Of this I know nothing-nor can I surmise The King of the Geese of the West. But henceforth behold him in Glasgow's fair town, The pride of the Geese of the West. The old Roman Gander that guarded the state, Than once was the gander that lies on that plate,— The great cackling Goose of the West. There was surely in Nature no sight so absurd Like that of the Gander of Glasgow, With pinions half-folded his course see him steer! This ponderous creature of mud and of mire, Full many a bout had the BUBBLY1 and he, For their trades were so like they could never agree, 1 Bubbly-turkey-cock. 222 OH, THE GREAT GANDER OF GLASGOW! The Damsels of Glasgow were stricken with fear, The ill-favoured Goose of the West! Then, vain as he was, how he showed his poor spite Of the blear-eyed Gander of Glasgow,— Have you e'er seen a dunce whose unfortunate lot And whenever you hear such a dunce's abuse, Like him of the Gorbals of Glasgow,— The foul-feeding Goose of the West.” Thus lived the great Gander;-but this could not last, For the Agent of AMBROSE, who lived in the place, The much-boasted Queen of the West! 'Twould offend against taste, and might shock the humane, The great greasy Goose of the west. He had not been placed on the spit very long, When Ambrose suspected that something was wrong,— HOW SWEET THE SNUGGERY! As the nauseous Gander of Glasgow, And now he's cut up, and his breast is laid bare, The hideous Goose of the West! Now with conduct and carcass so much of a piece, The King of the Geese of the West! "Tis hard to believe, in this sceptical age, In migration of souls, like the Samian sage; But the soul of some Whig, in corruption's last stage, The unfortunate Goose of the West! 223 Shepherd. Haw! haw! haw! was that really, sir, an extempora wneous imprompty? North. Sung on the spur of the instant, I assure you, James. Indeed, how would it be otherwise? For Ambrose had provided for me an after-piece, which he thought would be "The Agreeable Surprise Tickler. To follow "The Cock of the North," a mellow dram in three caulkers Shepherd. No that unwutty, Tickler. North. Nor could my prophetic soul anticipate the Gander. But next Noctes, I promise you a more regular and finished performance. Tickler. Some epigrams. North. And epitaphs, Tickler; epithalamia and epicediadifferent kinds of composition-though old Pirie of the Morning Chronicle thought them one and the same Tickler. And sung commonly at christenings. North. But now, gentlemen, we must be toddling- "Roun' as a neep1 we'll gang toddlin hame." Hoo sweet the Snuggery! Nae noxious air can lang pol 1 Neep-turnip. lute its pure privacy, ventilated, at a' seasons, wi' the breath o' humanest merriment. North. Yes, James, again "the air smells wooingly." North. Lo, a red-deer! [North bounds over the circular like a Stag-of-Ten. Shepherd (holding up his hands). Wonnerfu' auld man! [TICKLER leaps upon the SHEPHERD's shoulders, and the scene shifts to the street. XXX. (APRIL 1831.) Scene, The Snuggery. Time,-Nine o'clock. Present, NORTH, TICKLER, and SHEPHERD.-Tea, Coffee, Caulkers, &c. &c. &c. Shepherd. Receet the passage again, sir-for oh! but it's beautifu', and I couldna hae believed that it was Milton's. Tickler. Milton is worth all your modern poets in a lump, were you to multiply them by Shepherd. But we shanna put them a' into a lump, Mr Tickler -nor multiply their multiplicand by any multiplicawtor whatsomever; for I hae nae notion o' slumpin inspiration in that gate, a sair injustice to a' individual Genie. Let ilka poet, great and sma', staun' on his ain feet, and no be afeared o' the takin o' his altitude, by quadrants in the hauns o' geometrical critics -excepp them that sits on ane anither's knees, and they may just keep sittin there; and them that tries to owertap their betters, by getting theirsels hoisted up upon stools or tables -to say little or naething o' twa-three mair wha shall be nameless, that speels up the backs o' the brither-bards, and look proudly alang the heads o' the crood, seemingly higher by head and shouthers than their supporters and elevators, but wha are sure to get a fa' at last—and then, wae's me! they're trampled aneath hoofs, and never mair recover either their hats or their laurels. But receet the passage again, Mr North. (NORTH recites.) "Now came still evening on, and twilight grey Silence accompanied-for bird and beast, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, VOL. III. P |