Then, trampling the gross Idols under their feet,

They sent Crack a petition, beginning Great Cæsar !
We are willing to worship, but only entreat

That you'll find us sonie decenter Godheads than these are.'

'I'll try,' says King Crack-then they furnish'd him models
Of better-shaped Gods, but he sent them all back;

Some were chisell'd too fine, some had heads 'stead of noddles,
In short, they were all much too godlike for Crack!

So he took to his darling old Idols again,

And, just mending their legs, and new bronzing their faces
In open defiance of Gods and of men,

Set the monsters up grinning once more in their places!

WHAT'S MY THOUGHT LIKE?

Quest. Why is a pump like V-sc-nt C-stl-r-gh?
Answ. Because it is a slender thing of wood,

That up and down its awkward arm doth sway,
And coolly spout and spout and spout away,
In one weak, waghy, everlasting flood!

EPIGRAM.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A CATHOLIC DELEGATE AND HIS R-Y-L H-GHN-SS
THE DE OF C-B-L-D.

SAID his Highness to Ned, with that grim face of his,
Why refuse us the Veto, dear Catholic Neddy?'-
'Because, Sir,' said Ned, looking full in his phiz.
You re forbidding enough, in all conscience, already!'

The ancients, in like manner, crowned their Lares, or Household Gods. See Juvenal, Sat. ix. v. 138. Plutarch, too, tells us that household gods were then, as they are now, 'much given to war and penal statutes.' Ριννυωδεις και ποινιμους δαίμονας.

First you must then, willy nilly,
Fetch me many an Orange lily-
Orange of the darkest dye
Irish G-ff-rd can supply:
Choose me out the longest sprig,
And stick it in old Eld -n's wig!
Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy,
Garland gaudy, dull and cool,
For the head of L-v-rp-1!
"Twill console his brilliant brows
For that loss of laurel boughs
Which they suffer'd (what a pity)
On the road to Paris city.

Next our C-stl-r-gh to crown,
Bring me, from the county Down,
Wither'd Shamrocks which have been
Gilded o'er, to hide the green

(Such as H-df-t brought away
From Pall Mall last Patrick's Day1,-
Stitch the garland through and through
With shabby threads of every hue-
And as, Goddess !-entre nous —
His Lordship loves (though best of men)
A little torture, now and then,
Crimp the leaves, thou first of Syrens!
Crimp them with thy curling-irons.

That's enough-away, away-
Had I leisure, I could say
How the oldest rose that grows
Must be pluck'd to deck Old R—e—
How the Doctor's brow should smile
Crown'd with wreaths of Camomile;
But time presses-to thy taste
I leave the rest, so, prithee, haste!

EPIGRAM.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A DOWAGER AND HER MAID ON THE NIGHT OF
LORD Y-RM-TH'S FETE.

'I WANT the Court-Guide,' said my Lady, 'to look

If the House, Seymour Place, be at 30 or 20”—

'We've lost the Court-Guide, Ma'am, but here's the Red Book,
Where you'll find, I dare say, Seymour Places in plenty !'

HORACE, ODE XI. LIB. II.

FREELY TRANSLATED BY G. R.

COME, Y-rm-th, my boy, never trouble your brains,
About what your old crony,

The Emperor Boney,

Is doing or brewing on Muscovy's plains;

Nor tremble, my lad, at the state of our granaries;

Should there come famine,

Still plenty to cram in

You always shall have, my dear Lord of the Stannaries!

1 Certain tinsel imitations of the Shamrock which are distributed by the servants of C-n House every St. Patrick's Day.

2 This and the following are extracted from a work which may, some time or other, meet the eye of the public, entitled Odes of Horace, done into English by several Persons of Fashion.'

3 Quid bellicosus Cantaber et Scythes
Hirpine Quineti, cogitet, Hadria
Divisus objecto, remittas

Quærere.

nec trepides in usum Poscentis ævi pauca,

Brisk let us revel, while revel we may ;
1 For the gay bloom of fifty soon passes away,
And then people get fat,

And infirm, and-all that,

And a wig (I confess it) so clumsily sits,

That it frightens the little loves out of their wits;

3

Thy whiskers, too, Y-rm-th !-alas, even they,

Though so rosy they burn,

Too quickly must turn

(What a heart-breaking change for thy whiskers!) to Grey.

Then, why, my Lord Warden! oh! why should you fidget
Your mind about matters you don't understand?

