When targets clash'd, and bugles rung,
And blades round warriors' heads were fung,
The foremost of the band were we,
And hymn'd the joys of liberty!

FROM

LINES ADDRESSED TO LORD MELVILLE ON HIS VISITING NORTH BRITAIN SHORTLY AFTER

HIS RETIRING FROM OFFICE.

(From the British Press.]
PROM public toils, and cares, and strife,

Welcome once more to private life,

In Scotia's rude domain;
Enjoy repose, content, and ease,
Inhale the health inspiring breeze,

Nor think of France and Spain.
Far from the Senate and the Throne,
From budget, tax, investment, loan,

Impeachment, expedition;
Peace fall your eider pillow bind,
And war no more distract your mind,

Nor projects of ambition.
The social, easy, joyous hour,
Unknown to pomp, remote from pow'r,
Awaits
you

in the wild;
Friendship shall lead you by the hand,
And Caledonia's arms expand

To clasp her favourite child.
Should warfare still your thoughts engagé,
To Muirland scenes confine your rage,

In mimic camp array'd ;
Unheard the found of noisy drums,
There no Mysorean tyrant comes,

Your quiet to invade.
The laurels won at Aboukir,
Deep moisten’d by'a nation's tear,

Were Death and Glory's prize;
But where you urge the gay campaign,
No tears the cheek of Friendship stain-
No Abercromby dies !
G6

ORPHEUS.

ORPHEUS.

BY QUEVEDO.

[From the Morning Poft.] WHEN Orpheus lost his wife,

As ancient stories tell,
He fought her in the proper place,

For he went down to H-
They say that he went singing,

And I believe the thing; For fince he was a widower

Pure joy would make him fing.
He moved rocks and mountains,

His harmony was such;
But had his fong been bad, he would

Have mov'd them just as much.
The damn'd forgot their tornients

When he his tale began,
For no one could complain who saw

So mad a married man.
But though his voice persuaded

The God to his intent,
When Pluto gave him back his wife

It was for punishment.
Yet even then, in pity,

Two laws old Pluto made;
To take his wife, and not look back

Both hard to be obey'd.
Then Orpheus the foremost

Went up from that abode; For women always lead the way,

When we go down that road.
I know not if on purpose

He wisely turn'd his fight;
But if 't was chance he loft his wife,

And so, by chance, was right.

Full

Full happy is the husband

From wedlock once set free!
But he who twice escapes fo well,

A lucky man is be!

THE COCKNIES PUZZLED ABOUT THE NAME OF THE NEW BALLET *.

[From the General Evening Poft.] SA AYS a fine drawling Fop to a bold Volunteer,

T-e pficore's to be acted to-night, as I hear :Now John), though an honest and good-humour'd fellow, Thought it still the first bleffing of life to be mellow; Quoth he, “ My old regiment I 'll stick to no more, I thould like to belong to this fame tipsy corps."

MERIT NEGLECTED.

BY J. BANNANTINE.

1

[From Lloyd's Evening Poft.] EN NGLAND! while fumptuous monuments you raise,

To celebrate your Wits and Heroes' praise,
Why are your Artists in the plan forgot?
'T is to your nation an egregious blot,
That Hogarth, first of comic painting's art,
Whose pencil lives in ev'ry British heart,
No monumental trophy should receive,
No-honour o'er his inuch-lamenteå grave.
To Reynolds, of the English fchool the pride,
A monument has hereto been denied.
But, valued Artists ! your great works will raise
To you transcendant and immortal praise ;
Your merits are exclusively your own;
When of less minds all memory is gone,
Your canvas will survive the most obdurate stone.

}

RONDEAU.

BY THE SAME.

TOLD my

I T

[Original.]
“

love, I told her true,
My fields were small, my flocks were few*."
Four beugh-pots constitute my fields,
This but a scanty harvest yields.
My flocks are centred in my bed,
Beneath an almoit roofless Thed.
Did I not, then, my love tell true,
My fields were finall, my flocks were few ?

DIFFERENT SPECIES OF DRUNKENNESS.

BY THE SAME.

(Original.)
WH
VHEN George was poor as poor could be,

Drunk as a beggar Aill was he;
Espousing then a wealthy dame,
Sudden a fortune to him came :
To drink he now could well afford,
And drunk gor daily as a Lord.

CARD. TABLE EPITAPH ON A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, WHOSE RUIN BY A CLUBPREQUENTER OCCASIONED HER PREMATURE DEATH.

BY TAB SAME.

[Original.]
LARISSA reigo'd the Queen of Hearts,

Like fparkling Diamonds were her eyes :
But through the knave of Clubs' false arts,

Here bedded by a Spade the lies.

CLA

HOW TO LOSE A HUSBAND.

BY THE SAME.

[Original)
A to

How she the men should treat;
Her friend, a Bishop's lady, said,

“ Just baffle all you meet."
“ Alas!" quoth she, “ I've tried that art,

My loss I e'er Niall mourn ;
Three
years

I baffled one sweetheart,
And now am left forlorn."

QY

JUDGE FOR YOURSELF.

BY THE SAME,

[From the Sunday Review.]
VOTH Tom to Sue, “ My life! my dear!

I'm fascinated when you ’re near ;
But when you ’re absent from my fight,
No object can procure delight;
I mourn and grieve, I sigh and weep,
The livelong night I cannot sleep.??...

Says the,“ You 're laughing in your sleeve,
Your artful tales I 'I ne'er believe ;
You never in my absence pine,
But drown your cares in floods of wine;
No female charms to you afford
Joys like the Bacchanalian board;
Your want of Neep is all a fudge;"
Says Tom, "Take half my bed, and judge.".

I OWE YOU ONE.
DY THE SANR,

(Original.]
CHLOE, whene'er her spouse his wit begun,

Was wont to say, “ My dear! I owe you one."
Begetting twins, and to his rib's text true,
Stephen replied, “ My love! I owe you two."

DRAPS