THE BOW OF ULYSSES.

[From the British Press, June 27.}
HEN sad Penelope deplor'd
The absence of her long-lost lord,
Amidst a nation's woe;

The courtiers, whom her beauty fir'd,
To prove their prowess, all aspir'd
To bend Ulysses' bow.

So, while Britannia still bedews
With tears, which memory renews,
Her Pitt's lamented bier-
The suitors for her wealth contend,
His vast gigantic bow to bend,
And wield his massive spear.

First P-tld grasps the shining spoils,
But, prudent grown with age, recoils
From desperate endeavours;
For action, not for jobs, too old,
He seizes first Britannia's gold,
Then hopes to buy her favours.

What though Hibernia may complain
Of broken vows and cold disdain,
And loud for justice cry ;
The grey deceiver his old flame
Abandons for the wealthier dame,
And shouts, "No Popery!"

The bow which P-tl-d had let fall,
Is quickly caught by P-c-1;
The arrow flies with force;
But ah! proscription is its aim;
Intestine hate, external shame,
Attend its fatal course.

Assisting his exertion, see,
E-d-n, alas !. and H-sb-y,
Their eyes behind them thrown
On the dark pages of our story,
When penal codes eclips'd the glory
Of a contested throne.

Meanwhile,

Meanwhile, L-d C-tl-gh reposes
Upon his fav'rite "bed of roses;"
And, ere the bow he drew,
Two fine-spun strings of silken cord,
For surety's sake, th' experienc'd Lord
Affixes to the yew.

But vain his care:-the silken chain,
Of flimsy texture, snapt in twain
Soon as it touch'd the bow,

With which, 'bove ev'ry selfish thought,
Pitt for her lov'd Britannia fought,

And laid her rivals low.

His colleague C-st-gh's disgrace
Moves not the smile from M-lg-ve's face,
The smile of conscious merit :

He

grasps the trident of the main,

The earth too little to contain
His Alexandrian spirit.

Now in his place as

comfortable"

As erst at Toulon or at table,

He dreads no future chance;

May Heav'n avert the oinen dire,
And save our naval strength entire
From M-lg-ve and from France!

Next C-n-g, who ne'er took the field
But under Pitt's protecting shield,

His youthful vigour tried;
And well had shot, but that the dart,
Glancing from France, in Denmark's heart
In friendly blood was dyed.

Oh! could your flowery hymns of praise
From the cold grave your patron raise,
T' avenge Britannia's wrong,
How would her courtly suitors fly,
Scar'd by the lightning of his eye,
The thunders of his tongue!

But since those lips, where wisdom sate,
The stern decrees of adverse fate

In deadly slumber seal;
While we with tears his urn bedew,
Let us his bright career pursue,
And act as well as feel.

Where Judgment tempers Fancy's rays,
And Eloquence her charms displays,
With force and grace
combin'd;

Where the pure love of honest fame,
The unbought mind, the patriot flame,
The heroic soul we find;

There Pitt reviving lives again,
The widow's tears no longer rain.
From pale Britannia's eyes;

Safe from false friends, and open foes,
She triumphs; or, should fate

Without dishonour dies.

oppose,

WRITTEN BY WILLIAM THOMAS FITZGERALD, ESQ.

DEGRADED Europe, in these awful times,

Stood pale spectatress of the Tyrant's crimes;

By fraud deluded, or by fear oppress'd,
No gen'rous feelings fill'd her torpid breast;
England alone oppos'd his iron reign,

And now the torch of honour beams in Spain!
Brightly it beams!-a beacon to inspire,

And warm Iberia's sons with patriot fire:

Spaniards! the noble flame through Europe spread,
And break your fetters on your Tyrant's head!
Glorious your struggle! in a glorious cause!
For wives, religion, liberties, and laws!

For all the soft endearments that can bind,
And tune to harmony the human mind!

Then fire each heart, and arm each manly hand,

To drive the Gallic bloodhounds from your land!
Your slaughter'd brethren call you to the field,
Where Spain shall triumph, and where Gaul shall yield.
Heroes in arms! pursue your glorious plan,
And vindicate the real rights of man-

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Not

Not those proclaim'd by France, and wrote in blood,
But those, like England's, built on public good!
The mighty island" is your foe no more,

But sends you succour from fair Freedom's shore;
And while she makes your gen'rous cause her own,
The blood-nurs'd demon trembles on his throne.
With slaughter gorg'd, and harrow'd by despair,
The shade of Enghien shall torment him there!
And round, in fancy's awful sight, shall stand
All the pale victims of his murd'rous hand:
These shall the story of his reign impart,

And scourge, with scorpions' stings, the Tyrant's heart?
The muse prophetic long has seen his doom,
And hell prepares his adamantine tomb!
Heaven drives the gloomy shades of night away,
And gives the prospect of a happier day;
Germans! Italians! hear the glorious call,
Iberia's quarrel is the cause of all!

Britannia points-and mark the noble view!
Her spear to France, her olive-branch to you!
Fight but your battle, and she bids you know,
Her virtuous Monarch is no more your foe.
Nations arise! and, in your vengeance just,
Reduce your vile oppressor into dust;
Chase from the earth his base detested race,
And end the hist'ry of your own disgrace!
Then shall the groaning world, from bondage free,
Taste all the sweets of peace and liberty!
July 3, 1803..

IMPROMPTU,

ON A CERTAIN EX-SECRETARY'S LATE COMPARISON, OF A MINISTER, WITH A LEAN SOW EATING PEACHES.

[From the Morning Post, July 5.]

FRIEND W-d-m, if these are the fruits of your

speeches,

To compare a great man to a pig eating peaches,
Spare a trouble not wanted to make it appear,
That you constantly take the wrong sow by the ear.
With respect to your simile, hear a word more—
Should some think him the sow, all must vote you a bore.

FABIUS PICTOR.

REMARKABLE

ON

REMARKABLE DEATH.

[From the British Press, July 6.]

N Monday last, at three o'clock, died, at West~* minster, Master Session, only son of Mrs. Parliament, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. His decease was brought on by keeping late hours; and a sort of hereditary complaint, which has been known to attack and carry off most of his ancestors, at the precisely same season of the year. Master Session, we are concerned to say, died an unworthy Member of the Protestant Church. The several members of his family, released from their at-. tendance upon him, in his last moments, have, without the least delay, repaired to the country, to recruit their exhausted health and spirits.

HYDE PARK.

[From the same, July 7.]

THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE TUTELARY GENIUS OF HYDE PARK, TO THE SUKVEVORS OF WOODS AND FORESTS,

MOST HUMBLY SHOWETH,

TH

HAT the domain commonly called Hyde Park, including Rotten Row, the Serpentine, and thence extending to Kensington Gardens, and thence round to Oxford Road, and eastward by Park Lane, has, from time immemorial, been deemed a free open park, with, liberty of ingress and egress to all His Majesty's welldressed and well-mounted liege subjects, male and female, of all ages and both sexes, without discrimination; and that one half of the good citizens of London have no idea of woods, or forests, or lakes, or rivers, but what they receive from their Sunday visits to said park.

That it has been the favourite haunt of lovers, accustomed

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