Takes every part with perfect case,

Though to the Base by nature suited; And, form'd for all, as best may please, For whips and bolts, or chords and keys, Turns from his victims to his glees,

And has them both well executed.1 H- TD, who, though no Rat himself, Delights in all such liberal arts, Drinks largely to the House of Guelph,

And superintends the Corni parts. While C-NN-G,' who'd be first by choice, Consents to take an under voice;

And GR-v-s, who well that signal knows, Watches the Volti subitos.*

In short, as I've already hinted,

We take, of late, prodigiously;
But as our Club is somewhat stinted

For Gentlemen, like Toм and me,
We'll take it kind if you'll provide
A few Squireens from t'other side;-
Some of those loyal, cunning elves,

(We often tell the tale with laughter,) Who used to hide the pikes themselves,

Then hang the fools who found them after I doubt not you could find us, too, Some Orange Parsons that might do ; Among the rest, we've heard of cne, The Reverend--something-HAMILTON, Who stuff'd a figure of himself

(Delicious thought!) and had it shot at, To bring some Papists to the shelf,

That couldn't otherwise be got at-
If he'll but join th' Association,
We'll vote him in by acclamation.

And now, my brother, guide, and friend,
This somewhat tedious scrawl must end.
I've gone into this long detail,

Because I saw your nerves were shaken With anxious fears lest I should fail

In this new, loyal, course I've taken. But, bless your heart! you need not doubtWe, FUDGES, know what we're about. Look round, and say if you can see A much more thriving family.

There's JACK, the Doctor-night and day
Hundreds of patients so besiege him,
You'd swear that all the rich and gay
Fell sick on purpose to oblige him.
And while they think, the precious ninnies,
He's counting o'er their pulse so steady,
The rogue but counts how many guineas

He's fobb'd, for that day's work, already. I'll ne'er forget th' old maid's alarm,

When, feeling thus Miss Sukey Flirt, he Said, as he dropp'd h shrivell'd arm, "Damn d bad this morning-only thirty!"

Your dowagers, too, every one,

So gen'rous are, when they call him in, That he might now retire upon

The rheumatisms of three old women. Then, whatsoe'er your ailments are,

He can so learnedly explain ye 'emYour cold, of course, is a catarrh,

Your headache is a hemi-cranium : His skill, too, in young ladies' lungs,

The grace with which, most mild of men, He begs them to put out their tongues,

Then bids them--put them in again: In short, there's nothing now like JACK!— Take all your doctors great and small, Of present times and ages back,

Dear Doctor FUDGE is worth them all.

So much for physic-then, in law too,
Counsellor TIM, to thee we bow;
Not one of us gives more eclat to

Th' immortal name of FUDGE than thou. Not to expatiate on the art

With which you play'd the patriot's part,
Till something good and snug should offer ;-
Like one, who, by the way he acts
Th' enlight'ning part of candle-snuffer,

The manager's keen eye attracts,
And is promoted thence by him
To strut in robes, like thee, my TIM!—
Who shall describe thy pow'rs of face,
Thy well-feed zeal in ev'ry case,
Or wrong or right-but ten times warmer
(As suits thy calling) in the former-

Ministerial career, took lessons three times a week from a celebrated music-master, in glee-singing.

How amply these two propensities of the Noble Lord would have been gratified among that ancient people of Etruria, who, as Aristotle tells us, used to whip their slaves once a year to the sound of flutes!

2 This Right Hon. Gentleman ought to give up his present alliance with Lord C., if upon no other principle than that which is inculcated in the following arrangement between two Ladies of Fashion:

Says Clarinda, "though tears it may cost, It is time we should part, my dear Sue; For your character's totally lost,

And I have not sufficient for two!"

3 The rapidity of this Noble Lord's transformation, at the same instant, into a Lord of the Bedchamber and an opponent of the Catholic Claims, was truly miraculous.

4 Turn instantly-a frequent direction in music-books The Irish diminutive of Squire.

And tell the world, when hawks shall harmless bear The shrinking dove, when wolves shall learn to spare The helpless victim for whose blood they lusted, Then, and then only, monarchs may be trusted.

It could not last-these horrors could not last-
France would herself have ris'n, in might, to cast
Th' insulters off-and oh! that then, as now,
Chain'd to some distant islet's rocky brow,
NAPOLEON ne'er had come to force, to blight,
Ere half matured, a cause so proudly bright ;-
To palsy patriot hearts with doubt and shame,
And write on Freedom's flag a despot's name ;—
To rush into the lists, unask'd, alone,
And make the stake of all the game of one!
Then would the world have seen again what pow'r
A people can put forth in Freedom's hour;

Then would the fire of France once more have blazed ;

For every single sword, reluctant raised

In the stale cause of an oppressive throne,
Millions would then have leap'd forth in her own;
And never, never had th' unholy stain
Of Bourbon feet disgraced her shores again.

But fate decreed not so-th' Imperial Bird,
That, in his neighboring cage, unfear'd, unstirr'd,
Had seem'd to sleep with head beneath his wing,
Yet watch'd the moment for a daring spring ;-
Well might he watch, when deeds were done, that
made

His own transgressions whiten in their shade;
Well might he hope a world, thus trampled o'er
By clumsy tyrants, would be his once more :-
Forth from his cage the eagle burst to light,
From steeple on to steeple1 wing'd his flight,
With calm and easy grandeur, to that throne
From which a Royal craven just had flown;
And resting there, as in his eyry, furl'd
Those wings, whose very rustling shook the world!

