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BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL.

score :

a

cery!

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A VISION

Or an Irish Dump (the words by

Moore')

At an amateur concert screamed in - Up!' said the Spirit, and, ere I could pray

So harsh on my ear that wailing fell One hasty orison, whirled me away Of the wretches who in this Limbo To a limbo, lying—I wist not where dwell ! Above or below, in earth or air; It seemed like the dismal symphony All glimmering o'er with a doubtful Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see; light,

Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous One couldn't say whether 'twas day or cook night;

Cut off, and left the frogs in the brook, And crossed by many a mazy track, To cry all night, till life's last dregs, One didn't know how to get on or back; Give us our legs!-give us our legs ! And I felt like a needle that's going Touched with this sad and sorrowful astray

scene, (With its one eye out) through a bundle I asked what all this yell might mean? of hay;

When the Spirit replied, with a grin When the Spirit he grinned, and

of glee, whispered me,

' 'Tis the cry of the suitors in Chan• Thou'rt now in the Court of Chancery!' Around me flitted unnumbered swarms I looked, and I saw a wizard rise, Of shapeless, bodiless, tailless forms; With a wig like a cloud before men's (Like bottled-up babes that grace the eyes.

In his agèd hand he held a wand, Of that worthy knight, Sir Everard Wherewith he beckoned his embryo Home) —

band, All of them things half-killed in rear- And they moved, and moved, as he ing;

waved it o'er, Some were lame--some wanted hearing; But they never got on one inch the Some had through half-a-century run,

more ; Though they hadn't a leg to stand upon. And still they kept limping to and fro, Others, more merry, as just beginning, Like Ariels round old ProsperoAround on a point of law were spin. Saying, “Dear Master, let us go ;' ning;

But still old Prospero answered, 'No.' Or balanced aloft, 'twixt Bill and And I heard the while, that wizard elf, Answer,

Muttering, muttering spells to himself, Lead at each end-like a tight-rope While over as many old papers he dancer.

turned, Some were so cross, that nothing could As Hume e'er moved for, or Omar please 'em :

burned. Some gulped down afidarits to ease He talked of his Virtue, though some,

less nice, All were in motion, yet never a one, (He owned with a sigh) preferred his Let it move as it might, could ever move

Vice

And he said, 'I think'—'I doubt :*These,' said the Spirit, you plainly *I hope,' see,

Called God to witness, and damned the Are what are called Suits in Chancery!' Pope :

With many more sleights of tongue and I heard a loud screaming of old and hand young,

I couldn't, for the soul of me, underLike a chorus by fifty Velutis sung; stand.

'em ;

on.

my bed

Amazed and posed, I was just about
To ask his name, when the screams

without,
The merciless clack of the imps with-

in, And that conjuror's mutterings, made

such a din,

That, startled, I woke-leaped up in
Found the Spirit, the imps, and the

conjuror Hled,
And blessed my stars, right pleased to
That I wasn't as yet in Chancery.

see

NEWS FOR COUNTRY COUSINS.
DEAR Coz, as I kpow 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-informed 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 despatched 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 suppose)
Was to give away all his late brother's old clothes -
Is now busy collectiog, with brotherly care,

The late Emperor's night-caps, and thinks of bestowing
One night-cup apiece (if he has them to spare)

On all the distinguished old ladies now going.
(While I write an arrival from Riga—'the Brothers'-
Having night-caps 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 pressed to shell out the rupees,
But not having much ready rhino, they say, meant
To pawn his august golden foot for the payment. —
(How lucky for

monarchs, that can, when they choose,
Thus establish a running account with the Jews !)
The security being what Rothschild calls 'goot,'
A loan will be forthwith, of course, set on foot;
The parties are Rothschild-A. Baring and Co.,
And three other great pawnbrokers-each takes a toe,

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'This Potentate styles himself the Monarch of the Golden Foot.

Others, as if lent a ray

From the streaming Milky Way,
Glistening o'er with curds and whey
From the cows of Alderney!

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-r-

st-n;

John W-lks, junior, runs beside ye, Take the good the knaves provide ye !3 See, with upturned eyes and hands, Where the Chareman, Br-gd-n, stands,

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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.

