warmer,

Though one or two capital roarers we've had; Doctor Wise is, for instance, a charming performer,

And Huntingdon Maberley's yell was not bad!

Altogether, however, the thing was not hearty ;-
Even Eld-n allows we got on but so so;
And when next we attempt a No-Popery party,
We must, please your Highness, recruit from
below.

But, hark, the young Black-leg is cracking his whip

Divine Squintifobus, who, placed within reach Of two opposite worlds, by a twist of your vision, Can cast, at the same time, a sly look at each;—

Thanks, thanks for the hopes thou affordest, that we May, ev'n in our own times, a Jubilee share, Which so long has been promised by prophets like thee,

And so often postponed, we began to despair.

There was Whiston, who learnedly took Prince Eugene

For the man who must bring the Millennium about;

All belied, ere his book's first edition was out ;

There was Counsellor Dobbs, too, an Irish M. P., Who discoursed on the subject with signal éclat, And, each day of his life, sat expecting to see

A Millennium break out in the town of Armagh !

There was also-but why should I burden my lay With your Brotherses, Southcotes, and names less deserving,

When all past Millenniums henceforth must give way

To the last new Millennium of Orator Irv―ng.

it

As matters, both public and private, now go, With multitudes round us all starving, or near it, A good rich Millennium will come à propos.

Only think, Master Fred, what delight to behold, Instead of thy bankrupt old City of Rags,

A bran-new Jerusalem, built all of gold,

Sound bullion throughout, from the roof to the flags

A City, where wine and cheap corn3 shall aboundA celestial Cocaigne, on whose buttery shelves We may swear the best things of this world will be found,

As your Saints seldom fail to take care of themselves!

1 This reverend gentleman distinguished himself at the Reading election.

2 "A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny."-Rev. vi.

See the oration of this reverend gentleman, where he describes the connubial joys of Paradise, and paints the angels hovering round "each happy fair."

• When Whiston presented to Prince Eugene the Essay in which he attempted to connect his victories over the Turks

And when next thou with Prophecy troublest thy

The purger-the proser-the bard-
All quacks in a different style;
Doctor S-th-y writes books by the yard,
Doctor Eady writes puffs by the mile!'

Doctor Slop, in no merit outdone

By his scribbling or physicking brother, Can dose us with stuff like the one,

Ay, and doze us with stuff like the other.

Doctor Eady good company keeps

With "No Popery" scribes on the walls; Doctor S-th-y as gloriously sleeps

With "No Popery" scribes, on the stalls.

Doctor Slop, upon subjects divine,

Such bedlamite slaver lets drop, That, if Eady should take the mad line,

He'll be sure of a patient in Slop.

Seven millions of Papists, no less,
Doctor S-th-y attacks, like a Turk ;*
Doctor Eady, less bold, I confess,

Attacks but his maid-of-all-work."

Doctor S-th-y, for his grand attack,
Both a laureate and pensioner is;
While poor Doctor Eady, alack,

Has been had up to Bow-street, for his!

And truly, the law does so blunder,

That, though little blood has been spill'd, he May probably suffer as, under

The Chalking Act, known to be guilty.

So much for the merits sublime

(With whose catalogue ne'er should I stop) Of the three greatest lights of our time,

Doctor Eady, and S-th-y, and Slop!

Should you ask me, to which of the three
Great Doctors the preference should fall,
As a matter of course, I agree

Doctor Eady must go to the wall.

But as S-th-y with laurels is crown'd,
And Slop with a wig and a tail is,
Let Eady's bright temples be bound
With a swingeing "Corona Muralis !"

1 Alluding to the display of this doctor's name, in chalk, on all the walls round the metropolis.

This seraphic doctor, in the preface to his last work, (Vindicia Ecclesiæ Anglicana.) is pleased to anathematize not only all Catholics, but all advocates of Catholics :

"They have for their immediate allies (he says) every fac

tion that is banded against the State, every demagogue, every irreligious and seditious journalist, every open and every insidious enemy to Monarchy and to Christianity."

3 See the late accounts in the newspapers of the appear

ance of this gentleman at one of the Police-offices, in consequence of an alleged assault on his "maid-of-all-work." 4 A crown granted as a reward among the Romans to persons who performed any extraordinary exploits upon would walls, such as scaling them, battering them, &c.-No doubt,

equally establish a claim to the honor.

5 So described by a Reverend Historian of the Church:"A Delta hat, like the horizontal section of a pyramid."

GRANT'S History of the English Church.

That brim of brims, so sleekly good

Not flapp'd, like dull Wesleyans', down, But looking (as all churchmen's should) Devoutly upward-towards the crown.

Gods! when I gaze upon that brim,

So redolent of Church all over,
What swarms of Tithes, in vision dim,-
Some pig-tail'd, some like cherubim,

With ducklings' wings-around it hover!
Tenths of all dead and living things,
That Nature into being brings,
From calves and corn to chitterlings.

Say, holy Hat, that hast, of cocks,
The very cock most orthodox,
To which, of all the well-fed throng
Of Zion,' joy'st thou to belong?
Thou'rt not Sir Harcourt Lees's-no-

For hats grow like the heads that wear 'em ; And hats, on heads like his, would grow

Particularly harum-scarum.

Who knows but thou may'st deck the pate
Of that famed Doctor Ad-mth-te,
(The reverend rat, whom we saw stand
On his hind-legs in Westmoreland,)
Who changed so quick from blue to yellow,
And would from yellow back to blue,
And back again, convenient fellow,
If 'twere his interest so to do.

Or, haply, smartest of triangles,

Thou art the hat of Doctor Ow-n; The hat that, to his vestry wrangles, That venerable priest doth go in,And, then and there, amid the stare Of all St. Olave's, takes the chair, And quotes, with phiz right orthodox, Th' example of his reverend brothers, Το prove that priests all fleece their flocks, And he must fleece as well as others.

