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BEFORE proud Rome's imperial throne,
In mind's unconquered mood, As if the triumph were his own,
The dauntless Captive stood : None, to have seen his freeborn air, Had fancied him a prisoner there.
Through all the crowded streets of Rome,
With slow and stately tread,
That day in triumph led, -
A free and fearless glance he cast
On temple, arch, and tower,
Of Rome's victorious power ;
Where slaves might prostrate fall ;
In Cæsar's palace hall; Claiming, with kindling brow and cheek, The privilege even there to speak. Nor could Rome's haughty Lord withstand
The claim that look preferr'd ;
The suppliant should be heard, -
From Claudius on his throne,
At his imperial tone ;
And master of the world,
In triumph now is furld,
“I might perchance, could I have deign'd
To hold a vassal's throne,
A king, in name alone :-
I might have rode with thee;
But fetterless and free ;-
With heart and hope unquellid,
By thy permission held ?
By us un-wish'd and un-reft,
To Britain might have left ;-
“I might have bow'd before—but where
Had been thy triumph now? To my resolve no yoke to bear
Thou owest thy laurell’d brow; Inglorious victory had been thine, And more inglorious bondage mine.
“ Now I have spoken,-do thy will ;
Be life or death my lot,-
To me it matters not;
A murmur of applause;
Maintain'd their holy cause :
THE GERMAN AND THE WIDOW.
ABOUT the year 1794, a German recently imported into Bristol, happened to hear of Mrs. B., a wealthy widow, and thought it would be a good speculation to offer himself to the lady’s notice, as well qualified to succeed the late Mr. B. He accordingly waited on the lady with that intention; but having no great familiarity with English, he provided himself with a copy of a German and English dictionary, and on being announced to the lady, determined to open his proposal, with this introductory sentence—“Madam, having heard that Mr. B., late your husband, is dead;" but coming to the last word, “gestorben” dead, he was at a loss for the English equivalent; so hastily pulling out his dictionary, (a huge octavo), he turned to the word
sterben,” to die, and there found_But what he found will be best collected from the dialogue which followed, as reported by the lady German. Madam, haafing heard that Mein Herr B., late your
-[these words he kept chiming as if to himself, until he arrived at No. 1 of the interpretation of “sterben," when he roared out in high glee at his discovery] is—dat is, has kicked de bucket.
IVidow. (With astonishment.) Kicked the bucket, sir. What?
German. Ah, mein Gott! alway Ich make mistake. I vou'd haaf said [beginning again with the same solemnity of tone] since that Mein Herr B., late your man, haaf-hopped de twig, Which words he screamed out with delight, certain that he had now hit the nail upon the head.
IVidow. Upon my word, sir, I am at a loss to understand you; “kicked the bucket,” and “hopped the twig !"
German. (Perspiring with panic.) Ah, madam, von, two, three, ten thousand pardon! Vat sad, wicket dictionary I haaf, dat always bring me in trooble; but now you shall hear, [and then recomposing himself solemnly for the third effort, he began as before] madam, since I did hear, or vas hearing, dat Mein Heer B., late your man, haaf (with a triumphant shout] haaf, I say, gone to Davy's locker.
Further he would have gone ; but the widow could stand no
A PEEP AT A PLAY.
TUNE --Bartholomen Fair.
We'll reach the house before
For we are just in time,
And the boys begin to bawl,
“ I'm nearly out of breath!”
Push the door-in pour,
Spoken.]—0 dear, 0 dear ! don't push so. I shall be killed. I shall be squeezed to death. I will try to squeeze out again. Come along, you fool, would you be squeezed inside out? Oh, faith ! that's my own toe you are treading upon. I beg pardon. Och ! I wouldn't mind, if you didn't hurt me. Oh lud ! do you want to squeeze all the breath out of my body? Shut your mouth, my dear fellow, you can't suffer more by it than I do. Billy, my boy, where are you? Here I am, father, keeping up this fat gentleman's belly. Aye, it's a good thing that I am fat, else my bones would be pressed to pieces. Well, I do declare this, I never was so scroudged in my whole life before. Oh my back ! Don't back, ma'am, push on. Here we are, up at last. Now for a good place. Halloo ! you are coming down head foremost. Yes, he is determined to have a front seat. I say, where are you crowding to, across the benches? O gad ! it's enough to make me cross, I've split my inexpressibles. Never mind, let them be seated. Take care of your pockets, here's a punster. Throw him over. · It's all over with me, if you do. Well, a punster is a dose of salts to me. Yes, and I have been just squeezed to death, and now I've got into purgatory. Well, now I don't care how soon that there green curtain draws up. Father, I think that green curtain is an iron one. Why, my dear ? Because it looks so rusty. There's a sensible child for you. Bless us ! what is the matter, the seat is all wet. Dear me! I do declare, my poor dear brandy bottle is all broken, and let all the liquor run
Hey down, ho down,
Derry derry down,
(ENCORE DIALOGUE.) What a trouble it is for an old woman to get up and down this gallery! I declare it brings on my old cough. (coughing.) What does an old woman want in a gallery; people at your age ought to be in the pit. Ah, I wish I were there. (coughing.) Aye, I think you ought to be pitted, you are already in your cofin. I wish you would undertake to cure it. Ma’am, I am no undertaker ; but I perceive my jest is palling, you begin to look grave. He's a punster, ma'am, give him a punch. Oh, hang him! I thought he was a rogue, but I shall live to read his dying speech I know. He's got the gibbet in his face now. Gad! you have choked him there. Yes, she's got him in a lines He looks a fit subjeot for Surgeons’-hall. All go it, cut him up. Put him in spirits, or he won't keep here. Keep, what is he going? He looks alter'd. Then let him be interred, there let the punster rest till his finale punishment,
Hey down, ho down, &c.
In gallery, boxes, pit,
Are determined to be pleased,
Play up music, cry the boys,
And draws down loud applause,
Spoken.]—I say, you Mounseer Parlour-vow, I wish you'd doff your noddle-cover. Do my vhat, sair? Doff your sconcer.