this is from one radical to another the root of all this is, that I did once hint to him that I thought myself a better poet than he; more antique and to-the-heartish, giving my verses an Italian twang, and so forth. No. V. of our Liberal Magazine shortly. Let tyrants tremble !-Yours ever.

INTERESTING TO GAS MEN!

“Why did I marry ?"-Lord Townley.

WHEN the coal is consumed, how great are the gains
To be made, as we know, from the coke that remains!
The reverse may, however, sweet Anna console,
When her Coke shall be gone, she will still have the cole ! *

* On Mr. Coke's (Earl of Leicester) second marriage.

ΤΟ

LINES.

THE hour is come-the cherish'd hour,
When from the busy world set free,
I seek at length my lonely bower,
And muse in silent thought on thee.

And, oh! how sweet to know that still,
Though sever'd from thee widely far,
Our minds the self-same thought can fill-
Our eyes yet seek the self-same star.

Compulsion from its destin'd course
The magnet may awhile detain,
But when no more withheld by force,
It trembles to its north again.

Thus, though the idle world may hold
My fetter'd thoughts awhile from thee,
To thee they spring, when uncontroll❜d,
In all the warmth of liberty.

The faithful dove, where'er by day,
Through fields of air her pinions rove,
Still seeks, when daylight dies away,
The shelter of her native grove.

So at this calm, this silent hour,
Whate'er the daily scenes I see,

My heart (its joyless wand'rings o'er)
Returns unalter'd still to thee.

THE POSTPONEMENT OF GRAHAM'S BALLOON.

"Mr. Graham respectfully informs the public that his intended ascent on Friday is postponed till some future day."

Tune-" Derry Down."

Public papers.

In these days of bubbles, when ev'ry thing floats,
Docks, bridges, insurances, gas-lights, and boats,
Allow me to sing to a popular tune,

The honestest bubble-old Graham's balloon.

Compared with the others, 'tis justice to say
'Tis equally solid, and ten times as gay;
And I, had I money to spend, would as soon
Lay it out in a venture on Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

Derry down.

There is Mr. Brunel, who at Portsmouth made blocks,
Has projected in London a tunnel and docks,
To scoop out the bed of the Thames with a spoon-
I had rather cross over in-Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

Sir William, with tender regard for our pockets,
Supersedes the old balls with his new-fangled rockets;
He professes to give the poor people a boon,
As sure and as solid as Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

The good folks at Lloyd's are hugely afraid
That Buxton will carry away all their trade;
And lest he their credit and means should impugn,

They offer to underwrite Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

There's Orpheus MacAdam, whose hard Highland tone Can level a mountain and soften a stone,

Proposes to send Ludgate Hill "out o' toon,"

And slide our stage-coaches like Graham's balloon.

In short, fifty different causes prepare

Derry down.

The town, to be pleased with this trip through the air,
And to White Conduit House, on the second of June,
They crowded in honour of Graham's balloon.

I leave to the journals possessed of the skill
Sixteen mortal columns with nothing-to fill,

Derry down.

To tell by what arts, and whose hands, and how soon,
The light fetid vapour puffed out the balloon.

Derry down.

At last up it went, like a flimsy Whig job,
Empty, stinking, and painted, the joy of the mob-
Carolina the saint, and Sir Bob the dragoon,

Had their day up and down, just like Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

The wind being easterly-not blowing hard,
It hung for some time over Old Palace Yard,
And an influence madd'ning as that of the moon
Was shed o'er that quarter by Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

The Lords! Heaven bless them! so stately and proud, When they heard that silk tissue had brought such a crowd, Were on their red woolsacks, just ready to swoon,

Lest the weavers had risen, and not a balloon!

Derry down.

One could not but smile to behold the grave peers,
Pricking up at each rumour their asinine ears;
Their terrors of silk-and their rapture as soon
As Cowper assured them 'twas but a balloon.

Derry down.

'Twas a different scene in the other great House,
Which, for once in its day, was as mute as a mouse—
An absent court-martial, arrayed to impugn,
When Butturworth shouted-" By G-! the balloon !"
Derry down.

Out ran all the members- Rad., Tory, and Whig-
From Crompton the little to Nugent the big;

As cotton seeds drive in an Indian monsoon,
So flew all the members to see the balloon.

Derry down.

It touched every heart and attracted all eyes,
To see a great body by levity rise;

And the lightest and emptiest fancied that soon
They should soar into notice, like Graham's balloon.

Derry down.

The evening was bright, and the Doctor prolix,
The House, being counted, contained twenty-six ;
So the Speaker rose up, and cried "Good afternoon!
Here, Ley, take my wig, I'll go see the balloon!"

Derry down.

In both Palace Yards all the senators met,
And gazing on Heaven, its cause they forget,
Demerara, Smith, mission, creole, and quadroon,
Were eclipsed in a second by Graham's balloon.

Derry down.