But he still talked away spite of coughs and of frowns,
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs
That a wag once, on hearing the orator say,

My voice is for war, asked him, Which of them, pray?
Oh! oh! &c.

Reeling homewards one evening, top-heavy with gin,
And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown,
He tripped near a sawpit, and tumbled right in,

66

Sinking Fund," the last words as his noddle came down. On! oh! &c.

"Help! help!" he exclaimed, in his he and she tones,

"Help me out! help me out-I have broken my bones!" "Help you out?" said a Paddy who passed, what a bother! Why, there's two of you there, can't you help one another?” Oh! oh! &c.

DEAR aunt, in the olden time of love,
When women like slaves were spurned,
A maid gave her heart, as she would her glove,
To be teazed by a fop, and returned !

But women grow wiser as men improve,

And, though beaux, like monkeys, amuse us,

Oh! think not we'd give such a delicate gem

As the heart, to be played with or sullied by them;
No, dearest aunt, excuse us.

We may know by the head on Cupid's seal
What impression the heart will take;

If shallow the head, oh! soon we feel

What a poor impression 'twill make!

Though plagued, heaven knows! by the foolish zeal
Of the fondling fop who pursues me,

Oh think not I'd follow their desperate rule
Who get rid of the folly by wedding the fool:
No, dearest aunt! excuse me.

'Tis sweet to behold, when the billows are sleeping,
Some gay-coloured bark moving gracefully by;
No damp on her deck but the even-tides weeping,
No breath in her sails but the summer-wind's sigh.
Yet who would not turn with a fonder emotion,

To gaze on the life-boat, though rugged and worn,
Which often hath wafted o'er hills of the ocean,
The lost light of hope to the seaman forlorn!
Oh! grant that of those who in life's sunny slumber
Around us like summer-barks idly have played,
When storms are abroad we may find in the number
One friend, like the life-boat, to fly to our aid.

"I would be impossible for his Royal Highness to disengage his person from the accumulating pile of papers that encompassed it."-Lord Castlereagh's Speech upon Colonel M'Mahon's Appointment.

LAST night I tossed and turned in bed,
But could not sleep-at length I said,
"I'll think of Viscount Castlereagh,
And of his speeches-that's the way."
And so it was, for instantly

I slept as sound as sound could be.
And then I dreamed-O frightful dream!
Fuseli has no such theme;

never wrote or borrowed

Any horror half so horrid !

Methought the Prince, in whiskered state,
Before me at his breakfast sate;

On one side lay unread Petitions,
On t'other, Hints from five Physicians-
Here tradesmen's bills, official papers,
Notes from my Lady, drams for vapours-
There plans of saddles, tea and toast,
Death-warrants and the Morning Post.

When lo! the papers, one and all,
As if at some magician's call,

Began to flutter of themselves

From desk and table, floor and shelves,

And, cutting each some different capers,
Advanced, O jacobinic papers!

As though they said, "Our sole design is
To suffocate his Royal Highness!"

The leader of this vile sedition
Was a huge Catholic Petition,
With grievances so full and heavy,
It threatened worst of all the bevy.
Then Common-Hall Addresses came
In swaggering sheets, and took their aim
Right at the Regent's well-dressed head,
As if determined to be read!

Next Tradesmen's Bills began to fly,

And Tradesmen's Bills, we know, mount high;
Nay, e'en Death-Warrants thought they'd best
Be lively too, and join the rest.

But oh the basest of defections!
His Letter about " predilections"-
His own dear Letter, void of grace,
Now flew up in its parent's face!
Shocked with this breach of filial duty,
He just could murmur "et tu Brute?"
Then sunk, subdued upon the floor
At Fox's bust, to rise no more!

waked-and prayed with lifted hand,
"Oh! never may this dream prove true;
Though Paper overwhelms the land,

Let it not crush the Sovereign too!"

PARODY OF A CELEBRATED LETTER.

AT length, dearest Freddy, the moment is nigh,
When, with Perceval's leave, I may throw my chains by;
And, as time now is precious, the first thing I do,

Is to sit down and write a wise letter to you.

I meant before now to have sent you this Letter,

But Yarmouth and I thought perhaps 'twould be better

To wait till the Irish affairs were decided—

That is, till both Houses had prosed and divided,

With all due appearance of thought and digestion

For, though Hertford House had long settled the question,

I thought it but decent, between me and you,

That the two other Houses should settle it too.

I need not remind you how cursedly bad

Our affairs were all looking when Father went mad;
A strait waistcoat on him and restrictions on me,

A more limited Monarchy could not well be.