And, forced in justice to condemn,
Whispers" Ex pede Herculem."

Not to this scene are yet confined
The triumphs of his playful mind,
But in Thalia's festive court,
He leads the gay and laughing sport;
With graceful air and classic art
He paints the picture of the heart;
And in Petruchio's frantic mood,
And sly Iago's thirst for blood,
With varied excellence displays
His scenic craft, and rivals Bayes:

Whilst in the gay and mirthful Prince
His spirit glories to evince

The soul of elegance and fire,

Whose very sighs with grace respire, The airy sprite of whim and gleeThe sheer" true prince" of drollery,

That, in his own peculiar air,

As in a suit of brilliants, shone

Sparkling all over, till the player

And Harry Bolingbroke seemed one!

-"Here break we off!"-at sounds of pleasure,

"The coach, Sir, waits; the ball's begun ;"

And now the Waltz's modest measure

My eyes are doomed to feast upon!

Farewell content, and welcome spleen,
To fit me for the giddy scene!

Oh, for your study's peaceful nook!

Where blest with thee, with bowl and book

No fiddler's grinding could disturb us,

But all be peace,-so prays

ACERBUS.

LETTER III.

FROM MISS DOLLY SKETCH TO MISS BIDDY FUDGE.

's Boarding House, Cheltenham, May, 1820.

I BLUSH, my dear Biddy! to think of the time

my

Your letter unanswered has stared in face, And now in a fit between prosing and rhyme,

I sit down to implore my dear Biddy, "mille

grace."

The truth is "young K÷RN," (you know him, my love,

The shade of a man-seen, like pasteboard, to move When we girls pull the string-since each exquisite

motion

Must be roused by a smile,-for his inward devotion

"L'Amour propre," I mean, has so addled his brains That but little of memory's essence remains.)

But the truth is, he promised to get me a frank

That his friend, my Lord Trifle, had promised him

blank.

And so long have I waited, that patience at last,

Worn out in the service, has bid me adieu; And now with a heart-soothing sigh to the past, And a hope for the future-I turn, love! to you. Oh, fear not forgetfulness ever can dim

The pure radiance of friendship that glows in my

heart,

Our joy-cup may bitterly taste at the brim,

But the sweets at the bottom will never depart! My PA's still in London-you've heard I suppose Of his trip to dear Paris?-oh, nobody knows How I longed to go with him! to trace o'er again The scenes which my Biddy once bless'd in a strain Of such elegant verse, that I vow and declare I often have thought that a little French air,

As it made such a heavenly poet of you,
Might inspire your poor DOLLY's imagining too!
Only think of MAMA,-who, ill-natured for once,
Took it most pertinaciously into her sconce

on her soul," not one step should I

"Only think," she exclaimed, " of your friend BIDDY

“FUDGE,

"And her calico-hero-his whiskers and gaiters,

"And his ugly bald pate, she with laurels would

" cover!

"And ob, should some wretch of those vile petits

"maitres,

"Be transmogrified into my dear DOLLY's lover

"A shock such as that, I should never recover

יין

Oh, Biddy, how could you romance so, my child, What a feast of delight for poor Dolly you've spoiled! So my fate was decided, and here I remain,

Like a sorrowful turtle to brood o'er my chain.