Bless'd Hat! (whoe'er thy lord may be)
Thus low I take off mine to thee,
The homage of a layman's castor,
To the spruce delta of his pastor.
Oh mayst thou be, as thou proceedest,

Still smarter cock'd, still brush'd the brighter,
Till, bowing all the way, thou leadest
Thy sleek possessor to a mitre !

NEWS FOR COUNTRY COUSINS.

1826.

DEAR Coz, as I know neither you nor Miss Draper,
When Parliament's up, ever take in a paper,
But trust for your news to such stray odds and ends
As you chance to pick up from political friends-
Being one of this well-inform'd class, I sit down
To transmit you the last newest news that's in town.

As to Greece and Lord Cochrane, things couldn't look better

His Lordship (who promises now to fight faster)
Has just taken Rhodes, and dispatch'd off a letter
To Daniel O'Connell, to make him Grand Master;
Engaging to change the old name, if he can,
From the Knights of St. John to the Knights of
St. Dan;-

Or, if Dan should prefer (as a still better whim)
Being made the Colossus, 'tis all one to him.

From Russia the last accounts are that the Czar-
Most generous and kind, as all sovereigns are,
And whose first princely act (as you know, I sup-
pose)

Was to give away all his late brother's old clothes"-
Is now busy collecting, with brotherly care,

The late Emperor's nightcaps, and thinks of bestowing

One nightcap apiece (if he has them to spare) On all the distinguish'd old ladies now going. (While I write, an arrival from Riga-the "Brothers"

Having nightcaps on board for Lord Eld-n and others.)

Last advices from India-Sir Archy, 'tis thought,
Was near catching a Tartar, (the first ever caught
In N. Lat. 21.)—and his Highness Burmese,
Being very hard press'd to shell out the rupees,
And not having rhino sufficient, they say, meant
To pawn his august Golden Foot3 for the payment.
(How lucky for monarchs, that thus, when they
choose,

Can establish a running account with the Jews!)
The security being what Rothschild calls "goot,"
A loan will be shortly, of course, set on foot;
The parties are Rothschild, A. Baring and Co.
With three other great pawnbrokers: each takes a
toe

1 Archbishop Magee affectionately calls the Church Establishment of Ireland "the little Zion."

A distribution was made of the Emperor Alexander's smilitary wardrobe by his successor.

• This potentate styles himself the Monarch of the Golden Foot.

And engages (lest Gold-foot should give us leg-bail, As he did once before) to pay down on the nail.

This is all for the present-what vile pens and paper! Yours truly, dear Cousin-best love to Miss Draper. September, 1826.

A VISION.

BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL

"Ur!" said the Spirit, and, ere I could pray
One hasty orison, whirl'd me away
To a Limbo, lying-I wist not where—
Above or below, in earth or air;

For it glimmer'd o'er with a doubtful light,
One couldn't say whether 'twas day or night;
And 'twas cross'd by many a mazy track,
One didn't know how to get on or back;
And I felt like a needle that's going astray
(With its one eye out) through a bundle of hay;
When the Spirit he grinn'd, and whisper'd me,

Around me flitted unnumber'd swarms
Of shapeless, bodiless, tailless forms;
(Like bottled-up babes, that grace the room
Of that worthy knight, Sir Everard Home)-
All of them, things half-kill'd in rearing ;
Some were lame-some wanted hearing;
Some had through half a century run,
Though they hadn't a leg to stand upon.
Others, more merry, as just beginning,
Around on a point of law were spinning;
Or balanced aloft, 'twixt Bill and Answer,
Lead at each end, like a tight-rope dancer.

Some were so cross, that nothing could please 'em ;-
Some gulp'd down affidavits to ease 'em ;-
All were in motion, yet never a one,
Let it move as it might, could ever move on.
"These," said the Spirit, "you plainly see,
"Are what they call Suits in Chancery!"

I heard a loud screaming of old and young,
Like a chorus by fifty Vellutis sung;
Or an Irish Dump ("the words by Moore")
At an amateur concert scream'd in score;
So harsh on my ear that wailing fell
Of the wretches who in this Limbo dwell!
It seem'd like the dismal symphony
Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see;

Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous cook
Cut off, and left the frogs in the brook,
To cry all night, till life's last dregs,
"Give us our legs!-give us our legs!"
Touch'd with the sad and sorrowful scene,
I ask'd what all this yell might mean,
When the Spirit replied, with the grin of glee
""Tis the cry of the Suitors in Chancery!"

I look'd, and I saw a wizard rise,1
With a wig like a cloud be.ore men's eyes.
In his aged hand he held a wand,
Wherewith he beckon'd his embryo band,
And they moved and moved, as he waved it o'er,
But they never got on one inch the more.
And still they kept limping to and fro,
Like Ariels round old Prospero-
Saying, "Dear Master, let us go,"
But still old Prospero answer'd "No."
And I heard, the while, that wizard elf
Muttering, muttering spells to himself,
While o'er as many old papers he turn'd,
As Hume e'er moved for, or Omar burn'd.
He talk'd of his virtue-" though some, less nice,
(He own'd with a sigh) preferr'd his Vice"-
And he said, "I think"-" I doubt"-" I hope,"
Call'd God to witness, and damn'd the Pope;
With many more sleights of tongue and hand
I couldn't, for the soul of me, understand.
Amazed and posed, I was just about
To ask his name, when the screams without,
The merciless clack of the imps within,
And that conjuror's mutterings, made such a dia,
That, startled, I woke-leap'd up in my bed-
Found the Spirit, the imps, and the conjuror fled,
And bless'd my stars, right pleased to see,
That I wasn't, as yet, in Chancery.