Or why should you write yourself down for an idiot,
Because you,' forsooth, have the pen in your hand l

Think, think how much better
Than scribbling a letter
(Which both you and I

Should avoid, by the bye),

5 How much pleasanter 'tis to sit under the bust

Of old Charley, my friend here, and drink like a new cne;

While Charley looks sulky, and frowns at me, just

As the Ghost in the Pantomime frowns at Don Juan i

1

The newest No-Popery Sermon that's going-
1Oh! let her come, with her dark tresses flowing,
All gentle and juvenile, curly and gay,

In the manner of-Ackermann's Dresses for May!

HORACE, ODE XXII. LIB. I.

FREELY TRANSLATED BY LORD ELD-N.

"THE man who keeps a conscience pure
(If not his own, at least his Prince's),
Through toil and danger walks secure,
Looks big and black, and never winces!
No want has he of sword or dagger,
Cocked hat or ringlets of Geramb;
Though Peers may laugh, and Papists swagger,
He does not care one single d-mn!

4 Whether 'midst Irish chairmen going,
Or through St. Giles's alleys dim,
'Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing,
No matter, 'tis all one to him.

5 For instance, I, one evening late,
Upon a gay vacation sally,

Singing the praise of Church and State,

Got (God knows how) to Cranbourne Alley,

When lo! an Irish Papist darted

Incomtam Lacænæ

More comam religata nodo.

2 Integer vitæ scelerisque purus.
Non eget Mauri jaculis neque arcu,
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis

I cannot help calling the reader's attention o the peculiar ingenuity with which these lines are paraphrased. Not to mention the happy conversion of the Wolf into a Papist (seeing that Romulus was suckled by a wolf, that Rome was founded by Romulus, and that the Pope has always reigned at Rome), there is something particularly neat in supposing ultra terminum,' to mean vacation-time; and then the modest consciousness with which the noble and learned translator has avoided touching upon the words 'curis expeditis' (or, as it has been otherwise read, causis expeditis), and the felicitous idea of his being inermis' when without his wig,' are altogether the most delectable specimens of paraphrase in our language.

་

6 Quale portentum neque militaris

Oh! place me 'midst O'Rourkes, O'Tooles
The ragged royal-blood of Tara;
Or place me where Dick M-rt-n rules
The houseless wilds of Connemara ;

2 Of Church and State I'll warble still,
Though e'en Dick M-rt-r's self should grumble;
Sweet Church and State, like Jack and Jill,

3 So lovingly upon a hill—

Ah! ne'er like Jack and Jill to tumble !

THE NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS.
nova monstra creavit.-Ovid. Metamorph. lib. i. v. 437.
HAVING sent off the troops to brave Major Camac,
With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back,
And such helmets, God bless us ! as never deck'd any
Male creature before, except Signor Giovanni-
'Let's see,' says the R-g-t (like Titus, perplex'd
With the duties of empire), whom shall I dress next?'

He looks in the glass-but perfection is there,
Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts all right to a hair ;4
Not a single ex-curl on his forehead he traces-
For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is,
The falser they are, the more firm in their places.

His coat he next views-but the coat who could doubt?
For his Y-rm -th's own Frenchified hand cut it out;
Every pucker and seam were made matters of State,
And a grand Household Council was held on each plait !

Then whom shall he dress! shall he new-rig his brother,
Great C-mb-rl-d's Duke, with some kickshaw or other?
And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory-capes?

Daunias in latis alit æsculetis,
Nec Juba tellus generat leonum

Arida nutrix.

Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor estiva recreatur aura;
Quod latus mundi, nebulæ, malusque
Jupiter urget.

1 must here remark, that the said Dick M-rt-n being a very good fellow, it was not at all fair to make a malus Jupiter' of him.

2 Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem.

3 There cannot be imagined a more happy illustration of the inseparability of Church and State, and their (what is called)standing and falling together,' than this ancient apologue of Jack and Jill. Jack, of course, represents the State in this ingenious little allegory.

Jack fell down

And broke his Crown,

And Jill came tumbling after.

That model of princes, the Emperor Commo. dus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to burn off his beard-timore tonsoris,' says Lampridius (Hist. August. Scriptor.). The dissolute Elius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of his wig. (See Jul. Capitolin.") Indeed, this was not the only princely trait in the character of Verus, as he had likewise a most hearty and dignified contempt for his wife.-See his insulting answer to her in Spartianus.