We hold it the basest of all base transactions
To keep us from murd'ring the other six parts ;-

That, as to laws made for the good of the many, We humbly suggest there is nothing less true; As all human laws (and our own, more than any) Are made by and for a particular few ;

That much it delights every true Orange brother,
To see you, in England, such ardor evince,
In discussing which sect most tormented the other,
And burn'd with most gusto, some hundred years
since;-

That we love to behold, while Old England grows faint,

Messrs. Southey and Butler nigh coming to blows, 15 decide whether Dunstan, that strong-bodied Saint,

Ever truly and really pull'd the Devil's nose; Whether t'other Saint, Dominic, burnt the Devil's

paw

Whether Edwy intrigued with Elgiva's old mother'

And many such points, from which Southey can draw

Conclusions most apt for our hating each other.

That 'tis very well known this devout Irish nation
Has now, for some ages, gone happily on,
Believing in two kinds of Substantiation,
One party in Trans and the other in Con;

That we, your petitioning Cons, have, in right
Of the said monosyllable, ravaged the lands,
And embezzled the goods, and annoy'd, day and
night,

Both the bodies and souls of the sticklers for
Trans;-

That we trust to Peel, Eldon, and other such sages, For keeping us still in the same state of mind; Pretty much as the world used to be in those ages, When still smaller syllables madden'd mankind;

When the words ex and per served as well, to annoy One's neighbors and friends with, as con and

And Christians, like S-th-y, who stickled for oi, Cut the throats of all Christians who stickled for

ou.

That, relying on England, whose kindness already
So often has help'd us to play this game o'er,
We have got our red coats and our carabines ready,
And wait but the word to show sport, as before.

That, as to the expense the few millions, or so, Which for all such diversions John Bull has to pay

'Tis, at least, a great comfort to John Bull to know, That to Orangemen ockets 'twill all find its

way.

For which your petitioners ever will pray,

&c. &c. &c. &c &c.

COTTON AND CORN.

A DIALOGUE.

SAID Cotton to Corn, t'other day,
As they met and exchanged a salute-
(Squire Corn in his carriage so gay,
Poor Cotton, half famish'd, on foot:)

"Great Squire, if it isn't uncivil "To hint at starvation before you, "Look down on a poor hungry devil, "And give him some bread, I implore you!"

Quoth Corn then, in answer to Cotton, Perceiving he meant to make free"Low fellow, you've surely forgotten "The distance between you and me!

"To expect that we, Peers of high birth,
"Should waste our illustrious acres,
"For no other purpose on earth

"Than to fatten cursed calico-makers!

"That Bishops to bobbins should bend"Should stoop from their Bench's sublimity, "Great dealers in lawn, to befriend

"Such contemptible dealers in dimity!

time this dispute between "ex" and "per" was going on,) he found the Turks, we are told, "laughing at the Christians for being divided by two such insignificant particles."

The Arian controversy-Before that time, says Hooker, "in order to be a sound believing Christian, men were not curious what syllables or particles of speech they used."

Jump high, all ye Jumpers, ye Ranters all roar, While B-tt-rw-rth's spirit, upraised from your eyes,

Like a kite made of foolscap, in glory shall soar, With a long tail of rubbish behind, to the skies!

AN INCANTATION.

SUNG BY THE BUBBLE SPIRIT.

Air. Come with me, and we will go Where the rocks of coral grow

COME with me, and we will blow Lots of bubbles, as we go; Bubbles, bright as ever Hope Drew from fancy-or from soap; Bright as e'er the South Sea sent From its frothy element!

Come with me, and we will blow Lots of bubbles, as we go.

Now's the moment-who shall first
Catch the bubbles, ere they burst?
Run, ye Squires, ye Viscounts, run,
Br-gd-n, T-ynh-m, P-lm-t-n;-
John W-lks junior runs beside ye!
Take the good the knaves provide ye!"
See, with upturn'd eyes and hands,
Where the Shareman, Br-gd-n, stands,
Gaping for the froth to fall
Down his gullet-lye and all.
See!-

But, hark, my time is outNow, like some great water-spout, Scatter'd by the cannon's thunder, Burst, ye bubbles, all asunder!

[Here the stage darkens-a discordant crash is heard from the orchestra-the broken bubbles descend in a saponaceous but uncleanly mist over the heads of the Dramatis Persone, and the scene drops, leaving the bubble-hunters all in the suds.]

Mix the lather, Johnny W-lks,

Thou, who rhym'st so well to bilks;1 Mix the lather-who can be

Fitter for such task than thee,

Great M. P. for Sudsbury!

Now the frothy charm is ripe,

A DREAM OF TURTLE.

But, no 'twas, indeed, a Turtle, wide
And plump as ever these eyes descried;
A Turtle, juicy as ever yet
Glued up the lips of a Baronet!
And much did it grieve my soul to see
That an animal of such dignity
Like an absentee abroad should roam,
When he ought to stay and be ate at home.

