VIII. Down the river did glide, with wind and with tide, A pig with vast celerity; And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while, It cut its own throat. "There!" quoth he with a smile, "Goes England's commercial prosperity." IX. As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint X. He saw a Turnkey in a trice Unfetter a troublesome blade; Nimbly" quoth he, "do the fingers move suggestion, which I owe to a young retailer in the hosiery line, who on hearing a description of the net profits, dinner parties, country houses, &c. of the trade, exclaimed, "Ay! that's what I call Life now!"-This " Life, our Death," is thus happily contrasted with the fruits of authorship.-Sic nos non nobis mellificamus apes. ་་ Of this poem, which with the Fire, Famine, and Slaughter, first appeared in the Morning Post, the 1st, 2d, 3d, 9th, and 16th stanzas were dictated by Mr. Southey. See Apologetic Preface, vol. i. meant, the If any one should ask who General Author begs leave to inform him, that he did once see a red-faced person in a dream whom by the dress he took for a General; but he might have been mistaken, and most certainly he did not hear any names mentioned. In simple verity, the author never meant any one, or indeed any thing but to put a concluding stanza to his doggerel. XI. He saw the same Turnkey unfetter a man With but little expedition, Which put him in mind of the long debate On the Slave-trade abolition. XII. He saw an old acquaintance As he pass'd by a Methodist meeting;She holds a consecrated key, And the Devil nods her a greeting. XIII. She turned up her nose, and said, And she looked to Mr. And leered like a love-sick pigeon. The Devil quoted Genesis, Like a very learned clerk, How "Noah and his creeping things He took from the poor, XVI. And he gave to the rich, And he shook hands with a Scotchman, He saw with consternation, And back to hell his way did he take, THE TWO ROUND SPACES ON THE TOMB-STONE. SEE the apology for the Fire, Famine, and Slaughter,' in first volume. This is the first time the author ever published these lines. He would have been glad, had they perished; but they have now been printed repeatedly in magazines, and he is told that the verses will not perish. Here, therefore, they are owned, with a hope that they will be' taken as assuredly they were composed-in mere sport. THE Devil believes that the Lord will come, On an old Christmas-day in a snowy blast: soul stirs, Oh! ho! brother Bard, in our church-yard, Both beds and bolsters are soft and green; Save one alone, and that's of stone, And under it lies a Counsellor keen. 'Twould be a square tomb, if it were not too long, And 'tis fenced round with irons sharp, spearlike, and strong. This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip, And a black tooth in front, to show in part This Scotchman complete, (The Devil scotch him for a snake) I trust he lies in his grave awake. On the sixth of January, Believe it, or no, On that stone tomb to you I'll show Two round spaces void of snow. I swear by our Knight, and his forefathers' souls, That in size and shape they are just like the holes In the house of privity Of that ancient family. On those two places void of snow, There have sate in the night for an hour or so, Before sunrise, and after cock-crow, He kicking his heels, she cursing her corns, With a snow-blast to fan 'em ; Expecting and hoping the trumpet to blow, LINES TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABUSIVE REVIEW. WHAT though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking chorus [croak: From the rank swamps of murk Review-land Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse, Men called him-maugre all his wit and worth Was croaked and gabbled at. How, then, should you, Or I, friend, hope to 'scape the skulking crew? No! laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee, "I hate the quacking tribe, and they hate me!" |