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While these the priest and those the A loud voice mustered up, for "Vive le noble fleeces,

Roi!' Our poor old boot?,' they said, 'is torn Then whisper'd, 'Ave you any news to pieces.

of Nappy?' Its tops ? the vengeful claws of Austria The Sultaun answer'd him with a cross feel,

question, -And the Great Devil is rending toe · Pray, can you tell me aught of and heel.

one John Bull, If happiness you seek, to tell you That dwells somewhere beyond truly,

your herring-pool ?' Wethink she dwells with one Giovanni The query seem'd of difficult digestion, Bulli;

The party shrugg’d, and grinn'd, and A tramontane, a heretic, -the buck,

took his snuff, Poffaredio ! still has all the luck; And found his whole good-breeding By land or ocean never strikes his

scarce enough. flag

XIV. And then-a perfect walking moneybag.'

Twitching his visage into as many Off set our Prince to seek John Bull's

puckers abode,

As damsels wont to put into their But first took France-it lay upon the

tuckers road.

(Ere liberal Fashion damn'd both lace

and lawn,

And bade the veil of modesty be drawn), Monsieur Baboon, after much late Replied the Frenchman, after a brief commotion,

pause, Was agitated like a settling ocean, • Jean Bool!-I vas not know himQuite out of sorts, and could not tell

Yes, I vaswhat ail'd him,

I vas remember dat, von year or two, Only the glory of his house had fail'd I saw him at von place call’d Vaterloo

Ma foi ! il s'est tres joliment battu, Besides, some tumours on his noddle

Dat is for Englishman,-m'entendezbiding,

vous ? Gave indication of a recent hiding 4. But den he had wit him one damn sonOur Prince, though Sultauns of such

gun, things are heedless,

Rogue I no like--dey call him Vel. Thought it a thing indelicate and need

lington.' less

Monsieur's politeness could not hide To ask, if at that moment he was

his fret, happy.

So Solimaun took leave, and cross'd And Monsieur, seeing that he was

the strait. comme il faut,

XIII.

him;

XV.

1 The well-known resemblance of Italy in the map. 2 Florence, Venice, &c.

3 The Calabrias, infested by bands of assassins. One of the leaders was called Fra Diavolo, i.e. Brother Devil.

4 Or drubbing; so called in the Slang Dictionary.

John Bull was in his very worst of

moods, Raving of sterile farms and unsold goods;

въ

6

you well.'

XVII.

His sugar-loaves and bales about he • In that case, signior, I may take my threw,

leave; And on his counter beat the devil's I came to ask a favour, but I grieve'tattoo.

• Favour?' said John, and eyed the His wars were ended, and the victory

Sultaun hard, won,

It's my belief you come to break the But then, 'twas reckoning-day with

yard ! honest John;

But, stay, you look lik

some poor And authors vouch, 'twas still this foreign sinner,-Worthy's way,

Take that to buy yourself a shirt and • Never to grumble till he came to

dinner.' pay ;

With that he chuck'd a guinea at And then he always thinks, his tem

his head; per's such,

But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, The work too little, and the pay too 'Permit me, sir, your bounty to decline; much ?.'

A shirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. Yet, grumbler as he is, so kind and Signior, I kiss your hands, so fare

hearty, That when his mortal foe was on the • Kiss and be d-d,' quoth John, 'and noor,

go to hell !' And past the power to harm his quiet

more, Poor John had wellnigh wept for Next door to John there dwelt his Bonaparte !

sister Peg, Such was the wight whom Solimaun Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg salaam'd,

When the blithe bagpipe blew -- but, * And who are you,' John answer'd, .and be d-d?'

She doucely span her flax and milk'd

her cow. XVI.

And whereas erst she was a needy "A stranger, come to see the happiest

slattern,

Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a So, signior, all avouch-in Fran. gistan ?'

pattern,

Yet once a month her house was · Happy? my tenants breaking on my hand;

partly swept, Unstock'd ny pastures, and untillid

And once a week a plenteous board

she kept. my land; Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and

And whereas, eke, the vixen used her

claws moths The sole consumers of my good broad

And teeth, of yore, on slender cloths

provocation, Happy?-_Why,

cursed

and

She now was grown amenable to laws, racking tax

A quiet soul as any in the nation ;

The sole remembrance of her warlike Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs.'

joys

Was in old songs she sang to please 1 See 'The True Born Englishman,' by Daniel De

2 Europe.

her boys.

soberer now,

man

war

Foe.

snug glen ?'

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XVIII.

John Bull, whom, in their years of Until the Sultaun strain'd his princely early strife,

throttle, She wont to lead a cat-and-doggish And hollo'd, Ma'am, that is not life,

what I ail. Now found the woman, as he said, Pray, are you happy, ma'am, in this

a neighbour, Who look'd to the main chance, Happy?' said Peg; 'what for d'ye declined no labour,

want to ken ? Loved a long grace, and spoke a Besides, just think upon this bygane northern jargon,

year, And was d—d close in making of a Grain wadna pay the yoking of the bargain.

pleugh.' What say you to the present ?'

• Meal's sae dear, The Sultaun enter'd, and he made his To mak’ their brose my bairns have leg,

scarce aneugh.' And with decorum curtsey'd sister Peg • The devil take the shirt,' said (She loved a book, and knew a thing Solimaun, or two,

“I think my quest will end as it And guess'd at once with whom she

began. had to do).

