So, to guard our posts and pensions, Shall we then this network widen? Shall we stretch these sacred holes, Through which, even already, slide in Lots of small dissenting souls? "God forbid !" old Testy crieth; "God forbid !" so echo I; Every ravenous bird that flieth Then would at our cherries fly. Ope but half an inch or so, And, behold, what bevies break in; Here, some curst old Popish crow Pops his long and lickerish beak in; Here, sly Arians flock unnumber'd, Methodists, of birds the aptest, Where there's pecking going on; And that water-fowl, the Baptist— All would share our fruits anon; Every bird, of every city, That, for years, with ceaseless din, Hath revers'd the starling's ditty, Singing out "I can't get in." "God forbid!" old Testy snivels; "God forbid!" I echo too; Rather may ten thousand d-v-ls Seize the whole voracious crew! If less costly fruit wo'n't suit 'em, Or, Goths as ye are, in your multitude strong, If the words of the wise and the gen'rous are vain, If Truth by the bowstring must yield up her breath, Let Mutes do the office- and spare her the pain Oran In-gl-s or T-nd-l to talk her to death. Chain, persecute, plunder-do all that you will. But save us, at least, the old womanly lore Of a F-st-r, who, dully prophetic of ill, Is, at once, the two instruments, AUGUR2 and BORE. Bring legions of Squires-if they'll only be muteAnd array their thick heads against reason and right, Like the Roman of old, of historic repute, s Who with droves of dumb animals carried the fight; Pour out, from each corner and hole of the Court, Your Bedchamber lordlings, your salaried slaves, Who, ripe for all job-work, no matter what sort, Have their consciences tack'd to their patents and staves. Catch all the small fry who, as Juvenal sings, Are the Treasury's creatures, wherever they swim ; 4 With all the base, time-serving toadies of Kings, Who, if Punch were the monarch, would worship even him; And while, on the one side, each name of renown, That illumines and blesses our age is combin'd; While the Foxes, the Pitts, and the Cannings look down, And drop o'er the cause their rich mantles of Mind; Let bold Paddy H-lmes show his troops on the other, And, counting of noses the quantum desir'd, Let Paddy but say, like the Gracchi's fam'd mother, "Come forward, my jewels"-'tis all that's requir'd. And thus let your farce be enacted hereafterThus honestly persecute, outlaw, and chain; If we must run the gauntlet through blood and But spare even your victims the torture of laughter, expense; 1 During the discussion of the Catholic question in the House of Commons last session. 2 This rhyme is more for the ear than the eye, as the carpenter's tool is spelt auger. And never, oh never, try reasoning again! 3 Fabius, who sent droves of bullocks against the enemy. 4 Res Fisci est, ubicumque natat. — JUVENAL. Talk of leaves of the Sibyls! - more meaning convey'd is In one single leaf such as now we have spell'd on, Than e'er hath been utter'd by all the old ladies That ever yet spoke, from the Sibyls to Eld-n. THE ANNUAL PILL. Supposed to be sung by OLD PROSY, the Jew, in the character of Major C-RTW-GHT. VILL nobodies try my nice Annual Pill, Dat's to purify every ting nashty avay? And, at vonce, such a radical shange you vill see, But, no, 'tis in vain- the grand impulse is givenMan knows his high Charter, and knowing will claim; Vill nobodies try my nice Annual Pill, &c. And if ruin must follow where fetters are riven, Give me the Dukes and Lords, who go, Write on, write on, &c. Even now I feel the coming light- My Lord M-ntc-sh-1, too, to write, By geese (we read in history), Old Rome was sav'd from ill; And now, to quills of geese, we see Old Rome indebted still. Write on, write on, &c. Write, write, ye Peers, nor stoop to style, You're better far without. Oh ne'er, since asses spoke of yore, For, write but four such letters more, SONG OF THE DEPARTING SPIRIT OF TITHE. "The parting Genius is with sighing sent." MILTON. It is o'er, it is o'er, my reign is o'er; Even now, And, whatsoe'er himself believes, Must bow to the' Establish'd Church belief, That the tenth is always a Protestant sheaf; Ye calves, of which the man of Heaven Takes Irish tithe, one calf in seven ; 2 2 "The tenth calf is due to the parson of common right; and if there are seven he shall have one."-REES's Cyclopædia, art." Tithes." Ye tenths of rape, hemp, barley, flax, Or as we calculate thefts and arsons- Alas, and is all this wise device For the saving of souls thus gone in a trice? — By right divine, their tenth of tillage, It is o'er, it is o'er, my reign is o'er, So lives he, Mammon's priest, not Heaven's, (Books fit only to hoard dust in), Is all then lost?-alas, too true- THE EUTHANASIA OF VAN. "We are told that the bigots are growing old and fast wearing out. If it be so, why not let us die in peace?"-Load BEXLEY's Letter to the Freeholders of Kent. STOP, Intellect, in mercy stop, Hide, Knowledge, hide thy rising sun, Take pity on a dotard's fears, Who much doth light detest; And let his last few drivelling years Be dark as were the rest. You, too, ye fleeting one-pound notes, Speed not so fast away Ye rags, on which old Nicky gloats, A few months longer stay.+ Together soon, or much I err, You both from life may goThe notes unto the scavenger, And Nick-to Nick below. Ye Liberals, whate'er your plan, Be all reforms suspended; 1 Chaucer's Plowman complains of the parish rectors, that of Church rates levied upon Catholics in Ireland, was a charge "For the tithing of a duck, Or an apple or an aye (egg), They make him swear upon a boke; Thus they foulen Christ's fay." 2 Among the specimens laid before Parliament of the sort of two pipes of port for sacramental wine. 3 Ezekiel, xxxiv. 10.-"Neither shall the shepherds feed themselves any more; for I will deliver my flock from their mouth, that they may not be meat for them." 4 Perituræ parcere chartæ. |