A SONG. [From the fame.] COME liften, my honies, awhile ye fhall hear! How Europe's got humbug'd, how France is enflavic, By St. Patrick it's true: they all richly defervé For lending a hand to enflave their own land, Brother Joey, the effence of rafcals, has got While the poor King of Naples was foon fent to pot, And the Viceroy Beauharnois, Madame Jofephine's brat, But to give him a crown, Sirs, instead of a halter, Oh, what a tremendous great blunder! And now, to complete this divifion of spoil, To fecure their booty, Brother Louis they make Are cut out for that jackal, the cuckold Murat ; And their necks to this monfter are bending. Arrah, faith! there is one more of this hopeful brood, Who intends Daddy Neptune's firm throne to upfet, Ye winds, be aufpicious! don't blow him to port, But before we 'll fubmit to receive terms of peace, In rivers of blood we 'll wipe off fuch disgrace, No! No! we'd rather in battle refign our best blood, Than defert thofe white cliffs where our brave fathers flood, Or fubmit to a nation of flaves. P. A.) THE FEMALE PHILOSOPHERS OF OUR INSTITUTION ROYAL. IN [From Sir Chriftopher Hatton's Ghoft.] Befs's days each filly maid Could fcrawl, perhaps, but could not spell And trembled when the thought on hell! But we are fall'n in other times Queer foul! thou nothing know'ft of uftion; Or with delicious Darwin melt : As they 're by wife men understood, And all are for the gen'ral good. Your females neceffarily cover'd The charms which bounteous nature gave; We ncceffarily have difcover'd, 'Tis beft to fhew the charms we have. So, innocent as finless Eve, Ere yet one fig-leaf spread umbrageous, In native buff we'll boldly give The best of proofs that we 're courageous 1 Nov. 24. THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL, AND THE GRASS. HOPPER'S FEAST. WRITTEN BY MR. ROSCOE FOR HIS CHILDREN, AND ORDERED TO BE SET TO MUSIC BY HER MAJESTY, COME, take up your hats, and away let us hafte On the fmooth-fhaven grafs, by the fide of a wood, And there came the Beetle, fo blind and fo black, And there came the Moth, with her plumage of down, With steps moft majeftic the Sil did advance, Then, as ev'ning gave way to the shadows of night, For no watchman is waiting for you or for me!, THE THE SEA COOK:-A TALE. BY TOM TARBUCKET. [From the Statesman ] AN old Sea Cook, like others in this nation, The culprit's back should be well flead. The fentence pass'd, poor Cook in doleful dumps, My poor old back to be fo flead: Curfe on thofe dogs that call a Cook a thief, But I've been tried by Captains, let me tell ye, IT THE MORAL. The guilty oft-times 'fcape the law ANECDOTE. [From the fame.] T was cuftomary with the old King of Pruffia, whenever a new foldier appeared in his guards, to afk him three questions : *The cooks of His Majefty's fhips have charge of the fteep-tub, which contains falt provifions. + Court-martial; the members of which are always Captains. Cooks are always feamen who have lost a limb in the fervice. "How P 5 "How old are you? How long have you been in my fervice? Are you fatisfied with your pay and treatment?" It happened that a young foldier, born in France, who had ferved in his own country, defired to enlist in the Pruffian fervice; his figure caufed him to be im-, mediately accepted, but he was totally ignorant of the German language; and his captain giving him notice that the King would question him in that tongue, the first time he should fee him, advised him at the same time to learn the three proper answers to the questions which the King would ask him: accordingly he perfected himself in them by the next day; and as soon as he appeared in the ranks Frederick came up to interrogate him but he happened to begin upon him with the fecond question, "How long have you been in my fervice?""Twenty-one years," answered the foldier. The King, ftruck with his youth, which plainly indicated that he had not borne a mufket fo long as that, faid to him, much aftonifhed, "How old are you?"-" One year, an't please your Majefty." Frederick, more aftonished ftill, cried, "You or I muft certainly be bereft of our fenfes." The foldier, who took this tor the third queftion, replied firmly, "Both, an't please your Majefty."-"This is the first time I was ever treated as a madman at the head of my army," faid Frederick. The foldier, who had exhausted his stock of German, kept filent; and when the King questioned him again, to penetrate into this mystery, the foldier told him in French, that he did not understand a word of German; at which the King laughed heartily, advised him to learn that language, and exhorted him to perform well his duty. CASTLEREAGH. |