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If in the pack a card display its face
* He must begin again in such a case :
And should he one in dealing chance to turn,
The foes, if so inclin'd, that deal may spurn.
But if he gives not each his number due,
To one too many, or to one too few,
+ He then must be content the deal to lose,
Unless his luck supplies the sole excuse,
That, while he dealt, by either of the foes
The cards were touch'd ; for then we may suppose
From them, and not from him, the fault arose.
Still on the board, the whole commencing round,
I Let his trump card expos'd to view be found :
Nor, after that, though you may trumps inquire,
Can you of it another sight desire.
Let each with constant eye the board survey,
# Nor ask another what he chanc'd to play,
Though he may bid him draw his card away.
Nor here, as in your former game, Quadrille,
May one examine all the tricks at will :
The latest can alone return to sight;
The rest must ne'er again behold the light.
The card which once has fairly touch'd the board,
Must never more be to the hand restor'd.
When, from mistake, as it at times proceeds,
The one rash partner for the other leads ;
* Then may the foes a just occasion seize,
To make his brother play what suit they please ;
And for that card, which was so keen to fall,
They have a right at any time to call.
For each revoke your foe may chance to make,
From his collected tricks you three can take
Or from his score (if tricks he yet has none)
+ Take down three points, or add them to your own :
But this to do you ne'er can urge the right,
Until the trick is turn'd, and out of sight;
Though then its influence boasts a fairer claim
Than any other score in all the game.
The tricks, fair children of superior skill,
Before the casual honours reckon still.
Remember always, when the hand is o'er,
† At once your honours and your tricks to score;
For should you wait till trumps be turn'd again,
Your right you then may claim, but claim in vain.
But if beyond the truth you chance to go,
Your score diminish'd must enrich the foe.
The proper season on your friend to call,
$ Is just before your hand a card lets fall;
A moment later and you lose the claim,
And even a moment sooner is the same.
|| But when the trump has once appear’d in sight,
Let none remind his friend of calling's right.
Although of tricks one side should make them all,
That rarest triumph which a slam we call,
Yet they from this no profit e'er must claim,
Which would not suit the spirit of the game.
* Hoyle, chap. xviii. law i. | Id. chap. xviii. laws iii. and ii. Id. ibid. law. vi. § Id. chap. xviii. law xxii. Il Id. ibid. law v.
Such were the laws, which now to all appear,
So just, so useful, so concise, and clear,
That one consenting voice, without delay,
Engag'd their future influence to obey :
And should he doubt their word, for sanction's sake,
They proffer'd too, that very hour, to take
Whatever oath he might be pleas'd to make.
The youth delighted made a pensive pause,
And rising, to their sight display'd the laws:
Then the three sisters held their hands on high,
While each upon the ceiling fixed her eye;
And all in decent order thus dispos'd,
He then in solemn tone his oath propos d.
“ By tea and scandal's ever dear delights ; “ By liberty of speech, that first of rights ; “ That right which virgins, wives, and widows claim, “ To use all freedom with their neighbour's fame ; “ By all the joys that pensive mem'ry knows, “ When to that glorious time she backward goes, “When o'er your days the pow'r of courtship threw “ The magic lustre of his brilliant hue ; “ Whose musky breath perfumed each precious hour “ With the sweet scent of pleasure's myrtle bow'r: “ By those regrets which now your bosom feel, “ That virgin pride had armed your hearts with steel, “ And made you deaf to every lover's pray’r, « Till they at last resigned the fruitless care, “ And left you to repentance and despair : “ And by those hopes which yet your fancies fill, “ That, aided by your own alluring skill, « Propitious fortune will permit you still “ With festive pomp to deck the bridal day, “ And pass the night in nuptial joys away." Such was that oath, of strength unknown before ; By whose emphatic words the sisters swore : Nor need I surely add, that they transgress'd no more.
The Magpie and Robin Red-Breast : a tale,
by Peter Pindar, esq.
