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Each hour a different face he wears,
Now laughing, now in sorrow;
And roars for power to-morrow.
At noon the Tories had him tight,
Each party try'd to 'ave won him;
That now both parties shun him.
See yon old, dull, important Lord,
Sits first, but does not lead:
And the tail moves the head.
Why did you cross God's good intent?
Back to that station
And have not got it now.
See valiant Cobham, valorous Stair,
Now strike my ravish'd eye:
Rusty with laying by.
Dear Bat, I'm glad you've got a place,
You'll give opposing o'er :
Like Peter, at the door.
See who comes next_I kiss thy hands,
Of which you'd none before.
you are in
When great impending dangers shook
Judiciously from plough:
Th’ Exchequer gave to you.
When in your hands the seals
In Lady Loverule's bed.
See Harry Vane in pomp appear,
Grown taller by some inches:
The black funereal Finches.
And see with that important face
Into the Treasury come:
Thou Bourgeois Gentilhomme.
Oh, my poor Country! is this all
Of Walpole and his tools?
A’n't only knaves, but fools.
More changes, better times this isle Demands : Oh! Chesterfield, Argyle,
To bleeding Britain bring 'em: Unite all hearts, appease each storm; 'Tis yours such actions to perform,
My pride shall be to sing 'em.
ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE.
BORN 1705.—DIED 1760.
ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE was born at Burton upon Trent, educated at Westminster and Cambridge, and studied the law at Lincoln's Inn; but his fortune enabled him to decline the pursuit of business long before his death. He sat in two parliaments for Wenlocke, in Shropshire.
OLD Battle-array, big with horror, is fled,
her head. Sing, ye Muses, Tobacco, the blessing of peace; Was ever a nation so blessed as this?
When summer suns grow red with heat,
Tobacco tempers Phæbus' ire;
Yellow autumn, youthful spring,
Fraught with Tobacco's balmy sweets; Old Ocean trembles at Britannia's power,
And Boreas is afraid to roar.
Happy mortal! he who knows
Let foreign climes the wine and orange boast,