It happen'd that one of the race
Of chattering Monkies came by,
Who quickly difcover'd the place,
And gaz'd with a mischievous eye.
Conceiving the Eagle away,

And the neft left depriv'd of its guard,
Of the oak-tree he took a furvey,

And to climb up its branches prepar'd.'

Not that Pug for the neft car'd a ftraw,
Or wanted a tid-bit to eat,
But as Lawyers delight in a flaw,

So to Monkies mere mifchief's a treat.

No language his tranfports can speak, When within a few steps of his prize, 'But a blow from the royal bird's beak

Sends him howling to earth, where he dies.

Then, Emp'ror to fcheming fo prone,
With thoughts of invafion elate,

Leave the Eagle of Britain alone,
Or meet Pug's exemplary fate.

BRITANNICUS.

WAR SONG.

COME, with all thy flaves around thee,
Bonaparte, haughty foe!

This little ifland fhall confound thee,
And lay thy giant projects low.
Yet, proud chief, before thy failing,

Bid thy ftate a long farewell;
The fhouts thy rafl departure hailing,
Cruel tyrant, found thy knell,

Lo! Holland to the duft is crumbled,
Her bufy crowds are heard no more;
Spain's once-afpiring pride is humbled,
The Swifs thy treach'rous aid deplore ;

For

For freedom gone, they drooping languish,
And filent pace each rocky dell;
To heaven they raise their hands in anguish,
And pray for fome avenging Tell *.
Poor Italy! her honours blighted,-
Her Roman virtue all forgot,
Bows beneath the yoke, affrighted;
And Belgium fhares her wretched lot.
France, too, enchain'd in base subjection,
Lies proftrate, trembling at thy name,
Nor marks what deeds of dark complexion
Obfcure and blacken all thy fame.
Behold the hapless victims lying

Stretch'd on Jaffa's burning fand;
Behold them mangled, groaning, dying,
Then think 't was done by thy command!
Yes, yes, their fhades for vengeance calling
Shall hurl deftruction on thy head,
And in the fight, thy foul appalling,

Shall shake thy guilty frame with dread,

And wouldst thou now, with wild ambition,
To this blefs'd ifle thy veffels fteer?
What, wouldst thou, feek thine own perdition?
The general cry of Britons hear;

Come, come! but, chief, before thy failing,

1

Bid thy ftate a long farewell;

The fhouts thy rafh departure hailing,

Cruel tyrant, found thy knell.

Greenwich.

H. P. O.

THE ISLAND OF BRITAIN :-A LOYAL SONG.

TUNE-Hearts of Oak.

MY friends, ye have heard, in the late British wars,

Of our navy-
our admirals-brave British tars!
But the fhip I would bring to your notice and view
Is the Ifland of Britain, her captain and crew.

William Tell, the celebrated Swiss Patriot.

K 4

Heart

Heart of oak is this fhip,

Hearts of oak are our men ;

We always are ready, fteady boys, steady;
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.

JI.

For ages fafe moor'd, in the Channel he's laid,
Made faft to a rock, of no danger afraid;

But now he is threaten'd to stay there no more,
To be boarded and plunder'd, or driven on fhore.
Heart of oak is this fhip, &c.

III.

Her Captain, God blefs him! is lov'd by us all;
With him we're determin'd to ftand or to fall;
United in hand and in heart we await

The lot which great Providence feals as our fate.
Heart of oak is this fhip, &c.

IV.

But the means in our hands we will ardently use;
We'll fight-and no danger or hazard refuse;
For our lives-for our property-children and wives,
We'll fight-for the old British fpirit revives.

Heart of oak is this fhip, &c.

The fhip is ftaunch, good, and her timbers are found,
Still faft to the rock we trust she 'll be found;
Her hull, ftores, and rigging, all malice defy;
I naine not her fails-for fhe don't mean to fly!
Heart of oak is this ship, &c.

VI.

Then clear fhip, my boys! and each man to his gun---
If they board us, unite, and we 'll foon make them run;
And ages to come shall still have in view

The Inland of Britain, her captain, and crew.

Heart of oak is this fhip, &c.

THE

SIR,

THE LOT OF THE INVADERS.

[From the British Press.]

IT is well known, that the fuperftitious method of looking into futurity, by means of what was called the fortes praneftina, obtained among the ancients from an early period, even down to the time of Cicero, when this rude and ignorant mode of divination funk into difgrace, and was fucceeded in Greece and Italy by the fortes Homerica and Virgilianæ, which were eafily procured by fimply dipping into any part of Homer or Virgil, and confidering the first paffage that prefented itself, as the fixed and irrevocable ordinances of Heaven. According to numerous anecdotes on record, the event of this plan has, in many cafes, been fo truly aftonishing, that I was in confequence refolved to dip into Virgil for the purpofe of discovering, if poffible, the fate of the French, if they fhould land on our coafts. No perfonage, I think it will be allowed, was more likely than myfelf to look into, and with tolerable certainty to come at, the future lot of Bonaparte and his followers.

Be that as it may, E effayed, and this was my fuccefs, which I take to be prophetic of the conduct of the English and of the destiny of the French whenever they attempt an invasion :

Irruimus, denfis et circumfundimur armis :
Ignarofque loci paffim et formidine captos
Sternimus.

En. 1. 2. v. 383.

GOLD.

BY THE LATE REV. MR. MOORE.

ALMIGHTY Gold! whofe magic charms difpenfe

Worth to the worthlefs, to the graceless grace,
To cowards valour, and to blockheads fenfe,
And to the wither'd maid a Hebe's face;
Poor Love exil'd, thou fit'ft on Hymen's throne;
Thou rul'ft the court, the fenate, and the bar';
And though the church thy Deity difown,
Some whisper thou haft priest and altar there.
Allhuman charities, all laws divine,
Deluded mortals offer at thy fhrine;

O thou, fupreme, like fate, to kill, or fave!
To thy vaft empire what is wanting more?
"Nought," fighs Avaro," had it but the pow'r
To filence confcience, and to bribe the grave."

THE MAN-MILLINER:-A SKETCH.

WHOE'ER his head by any chance fhould pop
Within the precincts of a modifh fhop,

In whofe gay windows every thing appears
Of decking finery that woman wears,
A foft automaton, in fhape of man,

Prefents a necklace, or difplays a fan!

Powder'd, and perfum'd, fee the creature ftalk,
Smirk like a lady, delicately talk,

Choose out a head-dress, praise lac'd shifts to fin in,
Or defcant on the prettiest baby linen!
Commend the muslin drawers, or advise
The pillowy fhape, to fwell the female fize!

In fcenes like these fhall any fon of Adam
Degrade the breeches part, and play the madam?
Dear women, rife-unto yourselves be just,
And tread fuch he-fhe beings into duft!
While these devour their honourable bread,
What lovely thousands must on fhame be fed!
Bafe flave, begone! no woman's birth-right spoil,
Refume your manhood by fome manly toil;
Nor meanly rifle those whom Nature gave
Man's heart to fuccour, and his ftrength to fave!

A WOMAN'S MAN.

THE