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BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL.
Or an Irish Dump (the words by
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
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.
Amazed and posed, I was just about
in, And that conjuror's mutterings, made
such a din,
That, startled, I woke-leaped up in
NEWS FOR COUNTRY COUSINS.
His Lordship (who promises now to fight faster)
To Daniel O'Connell, to make him Grand Master ;
From the Knights of St. John to the Knights of St. Dan—
Being made the Colossus, 'tis all one to him.
The late Emperor's night-caps, and thinks of bestowing
On all the distinguished old ladies now going.
monarchs, that can, when they choose,
'This Potentate styles himself the Monarch of the Golden Foot.
Others, as if lent a ray
From the streaming Milky Way,
Now's the moment-who shall first
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,
And engages (lest Gold-foot should give us leg bail,
SUNG BY THE BUBBLE SPIRIT.
AIR- Come with me, and we will go
COME with me, and we will blow
Mix the lather, Johnny W-lks,
Thou who rhym'st so well to 'bilks :'
Now the frothy charm is ripe,
Puff the bubbles high in air,
'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 !
But, hark, my time is out—
A DREAM OF TURTLE.
BY SIR W. CURTIS.
'TWAS evening time, in the twilight
I was sailing along, when-whom
ing the splendid habiliments of the soldier,
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;
And I hear him now, among the fishes,
But, no-twas, indeed, a turtle, wide
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,
As made the turtle squeak with glee, And own that they gave him a lively
Of what his own forced-meat balls
So on the Sec., in his glory, went
Waving his hand, as he took farewell,
Are the English forms of Diplomacy!
THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS.
Fessus jam sudat asellus,
Parce illi; vestrum delicium est asinus.-Virgil. Copa.
▲ DONKEY, whose talent for burdens was wondrous,
His owners and drivers stood round in amaze-
For every description of job-work so ready!
One driver (whom Ned might have hailed' as a 'brother')1
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,
Another wise Solomon cries, as he passes,-
Some looked at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces,
But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic,
Exclaimed, Hoot awa, mon, you're a' gane astray,'-
Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear,
At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far