"O revolutionary rage!

Doft thou fufpect that I am grown
Too blunt for use, too weak from age,
That I afide fhould thus be thrown?
"You floating fails ufurp my place,

His fhifted flag there Terror waves,
The Guillotine is in difgrace!

Death now likes nought but Galley-flaves * !**

HAFIZ.

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE,
CALLED THE ENGLISH COUNTRY DANCE.

FR

[From the Morning Chronicle.]

RENCHMEN! fince you're fond of dancing▸
We will give you many a ball;

Lo! to meet you, we're advancing,
Then obey our mufic's call.

Calais is a step from Dover;'
Strike up, and the dance begin';
Yet, though eager to cross over,
Ye fhall never figure in.
For our balls when ye are riper,
And ye dance upon the waves,
We fhall fee, who pays the piper,
As ye fink in watery graves!
Gallic cock boats, dread our thunder !.
They who 're footing on the fea,
Are not flaves, whofe God is plunder,
But who fight for Liberty!

If, our gallant tars escaping,

Some fhould land upon our fhore;
Then, instead of fiddles fcraping,
Deep-ton'd inftruments fhall roar.
Then with light heels nimbly capering,
Ye hall kip till out of breath,
And the cadence to this vapouring,
Shall be Holbein's Dance of Death.

Alluding to the present moile of punishment in France, by sending offenfive perfons to the Gallies inftead of the Guillotine.

To

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To your threats of proud invadings,
While your movements ye prolong,
Frenchmen! fuch our ferenadings!
Such, the burden of our fong!
And in chorus oft repeated,

Echo fhall refound this ftrain :— "Britain on a rock is feated;

Hers the empire of the main!"

Hampftead, Jan. 21ft, 1804.

BONAPARTE TO THE SWISS.

[From the Morning Poft.}

YE blind Mountaineers!

Difcard all your fears,

And once more be jovial and hearty :

Come follow the fashion,

And, like the Great Nation,

Bow down to the great Bonaparté.

All Europe to me

Shall one family be,

And thofe that oppofe me shall fall.

What glorious fun,

That nobody's fon

Should thus be the father of all!

In fafhions all own

That the French fet the ton

Like them make religion a joke,

Cut heads off by dozens,

Slay uncles and coufins,

To-bend to a foreigner's yoke.

Nay, hope not to ftir up

The powers of Europe,
To join in your frantic defires

Affifted by no man,

The Corfican thowman

Can dance them at will on his wires.

Should Britain alone

(Ere Freedom is gone)

VOL. VIII.

E

X.

Prefume

SIR,

Prefume to lament your new fetters,
Reject her endeavour

Your peace to diffever,

And join in this fong with your betters: "We gay Mountaineers

Have difcarded all fears,

And once more are jovial and hearty;
We follow the fashion,

And, like the Great Nation,

Bow down to the great Bonaparté."

LAUGH AND BE FAT.

[From the Oracle.]

Z. Z.

Piazza Coffeehouse, Covent
Garden, Thursday Noon.

GAVE full fcope to my rifible faculties on the perufal of your judicious and good-humoured criticifm in this day's Daily Advertiser, on a remarkable paffage in the leaded article of Wednesday's Times, which paffage appears to have been dictated by the fpirit of bombaft and nonsense. I beg leave to recur to it here, that the reader may better comprehend the defign of the fubfequent jeu d'efprit. It is thus fairly copied verbatim et literatim:

"It is impoffible for all the natural philofophers of the Institute, if they decompofe and analyze all the waters of the ocean, to difcover any particles or properties which difqualify or infect the human beings which inhabit its fhores, and cut them off, by any law of repulfion, from the communion and fociety of the reft of mankind. It is neither a misfortune nor a difgrace to be the natives of an ifland; and if ever the human race has had occafion to blush for any integral part of the fpecies, it has not been for the people of Great Britain."-Times, Wednesday, Dec. 2.20 1802.

I confefs,

I confefs, Mr. Editor, that I was fo highly pleased with this political defcendant of Blackmore, whom the wits of the age immortalized as the commander in chief of the battery of Bombaft, that I thought of the following

POETICAL EFFUSION,

BY THE GENIUS OF NONSENSE.

WHAT nonsense these philofophers will talk!
I mean the fages of the Inftitute,
Who tell us that each islander must stalk,
'Mong continental folk, just like a brute !
Now, we iflanders folemnly declare,
It's no misfortune nor difgrace,
To be born here:

And we can look our neighbours in the face,
As boldly as a cobler eyes a pot of beer;
We are no anti-human, anti-focial wights,
But we have lofty minds and continental rights.
For proof, I'll fet philofophers a job,
Which it has puzzled now my nob
To state in proper phrafe;

In ftyle fublime to make a wondrous clatter,
And with opake ideas to shine in leaded matter:
Then let them take the fea, with all its creeks and bays,
Even when ships ride

On the full tide,

And pop

The whole falt ocean in a chemift's shop;
Then let them" analyze" and " decompofe"
It, and all that in it flows,

Sprats, whales, and herrings-with or without roes:
And if they any particle can find,

To fatisfy a reasonable mind,

That every twenty on the island thore
Are not as good as every score
Which on the continent are cramm'd,
Then I'll be d-d.

Ergo-and my philofophy is good,
As we're of the fame fleth and blood,

They ne'er can find a fingle flaw,
Nor any ftrong, " repulfive law,"
To bar us from mankind;
At least, that is my mind:

Of that great company we form a part,
I think the very heart.

If an "integral" portion of our race
E'er brought it to disgrace,

I care not a fingle rush,
What thefe philofophers may fay;
Against their nay I ftake my yea;
It is not we, but they that ought to blush!
Witness their infolence, which they measure
By our 66
quantity of patience" and our treasure!
They try prepofterous tricks upon mankind,
And fancy all men but themselves are blind.
They think too, nobody can write like them,
Dilating antic notions with Dutch phlegm :
Seeking with pompous nothings to surprise,
And charm the multitude with vague furmife;
But here they 're devilishly mistaken,
For I'll bet my bacon,

That I, like them, philofophize and puff,
And of queer phrafes have enough:
From common fenfe, like them, I ftand aloof,
As may be always feen-" The Times give proof!"

NO QUARTER!!!

[From the British Prefs.]

TO CITIZEN MORNING POST.

FELLOW-CITIZEN,

BY

Y the telegraph of this day, I learn with fatisfaction that you approve my principles, preach my doctrine, and defire to enforce my practice. Citizen, I am but young; the day of the convocation of the States General in France was the day of my birth; but my lineage dates from Adam. I am defcended from Ćain; and when the Ifraelites gave no quarter

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