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When tempests tear, or storms rétard,

The busy bark o'erwhelm'd must be,
Tho' none dare try to trim the yard,
A breath divine can smooth the sea.

Then, O bless, &e.
If madness lend, or grief impart,

To shatter'd sense their iron sway,
The mist that gathers o’er the heart;
A ray divine can chase away.

Then, o bless, &c.

**********

FOR A WIFE.
I'M just come in search of a wife,
With whom I may settle for life;
One who's pretty and witty, and nothing amiss g.
I'll offer my hand, and we'll seal with a kiss,
And in Hymen's soft fetters. I'll bind her;

She must not be froward,
Not talking or toward,
Nor wand'ring, nor squand'ring,
Nor leering, nor jeering,

With other gay ladles.
Such, such is the wife, I wish for thro' life,
But the matter is, where shall I find her.
To th’ op'ra I rattled at first,
But of all places that was the worst,
For out of each box the sweet misses watch,
And titter and ogle, 'till husbands they catcb;
While their mothers all sịt behind 'em,

And smirk, smile, and chatter,
While fops flirt and flatter,
Their malice disarming,
With, how hot, and how charming,

How d'ye do, how d'ye do,
Such, such is the wife, I don't wish for thro’ life,
If I did, Iknow where I might find 'em.

Lvery soon scamper'd away, .
To each concert, Hyde-Park, and the play;
But such dancing and prancing, and doing all thar,
That I don't like such folks, I tell you, that's Alat
That a wife among them I declind her:

So that with nothing to fear,
By chance I came here,
Where so many sweet faces,
Such Cupids and graces,

All smile on me now,
That if I e'er want a wife, to suit me for life,
I know very well where to find her.

**********

A METHODIST SERMON,

From G. A. Steven's Lecture on Heads. BRETHREN! Brethren! Brethren! (the word? Brethren comes from the Tabernacle, because we all do breathe-there-in,) Whatare you drowzy?: then I'll rouze ye; I'll beat a tat-too upon the, parchment cases of your consciences, and whip the devil about like a whirl-a-gig among you, I will, I will, I will.--Even as the cat, even as the cat upon the top of the house doth squall out, so from the bottom of my voice will I bawl out; and the organ pipes of my lungs, and the organ pipes of my lungs, shall play a voluntary among ye; and the sweet words that I shall utter, and the sweet words that I shall utter, will sugar candy your souls, and make : carraway comfits of your consciences.

Do you know how many tailors make a man? Why nine.---Nine tailors make a man---And how many half a man? Why four journeymen and an apprentice. Even so have ye been all bound ap.. prentice to Miss Fortune, the Fashion Maker, and now you are out of your times; you have set up for. yourselves, you have, you have, you have.---Dick: you ever see a man eat boiling hoi hasty pudding?

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Do you know how many wry faces he makes wherte it scalds him? Just so many wry faces will you, make when Old Nick has nicked you.

My sreat bowels groan for ye, and iny small guts' yeach for ye. I have got the gripes, the gripes of compassion; and the belly ach of pity-..-Give me a dram! Give ine a diam! Give me a dram !---A dranı of patience I mean ; while I explain unto you what Reformation and Abomination mean ; which the worldly wicked have mixed together like buttermilk and 1 otatoes, and therewith make a sinful scirabout.

Peformation is like the comely froth at the top , of a tankard of Porter; and Abomination, why, tice is like the dregs at the bottom of the tap-tub.

Have you carried your consciences to the Scowerers lately? Have you bought any Fuller's earth to tuke the stains out? You say yes ; you have, you have, you have.-- But I say no ; you lie ! you lie! you lie! --I ain no velvet mouth preacher ! I scorit. your lawn sleeves.--- You are full of filth; ye must be boiled and parboiled ; yea, ye must be boiled down in our Tabernacle, to make portable soup, for the saints to sup a laddle full of, and then the scum and the scaldings of your iniquities will boil over, and that is called the kitchen stuff of your conscience, which serves to grease the cart wheels that carries us over the devil's ditch, why, there is the devil's ditch, aye and the devil's gap too.-.-.The devil's ditch, that's among the jockeys at Newmarket; and the devil's gap, that's among the other jockeys, the Lawyers at Lincoln's Inn Fields. ---And then there is the devil among the tailors, and the devil among the players ; yes, yes, the players, they play the devil to pay.----The playhouse is Satan's ground, where women stretch themselves out upon the tenter-hooks of Temptation.--.-Tragedy is the blank verse of Belzebub; Comedy is his hasty pudding; and Pantomime is the devil's country dance.--- And yet you'll pay the players for seeing plays, yes, yes, but you won't

pay me, not till Belzebub's bum bailiff lays hold of you, and then you think I will pay your garnish, but I won't though: 10; you shall all lay on the common side of the world, like a toad in a hole that is baked for the devil's dinner.

---Put some money in the plate,
Orl, your preacher, cannot eai,
For 'ris with grief of heart I teil ye
How much this preaching scours the belly;
Huw pinching to the human tripe,
Is Pity's belly ach and gripe;
But that religion (lovely maid)

Recps a cook's shop to serve the trade. Do put some money in the plite--Pray put : some money in the plate, and then all your iniquia ties shall be scalded away, even as they scald the bristles of the hog's back; and you shall be cleaned from all your sins, as easily as the barber shaverh away the weekly beard from thechin of the ungodly.

Do put some money in the plate,

That I, your preacher, now may eat,
· And then I will, when e'er you please,

With lifted hands on bended knees,
Say, sing, and swear, thatonly these are right,
Who croud this Tabernacle every night.

**********

BRITANNIA'S HERO. IN the Temple of Fame, where thc Ghosts of the

brave Ascend from the mould'ring tomb, Where the laurel and cypress alternately wave,

Sat the Genii of Greece and of Rome: They convers’d of their sons, how they fought how,

they died, . What scars in their bosoms they bore, And they challenged Britannia, who wept by their :

side,
To rival the heroes of yore,

First the warriors of Greece, at their Goddess's calli.

Refulgent in arms strode along,
Not old Homer himself could enumerate all,

But Leonidas headed the throng:
Next as frequent and bold came the children of

Rome, With falchions yet dripping with gore, While their genius, exulting, ask'd ages to come .

To rival the heroes of yore?

Then Britannia suppress'd the big tear in her eye, .

And call'd her illustrious dead,
Laurell'd heroes unnumber'd arose at her cry,

And Wolf the thick phalanxes led :
Will not these, cried Britannia, affecting a smile,

As she nam'd the stern combatants o’er,
Will Benbow and Rodney who fought for my isley,

Now rival the heroes of yore.

Do the battles of Cressy or Agincourt yield

To Zama's or Marathon's plain ? :
No! my Britons can equal your sons in the field, .

And excel them in fight on the main :
But soon as with tears her great NEESON she nam'd,,

'Twas needless to name any more, For each, loud assenting, this tribute proclaim'd,,

He eclipses the heroes of yore.

CRIPPLED JACK OF TRAFALGAR:. WITH shatter'd limbs Jack came from sea,

'Cause how he stood the tether, With heart as firm as oaken tree,

That stands the wind and weather. What though his timbers they are gone,

And he's a slave to tipple, No better sailor ere was born,

Than Jack the honour'd Cripple..

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