Yes, Joe and I

Are em❜lous-Why?

It is because, great CESAR, you are clever-
Therefore we'd sing of you for ever!
Sing-sing-sing-sing
God save the King!

Smile then, CESAR, smile on Wray!
Crown at last his poll with bay !--
Come, oh! bay, and with thee bring
Salary, illustrious thing!

Laurels vain of Covent-garden,
I don't value you a farding!-
Let sack my soul cheer

For 'tis sick of small beer!

CESAR! CESAR! give it-do!

Great CESAR giv't all, for my Muse 'doreth you!-
Oh fairest of the Heavenly Nine,
Enchanting Syntax, Muse divine!
Whether on Phoebus' hoary head,
By blue-ey'd Rhadamanthus led,
Or with young Helicon you stray,
Where mad Parnassus points the way;----
Goddess of Elizium's hill,

Descend upon my Paan's quill.

The light Nymph hears-no more

By Pegasus' meand'ring shore,

Ambrosia playful boy,

Plumbs her jene scai quoi !

I mount !-I mount !

I'm half a Lark-I'm half an Eagle!
Twelve stars I count-

I see their dam- she is a Beagle!

Ye Royal little ones,

I love your flesh and bones

You are an arch, rear'd with immortal stones!

Hibernia strikes his harp!

Shuttle, fly!-woof! wed! warp!

Far, far, from me and you,

In latitude North 52.—
Rebellion's hush'd,

The merchant's flush'd ;

Hail, awful Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha, hail!
Not George, but Louis, now shall turn his tail!
Thus, I a-far from mad debate,

Like an old wren,

With my good hen,

Or a young gander,

Am a by-stander,

To all the peacock pride, and vain regards of state !— Yet if the laurel prize,

Dearer than my eyes,

Curs'd Warton tries

For to surprize,

By the eternal God I'll SCRUTINIZE !

NUMBER II.

ODE ON THE NEW YEAR,

By LORD MULGRAVE.

STROPHE.

O FOR a Muse of Fire,

With blazing thumbs to touch my torpid lyre!
Now in the darksome regions round the Pole,
Tigers fierce, and Lions bold,

With wild affright would see the snow-hills roll,
Their sharp teeth chattering with the cold-

But that Lions dwell not there

Nor beast, nor Christian-none but the White Bear!
The White Bear howls amid the tempest's roar,
And list'ning Whales swim headlong from the shore!

ANTISTROPHE. (By Brother HARRY.)

Farewel awhile, ye summer breezes !
What is the life of man?
A span !

Sometimes it thaws, sometimes it freezes,
Just as it pleases!

If Heaven decrees, fierce whirlwinds rend the air,
And then again (behold!) 'tis fair!

Thus peace and war on earth alternate reign:
Auspicious GEORGE, thy powerful word

Gives peace to France and Spain,

And sheaths the martial sword!

STROPHE II. (By Brother CHARLES.)

And now gay Hope, her anchor dropping, And blue-ey'd Peace, and black-ey'd Pleasures, And Plenty in light cadence hopping,

Fain would dance to WHITEHEAD's measures. But WHITEHEAD now in death reposes, Crown'd with laurel! crown'd with roses! Yet we, with laurel crown'd, his dirge will sing. And thus deserve fresh laurels from the KING.

NUMBER III.

ODE,

By SIR JOSEPH MAWBEY, BART.

STROPHE.

HARK!-to yon heavenly skies, Nature's congenial perfumes upwards rise! From each throng'd stye

That saw my gladsome eye,

Incense, quite smoking hot, arose,

And caught my seven sweet senses-by the nose!

AIR-accompanied by the LEARNED PIG.

Tell me, dear Muse, oh! tell me, pray,
Why JOEY's fancy frisks so gay;
Is it !you slut it is—some holy-holiday!

[Here Muse Whispers I-Sir Joseph.]

Indeed!-Repeat the fragrant sound!

Push love, and loyalty around,
Through Irish, Scotch, as well as British ground!

CHORUS.

For this BIG MORN

GREAT GEORGE was born!

The tidings all the Poles shall ring!
Due homage will I pay,

On this, thy native day,

GEORGE, by the grace of God, my rightful KING!