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Macarthy's a trump, but Macready's a savage,
And who would see Dowton that ever saw Davidge?
I think Mr. Elton, I think Osbaldiston,
In tragedy quite as affecting as Liston;
And Gomersal, barring he makes but a sorry beau,
I think quite as great as my friend Mr. Horrebow.
D.G. is all quibble and quiz when he writes,
And when the dog barks least, the sharper he bites-
Except when I eat, and except when I yawn,
My jaw is fast lock’d, and my teeth are all drawn.
I'm ready and willing to edit your plays,
Find you but the pewter, and I'll find the praise ;
And if you can gulp only half that I give,
You may brag of your swallow as long as you live!
So natty I'll dress when


ask me to sup, And your mutton is all I'll presume to cut up;


your meat for

my metre ; Your editor-ay, and egad, your

head-eater ! Drop a line to A, with (what in truth, I'm !) a starPost paid, and the terms—to be left at the bar Of mine host of (I lodge up three pair, with my

crony) The Panniers, and eke the Jerusalem Pony.

My prose,

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P.S. If you ask who I am, Mr. Cumberland


I'm one of the club* held at Miller's—(not Joe !) No G.D.-be de'ed he! no mountebank, muff; But a little cock-bantam-Flare up! quantum suff.

There were in Athens ten judges, who decided on the merits of dramatic pieces. They had a particular and distinguished bench appropriated to them. They were men of merit, whose integrity was above all suspicion, who swore to judge equitably, and without regard to solicitations, cabals, or factions. The authority which allowed them the right of rewarding talent, extended also to punishing, and even to beating with whips, the dunce bold enough to present himself to the public without being worthy of their attention. We hear of one Evangelus, who was punished with this severity. Sophocles, on the contrary, obtained the prefecture of Samos for his Antigonus. How would this regulation suit Messieurs of the club?Sheridan Knowles would gain a prefecture—but which among his brethren would not deem the flagellating clause “ more honored in the breach, than the observance ?”:



In Tempè's vale, a calm sequester'd scene,
Whose fields were cloth'd with everlasting green;
Far from the busy world, unknown to fame,
There liv'd a youth, and Alibeg his name.
Th' admiring swains and ev'ry rural maid,
Delighted, sought his consecrated shade,
And while he warbled woods and plains among,
Apollo listen'd and approv'd the song.

One morn great Abbas, tir’d of gay resorts, Thro' Tempè’s vale pursu'd his rural sports ; When lo, sweet music quivers thro' the shade, As if the strain some sylvan God had play'dAnd soon the minstrel's self appears in view, His seat, a moss-grown bank, impearl'd with dew, Watching the rippling fountain's silver tide, The while his flocks skipp'd round the mountain side. Enrapt in awe the wondering monarch stood, And then address’d the shepherd of the wood.

O youth celestial! whosoe'er thou art, That with such melting airs enslav'st my heart,

Say, dost thou here descend, with heav'nly strains, To soothe the wretch's woe, the Lover's pains; For sure such notes as charm this mystic Bow'r, Are play'd by some divine, superior Pow'r.”

The youth replied—“ I'm one of humble swains, Who lead their flocks o'er Tempè’s blissful plains, Of parentage obscure, a shepherd boy~ And as I tune this pipe, my only joy, The list'ning Birds on ev'ry bloomy spray, Will raise their notes to imitate the Lay.

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The Monarch thus—“ All gentle as thou art, If grandeur once can captivate thy heart, With me to cities and to courts repair, How will thy worth and talents flourish there! Let not such sweetness wither in a wild, Emblem of virtue, nature's fairest child ! But leave these plains, and tend thy sheep no more, And taste of pleasures unenjoy'd before.”

A crimson blush o'erspread the shepherd's cheek, His heart exulted, tho' he fear'd to speak : He wept in silence, while his ling'ring feet Reluctant bore him from his lov'd retreat.

Now distant cities from afar they view'd, Expanding wide, as onward they pursued;

All seem'd a bright and glorious vision-yet
He heav'd a parting sigh of fond regret.

To court the youth was led, in glitt'ring vest, Each noble heart admir'd the humble guest; His manly beauty, and superior worth, Made all forget his lowliness of birth ; Such native sweetness, mix'd with decent pride, Brav'd slander's sting, and envy's scorn defy’d.

As some fair Flow'ret in a wild conceald, Where no kind pasture bids its blossoms yield; Check'd in its growth, requires a fost'ring hand Gently to move it to some fertile landBut when transplanted to more genial earth, The bloom appears, and gives its beauty birth; Urg'd by warm suns, and mild refreshing dews, The buds burst forth in all their lively hues ; Its lovely form rewards the planter's care, And with ambrosial fragrance fills the air.

While thus the swain enjoys his virtuous deeds, Great Abbas dies--the sorrowing nation bleeds ;Religion, justice, peace, a glorious train, And gentle mercy mark'd his pious reign. And now the Son, a youth of noble fire, Succeeds his honor'd and lamented sire;

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