The true motive and occasion b lau
Of the boafted French Invasion ze nɔdw”
And, that credit I may gain, NE TJE
Thus the matter I explain
All his motions lately prove
Bonaparte deep in love.

Love infpires his daily fcheme;
Love fupplies his nightly dream;
Love at Paris is his hoft;
Love attends him to the coaft;
Love, along the Rhine's meanders,
Swamps of Holland, bogs of Flanders,
Ramble when and where he will,
Love is his companion ftill,
And will never let him reft,
With enjoyment while unbleft.
Now, perhaps, conjecture ftupid
Thinks his love the flame of Cupid,
For fome Venus, theme of wonder
No fuch thing 't is love of plunder.

HAFIZ.

*** EPIGRAMS.

book and gBY OLD NICK. \?

· hela ; COURTSHIP," <***

Exigua pars eft vite, quam nos vivimus, exterum omne fpatium non vita, fed tempus eft.-SENECA de Brev. Vit. 2.

SMALL's the part of life we live,
And that little, Nan! you give.
Stay'd from you, though in my prime,
What is it but weary time?

Kiffing fweet in amrous ftrife,

That, ah! Nancy, that is life.

E

MARRIAGE.

Diu vivendo multa, quæ non vis, vides. CICERO in Catone.

LIVING long, you'll furely find
Many things not to your mind.

Temple.

Punifh'd for fome early crime,
When at home 't is heavy time;
But away from Nan my wife,
Then I live-O! that is life.

EPIGRAM.

COUNSELLOR DOUBLE FEE.

SLY Quillet from each fide receiv'd a retainer,

And a brother confulted as to his demeanour.

46 Keep them both," said the friend, "and ceafe all your pother;

You'll be Counsel for one, and of use to the other."

THE IMPERIAL PURPLE

[From the Oracle.]

ECCE SIGNUM!

IF pining maids the weeping willow wear,

'T is known they 're flighted for fome happier fair; Shepherds, depicted in the rural fcene, The poets drefs in correfponding green; Emblem of Innocence, white long has food, While purple images the ftreaming blood! How ft Napoleon fhould be thus array'd, And wear the Purple, fymbol of his trade! Brompton.

EPITAPH.

HERE lie the bones of an old Hag,
That needed not a camphire bag

To cool ber youthful fires;
Nor magic charm, nor any stuff-
Her very look was quite enough:
Or all the folks are liars.

CIVIS,

A NATIONAL

A NATIONAL BENEFIT,

PARTICULARLY TO THE LADIES.

COURTED long a pretty maid,
Whofe pleasure 't was to fret me ;
Yet I woo'd on, as I have faid,
As long as she would let me.
Now Judie had an ugly trick,
Too common I believe;

On cushions furely pins fhould ftick-
She ftuck them on her fleeve.

I've felt the truth of what I write,
And cannot well conceal it;
A pin fcratch is a hateful fight,
More hateful ftill to feel it.

I never stole a kifs, no never,
In public or alone,

But her brafs fwords were there for ever
And bled me to the bone.

Then, when my fingers with a trill
I fnapt, and whittled quicker;
The huffey laugh'd the louder still,
And ftuck her pins the thicker.
True to her point my Judie flood,
And ftill retain'd her humour;
Yet, fure her brafs work may be good!"
For, lo! there is a rumour

That fwarms of Frenchmen are at handi
All wondrous fond of women,
The grandmothers, and wives, and eke
The daughters of our yeomen.
Now thus I'd ferve the little man,
Whene'er he steps on fhore;
(I mean that warlike Corfican,

Whose name makes fuch a roar :)

I'd place my Judie on the beach;

Then, ere the storm increases,

He'd feize the first within his reach,
And tear himself to pieces.

M 3

MIDGE.

HOGARTH,

HOGARTH, CHURCHILL, AND LLOYD.

ONE

AN ANECDOTE.

NE night, after the play, during the time that Churchill and Hogarth were extremely intimate, they retired to a tavern under the Piazza, to fpend the remainder of the evening over a bottle. To make the party complete, they refolved to fend for Lloyd, one of their constant jovial companions. The only meffenger that, at that late hour, could be procured, was

Poor Cafey," the well-known link-boy of the Piazza, who prefented himfelf before them, more like one of the Devil's imps, than a human creature. Churchill vowed that their meflenger would frighten poor Lloyd out of his fenfes, unless they fent fome account of him with the note, to fatisfy their friend that Cafey was really not an imp of the infernal regions. The hint was too good to escape Hogarth. At the top of the note he sketched with his pen a moft ludicrous caricature of Cafey, with his link; and Churchill wrote the following extempore lines underneath, which have never been published:

To rakes who revel late at night,
Poor Cafey doth these lines indite;
And, ladies of the gentle move,
Form'd for variety and love,

If oft I 've paddled with my link,

To light ye home all drench'd with drink;

Or a new cull ve ever wanted,

I the best of houses haunted;

Shoes and stockings ne'er kept me warm,

Your bounty only did me harm,

Put me in picture and in rhyme,

And Bridewell mourn'd the thirteenth time,

EPIGRAM

EPIGRAM

ON AN EMINENT SINGER, WHO SWORE BY HIS SOUL, THAT HIS BROGUE WAS NO MORE THAN A BIT OF A

HOWL.

1

[From the Morning Chronicle.]

DID

ID Pat learu to fing in his own native bogs?
No-he ftudied at Barking, or th' Ifland of Dogs.

Θέλω λεγειν Ατρείδας.

[From the Morning Chronicle.]

BRITAIN's navy I would fing,

Nelfon's name thould wake the ftring;
But my lyre, with ftubborn chords,
Caftlereagh alone records.

When I fought to fing of kings,
To my lyre I put new ftrings,
Beft that could be got in town,
Dolefully it murmur'd, "Down;"

O'er my lyre again I hung,
Notes of love employ'd my tongue,
Sadness o'er my foul prevails,.
"Bow, wow, wow," my ears affails.
Farewell heroes! farewell kings!
I must fing of other things!
Henceforth all my theme fhall be,
Puppy Dogs and Caftlereagh.

H.

IT

BULLS.

T was obferved by an Irish gentleman, a few days ago, while fpeaking of a certain regiment, that for three weeks he never faw any regiment improve fo little in his life; " for do you know," added he," they grow worse and worse every day."

The fame gentleman having been at a ball at Tun

M 4

bridge,