Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Let me embalm this flesh of mine

With turtle-fat and Bourdeaux wine,
And spoil th' Ægyptian trade!

Than Humphry's Duke more happy I :
Embalm'd alive old Quin shall die
A mummy ready-made.

To the Printer of the Salisbury Journal.-We have abundance of new songs published in the namby pamby way, full of sound, but void of sense; the following every true Englishman, whether a songster or not, I should imagine will be pleased with.

I am, your's, &c. A. B.

Once the gods of the Greeks, at an ambrosial feast,
Large bowls of rich nectar were quaffing;
Merry Momus amongst 'em was set as a guest,
Homer says, the celestials love laughing:
On each in the synod the humourist droll'd,
So that none could his jokes disapprove;
He sung, reparteed, and some smart stories told,
And at last thus began upon Jove:

"Sire, Atlas, who long had the universe bore, Grew grievously tir'd of late;

He

says, that mankind are much worse than before,
So begg'd to be eas'd of their weight."

Jove knowing the world on poor Atlas was hurl'd,
From his shoulders commanded the ball,

Gave his daughter, Attraction, the charge of the world,
And she hung it high up in his hall.

Miss, pleas'd with the present, review'd the globe round, To find what each climate was worth;

Like a diamond the whole, with an atmosphere bound, And she variously planted the earth:

With silver, gold, jewels, she India endow'd;

France and Spain she taught vineyards to rear;
What suited each clime, on each clime she bestow'd,
And freedom she found flourish'd here.

Four cardinal virtues she left on this isle,
As guardians, to cherish the root;
The blossoms of liberty! gaily since smile,
And Englishmen feed on the fruit:

Thus bred, and thus fed, on a bounty so rare,

O preserve it, as free as 'twas given:

We will whilst we've breath, nay, we'll grasp it in death,

Then return it untainted to heaven.

Then return it untainted, &c.

The Statue of the Drunken Deputy.

[This figure is represented in a reclining posture, its head resting upon an empty magnum; a plate with a knife and fork and a spoon by its side.]

A PARODY.

Will there no pitying drug its succour lend
The Deputy's stomachic throes to end!

To free the o'erloaded craw, whose mighty pow'r
Triumph'd o'er dainties in their gayest hour!

Bow'd low, and full of wine, his head declines,
Yet o'er his brow true civic valour shines:

Still glares his vacant eye with drunken light;
Now rolls-now deadens with approaching night.

Think not with hunger heaves that bulky breast: "Tis fulness visible and speech supprest.

Calm in excess-in drunkenness sedate,

His proud craw wrestles with its mastering treat:
That belch the conflict ends!-he falls not yet;
Sums every tooth for one more effort set.

At once by wine-wine's conquering pow'r to brave,
He would not sip, but gulp the purple wave;
Expand his mighty mouth for one last treat,
And rally life's whole energy-to eat!

Unfear'd is now that spoon which oft ensnar'd
The trembling jelly which his fork had spar'd;
Those glasses mute, which on the lily cloth
Jingled to deeds of more than civic wrath;

Once poised by peerless skill-once dear to fame,
The flask which could not cool supports his frame:
His fix'd eye dwells upon the shining blade,
As if in silent agony he said,

[ocr errors]

"Oh might I yet by one sublime set-to,'
Not shun my fate, but share it still with you!"
Vain hope!, the fumes of claret fast ascend:
That giant chest's voracious pow'r must bend;
Yet shall he scorn, tho' failing, to betray
One dastard sign of terror or dismay.
With one faint snore, to shame his sleepy eyes,
In drink sublime-magnificent in pies!
Yet his were deeds unchronicled--till now
No civic wreaths have grown to grace his brow.
Him-soothing thoughts console of duties done,
Of eating honours, for his "Company" won.
And he whose jolly form gives deathless fame
To Portsoken*-ne'er drinks without a name!

*No particular or personal allusion is meant.

Happy to grace some Alderman be-mayor'd,
The hero, sot, or guttling champion dared,

When London (famous town) for shews and seeds,
Bartered her character for martial deeds;

Sold all that freemen prize as good and great,
For livery'd banners and for feasts of state.

Curious Adventure.-Two gentlemen have lately arrived in the neighbourhood of Londonderry, from New York, who relate a very extraordinary occurrence which happened to a young man that emigrated some years since from the parish of Glendermott to the United States. It seems that the latter, accompanied by a middle-aged man, was travelling through some thick woods, when he espied a very large tree, on the branches of which appeared a pathway to the top. Being struck with its appearance, his curiosity prompted him to ascend its summit, which had been previously broken off, and displayed a yawning hollow trunk. After having viewed it, he was about to descend, when by some accident he missed his footing, and fell into the trunk, at the bottom of which lay two young bears. There he remained for some time before the old man had courage to search for him, and when he did, he was unable to render him any assistance. He went, however, to procure a rope.

During his absence the old bear came, and what must be the sensations of the unfortunate youth, on seeing the huge body of the ferocious

animal darkening in its descent his dreary habitation, which he might then literally consider his coffin! The nature of the place, however, rendered it necessary for his frightened neighbour to descend with her tail foremost, as otherwise she could not have returned. Finding her in this posture, his only remedy, he thought, was to lay fast hold of her posteriors, which so affrighted the bear that she immediately ascended, dragging him up to the top; and her fear was so great that she fell off a branch and broke her heart! While the young man quietly descended, to the great satisfaction of his fellow-traveller, whom he met returning with assistance. He has since, it is added, become immensely rich. (Belfast NewsLetter.)

Saint Swithin's Day.--Swithin was a saint of great celebrity about the ninth century, and bishop of Winchester. At his own previous particular solicitation he was buried in the church-yard of Winchester, instead of the chancel of the Minster, as was usual with other bishops; but his grave becoming famous for the wonderful miracles wrought by his remains, an order was obtained to remove the holy reliques into the choir, as better suiting their merits, and a solemn procession was appointed to grace the ceremony. A most violent shower of rain, however, fell on the destined day, and continued for thirty-nine others without intermission. In consequence of which,

« ZurückWeiter »