[From the Morning Post, Feb. 18.]
SENATOR, vers'd in old classical lore,
The works of Joe Miller I mean-nothing more,
Has told how the Tories, just losing their places,
Were surcharg❜d by the barbers, who shav'd their long faces:
But now (though still in) not a Tory, 't is fear'd,
Will meet with one barber to shorten his beard;
For the Whigs, disappointed and plung'd in despair,
Have torn from their nobs ev'ry morsel of hair;
So they're forc'd (though their purses a grievous hard tax on)
To impress each a barber to make him a caxon.
ON A HIBERNIAN, WHO DREAMT THAT HE WAS ASLEEP.
How's this!" says Joe," it doth most curious seem, Dream in your sleep, and sleep too in your dream! Indeed, friend Pat, it is not fair in you
To get just twice the sleep that others do."
"Truly," quoth Pat, "I have not slept, dear Joe; I only dreamt I was asleep, you know."
TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE.
THE following lines are detached from an unfinished Poem, which probably will never see the light; but as this fragment is so much in the spirit of some
*Tempora, scilicet, capitis, we suppose; and, as it is not improbable the heads of some persons may be turned by vexation at recent events, the part may be intended to imply the whole, both interior and extepro parte synecdoche totum," as the Westminster Grammar
late opinions of the Great Man, I am tempted to transmit it to you, as an earnest of what will be the settled sentiment of posterity.
WHEN Chatham's son had rais'd himself to power
Upon the people's shoulders-full possess'd
Of all hi father's spirit-full of plans,
Which youthful zeal and patriotic love
Had form'd, to vindicate the people's rights;
And full of eloquence, worthy the cause,
With public hope rais'd to the topmost pitch -
Most did he thenceforth labour to preserve,
His promises or place?-What pledge of his
Did he redeem?-How did his honour meet
That vital question to the human heart,
Detested human traffic? His feign'd voice,
Omnipotent when seconded by will,
Flash'd not conviction on his venal friends;
And annually he counted out the House-
Defeated-but content at the defeat.
Did he with better faith profession make
To those who should be nearer, dearer, still,
Our fellow-subjects, fellow Christians too,
Though not within the pale-to set them free
From thraldom-free to serve their God and ours,
To serve their King and Country as ourselves?
They yielded up their birthright for the boon,
On credit, and receiv'd the cold embrace
Of Union, like a forc'd reluctant bride :-
But for the rest his suretyship was nought.
"But he resign'd his place to save his word."
He did;-and soon, repentant of the act,
He pluck'd him by the nose who kept it warm,
And thrust him off the stool-on any terms
Of forfeiture, to fix himself again.
How did he prove sincere his boasted love
Of radical Reform?-He wish'd the cause
Sincerely well; --but wish'd to put it off
Till a convenient season. What decay'd
LINES ON THE LATE MR. PITT.
Or morbid member of the commonweal,
Did he regenerate? What corrupted part
O' th' body politic discharge and cleanse?
Or what excrescence touch with caustic knife?
His gross corruption, like a stagnant pond,
Engender'd the horseleech, that sucks the blood,
The best blood of the land. Was hand of his
Once rais'd to sweep the noisome beast away ?-
Was Freedom cherish'd in his faithless heart,
His first-espous'd? Did not the harlot Lust
Of Power supplant her, that she scarcely drew,
With oft suspended animation-breath?
"He serv'd in troublous and seditious times,
And bit and bridle found for stiffen'd necks
Best fitted, little need of slacken'd reins."
But long he sway'd before those troublous times;
And he the chief conspirator of all,
Whose mal-administration conjur'd up
The evil spirit, if it ever rose.—
"Nay-but he sat the pilot at the helm,
His country's bark safe guiding through the storma
On which the Dæmon rides, all Europe else
Involving in one universal wreck."-
Ay, that were praise beyond the power of words,
And all his faults were venial were it true.
But other honours flutter'd in his eye
Than glorious safety, when his martial mind
Inflam'd for war ;-when suppliant for peace,
But suppliant in vain, the Frenchman left
Our hostile shores. The feeble foe at once
He hop'd to crush; and all the mighty spoil,
Already portion'd, gloss'd the shameful deed.
But, forc'd into the fight, the Frenchman fought.
His cause was new. He never fought before
For Freedom; and he never fought so well.
He gather'd strength and confidence. Success
In years of Revolution still remain'd
Inseparably attach'd, whatever shape
The ruling power assum'd. Till Liberty
Her equilibrium lost, licentious grew
And wayward; and, in cruelty and blood,
Long rioting, the reeling goddess fell
Submissive to a despot's sovereign will.
Th' aggressive warfare had long since become
A warfare of defence, and mock-alarms
Flew real through the land ;-but not of foes
Domestic-where they fled was never known.
The country bristled like a porcupine
With bayonets; for by potent spell he wrought
Upon a loyal people; and their gold,
Drawn by this mighty master of excise,
Thrice rous'd defeated Europe to sustain
Renew'd disgrace, beneath his iron hand,
To whom such erring politics gave birth :
And that this inaccessible proud isle
Has sunk not in the ruin, is the boast
Of his sole government. While prodigal
Of blood and pleasure, thousands of her sons
Have bled in vain; and millions spent in waste
Have left her well nigh bankrupt; and long hence
Millions shall rue the sorrowful effect,
And yet unwillingly admire the cause.
[From the Morning Post, Feb. 21.]
EACH jealous of the other's heart,
They'll quarrel for a feather;
They 're never easy when apart,
Nor happy when together.
[From the Morning Herald, Feb, 21.]
ON SEEING A FRENCH WATCH ROUND THE NECK OF A
BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN,
MARK what we gain from foreign lands
Time cannot now be said to linger-
Allow'd to lay his two rude hands
Where others dare not lay a finger.
EMPIRICUS Vows he will cure..
All defects in the eyes that grow dim
And, a triumph more great to secure,
He commences by doucing the glim.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE PUBLIC LEDGER, &c.
WHERE party-spirit prevails, we frequently find it exerted in supporting or opposing things of very trivial moment, which at other times might have passed without much observation. Among the lesser matters of late, I have remarked an inclination, in that party who are hostile to the Ministry, to find fault with those brief reports of His Majesty's health, which the French taste of the present age has honoured by the name of Bulletins. It has been, in particular, objected, that they were frequently not sufficiently explicit, or did not clearly and intelligibly point out the exact progress of the indisposition; that the phrases made use of were of a general meaning, and not decided enough to satisfy the anxious inquirer.
In answer to such objections, I shall not plead in favour of the physicians, that they thought themselves, restricted by a sense of delicacy in their reports. They do not appear to me to require an apology of this kind; and I am apt to think, that had their patient been a person of far inferior rank, they could not have given reports of a nature much different from what we have read. All medical men, and all others whose ill fate it has been to have much sickness in their fami
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