Whene'er by cold neglect depressed,
Or held by Obloquy in thrall,

Or steeped in Envy's venomed gall;
Then, Sleep, thy healing influence bring,
Soft slumbers waft on downy wing,

And breathe the balm divine of visionary rest.

Thus, Sleep, oft' let me lie

Beneath thy grateful shadowings: Call around
Every magic sight and sound;
Shifting swift from grave to gay,
Mingling shade, or flashing day,
Glance with fairy footsteps by,
And lull each sense in extacy!
Oft' let the friend of former days
Meet me in sweet colloquial talk,

And 'midst thy moon-light scenes delighted walk,
While on each other's face we gaze,

And with congenial warmth our bosoms burn
Of sacred amity; o'erjoyed to live
The spring time of our youth again,
To taste the pleasure, or the pain,
And with remembrance bland, survive
The solitary urn!

Thus, Sleep, oft' find me, at thy soft return,

While Philomela pours her minstrelsy;

And to my sight in colours faint

Those future scenes of Beauty paint,
Which oft, with foretaste kind, await
On Virtue, in this transient state,
Exhibiting, in vision high,

A weak, but rapturous glance of Immortality!

ALL.

Double, double, toil and trouble,
Touch the cash-the nation bubble.

FIRST DEVIL.

Braham-Soldier tir'd-Mad Bess-
Case of singular distress,
Speech of egotistic pleader,

String of Coaches made by Leader,
Fashionable invalids,

Morning dresses, widows' weeds,
Lobby quarrels, satisfaction,

Rout in May-fair, crim. con. action,
Patent soles that never faulter,
Doctors Brodum and Sir Walter,
Pun and vive la bagatelle

Schemes to make our paper sell.

ALL.

Double, double, toil and trouble,
Touch the cash-the nation bubble.

THIRD DEVIL.

Bonaparte, Paris fashions,
Chapels, Cyprian assignations:
Captain Sash, the sea-side shark-
Slander's arrow shot i'th' dark.
Villa of Roehampton Jew,
Horrid murder done at Kew;
Queries, critical corrections,
Galvinistic resurrections.
Treatise on the Moon's eclipse,
Paint for cheeks, and salve for lips.
Stupid pun, birth-strangled jest
Portsmouth letter-wind north-west.
And thus our merit stands confess'd!

}

ALL.

Double, double, toil and trouble,
Touch the cash--the nation bubble.

SECOND DEVIL.

Cool it with an empty boast, That " every day we sell the most," "Tis done-behold the The Morning Post!

SONG.

BY MICHAEL WODHULL, ESQ.

WHAT still does fair Lucy's disdain
Occasion this festering smart;

Cannot time give relief to your pain,
And heal the slight wound in your heart?

The arrows of Cupid, I know,

At first are all pointed with steel:

But how frail is the strength of his bow!
How fleeting the pangs which we feel!

His wings they are shatter'd by Time,
His quiver is soil'd in the dust,
Such, such, is Life's flowery prime,
And Beauty's most insolent trust.

Taste the joys a new passion can give,
With the nymph that's complying and kind;
Or, learning more sagely to live,

Be blest, and give Love to the wind.

THE BEECH TREE.

AN ALLEGORICAL ODE.

BY THE LATE REV. T. COLE, LL.B.

SERENE and calm, the morning ray
Had pour'd a cheerful gleam of day
Through Philo's inmost grove,
When Damon there, in private, sought
With some kind muse to shun each thought
Of inauspicious love.

But nature's walks in vain he views,
In vain art's winding paths pursues,
Though worthy both of song;

For here the am'rous boughs embrace,
And all the charms he there can trace
To love alone belong.

The lofty vista's ample bent,

The rising prospect's vast extent,

Aspiring thoughts suggest;

And though the streams and zephyrs meet To cool the arbour's close retreat,

It but inflames his breast!

At length, beneath a BEECH's shade,
Each sightlier object to evade,

In pensive mood he came;

But there, alas! some kindred swain
Had on the bark inscrib'd his pain
With lovely CELIA's name!