And the brains thus knock'd out for their own recreation, Were sagaciously urn'd for the good of the nation!

May 18.

HUM-BUZ.

EPIGRAM ON THE LATE CHANGE.

SAYS

[From the Morning Post.]

AYS Harry to Dick, "My lad, be of good cheer, The Ministry soon will be chang'd, as I hear." "Good news!" replies Dick; “ yet it better would be, If in changing you had but omitted the C.

ON A CRITICISM OF SCÆVOLINA,

INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE, ON THE SPEECHES OF DEPUTY BIRCH, IN THE COURT OF COMMON COUNCIL, ON THE MOTION FOR THE RECENT ADDRESS TO HIS MAJESTY.

[From the Morning Chronicle]

SCAVOLINA may cavil at Deputy Birch,

That orthodox champion of good Mother-church; Had he heard his orations on that single day,

He had own'd his fair claims to the laurel and bay.
'Twas an excellent treat from the viands of reason,
Most ably serv'd up, well cook'd, and in season.

And tho' critics would tear the gay wreath from his brow,
His harangues were appropriate all must allow,
For there never was heard (this you will not deny)
So flow'ry an op'ning, so tart a reply.

May 20th, 1807.

YOUTH AND AGE,

To the TUNE of "The Yorkshireman in London.".

[From the same.]

O my strain, brother Yorkshiremen, hark!
It claims not the ear of the Tory:

Let him dote on the learned Sir Mark;
Lord Milton's the Whig's better glory.

K 2

N.

His

His namesake's great pow'rs could I boast,
My accents should ring through the nation :
And Lascelles's Paradise Lost

Should figure in epic narration.

Already in Parliament tried,

(Pray let the bright story be noted.) Your Milton, with Fawkes by his side,

For Africa's liberty voted.

Economy's claims to maintain,

With Fawkes, your true friend, he enlisted; And with Fawkes-but, alas! 't was in vain— The ruinous pledge he resisted.

They tell you," His Lordship is young :"
Sad crime, on life's morning attendant!
Forgive him, I pray you, this wrong;

And he'll mend every moment, depend on't.
So was Chatham, when statesman enroll'd;
So was Fox, when in senate first seated;
Nor was your own Wilberforce old,

When first to your bosoms admitted.
Portland's Duke is not young, it is true;

His embers have nearly ceas'd glowing:
For from office long since he withdrew,
As he found life's infirmities growing.
Yet in place reinstated once more,

He feels second infancy's mettle;
Cut up, like old Æson of

yore,
And boil'd in the Treasury-kettle,

Old Melville, to honours restor❜d,
Which Virtue indignant had blasted,
Prepares to re-manage the Board

Whose millions he formerly wasted.
And Rose has long since had his May,

Though his late wither'd leaves are rebudding; And Steele, his old rust wip'd away,

May again slice the national pudding.

The youth, who can think unconfin'd,
And give to his thoughts strong expression,

Has attain'd the full age of his mind,
And is ripe for the patriot's profession.

While they who for coronets pine,

In courts and in crimes become hoary, For a title your rights will resign,

And your guineas prefer to your glory.
Then choose one those rights to defend,
Who ne'er will permit you to lose 'em:
The West Indian to Coventry send,

And young Rockingham clasp to your bosom.
Let the first o'er his slaves still preside,
The terror of dusky Barbadoes;

Be the latter the Yorkshireman's pride,
And the terror of white renegadoes!

May 26.

THE BED OF ROSES.

[From the same.]

CASTLEREAGH! Castlereagh!

All the wicked ones say,

And the women have got it in town;
All the pleasure he knows, is
In a bed of cold roses,

But none in a warm bed of Down,
Castlereagh ;

But none in a warm bed of Down.

Belfast, May 2.

[June 1.

TO TWO GREAT MINISTERS.

[From the same.]

GEORGE Canning! George Canning!

So famous at scanning,

Your muse is excessively low;

For the chords of her lyre

Serve an offiee no higher

Than the strings of Lord Castlereagh's bow,

George Canning;

Than the strings of Lord Castlereagh's bow.

K 3

Castlereagh!

Castlereagh Castlereagh !
"Tis e'en as you say;
Bed of Roses object to who please,
You will presently show
That your office is so,

For there you will lie at your ease,

Castlereagh;

For there you will lie at your ease.

LORD CASTLEREAGH'S ANSWER:

BED

[From the same.]

ED of Roses ?"-Damn the roses!
My delight is counting noses,

Red or black, or blue or brown

What care I for beds of Down?

Down derry, derry Down.

Up, up, up," is Melville's cry;
"Fox and Pitt are lying low."
Rogues and w-s" Up, up," reply
I must wait to string my bow.

Down derry, derry Down.

June 4.

THE GAME AT CARDS.

[From the same.]

SOME evenings ago,

Messrs. Canning and Co.

Fatigu'd with the bores of the nation,

Determin'd Nem. Con.

Some game to hit on,

By way of a small recreation..

First their wish to denote,

It was put to the vote

What game would best sweeten their nature,

Rose fairly confess'd

That what he lik'd best,

Was the old one, of Beggar my Neighbour.

My

My Lord Castlereagh
Could at any thing play,

Aud at all games had high reputation ;
Mr. Canning tried hard
French tricks on a card,
But fail'd in his pronunciation.

Lowther lov'd of all things
The Court Cards and Kings,

A game he 'd just brought into fashion;
It was Perceval's lot

At all games to be hot,
But Cribbage was Hawkesbury's passion.
Portland's praise was profuse
On the good game of Goose,
Such an innocent pure recreation;
Lord Melville dar'd say

That the For he could play
As well as most men in the nation.

But the party, alas!

Had some fears that Dundas
Might not even play fair with a brother,
They declar'd it a crime,

And quite wasting of time,

Like Count Fathom, to cheat one another.

Canning rose in a pet,

And denouncing this threat,
Declar'd it was his resolution,
As they were not inclin'd
To be all of a mind,
To move their abrupt Dissolution.

Let each Member post down
To his County or Town,

And make it most publicly known-
That some Jugglers have met
To try what they can get,

By reviving the game of Pope Joan.
June 4.