Their poison'd arrows off-you'd best come back, Before the Cockney kingdom goes to wrack.

X.

The Examiner's grown dull as well as dirty,
The Indicator's sick, the Liberal dead ;-
I hear its readers were some six-and-thirty,
But really 'twas too stupid to be read.
'Tis plain your present partnership has hurt ye:
Poor brother John " looks up and is not fed;"
For scarce a soul will purchase or get through one
E'en of his shilling budgets of Don Juan.

XI.

[spent Poor brother John !-poor Cockneys !—but I've More time upon you now than you deserve, Because your King for better things was meant, And shows, on most occasions, pluck and nerve; I hope, sincerely, he may yet repent;

For you, sweet Cockneys, these few hints must

serve

Perhaps, I may expand them, by and by,
But have, at present, other fish to fry.

XII.

Buz on poor drones, too stingless to be fear'd,
Obscurity and dullness will protect you all;
I only wish your notions ne'er had sear'd

Far nobler hearts and heads more intellectual,Some whom to me deep feelings have endear'd,

Whom-but regret's absurd and ineffectual; Oh! that such souls should quit their flights divine, To herd with Epicurus and his swine!

XIII.

I hope I don't offend;-but oh! sweet Fortune,
If thou hast eyes where I may favour find,
Or ears to hear my prayers-grant now this short

one;

Oh! bore me with the dullest of mankind— With fools most grave, and puppies most importune, With talkative old women deaf and blind;

Kill me with pedants, dandies, dolts, and oafs,
But save-oh! save me from all philosophes.

XIV.

They'll say I'm foolish-prejudiced-absurd-
Unphilosophical-the slave of custom;

And I acknowledge that I've still preferr'd

The old worn paths-for I can safely trust 'em ; To love one's country, and to keep one's word,

Are good old maxims, nor will time e'er rust'emOur modern creeds are wiser, I dare say, But sometimes lead us wofully astray.

XV.

66

'Tis hard, to find the souls long used to blend With yours, infected by Hell's deadly leaven; 'Tis hard, to find your own familiar friend," The foe of all your hopes in Earth and Heaven; 'Tis hard—but hush! these thoughts must not be penn❜d—

Kind reader, let my folly be forgiven—

'Tis over-and we'll now transgress no farther, But travel back to Britain and King Arthur.

XVI.

It was a merry time in Old Carlisle ;

The royal pair had closed their wedding tour, And all the first and fairest of the isle, Knight, squire, and lady, page and paramour, Came to do homage there in

proper style, And feast, for several months, both rich and You may conceive the bustle and the row, Which I've no time to paint minutely now.

XVII.

The entertainments were of different kinds,
Adapted to each colour and capacity
Both of patrician and plebeian minds—

poor;

Balls, masks, and plays for tempers of vivacity, Bear-baits and singlestick for boors and hinds, And feasts for every species of edacity; With butts of ale and hogsheads of metheglin, And sportive songs to set the ladies giggling.

XVIII.

I wish I could depict, in colours glowing,

The knights who figured in King Arthur's train; Sir Persevall, Sir Tristram, and Sir Gawain, Sir Eglamour, Sir Guy, Sir Agrafayn, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, Sir Kay, Sir Owen, Sir Hugh, Sir Lanval-each of whom I'd fain Immortalize in numbers ne'er surpast,

But must restrict that honour to the last.

XIX.

Sir Lanval, or Sir Lonval-which you please,

(Sir Launfal, I believe's the genuine reading)

Except Sir Launcelot, was, by some degrees,
The noblest knight alive for grace and breeding;
A finer face than his one seldom sees;

A nobler form hath seldom ta'en the lead in
Battle or ball; a heart more deep and free
Ne'er graced the good old days of chivalry.

xx.

His birth was princely, and his fortune large-
At least, had been so, for his liberality
Was boundless, shrinking from no cost or charge;
In fact, profusion seem'd his leading quality;
Had he been" heir of Calydon and Arge,"

His coffers would have dwindled to a nullity, Beneath the constant round of princely presents, He lavish'd daily upon slaves and peasants.

XXI.

Silver, and gold, and garments rich and rare, He sent, with courteous words, to squire and

knight;

Jewels and gauds to ladies brown and fair,— Gave tournaments by day and balls at night, With dinners fit to surfeit a Lord Mayor;

In short, so bounteous was this worthy knight, That Arthur, with his princely conduct smitten, Had made him Lord High Steward of Great Britain.

XXII.

Sir Launfal bore his blushing honours well,

Without the smallest pride or ostentation, So that he never for a moment fell

In popular regard and estimation;

Still was he courteous, kind, and affable,
Behaving as became his rank and station,—
His manners never alter'd for the worse,
His heart was not less open,-nor his purse.

XXIII.

For full twelve months Sir Launfal's presence graced King Arthur's court, although 'twas clearly seen Its morals were ill suited to his taste,

And he was sorely hated by the queen,

Whose favourites people thought were rarely chaste;
While you might read in good Sir Launfal's mien,
That he (although his virtue made no fuss)
Was most unfashionably virtuous.

XXIV.

The festival had now attain'd its height;
Carlisle was throng'd with fashion; every day
The court was treated with some new delight;
And, ere the sports were done, old authors say
Queen Guenever bestow'd on every knight

Some token of her love to bear away;

Sir Launcelot had a ring, Sir Guy a jewel,
Sir Launfal nothing, which he thought was cruel.

XXV.

He could not brook this palpable neglect

He thought the queen had shown a want of taste; And, and as his fortune now was nearly wreck'd By his long habits of expense and waste, He told his majesty, with due respect,

That" he was forced to leave the court in haste;