(A sort of stimulant which hath its uses, To raise the spirits and reform the

juices,

Sovereign specific for all sorts of cures In my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours,)

The Sultaun lacking this same wholesome bitter,

Or cordial smooth for prince's palate fitter

Or if some Mollah had hag-rid his dreams

With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild themes

Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft, I wot not-but the Sultaun never laugh'd,

Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy

That scorn'd all remedy-profane or holy;

In his long list of melancholies, mad, Or mazed, or dumb, hath Burton none so bad 1.

V.

Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware, and tried,

As e'er scrawl'd jargon in a darken'd

room;

To call a sort of Eastern Parliament

Of feudatory chieftains and freeholders:

Such have the Persians at this very day,

tongue they eyed,

Peep'd in his bath, and God knows

where beside,

And then in solemn accent spoke

their doom,

'His majesty is very far from well.' Then each to work with his specific fell:

The Hakim Ibrahim instanter brought

roultai3;

I'm not prepared to show in this slight

song

That to Serendib the same forms belong,

E'en let the learn'd go search, and tell me if I'm wrong.

VII.

'The sabre of the Sultaun in its sheath Too long has slept, nor own'd the

work of death;

Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle!

This dreary cloud that dims our sover

eign's day

Shall from his kindled bosom flit away, When the bold Lootie wheels his

courser round,

And the arm'd elephant shall shake the ground.

Each noble pants to own the glorious summons;

And for the charges-lo! your faithful Commons !'

The Riots who attended in their places (Serendib language calls a farmer Riot)

Look'd ruefully in one another's faces, From this oration auguring much disquiet,

Double assessment, forage, and free quarters;

And, fearing these as Chinamen the Tartars,

Or as the whisker'd vermin fear the

mousers,

Each fumbled in the pocket of his trousers.

VIII.

And next came forth the reverend Convocation,

Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban green,

Imaum and Mollah there of every station,

Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were

seen.

Their votes were various: some advised a Mosque

With fitting. revenues should be erected,

With seemly gardens and with gay Kiosque,

To recreate a band of priests selected;

Others opined that through the realms a dole

Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit

The Sultaun's weal in body and in soul.

But their long-headed chief, the
Sheik Ul-Sofit,

More closely touch'd the point :-'Thy studious mood,'

Quoth he, 'O Prince! hath thicken'd all thy blood,

And dull'd thy brain with labour beyond measure;

Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure,

And toy with beauty, or tell o'er thy treasure;

From all the cares of state, my Liege, enlarge thee,

And leave the burden to thy faithful clergy.'

IX.

These counsels sage availèd not a whit,

And so the patient (as is not un

common

Where grave physicians lose their time and wit)

Resolved to take advice of an old

woman;

His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous,

And still was called so by each subject duteous.

Now, whether Fatima was witch in earnest,

Or only made believe, I cannot

say;

But she profess'd to cure disease the

sternest

By dint of magic amulet or lay; And, when all other skill in vain was shown,

She deem'd it fitting time to use her

own.

X.

'Sympathia magica hath wonders done'

(Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son), "It works upon the fibres and the pores, And thus, insensibly, our health re

stores,

And it must help us here. Thou must endure

The ill, my son, or travel for the cure. Search land and sea, and get, where'er

you can,

The inmost vesture of a happy man,-
I mean his shirt, my son; which, taken

warm

And fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm,

Bid every current of your veins rejoice, And your dull heart leap light as

shepherd-boy's.'

Such was the counsel from his mother came ;

I know notifshe had some under-game, As Doctors have, who bid their patients roam

And live abroad, when sure to die at home;

Or if she thought, that, somehow or
another,
Queen-Regent sounded better than
Queen-Mother;

But, says the Chronicle (who will, go look it),

That such was her advice. The Sultaun took it.

XI.

All are on board-the Sultaun and his train,

In gilded galley prompt to plough the main.

The old Rais was the first who questioned, 'Whither?' They paused: Arabia,' thought the pensive Prince,

1 Master of the vessel.

Enough of turbans,' said the weary
King,

'These dolimans of ours are not the thing;

Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I

Incline to think some of them must be happy;

At least, they have as fair a cause as any can,

They drink good wine and keep no Ramazan.

Then northward, ho!' The vessel cuts the sea,

And fair Italia lies upon her lee.
But fair Italia, she who once unfurl'd
Her eagle banners o'er a conquer'd
world,

Long from her throne of domination tumbled,

Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled;

The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean,

And was not half the man he once had

been.

His sugar-loaves and bales about he threw,

And on his counter beat the devil's tattoo.

His wars were ended, and the victory

won,

But then, 'twas reckoning-day with honest John;

And authors vouch, 'twas still this Worthy's way,

Never to grumble till he came to pay;

And then he always thinks, his temper's such,

The work too little, and the pay too much '.'

Yet, grumbler as he is, so kind and

hearty,

That when his mortal foe was on the floor,

And past the power to harm his quiet

more,

Poor John had wellnigh wept for Bonaparte !

Such was the wight whom Solimaun salaam'd,

And who are you,' John answer'd, ' and be d-d?'

XVI.

In that case, signior, I may take my leave ;

I came to ask a favour- but I grieve’— 'Favour?' said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard,

'It's my belief you come to break the yard!

But, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner,—

Take that to buy yourself a shirt and dinner.'

With that he chuck'd a guinea at his head;

But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, 'Permit me, sir, your bounty to decline; A shirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. Signior, I kiss your hands, so fare

you well.'

'Kiss and be d-d,' quoth John, and go to hell!'

XVII.

Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg,

Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg When the blithe bagpipe blew-but, soberer now,

She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow.

slattern,