Whose honesty all knew, for all had tried;
Whose true Swiss zeal had served on every side;
Whose fame for breaking faith so long was known,
Well might ye claim the craft as all your own,
And lash your lordly tails, and fume to see
Such low-born apes of Royal perfidy!
Yes-yes-to you alone did it belong
To sin forever, and yet ne'er do wrong.-
The frauds, the lies of Lords legitimate
Are but fine policy, deep strokes of state;
But let some upstart dare to soar so high
In Kingly craft, and "outlaw" is the cry!
What, though long years of mutual treachery
Had peopled full your diplomatic shelves
With ghosts of treaties, murder'd 'mong your-
selves;

Though each by turns was knave and dupe-what then?

A Holy League would set all straight again;
Like Juno's virtue, which a dip or two
In some bless'd fountain made as go ́as new!
Most faithful Russia-faithful to whoc'er
Could plunder best, and give him amplest share;
Who, e'en when vanquish'd, sure to gain his ends,
For want of foes to rob, made free with friends,
And, deepening still by amiable gradations,
When foes were stripp'd of all, then fleeced relations !
Most mild and saintly Prussia-steep'd to th' ears
In persecuted Poland's blood and tears,
And now, with all her harpy wings outspread
O'er sever'd Saxony's devoted head!
Pure Austria too-whose hist'ry naught repeats
But broken leagues and subsidized defeats;
Whose faith, as Prince, extinguish'd Venice shows,
Whose faith, as man, a widow'd daughter knows!
And thou, oh England-who, though once as
shy

As cloister'd maids, of shame or perfidy,
Art now broke in, and, thanks to C-
In all that's worst and falsest lead'st the way!

-GH,

Such was the pure divan, whose pens and wits
Th' escape from Elba frighten'd into fits ;-
Such were the saints, who doom'd NAPOLEON'S
life,

In virtuous phrensy to th' assassin's knife.
Disgusting crew!-who would not gladly fly
To open, downright, bold-faced tyranny,
To honest guilt, that dares do all but lie,
From the false, juggling craft of men like these,
Their canting crimes and varnish'd villanies;

At the peace of Tilsit, where he abandoned his ally Prussia, to France, and received a portion of her territory

4 The seizure of Finland from his relative of Sweden.

These Holy Leaguers, who then loudest boast

Of faith and honor, when they've stain'd them most;

From whose affection men should shrink as loath.
As from their hate, for they'll be fleeced by both;
Who, ev'n while plund'ring, forge Religion's name
To frank their spoil, and, without fear or shame
Call down the Holy Trinity' to bless
Partition leagues, and deeds of devilishness!
But hold-enough-soon would this swell of rage
O'erflow the boundaries of my scanty page ;—
So, here I pause-farewell-another day,
Return we to those Lords of pray'r and prey,
Whose loathsome cant, whose frauds by right divine,
Deserve a lash-oh! weightier far than mine!

Where in temples antique you may breakfast or dinner it,

Lunch at a mosque, and see Punch from a minaret.
Then, DICK, the mixture of bonnets and bow'rs,
Of foliage and fripp'ry, fiacres and flow'rs,
Green-grocers, green gardens-one hardly knows
whether

"Tis country or town, they're so mess'd up together!
And there, if one loves the romantic, one sees
Jew clothes-men, like shepherds, reclined under
trees;

Or Quidnuncs, on Sunday, just fresh from the barber's,

Enjoying their news and groseille in those arbors; While gayly their wigs, like the tendrils, are curling, And founts of red currant-juice round them are purling.

Here, DICK, arm in arm as we chattering stray, And receive a few civil "God-dems" by the way,For, 'tis odd, these mounseers,—though we've wasted our wealth

And our strength, til e've thrown ourselves into

a phthisic,

Which I knew would go smash with me one of these
And, at yesterday's dinner, when, full to the throttle,
We lads had begun our desert with a bottle
Of neat old Constantia, on my leaning back
Just to order another, by Jove, I went crack!-
Or, as honest Toм said, in his nautical phrase,
"D-n my eyes, Boв, in doubling the Cape you've
miss'd stays."

As we whip little children to make them take

physic;

Yet, spite of our good-natured money and slaughter,
They hate us as Beelzebub hates holy water!
But who the deuce cares, Dick, as long as they
nourish us

Neatly as now, and good cookery flourishes

about them,

Here goes for a letter, post-haste, neck and crop. Let us see-in my last I was-where did I stop? Oh, I know-at the Boulevards, as motley a road as Man ever would wish a day's lounging upon; With its cafés and gardens, hotels and pagodas,

Its founts, and old Counts sipping beer in the sun: With its houses of all architectures you please, From the Grecian and Gothic, Dick, down by degrees

To the pure Hottentot, or the Brighton Chinese ;

1 The usual preamble of these flagitious compacts. In the same spirit, Catherine, after the dreadful massacre of Warsaw, ordered a solemn "thanksgiving to God in all the churches, for the blessings conferred upon the Poles ;" and commanded that each of them should "swear fidelity and loyalty to her, and to shed in her defence the last drop of their blood, as they should answer for it to God,and his terrible judgment, kissing the holy word and cross of their Saviour !!! 2 An English tailor at Paris.

3 A ship is said to miss stays, when she does not obey the hem in tacking.

To burn to the ground such a choice-feeding city. Had Dad but his way, he'd have long ago blown The whole batch to old Nick-and the people, I