The curious hunt the Cossack through the park-
Each has his diff'rent hobby :-by this rule,
Sir Claudius plays the courtier, Coates the fool,
My Lord the jockey, Skeffington the beau,
And Love's my hobby, wheresoe'er I go.

Resound, ye hills! resound my mournful strain, Of perjur❜d Blouzelinda I complain !— The doctor tries his Esculapian skill, He draws the lancet, and prescribes the pill, And lays for Cupid many an artful lure; But love's a pang that physic cannot cure ; A ruthless dun, devoted to his prey, By night tormenting, as he plagues by day.

But see, the night emits unwholesome damps, And nimble link-boys run to light their lamps; Now strolls the painted Cyprian in the dark, I'll to the Basin, in St. James's Park :

*

Farewell! the lawyer's quirk, the pleader's bawl; The Temple, Lincoln's-Inn, and Justice-Hall!

Farewell! the park, the play-house, and Pall-Mall! Blouzy, adieu !-and all the world, farewell!

* Non ego vos posthac, viridi projectus in antro,
Dumosà pendere procul de rupe videbo.
Carmina nulla canam : non, me pascente, capellæ,
Florentem cytisum et salices carpetis amaras.

ECLOGUE III.

THE DISCARDED MINISTER.

Amicus. Ho! Georgius, whither on thy way

so fast,

From good St. Stephen's?

Georgius.

+Ah! my friend; at last,

(Would I had never liv'd, this day to see,
Strange revolution for the state and me!)
His Highness, who has ow'd me long a grudge,
Exclaims, "You cringing ragamuffin, budge!
A fellow, that to serve his private ends,
Gives ev'ry place of profit to his friends!
No more I'll have a herd of Scotch petitioners,
Clerks of the crown, or Navy-board commissioners.”

Ami. But what will now become of your col

leagues,

Their ways and means, their councils, their intrigues? What other leader will they choose?

* Quo te, Mori, pedes? an, quò via ducit, in urbem? + O Lycida, vivi pervenimus; advena nostri, (Quod nunquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli Diceret, Hæc mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni.

Geo.

Heav'n knows!

I weep to think of leaving Treasurer Rose ;*

Methinks I hear him cry, distracted, vext,

66

Forebodings tell me that my turn comes next!" And then the honest man dissolves in tears, To lose the place he's held for twenty years.

Ami. And Vansittart,† will royalty reject him?

* Here lies old George, who took the surest
And safest road to wealth, though dark;

The Statesman, Treas'rer, Sinecurist,
The Lords', though once a Purser's clerk.

Alike to him, were friends and foes;

And both by turns, he would importune;
For George's politics were those

Which tended most to make his fortune!

Bred in the Caledonian school,

Laborious, plodding, dull and grave;

He was too knowing for a fool,
Yet wanted wit to be a knave!

If there are sinecures in heav'n,

Our Treas'rer may indulge his whim;
If neither pow'r nor place be giv❜n,
Faith, 'tis a sorry change for him!

The Grand Question debated.

Cries starch Mrs. Sidmouth to grave Mrs. Van,

I cannot conceive what the deuce there can be in us,

That the Prince to promote us should do all he can,
When nobody else any merit can see in us;

Geo. Ah! no: impassive Dulness shall protect

him:

He has no dang'rous particle of sense,
But all is solid-shillings, pounds, and pence.
'Tis not in pious Nicholas to think;
Suffice it, that he uses pens and ink,
To calculate with nicety the sum

Of new imposts and taxes yet to come.

Ami. What will they do with Ryder, let me ask? "An oracle within an empty cask!"

"For had I stuck fast to my Doctor's degree,
(That I did'nt 'tis well, though it certainly odd is!)
The king's loyal subjects might still have been free,
I ne'er had imprison'd, but physic'd their bodies;

"That His Highness, a man both of wit and of letters, (Which between you and I, are but rarish commodities)! Should raise us so high o'er the heads of our betters, Is strange, Mrs. Vansittart, I vow to God it is!"

Mrs. Van having heard Mrs. Sidmouth's oration,
Gave her mouth a wise screw, turn'd her eyes in their
sockets,

Just as when she harangues on the state of the nation,
Or makes some financial attempt on our pockets.

"The reason quite plain without all this parade is,
So truce, Madam Sid, to your logical fuss;
As the Prince has so great a penchant for Old Ladies!
No wonder he's grown rather partial to us!"

He rises, with the awful subject big,

And shakes the powder'd honours of his wig;
He speaks ;-a mute attention fills the House,
The mountain is deliver'd of its mouse.

Geo. He, p'rhaps may prove of service to the
state,

In matters of small consequence and weight;
To make an act to walk the parish bounds,
And see that sleepy watchmen go their rounds;
Or, with a face most ludicrously stern,
To move-the yawning house do now adjourn.

Ami. But hast thou (pray excuse the thing I
mention,)

No small reversion, sinecure, or pension,
No secret bribe to make retirement sweet?-

Come, say how much might purchase thy retreat?

Geo. For neither pension, sinecure, nor bribe, Am I indebted to the courtly tribe.

Was it for this I brav'd the party-storm,

And silenc'd the loud Demon of Reform,

That fierce assail'd me with its thousand tongues,
And brazen forehead, and stentorian lungs?
Was it for this, I made a glorious stand,
And gave corruption both my heart and hand?