A of France,
Magpie, in the spirit of Romance,
Flew from the dwelling of an old PoissARDE;
Where sometimes in his cage, and sometimes out,
He justified the revolution rout,
That is, callid names, and got a sop for his reward.
Red-hot with monarch-roasting coals,
Just like his old fish-thund'ring dame,
He left the queen of crabs, and plaice, and soles,
To kindle in old England's realm a flame.
Arriv'd at ev'ning's philosophic hour,
He rested on a rural antique tow'r,
Some BARON's castle in the days of old ;
When furious wars, misnomer'd civil,
Sent mighty chiefs to see the devil,
Leaving behind their bodies for rich mould,
That pliable from form to form patroles,
Making fresh houses for new souls.
Perch'd on the wall, he cocks his tail and eye,
And hops like modern beaux in country-dances;
Looks dev'lish knowing, with his head awry,
Squinting with connoisseurship glances.
All on a sudden, Maggot starts and stares,
And wonders, and for somewhat strange prepares ;
But, lo! his wonder did not hold him long-
Soft from a bush below, divinely clear,
A modest warble melted on his ear,
A plaintive, soothing, solitary song-
A stealing, timid, unpresuming sound,
Afraid dim Nature's deep repose to wound;
That hush'd (a death-like pause) the rude SUBLIME,
This was a novelty to Mag indeed,
Who, pulling up his spindle-shanks with speed,
Dropp'd from his turret, half-devour'd by TIME,
A-la-Francoise, upon the spray,
Where a lone Red-breast pour'd to eve his lay.
Staring the modest minstrel in the face;
Familiar, and with arch grimace,
He conn'd the dusky warbler o'er and o'er,
As though he knew him years before,
And thus began, with seeming great civility,
All in the Paris ease of volubility :
" What BOBBY! dam'me, is it you,
“ That thus your pretty phiz to music screw,
“ So far from hamlet, village, town, and city,
“ To glad old battlements with dull psalm ditty?
“ 'Sdeath! what a pleasant, lively, merry, scene !
“ Plenty of bats, and owls, and ghosts, I ween;
“ Rare midnight screeches, Bob, between you all ;
“ Why, what's the name on't, BOBBY? Dismal Hall?
“ Come, to be serious-curse this queer old spot,
“ And let thy owlish habitation rot!
“ Join me, and soon in riot we will revel:
“ I'll teach thee how to curse, and call folks names,
“ And be expert in treason, murder, flames,
“ And most divinely play the devil. “ Yes, thou shalt leave this spectred hole, “ And prove thou hast a bit of soul :
“ Soon shalt thou see old stupid London dance : “ There shall we shine immortal knaves; “ Not steal unknown, like cuckoos, to our graves,
“ But imitate the geniuses of FRANCE. “ Who'd be that monkish, cloister'd thing, a muscle? “ Importance only can arise from bustle! “ Tornado, thunder, lightning, tumult, strife; “ These charm and add a dignity to life, “ That thou should’st choose this spot, is monstrous odd; “ Poh, poh! thou canst not like this life, by G-!" “ Sir!" like one thunder-stricken, staring wide“ Can you be serious, sir?” the Robin cried, “ Serious!" rejoin'd the Magpie,“ aye, my boy“ So come, let's play the devil, and enjoy.' “ Flames!" quoth the ROBIN—"and in riot revel! “ Call names, and curse, divinely play the devil ! “I cannot, for my life, the fun discern."“ No!-blush, then, Bob, and follow me, and learn." “ Excuse me, sir,” the modest Hermit cried “ Hell 's not the hobby-horse I wish to ride!” “ Hell !" laugh'd the Magpie, “hell no longer dread; “ Why, Bob, in FRANCE the devil's lately dead:
“ Damnation vulgar to a Frenchman's hearing,
“ The word is only kept alive for swearing.
“ Against futurity they all protest ;
“ And God and Heav'n are grown a standing jest.