Why, Jack, you go on at a terrible rate:
You come home blind drunk seven nights out of eight-
Your character's damaged your health will be lost-
As it is, you look haggard and pale as a ghost.
Believe me 'twere better to alter your plan:
See philosopher Will, what a different man,-
He should, for a time, be your model, I think,
For from meat he abstains, and makes water his drink.
What, imitate him! replied Jack, do you wish
I should eat as a beast, sir, and drink like a fish.
"Mind your soul," says the papist: "without our church pale,
If you happen to die, to be damn'd you can't fail;
The Bible you boast is a wild revelation,—
Hear a church that can't err, if you hope for salvation."
Says a formal old non-con., whose rich stock of grace
Lies forward expos'd in a shop-window face,
"Ah! pity your soul-come, be of our sect;
For then you'll be safe, and may plead you're elect."
Says a jolly church-parson, devoted to ease,
While penal-law dragons guard his golden fleece,
"If you pity your soul, pray listen to neither;
The first is in error, the last a deceiver :
That ours is the true church, the sense of our tribe is,
Et in medea via tutissimus ibis."
Says a yea-and-nay friend, with a stiff hat and band,
Who, while he talk'd gravely, would hold forth his hand,
"Dominion and wealth are the aim of all three,
Though in manner and form they can never agree;
Then pr'ythee be wise, go the Quaker's bye-way,-
'Tis plain, without turnpikes-so nothing to pay!"
A CONSOLATORY REFLECTION.
When friends and relations drop off one by one,
What joys and what comforts with them, too, are gone!
Like burning the books of the Sibyl, we find
It doubles the value of those left behind.
ON A RECENT QUARREL BETWEEN TWO BARRISTERS,
When they politely retorted on each other the epithets “blackguard” and "scoundrel."
For lawyers to call each other such names,
As, "scoundrel" and "blackguard," forsooth,
Only shows to the world, if they like to take pains,
Now and then they can speak the plain truth.
ON LORD CHESTERFIELD AND HIS SON.
Vile Stanhope (demons blush to tell)
In twice ten thousand places,
Had taught his son the way to
Escorted by the graces.
But little did the unduteous lad
Concern himself about them;
For, mean, degenerate, basely bad,
He sneaked to
POETS' REWARDS.
Poets' rewards, ah! now a-days,
Are nought but night and day grief:
Of old they had whole wreaths of bays,
And now they've but a bay-leaf.
ON THE DUKE OF YORK'S HORSE MOSES
WINNING AT ASCOT-HEATH RACES.
At Ascot when swift Moses won,
(A thing not done by slow fits!)
What thought his royal owner on?
He thought-the joke I'll tell to you,—
His highness is a bishop, too,
On Moses and the profits.
ON THE INTRODUCTION OF GLASS CURTAINS
INTO OUR THEATRES.
To suit the action for the language sake,
Shakspeare's advice at last our players take:
Glass curtains, though not plays, reflect each feature,
And hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature!
THE POST-CAPTAIN MARRIED.
"D—n it, Jack, you've turn'd coward," said an unmarried tar,
"These scoldings to take from the shrew whom you mated:" No, I'm still," replied Jack," the same brave man of war, And, as such, you know, must consent to be rated."
ONE EYE BETTER THAN TWO.
Why dost thou laugh? I laugh to think
That though, like thee, I cannot wink
With eyes of jet, 'tis true,
Still the advantage lies with me:
Thou in my face but one canst see,
I in thy face see two.
ON A DRUNKARD.
Sure Corporal Bardolph's eyes are formed
Of an unequal frame;
For, were they matches, soon his nose
Would set them in a flame.
To seek out heads of every shape,
Bacon and Shakspeare, ass and ape,
Phrenologists take pains;
And in this search they are surely right,
For ne'er was system brought to light
So much in want of brains.
Poets of old, when love inspired,
Warm, naked nature drew:
They saw her glowing charms-were fired,
And sang of all they knew.
Not so their sons--a modest band!
Each, strong in virtue, draws
A lucid veil, with decent hand,
And paints her through the gauze.
ON THE DEATH OF MR. LE MANN, THE
CELEBRATED BISCUIT-BAKER.
Tell me, where is fancy bread ?—
I know not, since Le Mann is dead.
ON A NOTED LIAR
Thou wouldst lie with the devil,
With the devil thou shalt lie.
Charge your glasses, my boys, and your voices lend,
While we drink success to our knock-knee'd friend;
The joke is cross-made, yet there's point, if you heed,-
For an old adage says, "No friend like one in-kneed."
ANACREONTIC.
Love! the youthful poet's theme,
Love! the gentle maiden's dream;
Boy! they surely do belie thee
When they station folly by thee.
Yet, if true what gray-beards teach,
That reason flies beyond the reach,
That folly's proof in loving lies,
Where's the mortal would be wise?
TO A LADY, ON HER PARROT.
When nymphs were coy, and love could not prevail,
The gods, disguis'd, were seldom known to fail:
Leda was chaste, but yet a feather'd Jove
Surpris'd the fair, and taught her how to love.
There's no celestial but his heaven would quit,
For any form which might to thee admit.
See how the wanton bird, at ev'ry glance,
Swells his glad plumes, and feels an am'rous trance:
The queen of beauty has forsook the dove:
Henceforth the parrot be the bird of love.
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