But now "a change came o'er my dream,"
Like the magic lantern's shifting slider;-
I look'd, and saw, by the evening beam,
On the back of that Turtle sat a rider-
A goodly man, with an eye so merry,
I knew 'twas our Foreign Secretary,1
Who there, at his ease, did sit and smile,
Like Waterton on his crocodile ;
Cracking such jokes, at ev'ry motion,

As made the Turtle squeak with glee, And own they gave him a lively notion Of what his forced-meat balls would be.

So, on the Sec. in his glory went,
Over that briny element,
Waving his hand, as he took farewell,
With graceful air, and bidding me tell
Inquiring friends that the Turtle and he
Were gone on a foreign embassy-
To soften the heart of a Diplomate,
Who is known to doat upon verdant fat,
And to let admiring Europe see,
That calipash and calipee

Are the English forms of Diplomacy.

THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS.

A FABLE.

"fessus jam sudat asellus,

"Parce illi; vestrum delicium est asinus."

VIRGIL, Copa.

A DONKEY, whose talent for burdens was wondrous, So much that you'd swear he rejoiced in a load, One day had to jog under panniers so pond'rous, That-down the poor Donkey fell smack on the

road!

His owners and drivers stood round in amazeWhat! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy,

1 Mr Canning.

• Wanderings in South America. "It was the first and

A certain country gentleman having said in the House "that we must return at last to the food of our ancestors, -"Thistles, I suppose," answered Mr. T.

back."

Alluding to an early poem of Mr. Coleridge's, addressed to an Ass, and beginning, "I hail thee, brother!"

"Tis my fortune to know a lean Benthamite spinster-A maid, who her faith in old Jeremy puts; Who talks, with a lisp, of "the last new Westmin

ster."

And hopes you're delighted with "Mill upon Gluts;" Who tells you how clever one Mr. Fun-blank is, How charming his Articles 'gainst the Nobility;And assures you that even a gentleman's rank is, In Jeremy's school, of no sort of utility.

To see her, ye Gods, a new Number perusingART. 1.-"On the Needle's variations, 'by Pl-e;1 ART. 2.-By her fav'rite Fun-blank-so amusing! "Dear man! he makes Poetry quite a Law case."

ART. 3.-" Upon Fallacies," Jeremy's own-
(Chief Fallacy being, his hope to find readers;)-
ART. 4.-" Upon Honesty," author unknown ;-
ART. 5.-(by the young Mr. M-) "Hints to

Breeders."

Oh, Sultan, oh, Sultan, though oft for the bag
And the bowstring, like thee, I am tempted to call--
Though drowning's too good for each blue-stocking

hag,

I would bag this she Benthamite first of them all! And, lest she should ever again lift her head From the watery bottom, her clack to renewAs a clog, as a sinker, far better than lead,

I would hang round her neck her own darling Review.

CORN AND CATHOLICS.

Utrum horum

Dirius borum ? Incerti Auctoris.

WHAT! still those two infernal questions, That with our meals, our slumbers mixThat spoil our tempers and digestionsEternal Corn and Catholics!

Gods! were there ever two such bores?
Nothing else talk'd of night or morn-
Nothing in doors, or out of doors,
But endless Catholics and Corn!

1 A celebrated political tailor.

This pains-taking gentleman has been at the trouble of counting, with the assistance of Cocker, the number of metaphors in Moore's " Life of Sheridan," and has found them to amount, as nearly as possible, to 2235-and some fractions.

Never was such a brace of pests

While Ministers, still worse than either, Skill'd but in feathering their nests, Plague us with both, and settle neither.

So addled in my cranium meet

Popery and Corn, that oft I doubt, Whether, this year, 'twas bonded Wheat, Or bonded Papists, they let out.

Here, landlords, here, polemics nail you, Arm'd with all rubbish they can rake up; Prices and Texts at once assail youFrom Daniel these, and those from Jacob.

And when you sleep, with head still torn Between the two, their shapes you mix, Till sometimes Catholics seem CornThen Corn again seems Catholics.

Now, Dantzic wheat before you floats

Now, Jesuits from CaliforniaNow Ceres, link'd with Titus Oats,

Comes dancing through the "Porta Cornea."

Oft, too, the Corn grows animate,

And a whole crop of heads appears, Like Papists, bearding Church and StateThemselves, together by the ears!

In short, these torments never cease ;
And oft I wish myself transferr'd off
To some far, lonely land of peace,

Where Corn or Papists ne'er were heard of.

Yes, waft me, Parry, to the Pole;
For if my fate is to be chosen
'Twixt bores and icebergs on my soul,
I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!

A CASE OF LIBEL.

"The greater the truth, the worse the libel."

A CERTAIN Sprite, who dwells below, ('Twere a libel, perhaps, to mention where,) Came up incog., some years ago,

To try, for a change, the London air.

Author of the late Report on Foreign Corn. The Horn Gate, through which the ancients supposed all true dreams (such as those of the Popish Plot, &c.) to pass.