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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
As damsels wont to put into their But first took France-it lay upon the
(Ere liberal Fashion damn'd both lace
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
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,
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;
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
Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a So, signior, all avouch-in Fran. gistan ?'
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
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.'
Was in old songs she sang to please 1 See 'The True Born Englishman,' by Daniel De
snug glen ?'
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
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,
His garment was a top-coat, and an
MR. KEMBLE'S FAREWELL His meal was a potato, and a cold
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
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
And sense of duty fire the fading eye;
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
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 ?'
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
Some space between the theatre and
Is-Friends and Patrons, hail, and
FARE YOU WELL.
WRITTEN FOR MISS SMITH.
That, like the Roman in the Capitol,
may adjust my mantle ere I fall:
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,