THE DELIGHTS OF A CHRISTENING.

GUSTAVUS FREDERIC RICHARD'S young Newcome's name,
The sponsors have promised that while he is young
They'll teach him the devil and his works to shame-
And when he grows up, the vulgar tongue!

And see, the procession from church the street fills,
Led on by the parson with his rosy gills;

And now they're come home, and the wit flies about,
Old niggardly Care by Good-humour kicked out.

Spoken.]-Let me look at the pretty creature. Oh, bless his innocent heart; mammy's eyes and daddy's nose to a T. I never saw such a sensible creature in my life. Why yes, I think he'll make a very good match for my Georgina Carolina Helena Virgina Gridelina Cosmopolita Maria Mopsey. Lad, madam, why what a vast quantity of children you must ha' got. Goth, Vandal and Hottentot. What's that more of 'em? No, no, neighbour, that's my wife's only daughter. What, with all that string? why, if I was a girl, and people were to go through such a catalogue with me, I wish I may die, if I shouldn't think they were calling me names. Liddle, liddle, liddle, liddle! Oh, the dear creature! Oh, I wish I was married, and had such a sweet child as you.

So at it go the clacks, not a tittle heard that's spoke,
And he's the greatest wit that can crack the loudest joke;

All talking away, and nobody listening,

Who so merry and so cherry as people at a christening?

Now the fiddles are tuning, and up stands the throng,
Miss calls a cotillion, her Ma alamong;

In a jig, Madam Lump wants her limbs to reveal,

And Alderman Ninepin would fain take a reel.

Widow Hobble a minuet begs she may walk.

Thus they glide and they hop, and they skip, and they stalk,
Till silence, there! silence, they twenty times bawl,

And a country-dance quickly reconciles all.

Spoken.]-Stay, stay, stay: before the dance begins, I move that all the gentlemen salute the ladies. Lad! now, what a parcel of nonsense! how can you be so stupid! I beg you won't come near me. Well, then, better give a fool a kiss than be troubled with him. My dear Miss, shall I have the inexpressible and indescribable pleasure, honour, felicity, delight, and satisfaction? No, sir; I desire you'll go about your business;

I didn't know I came here to be affronted. Lad! Miss, how can you be so frumpish? the Captain only asked for a civil salute I assure you I shall not make such a fuss about it. Places! places!

Figure in hands across right and left, and now hey,
So they skip, and they jump, and they foot it away!
Nor to fiddles, nor themselves, nor anything listening,
Who so merry and so cherry as people at a christening?

Now the fans and the handkerchiefs soon go to pot:-
I'm all in a muck;-I'm prodigiously hot;
Some hartshorn and water;-I'm fainting, I vow;-
So they give her the brandy. Well, how are you now?
I'm prodigiously better;-you are a good soul,
Wash it down with some negus.-Well, give me the bowl.
And now the gay dance to the supper gives place,

The guests take their seats, and the parson says grace.

Spoken.]-I move that every gentleman sits next his partner. Come, Miss Clack, what shall I help you to? Shall I add a little to your abundance? Now, you think I have a great deal of tongue. Oh, no, my love, I meant brains. Miss Jazey, the Doctor drinks your health. Lord! how could you do so, pulling me by the sleeve, I have thrown the mustard into the gooseberry tart. Thank you, Doctor. Pray, sir, is there any public news? I tell you, it's all a parcel of nonsense and stuff: eighteen thousand men killed! for my own part I have too much charity to believe it. Well, these are excellent puffs. Oh, sir, the newspapers are full of them. Upon my word, ma'am, you make capital punch. I propose a toast.-Here's the young Christian's health, and may he give us as good punch as this at the christening of his first boy, and as handsome a fee. That of course. And now, Doctor Drencher's health and song. I'll give you, gentlemen, Death and the Lady. And thus the song, and the glass and the jest go round,—

Till in-Old Care, begone-Hearts of Oak-Derry down-
And if Love's a Sweet Passion, their cares they all drown;
Singing, bellowing, and laughing, and nobody listening,
Who so merry and so cherry as people at a christening?

ELIZA.

Now stood Eliza on the wood-crown'd height,
O'er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight;
Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife,
Her dearer self, the partner of her life:
From hill to hill the rushing host pursued,
And view'd his banner, or believed she viewed.
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread,
Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led ;
And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm,
Slept on her 'kerchief, cradled by her arm:

While round her brows bright beams of honour dart,
And love's warm eddie circle round her heart.-
Near, and more near, the intrepid beauty press'd,
Saw through the driving smoke, his dancing crest:
Heard the exulting shout, They run, they run!'
'Great God!' she cried, he's safe! the battle's won!'-
A ball now hisses through the airy tides,
Some Fury winged it, and some Demon guides !—
Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck,
Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck;
The red stream issuing from her azure veins,
Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.
Ah, me!' she cried, and sinking on the ground,
Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound;
'Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn!
Wait, gushing life! oh, wait my love's return.'
Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far,
The angel Pity shuns the walks of war!

