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LITTLE Cupid one day near a myrtle-bough
stray'd, Among the sweet blossoms he wantonly play'd : And whilst he of many was robbing the tree, He felt that his finger was stung by a bee. Little Cupid then whimper'd, he sobb’d and he
sigh’d, Then ran to his mother and pettishly cry'd, " Ah Venus ! dear mother, I'm wounded you see, And I ask for revenge on the mischievous bee." His mother, who smil'd at the story he told, Oe'r his forehead of snow, strok'd his ringlets of
gold; And, ' when you another would wonnd,' ans.
werd she, “ Ere your arrows are pointed, you'll think on the
bee." A lesson of love may the story impart, Ere a beam from the eye light a flame in the heart, Remember, ye fair ones, while yet ye are free, That the rose holds a thorn, and the myrtle the bee.
THE CHAPLAIN'S NOSE.
A Vessel at sea was expected to sink,
To save her no more could be done; The crew look'd aghast-for every one thought
That his glass of existence was run. The Chaplain, who dearly lowd eating and drinking
And was likewise a very great smoker, Had a nose on his face, which resemblance did bear
To a flaming red-hot kitchen poket. He assembled the crew and began reading prayers,
Exhorted to think of salvation; Begg'd his hearers to hit on the readiest way
To save themselves all from d-
To the midst of this bustle, a lubberly boy,
Unconscious that danger was near, Stood grinning away with most unseemly joy,
And by no means expressive of fear. Now the Chaplain thought fit to reprove this sad
dog, So he question'd the cause of his laughter; " It is,” said he tittering,“ to think how your nose
Will miss when we go under water."
A PARODY!--ON CALEB QUOTEM.
I'M Gallia's King and Consul too,
My name is Buonaparte;
I suit Sir, either party!
Though victory my trade is ;
In spite of all the ladies!
What I do is always right!
Great and small; Dutch, Spain,
Mistress taking, Much gain?
One foresaking; Portuguese,
Bargains prizing, Pyrenees;
Cheat Turk, Grand Machine; Civil Works; Bleeding hearts, All around, troops abound; Shocking starts ?
Deeds rash, Boats flat,
Swords clash; Made pat;
Squalls, falls; Never out,
Clouds of smoke, Very stout?
Soldiers Choke; All hopes,
Heads of Dockery,
All church mockery.
And 'tis heigho for Buonaparte oh!
Buonaparte oh, &c. &c.
THE THIEF KING. I sing of a thief, and a thief callid a King, A true, though an almost incredible thing; Such a tale in old times would have stagger'd beliet For none then imagin'd a King could turn thief. But, alas! in the present degenerate days, When wickedness thrives, and when virtue decays, When monarchs, like mushrooms, from dunghill
stocks spring, A royal rogue's not such a wonderful thing. Napolean, whom craft, or the devil, or chance, Has rais'd from the dirt to be Emp'ror of France, Resolv'd that each son of his Corsicon Mother, Should mount a throne too, like their fortunire
brother. Having forc'd her old chiefs from their realms te
elope, Seiz'd Italy wholesale, and put down the Popé; He plac'd brother Joe, just his talents to try, As a ruler awhile under Naples' mild sky.
The trial prov'd Joe possess'd vigour to govern: And now 't was resolvid by the plodding French
Sovereign; To trepan the unfortunat e Monarch of Spain, Seize his kingdom by stealth-and send Joe there
to reign. At Bayonne this plot of deception unmatch'd Was play'd off as craftily as it was hatch'dFrench armies meantime with Murat at their liead, Were sent to keep malcontent Spaniards in dread. Poor Charles and his son there completely outwitted And one 'gainst the other alternately pitted, Soon found themselves fast in the Corsican's snare, And yielded their persons and crown in despair ! Of Spain and the Indies now Joe was dubb’d King, 'Midst a Junta of traitors and rogues in a ring ; Having sworn to perform what his brother should
bid, He set off to ascend his new throne at Madrid, But when he came there, his arrival to greet, Nought but hisses and groans met his ear in each
street; Ev'ry face he beheld was envelop'd in gloom, Like a grim malefactor's when meeting his doom. Scarce a week on his throne the usurper was seated, "When word came that Marshal Dupont was de
feated Thinks he, 'T is full time, if the tidings be true, For me to determine what's now best to do. Resolving at once,- in his terror on flight, The palace of every thing costly and bright He previously plunder'd-and then, like a thief, Sneak'd back to his brother-the robber-in-chief
THE OLD MAID.
Adown a green valley there liv'd an old maid, Who being past sixty, her charms began to fade,
She of waiting for husbands was weary ; She was monstrously rich, that for me was enough, And sadly I wanted to finger the stuff, So says I, “ will you marry me, deary?"
o, la, fal, &c. Says she, “ you embarrass me coming to woo," . And she try'd how to blush, but she blush'd
For her cheeks of the roses were weary ; Says she, “ I am told you're a sad little man, And cheat all the dear pretty girls that you can ! Says I“ " don't believe it my deary !”
O, la, fal, &c.' She consented that I for the licence should go, When across her, mean time, came a tall Irish beari,
Who, like me, in pocket was peery;
A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. You've heard of a frog in a opera-hat, 'Tis a very old tale of a mouse and a rat. I could sing you another, as pleasant, mayhap, Of a kitten that wore a fine high-caul'd cap: But my muse on a far nobler subject shall drop, A bull who got into a China-shop.
With his right leg, left leg, upper leg under leg, Patrick's day in the morning.