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.

Mix the lather, Johnny W-lks,

Thou who rhym'st so well to 'bilks :'
Mix the lather- who can be
Fitter for such task than thee,
Great M.P. for Sudsbury!

Now the frothy charm is ripe,
Puffing Peter, bring thy pipe,-
Thou, whom ancient Coventry
Once so dearly loved, that she
Knew not which to her was sweeter,
Peeping Tom or puffing Peter-

Puff the bubbles high in air,
Puff thy best to keep them there.
Bravo, bravo, Peter M-re!
Now the rainbow humbugs2 soar,
Glittering all with golden hues,
Such as haunt the dreams of Jews-
Some, reflecting mines that lie
Under Chili's glowing sky;
Some, those virgin pearls that sleep
Cloistered in the southern deep;

'Strong indications of character may be sometimes traced in the rhymes to names. Marvell thought so, when he wrote:

'Sir Edward Sutton,

The foolish knight who rhymes to mutton.' An humble imitation of one of our modern poets, who, in a poem against war, after describ

Gaping for the froth to fall

Down his swallow-lye and all !
See !-

But, hark, my time is out—
Now, like some great waterspout,
Scattered 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 sapona-
ceous but uncleanly mist over the heads
of the Dramatis Persona, and the scene
drops, leaving the bubble-hunters-all
in the suds.]

A DREAM OF TURTLE.

BY SIR W. CURTIS.

'TWAS evening time, in the twilight

sweet

I was sailing along, when-whom
should I meet,

ing the splendid habiliments of the soldier,
apostrophizes him, 'Thou rainbow ruffian!'
3 Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Take the good the Gods provide thee.'
So called by a sort of Tuscan dulcification of
the ch in the word 'Chairman.'

But a turtle journeying o'er the sea, 'On the service of his Majesty !'

When I spied him first, in the twilight dim,

I did not know what to make of him;
But said to myself-as slow he plied
His fins, and rolled from side to side,
Conceitedly over the watery path-
"Tis my Lord of St-w-ll taking a

bath;

And I hear him now, among the fishes,
Quoting Vattel and Burgerdiscius !'

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!
Ah, 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 looked, and saw by the evening beam, On the back of that turtle sate a rider,

A goodly man, with an eye so merry,
I knew 'twas our Foreign Secretary,
Who there, at his ease, did sit and smile,
Like Waterton on his crocodile ;
Cracking such jokes, at every motion,

As made the turtle squeak with glee, And own that they gave him a lively

notion

Of what his own 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 a graceful air, and bidding me tel!
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!

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THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS.

A FABLE.

Fessus jam sudat asellus,

Parce illi; vestrum delicium est asinus.-Virgil. Copa.

▲ 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 amaze-
What! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy,
So easy to drive through the dirtiest ways,

For every description of job-work so ready!

One driver (whom Ned might have hailed' as a 'brother')1
Had just been proclaiming his donkey's renown,

For vigour, for spirit, for one thing or other,—

When, lo, 'mid his praises, the donkey came down !

But, how to upraise him?-one shouts, t'other whistles,
While Jenky the conjuror, wisest of all,
Declared that an over production' of thistles 2—
(Here Ned gave a stare)—was the cause of his fall.

Another wise Solomon cries, as he passes,-
"There, let him alone, and the fit will soon cease
The beast has been fighting with other jackasses,
And this is his mode of "transition to peace.'

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Some looked at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces,
Pronounced that too long without shoes he had gone-
'Let the blacksmith provide him a sound metal basis,
(The wiseacres said), and he's sure to jog on.'

But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic,

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Exclaimed, Hoot awa, mon, you're a' gane astray,'-
And declared that, whoe'er might prefer the metallic,
They'd shoe their own donkeys with papier maché.'

Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear,
Lay under his pannier, scarce able to groan,
And-what was still dolefuller-lending an ear
To advisers whose ears were a match for his own.

At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far
As to see others' folly, roared out, as he passed-
'Quick-off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are,
Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last!'

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