THE HATCHMENT;
OR, THE FRIEND'S MISTAKE.
[From the Morning Chronicle, April 11.]
HE Hatchment tells thy Wife's pure spirit 's fied:
Why blazon what true grief would rather smother?"
"'T is not so much to tell my Wife is dead,
As to make known, Sir, that I want another !"
IMITATION OF THE SECOND ODE OF HORACE. [From the Morning Post, April 15.]
ENOUGH! enough! ye powers above defend!
When will this stormy Session have an end?
These rattling peals of Opposition thunder,
Threat'ning to crack St. Stephen's dome asunder-
Whether for many a long and lingering hour,
(Like Jove descending in a heavy shower,)
L-r-e and pond'rous P-ns-by combine
To bid us sluinber, or retire to dine,
Or boist'rous W-b-d pours the pelting hail,
And brews fierce tempests as he brews mild ale;
Or Py's cant unheeded falls like snow,
Too dull to clatter, and too cold to flow;
Or W―nd-m grasps the flaming bolt, and opes
A popping fire of metaphors and tropes:
Or blown at random in the general squall,
F-k-e comes halting in the rear of P-,
That fierce appellant, who, to gain renown,
With new impeachments terrifies the town,
Till each ungrounded charge the Commons spurn,
And fear the days of Hastings may return.
Shame-shame to Faction!-Have ye never trembled,
Ye Peers and Knights in Parliament assembled,
Lest to chastise your broils and bickering jars,
Sudden destruction seize you unawares!
Some secret powder-plot or deluge sweep
Your guilty benches to the neighb'ring deep?
112 IMITATION OF THE SECOND ODE OF HORACE.
As erst in wrath, far from his wonted bed,
Old Father Thames his vagrant waters spread;
Not William's royal pile the billows spar'd,
But wafted wigs in punts through Palace Yard-
Scarce will posterity believe the tale,
How rival patriots impotently rail,
And waste in civil strife the vig'rous blow,
Which, aim'd aright, might crush the common foe:
Yes, on your sons avenging Heav'n requires
The dread atonement of their guilty sires,
When ruthless war shall thin their scatter'd files,
And desolation waste the fated isles;
O what Petition, Motion, or Address,
Shall then amend the national distress?
Though blushing nobles lisp the maiden speech,
Though H-should pray, and W-b-f-e should preach,
Sinner and saint one fate shall then involve,
And Parliament itself perforce dissolve.
O thou array'd, in magisterial gown,
And clouds of wig o'er both thy shoulders thrown,
The cause of order and of peace espouse,
Rise, Mr. Sr, and adjourn the House;
As great Apollo rules the tuneful Nine,
So may the gift of harmony be thine,
Thine the harsh din of Discord to assuage,
The cry for Neutrals and the Paper rage:
Or wouldst thou rather the gay province claim
Of Momus, or the laughter-loving dame,
Howe'er thine ear their buzzing flight provokes,
O smile, in pity smile at Sherry's jokes.
Or be thou Mars-if Mars delight thee more,
Enroll'd in S-f-d's patriotic corps;
Spent in th' interminable strife of tongues,
With two fagg'd ears against five hundred lungs,
To Pevensey's voluntary camps retire,
And change the word of " Order!" into "Fire!"
Or in thy predecessor's milder tone-
Great Esculapius' son-support the Throne,
In well-pois'd scales when nice divisions float,
Let conscience still direct thy casting vote.
Nor heed the threats from T-rn-y's spleen that flow
Thy mightier champion stints the baffled foe-
To oue dissentient solitary-No.
Enough-whatever name delight thine ear,
St. Stephen's At, S-k-r, Volunteer-
Long may thy firm impartial voice allay
The heat of party, and the pride of sway-
Hard is thy post in these tumultuous days;
Then if we triumph, thine be half the praise:
True to thy trust, and to our faults resign'd-
Though Placemen vary with the shifting wind,
Hold thou the Chair, and be our Cæsar here-
Nor envy S-d-h turn'd into a Peer,
OR, THE METEMPSYCHOSIS OF ALL THE PAPERS."
[From the Morning Post, April 16.]
ILLUSTRIOUS Patriots of the soil,
Proceed, pursue your useful toil,
Till Sol eclipse St. Stephen's taper;
Ne'er mind the business of the State,
Impede, perplex, the men you hate,
And call for paper upon paper.
So when Olympus was attack'd
By Pelion upon Ossa pack'd,
And gods were made with fear to caper,
Briareus, with his hundred hands,
Had idly mock'd your patriot bands,
Though each had hurl'd a mount of paper.
What though when into place you crept,
O'er Europe's woes unmov'd you slept,
And left the foe secure to vapour;
Let Pittites scour the subject seas,
Sink, burn, destroy, take what they please,
You wage no wars but those of paper.
Each doubtful fleet, each neutral border,
Submissive to Napoleon's order,
Your peaceful Pallas lets escape her;
To myriads of insidious foes
No iron broadsides you oppose,
Your popgun pellets are of paper.
Prophetic Sage of Samos' isle,
How wouldst thou now indignant smile,
To make each patriot's soul new shape her;
In varied forms old talents held,
By transmigration's laws impell'd,
But pointed still to love of paper.
Gr-nv-lle no more at Treasury board,
By coalition discords bor'd,
First fiddle to each Foxite scraper,
At Lloyd's should take his natural line,
In bottomry so form'd to shine,
And underwrite whole reams of paper.
Young P-tty, quitting dry finance,
Come forth a maitre à la dance,
And teach fair nymphs Strange ways to caper;
Change ten per cent. for rigadoon,
And save the nation quite as soon
By Music-as Exchequer-paper.
W-dh-m in Grub-street garret high,
Might speculative problems try,
A Philomath o'er farthing taper;
For Bosphorus or Buenos Ayres,
With chiefs as clear as Bob Ad—r is,
Project new schemes on cartridge paper.
Dull Wh-tb-d, like his flattest beer,
All dregs and scum should still appear,
A genuine city kennel scraper;
And when, his morning labours o'er,
He left the Thames's muddy shore,
Might keep a stall for blotting paper.
But whilst your foes you overwhelm,
Ye giants of Britannia's realm,
Take heed lest any idle gaper,
Who sees ye thus demand, at random,
Public and private memorandum,
Should think your sculls are made of PAPER.
* Lord Henry Petty married Lady
TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING
I BEG the favour of you to insert in your next number, the following question, an answer to which we shall shortly see in all the public papers. It interests humanity, and, consequently, the honour of the British nation.
"If the human race could breathe no other air than that which had passed through England, and for which she had paid in English manufactures, would she allow
Your compliance will oblige
Your obedient humble servant,
JESUITS BARK
RETORT COURTEOUS.
BY THE RIGHT HON. R. B. S.
[From the Morning Chronicle, April 16.]
OU ask my opinion of Administration
"Will it fall, or stand out to the end of the Session ?" Of its Talents for standing or falling, poor I
Know nothing but this-IT WILL CERTAINLY LIE.
And that standing or falling, and living or dying-
From beginning to end, it will ALWAYS BE LYING.
THE DELUGE.
[From the same.]
EE feet high in the streets!-La! I must have a peep! What a wonder! who ever could think it?" Pshaw!" hiccupt old Bibo, "if three times as deep, And it were but GOOD PUNCH, I could drink it.”
A TIRLER,
But no, Water-drinker.
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