Farewell, ma'am; nay, no ceremony, She bade him “Sit into the fire,' and

I beg.' took

• Ye'll no be for the linen then?' said Her dram, her cake, her kebbuck from

Peg.
the nook;
Ask'd him about the news from
Eastern parts ;

Now for the land of verdant Erin And of her absent bairns, puir The Sultaun's royal bark is steering, Highland hearts !

The Emerald Isle, where: honest If peace brought down the price of Paddy dwells, tea and pepper,

The cousin of John Bull, as story tells. And if the nitmugs were grown ony For a long space had John, with cheaper ;

words of thunder, Were there nae speerings of our Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Mungo Park

Paddy under, Ye'll be the gentleman that wants Till the poor lad, like boy that's flogg'd the sark?

unduly, If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's Had gotten somewhat restive and spinnin',

unruly, I'll warrant ye it’s a weel-wearing Hard was his lot and lodging, you 'll linen!'

allow, A wigwam that would hardly serve

a sow; Then up got Peg, and round the His landlord, and of middle-men two house 'gan scuttle

brace, In search of goods her customer, Had screw'd his rent up to the to nail,

starving-place;

XX.

XIX.

old one,

worn

at

XXI.

lines,

my last.

His garment was a top-coat, and an

MR. KEMBLE'S FAREWELL His meal was a potato, and a cold

ADDRESS one;

ON TAKING LEAVE OF THE EDINBURGH But still for fun or frolic, and all that,

STAGE. In the round world was not the match of Pat.

(1817.) As the

war-horse, the

trumpet's sound, The Sultaun saw him on a holiday,

Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws Which is with Paddy still a jolly day;

the groundWhen mass is ended, and his load of

Disdains the ease his generous lord sins

assigns, Confess'd, and Mother Church hath And longs to rush on the embattled

from her binns Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit,

So I, your plaudits ringing on mine ear, Then is Pat's time for fancy, whim,

Can scarce sustain to think our parting and spirit !

near ; To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free,

To think my scenic hour for ever past, And dance as light as leaf upon the

And that these valued plaudits are tree. ‘By Mahomet,' said Sultaun Soli- Why should we part, while still some maun,

powers remain, That ragged fellow is our very man !

That in your service strive not yet Rush in and seize him-do not do

in vain ? him hurt,

Cannot high zeal the strength of But, will he nill he, let me have

youth supply,
his shirt.'-

And sense of duty fire the fading eye;
And all the wrongs of age remain

subdued

Beneath the burning glow of gratitude ? Shilala their plan was wellnigh after

Ah, no! the taper, wearing to its close, baulking

Oft for a space in fitful lustre glows (Much less provocation will set it

But all too soon the transient gleam is a-walking),

past, But the odds that foil'd Hercules

It cannot be renew'd, and will not last; foild Paddy Whack;

Even duty, zeal, and gratitude, can They seized, and they floor'd, and

wage they stripp'd him - Alack !

But short-lived conflict with the frosts Up-bubboo ! Paddy had not a shirt to his back!

Yes! It were poor, remembering what And the King, disappointed, with sorrow and shame,

To live a pensioner on your applause, Went back to Serendib as sad as he

To drain the dregs of your endurance

dry, And take, as alms, the praise I once

could buy;

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XXII.

of age.

I was,

came.

Till every sneering youth around Could this full bosom prompt the inquires,

sinking line, • Is this the man who once could What fervent benedictions now were please our sires ?'

thine! And

compassion's But my last part is play'd, my knell is doubtful mien

rung, To warn me off from the encumber'd When e'en your praise falls faltering scene.

from my tongue ; This must not be ;-and higher duties And all that you can hear, or I can

scorn

assumes

crave

tell,

Some space between the theatre and

Is-Friends and Patrons, hail, and

the grave,

FARE YOU WELL.

WRITTEN FOR MISS SMITH.

That, like the Roman in the Capitol,
I

may adjust my mantle ere I fall:
My life's brief act in public service
flown,

LINES The last, the closing scene, must be

my own. Here, then, adieu ! while yet some

(1817.) well-graced parts May fix an ancient favourite in your

When the lone pilgrim views afar hearts,

The shrine that is his guiding star, Not quite to be forgotten, even when

With awe his footsteps print the road You look on better actors, younger

Which the loved saint of yore has trod.

As near he draws, and yet more near, men: And if your bosoms own this kindiy His dim eye sparkles with a tear; debt

The Gothic fane's unwonted show, Of old remembrance, how shall mine

The choral hymn, the tapers' glow, forget,

Oppress his soul; while they delight O, how forget !-how oft I hither came

And chasten rapture with affright. In anxious hope, how oft return'd

No longer dare he think his toil with fame!

Can merit aught his patron's smile ; How oft around your circle this weak

Too light appears the distant way, hand

The chilly eve, the sultry dayHas waved immortal Shakespeare's

All these endured no favour claim, magic wand

But murmuring forth the sainted name, Till the full burst of inspiration came,

He lays his little offering down, And I have felt, and you have fann'd

And only deprecates a frown. the flame! By mem'ry treasured, while her reign

We too, who ply the Thespian art,

Oft feel such bodings of the heart, endures, Those hours must live-and all their And, when our utmost powers are

strain'd, charms are yours.

Dare hardly hope your favour gain'd. O favour'd Land! renown'd for She, who from sister climes has sought

The ancient land where Wallace For manly talentand for female charms, fought

arts and arms,

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