THE GRAND REVOLUTION!

Tune-" The Tight Little Island."

Ye Whigs now attend, and list to a friend,
If you value a free Constitution,

Ev'ry nerve let us strain for the Patriots of Spain,
And cry up their brave Revolution.

Huzza for the brave Revolution !

Success to the brave Revolution!
We'll all to a man, bawl as loud as we can,
Huzza for the brave Revolution!

"When Boney invaded their country, and waded
Through oceans of blood to make Joe king,
We ne'er made a push, and cared not a rush
If Spain had a king, or had no king:

But then there was no Revolution!
No enlightening, wise Revolution!

They only fought then for their king back again,
And not for a brave Revolution !

“We once made a rout, most valiant and stout,
For Naples to throw off her yoke, sirs,
But Tories so wary, vowed base Carbonari
Were thieves, and their valour all smoke, sirs!
To naught came their grand Revolution !
Upset was their grand Revolution!

Poor, thick-headed calves, they were rebels by halves,
And made nanght of their grand Revolution!

"Then we spouted for weeks, in aid of the Greeks,
But they proved rather lax in their works, sirs,
For the brave Parguinotes, in cutting of throats,
Excelled e'en the murderous Turks, sirs;
So we gave up the Greek Revolution,

None thought of the Greek Revolution,
Folks cared not a straw whether Turkish Bashaw
Ruled the roast-or the Greek Revolution.

"But Spain, with true bravery-spurning her slavery,
Vows she'll have freedom, or die now,
And all that she 'll need will be trifles indeed,
Such as arms, ammunition, and rhino !

Success to her brave resolutions!

And just to collect contributions,
At dinner we'll meet, in Bishopsgate-street,
In aid of her brave resolutions!"

So to feasting they went, on a Friday in Lent,
And mustered what forces they cou'd, sirs,
There was Duke San Lorenzo, with plenty of friends, O,
Great Sussex and Alderman Wood, sirs!

The Spaniards push'd hard their petition
For money to buy ammunition,

But they met with a balk, for Whigs are all talk,
With naught else would they help their petition.

They didn't ask Hume, for fear, in a fume,
At the cost of the war he 'd be nibbling,

So they left him to fight in the Commons all night,
With Palmerston's estimates quibbling.

He there with much circumlocution,

Moved many a wise resolution,

While the still wiser Whigs were feasting like pigs,
In the cause of the grand Revolution!

Don Holland, of Kensington, while his Whig friends in town,
Grand tavern speeches were planning,
Wrote a note just to tell the brave Arguelles
How much wiser the Whigs are than Canning.
"All England one feeling displays, sir,
Never mind what the Minister says, sir!
At him you may hoot-and the Council to boot,
For England is all in a blaze, sir!"

As the Whigs had for years rung peace in our ears,
When for war the whole nation did burn, sirs,
'Twould surely be hard, if they now were debarred
From crying for war in their turn, sirs!

So Mackintosh made an oration,

As bold as a war proclamation,

Then finished his boast, with this apposite toast,
May peace be preserved to the nation!"

Then leave 'm to prate, and spout, and debate,
We all know there's nought but a show meant,
Let 'em blow hot and cold-be shy, or be bold,
As the humour prevails at the moment :
Let 'em cry up the grand Revolution !
The gallant and brave Revolution !
And all to a man-bawl as loud as they can,
Huzza! for the brave Revolution!

THE COURT OF POYAIS.

A NEW SONG FOR THE NEW WORLD.

BY THE POYAISIAN POET LAUREATE.

Tune-" Packington's Pound."

Old Europe is quite worn out-while the West
With the spring-tide of vigour and genius is blest:
Her soil so prolific-so genial her clime—
Columbia's fertility distances time!
A Prince or Cacique
Springs up like a leek;

Protectors and Presidents sprout every week.
Then a fig for King George and his old-fashioned sway!
And hey for Macgregor, Cacique of Poyais !*

* In 1822, a year remarkable for its stock-jobbing bubbles, it will be remembered a person styling himself Sir Gregor M'Gregor, and, in virtue of a certain contract with his Majesty Frederic Augustus King of the Mosquito nation, Cacique of Poyais, contrived to open a loan for the amount of 200,000l. a large proportion of which was actually subscribed. In pursuance of his scheme, he appointed various ministers of state, officered several regiments, and bestowed a liberal allowance of titles and orders. Green was, appropriately enough, selected by his highness as the national colour; there were green hussars, green knights, green commanders—and green horns in sufficient abundance to furnish forth handsomely his new principality. In addition to this, two or three ship-loads of miserable creatures were sent out as emigrants, and landed on the Mosquito shore, in North America, where, on the western side of Black River, the pleasant realm of Poyais was supposed to lie. They found, indeed, an unwholesome tract of unreclaimed swamp, on which, by the gracious permission of Frederic Augustus, who entirely repudiated all connexion with Sir Gregor, they were allowed to live, as long as famine and fever would let them. Most of these poor wretches

His Highness is now just about to create
The orders and ranks of his embryo state-
His peers and his judges, his senate and guards,
His ministers, household, and even his bards,
Are all to be named,

And a government framed,

On views which great Thistlewood's self had not blamed !
So a fig for King George and his old-fashioned sway!
And hey for Macgregor, Cacique of Poyais!

Make haste, jolly boys, for the foremost will get
The foremost good things-in the Poyais Gazette;
And those who delay will accomplish, I fear,
No more than a Whig or a dunce can get here;
Of" qui cito, bis;"

The English is this

The early will get what the tardy may miss.
Then a fig for King George and his old-fashioned sway!
And hey for Macgregor, Cacique of Poyais !

His Highness (God bless him) in candour, now deigns
To tell to whose care he has destined the reins-
And whom, in his scheme of colonial manning,
He means for his Liverpool, Eldon, and Canning!
He fears that his band

May appear second hand,

But they'll rise when they touch that regenerate land ! So a fig for King George and his old-fashioned sway! And hey for Macgregor, Cacique of Poyais!

To the care of the public finances, he names

My Lord Mack-a-boo, better known as Sir James—

perished miserably; some few, wasted with hunger and sickness, were fortunately brought off. The kingdom of Poyais is still, we believe, to let.