'Oh, spare, ye war-hounds,

spare their tender age, On me-on me,' she cried, exhaust your rage!' Then with weak arms, her weeping babes carest, And sighing, hid them in her blood-stained vest. From tent to tent, th' impatient warrior flies, Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes!

Eliza's name along the camp he calls,

'Eliza,' echoes through the canvass walls;

Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps tread,
O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead.
Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood,
Lo, dead Eliza, weltering in her blood.-
Soon hears his list'ning son the welcome sounds,
With open arms, and sparkling eyes he bounds-
'Speak low,' he cries, and gives his little hand,
Eliza sleeps upon the dew cold sand ;'
Poor weeping babe, with bloody fingers prest,
And tried with pouting lips her milkless breast.

Alas, we both with cold and hunger quake;

Why do you weep ?-mamma will soon awake.'

'She'll wake no more,' the hopeless mourner cried.

Uprais'd his eyes to heaven, he clasp'd his hands and sigh'd:

Stretch'd on the ground, awhile entranc'd he lay,

And press'd warm kisses on the lifeless clay;
And then upsprung, with wild convulsive start,
And all the father kindled in his heart!

'Oh, Heavens,' he cried, 'my first rash vow forgive,
These bind to earth-for these I pray to live.'
Round his chill babes he wrapp'd his crimson vest,
And clasp'd them sobbing to his aching breast.

CICERO'S ORATION AGAINST VERRES

THE time is come fathers, when that which has long been wished for, towards allaying the envy your order has been subject to, and removing the imputations against trials, is (not by human contrivance but superior direction) effectually put in our power. An opinion has long prevailed, not only here at home, but likewise in foreign countries, both dangerous to you and pernicious to the state, namely, that, in persecutions, men of wealth are always safe, however clearly convicted. There is now to be brought upon his trial, before you, to the confusion I hope of the propagators of this slanderous imputation, one whose life and actions condemn him in the opinion of all impartial persons; but who, according to his own reckoning, and declared dependence upon his riches, is already acquitted; I mean Caius Verres. I have undertaken this prosecution, fathers, at the general desire, and with the great expectation of the Roman people; not that I draw envy upon that illustrious order of which the accused happens to be, but with the direct design of clearing your justice and impartiality before the world. For I have brought upon his trial, one, whose conduct has been such, that, in passing a just sentence upon him, you will have an opportunity of re-establishing the credit of such trials; of recovering whatever may be lost of the favour of the Roman people; and of satisfying foreign states and kingdoms in alliance with us, or tributary to us. demand justice of you, fathers, upon the robber of the public treasury, the oppressor of Asia Minor and Pamphylia, the invader of the rights and privileges of Romans, the scourge and curse of Sicily. If that sentence is passed upon him which his crimes deserve, your authority, fathers, will be venerable and sacred in the eyes of the public. But if his great riches should bias you in his fa

vour, I shall still gain one point, which is to make it apparent to all the world, that what was wanting in this case was not a criminal nor a prosecutor, but justice, and adequate punishment.

For as those acts of violence, by which he has got his exorbitant riches, were done openly, so have his attempts to pervert judgment, and escape due punishment, been public, and in open defiance of decency. He has accordingly said, that the only time he ever was afraid, was when he found the prosecution commenced against him by me, lest he should not have time enough to dispose of a sufficient number of presents in proper hands. Nor has he attempted to secure himself by the legal way of defence upon his trial. And, indeed, where is the learning, the eloquence, or the art, which would be sufficient to qualify any one for the defence of him whose whole life has been a continued series of the most atrocious crimes? To pass over the shameful irregularities of his youth, what does his quæstorship, the first public employment he held, what does it exhibit but one continued scene of villanies? Cneius Carbo plundered of the public money by his own treasurer; a consul stripped and betrayed; an army deserted and reduced to want; a province robbed; the civil and religious rights of the people violated. The employment he held in Asia Minor and Pamphylia, what did it produce, but the ruin of those countries, in which houses, cities, and temples, were robbed by him? There he acted over again the scene of his quæstorship, bringing, by his bad practices, Cneius Dolabella, whose substitute he was, into disgrace with the people, and then deserting him; not only deserting him, but even accusing and betraying him. What was his conduct in his præetorship here at home? Let the plundered temples, and public works, neglected that he might embezzle the money intended for carrying them on, bear witness. How did he discharge the office of a judge? Let those who suffered by his injustice, answer. But his prætorship in Sicily crowns all his works of wickedness, and finishes a lasting monument to his infamy. The mischief done by him in that unhappy country, during the three years of his iniquitous administration, are such, that many years under the wisest and best of prætors will not be sufficient to restore things to the condition in which he found them: for it is notorious that, during the time of his tyranny, the Sicilians neither enjoyed the protection of their own original laws, of the regulations made for their benefit by the Roman senate, upon their coming under the protection of the commonwealth, nor of the natural and unalienable rights of men. No inhabitant of that ruined country has been able to keep possession of any thing, but what has either escaped the rapaciousness, or been neglected by the satiety of