A CASE OF LIBEL. A CERTAIN old Sprite, who dwells below (Twere a libel, perhaps, to mention where), Came up incog., some winters ago, To try, for a change, the London air. So well he looked, and dressed, and talked, And hid his tail and his horns so handy, You'd hardly have known him, as he walked, From or any other Dandy. (N.B.-His horns, they say, unscrew; So he has but to take them out of the socket, And-just as some fine husbands doConveniently clap them into his pocket.) In short, he looked extremely natty, And even contrived to his own great wonder By dint of sundry scents from Gattie, To keep the sulphurous hogo under. And so my gentleman hoofed about, Unknown to all but a chosen few At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt, He had many post-obits falling due. Alike a gamester and a wit, At night he was seen with Crockford's crew; At morn with learned dames would sit So passed his time 'twixt black and blue. Some wished to make him an M.P.; But, finding W-lks was also one, he Was heard to say 'he'd be d―d if he Would ever sit in one house with Johnny.' At length, as secrets travel fast, The affair got wind most rapidly. to 've seen 'em, As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw, And 'twas 'Hail, good fellow, wel' met,' between 'em. Straight an indictment was preferred That, of all the batch, his own was In vain Defendant proffered proof That Plaintiff s self was the Father of Evil Brought Hoby forth to swear to the hoof, And Stultz to speak to the tail of the The Jury-saints, all snug and rich, And readers of virtuous Sunday papers Found for the Plaintiff; on hearing which The Devil gave one of his loftiest capers For oh, it was nuts to the father of lies (As this wily fiend is named in the Bible), To find it settled by laws so wise, That the greater the truth, the worse the libel! LITERARY ADVERTISEMENT. WANTED-Authors of all-work, to job for the season, If in gaol, all the better for out-o'-door topics; For Dramatists, too, the most useful of schools They may study high life in the King's Bench community: And of place they're at least taught to stick to the unity. Any lady or gentleman come to an age To have goodReminiscences' (threescore, or higher), Price twenty-four shillings, is all that's required. That gingerbread cakes always give them the colic. Wanted, also, a new stock of Pamphlets on Corn, By Farmers' and 'Landholders'-(gemmen, whose lands Or whose share of the soil may be seen on their hands). No-Popery Sermons, in ever so dull a vein, 2 Sure of a market;-should they, too, who pen 'em, Funds, Physic, Corn, Poetry, Boxing, Romance, Nine times out of ten, if his title be good, His matter within of small consequence is ;Let him only write fine, and, if not understood, Why, that's the concern of the reader, not his N.B.-A learned Essay, now printing, to show That Horace (as clearly as words could express it) Was for taxing the Fundholders, ages ago, When he wrote thus ' Quodcunque in Fund is, assess it." I saw my livid tormentors pass, Their grief 'twas bliss to hear and see! For never came joy to them, alas, That didn't bring deadly bane to me. Eager I looked through the mist of night, And asked, 'What foe of my race hath died? Is it he that Doubter of law and right, Whom nothing but wrong could e'er decide 'Who, long as he sees but wealth to win, Hath never yet felt a qualm of doubt What suitors for justice he'd keep in, Or what suitors for freedom he'd shut out Who, a clog for ever on Truth's ad vance, Stifles her (like the Old Man of the Round Sinbad's neck), nor leaves a chance Of shaking him off-is't he? is't he?' Ghastly my grim tormentors smiled, And thrusting me back to my den of woe, 1 According to the common reading, Quodcunque infundis, acescit.' You fell,' said they, into the hands of the 'Whose name is one of the ill-omened words They link with hate on his native plains; And why?-they lent him hearts and swords, And he gave, in return, scoffs and chains! Is it he? is it he?' I loud inquired, When, hark-there sounded a royal knell ; And I knew what spirit had just expired, And, slave as I was, my triumph fell. He had pledged a hate unto me and mine, He had left to the future nor hope nor choice, But sealed that hate with a name divine, And he now was dead, and-I couldn't rejoice! He had fanned afresh the burning brands Of a bigotry waxing cold and dim; He had armed anew my torturers' hands, And them did I curse-but sighed for him. Old Man of the Sea, and are the first who ever escaped strangling by his malicious tricks. Story of Sinbad. For his was the error of head, not | A prince without pride, a man without heart, And-oh, how beyond the ambushed guile, To the last unchanging, warm, sin 'I NEVER give a kiss,' says Prue, 'To naughty man, for I abhor it.' She will not give a kiss 'tis true, She'll take one though, and thank you for it. ON A SQUINTING POETESS. To no one Muse does she her glance incline, A JOKE VERSIFIED. 'COME, come,' said Tom's father, 'at your time of life, ON LIKE a snuffers this loving old dame, Though so oft she has snapped at the flame, A SPECULATION. Of all speculations the market holds forth, Is to buy up, at the price he is worth, And then sell him at that which he sets on himself. FROM THE FRENCH. Of all the men one meets about There's none like Jack, he's everywhere, At church-park-auction-dinner-rout,Go where and when you will he's there. Try the world's end; he's at your back, Meets you, like Eurus, in the east: You're called upon for- How do, Jack?' One hundred times a day at least. A friend of his, one evening, said, As home he took his pensive wayUpon my soul, I fear Jack's dead, I've seen him but three times to-day!' ILLUSTRATION OF A BORE. If ever you've seen a gay party Relieved from the presence of Ned How instantly joyous and hearty They've grown when the damper was fled You may guess what a gay piece of work, To get rid of its bore of a cork, And come sparkling to you, love, and me. |