AIR. O Gloster! hence the sage's aim, The peaceful Arts, the Classic Muse; AIR AND CHORUS. No common cause, no vulgar sway And England's hope in Granta's weal. AIR. Thee have the marshall'd hosts of France The laurel gave, though Fortune frown'd ;. DUET. The modest Virtues on thy steps attend→ The hapless African has call'd thee Friend- CHORUS. Pursue thy course!-an honest fame is thine- Thee, Guardian of her Laws, her Rights, her Fame, THE ON THE DEJEUNE CHAMPETRE. [From the Morning Herald, June 29.] Say, why should Dutchesses engross our tongues? N Tuesday last, the Dowager Lungs, the most eminent Ballad Singer within the bills of mortality, gave her annual rout, at her wooden villa, in Tothill Fields, to all the fashion, beauty, and genius of the vicinity. When the chimes of Westminster were announcing the death of day, the company began to arrive in taxed carts, buggies, and caravans. On alighting from their carriages, the parties were severally served with an antediluvian offering of gin and gingerbread, which the hostess delivered herself, with her accustomed dignity and grace. The saloon of her cottage ornée was aptly decorated (like the interior of the Luxembourg Palace) with the progress of individuak heroism on the naval side were the graven adventures of Kyd the Pirate; and on the land side were those of the dauntless, and, we trust, inimitable Jerry Abershaw. The niches of the apartment were filled with bottles of rum, aniseed, and Deady's proof gin; and, "not to speak it profanely," many a pair of ruby lips smacked with ecstacy, as they condescended (a modish phrase) to taste their contents, in rapid succession, and quick time! In the potatoe-garden, au derriere, a beautiful awning was erected: this was illuminated at each corner with parish-lamps, and covered with two pair of dowlas sheets, to shield the votaries of pleasure from the chilling dews of the evening. When the company were seated, Dr. Bosky, a local Pedagogue (who officiated as the arbiter pro tempore, as he was the only visitor who had gone through the vulgar drudgery of learning learning to read), proposed to recite an Ode to his Tom Cat, which he had written in Sapphic measure, for the particular amusement of the Ladies. As the proposition passed nem. con. the rusty Author hemmed, stroked his cravat with symptoms of l'amour propre, and thus pompously began: Who drives the mice away from Cheshire cheeses? My Pussy! Who, like a Lord, in Pleasure's rosy bower, My Pussy! | Who creeps, by night, along the Bridewell walls, Who claims sweet modesty's unsullied meed? My Pussy! My Pussy! We lost the remaining stanzas of this matchless and delectable ode, because the covesse (hostess) threw a killing frown towards the ardent Bard, as significant that her delicacy had been invaded by the figurative tenour of the last verse; on which he prudently abandoned the recitation, and slunk, blushing, into the ranks of the beau monde ! Joe the Sandman now entertained the ladies with a comic imitation of the courtship of two cats in a gutter, in the manner of the celebrated Mr. Latb, the Comedian; after which Mr. O'Blarney vociferated the famous old Irish ballad of "As my true-love and I went huffing together." But THE DEJEUNE CHAMPETRE. 257 But the fair hostess checked the progress of this amatory ditty, by warmly observing, that it was too much about himself: "I does n't like a hegotist," said she. What a document for Sir John C! At the end of the first course of pigs' cheeks and Chelsea buns, a letter was brought, post, from the Prad and Swimmer (Horse and Dolphin), in Hedge Lane, to apologize for the absence of Mister Molineux, who had set out for Yorkshire on that morning, on the top of the Highflyer, to be in ready training to meet Tom Crib in the Campus Martius. "How d-'d unlucky!" exclaimed the Ladies. "Not at all," answered Dr. Bosky; " for things, in general, Jooked black enough without him :" then, pointing to the portrait of the sinewy Negro, which was pasted over the fire-place, he emphatically ejaculated" Hic niger est, hunc tu Cribbe caveto." By the way of intermezzo or Troja Ludus, the elegant hostess had provided that incomparable corps de ballet, called the Dancing Dogs, who presented us with the Siege of Troy, in a grand style: here was a dramatic lesson for the Mimi; as, unlike our modern tragedians, they appeared to feel, as well as act. This immortal siege was carried on with due vigour and decency, until one of the canine principals, who dishonoured Agamemnon, as his representative, made a faux pas in discipline, by slyly disemboguing upon Miss Flyblow's pantoufle; when the enraged Belle gave the poor animal such an Amazonian kick, as (in the heroic language of the Moniteur) sent him, like a tennis-ball, hors de combat! Sic transit gloria mundi! Saturday's pride is dead on Sunday! As a treaty of marriage was on the tapis between Mr. Silverthumb the Bruiser, and Miss Wallup, the enamoured fair was requested to repeat the following invocatory invocatory lines on the occasion, which the Doctor had taught her, as my aunt teacheth her parrot, by rote. It will be perceived that they are a free translation from a love-sick passage in Virgil, viz. Huc ades, O formose puer. Tibi lilia plenis Hither, dear Silverthumb, while nymphs prepare Fairest of dames! the pride of Petty France! Her beads (eyes) shed murder, and her songs delude : Make me thy pal (wife), and give me all thou hast ; As the Ladies now began to wriggle, and show symptoms of saltation, the blind Fiddler was lifted upon one of the shelves of the corner cupboard, and country-dances were commenced in the ensuing order: It was intended to have had a Donkey-race; but as Asses were scarce in Tothill Fields, a Ñaumachia was substituted: it took place in a stagnant pond, near the Cowhouse, where two young sweeps were launched in washing-tubs, to splash each other into a state of comparative |