And oft, while Pæans rend the skies,
While altars breathing incenfe rise,
The conqu'ror marks for long difgrace.
Yet, Fame, thy fair Elyfium raife.
And, Genius, cull thy wreath of flowers,
And, feated in unfading bowers,
Alfred, ennobled fhine through endless day!
I fee, I fcale the mount fublime-
Loft in the beams of heav'nly light,
I fee, near streams as cryftal bright,
The bards who rais'd the lofty rhyme!
"Bleft, Alfred, be thy honour'd name;
A people's voice of praile is fweet,
And fweet the fongs his ears that greet-
The prince whofe bofom glows with Freedom's flame ;
Still bloffom 'mid the lapfe of years
The laurels wreath'd on Virtue's brow,
In richer pride her honours blow,
And age her mem'ry but endears.
"See Britain rifing from her feat,
Proud of her rights and equal laws;
Ardent in Freedom's facred caufe,
She found thee good, and hails thee great
'I was thine each citizen to fire:
They pant the thirsty lance to wield,
They rufh impetuous to the field-
And Freedom fees her foes expire!"
They ceas'd, and ceas'd the lyric ftrain;
For Alfred lives to charm no more;
Though ftill, its day of fplendour o'er,
Downward the fun but finks to rife again.
Thus Alfred fhines in deathlefs fame,
And, darting golden glories high,
Still marches itately through the fky,
While gazing nations blefs his name.
THE OSTLER'S COMPLAINT OF A JURY'S
VERDICT.
[From the Oracle.]
IN Knaresbro' town, an oiler, nam'd Bob Eagle,
Contriv'd, by words of promife, to inveigle
A beauteous maid call'd Mary, alias Molly,
Smart, active, lively, buxom, young, and jolly;
Who first enfnar'd poor Bob by manners winning,
In washing fhirts and getting up small linen.
A fixpence, broke between them in a grove,
Was fairly halv'd in pledge of mutual love;
But proving falfe (take heed, ye faithlefs ninnies),
Bob was adjudg'd to pay Moll fifty guineas!
The perjur'd fwain, as faft as he was able,
Unhappy, fought the fhelter of his ftable,
Where, 'mid the rustling litter ftretch'd along,
He clear'd his voice, and thus began his fong:-
Singing, 't is faid, for grief a cure is;
But nought can comfort me, good lack!
Except to halter cruel juries,
And curry-comb the judge's back.
Foremost once in ev'ry gay band,
Bob frifk'd as lively as a colt;
But now a noose of twisted bay-band
Thy neck deferves, thou ftupid dolt!
Oh Molly! when I saw thee washing,
First rub and Squeeze, then fqueeze and rubs
And 'mid the fnowy foapfuds fplashing,
I thought thee Venus of the tub.
To leave thee, Moll, to pine and languish,
I own deterv'd an oaken towel;
But lawyers' cofts inflict more anguish
Than either whip, spur, curb, or rowel.
Pierc'd to the heart, poor Robert 'gan to weep;
He gap'd, he rubb'd his eyes, and then fell fast asleep!
SOME
ME northern fox-hunters, fatigued by a long
chase, were invited to dine with old P-, on whofe grounds Reynard had been killed. They had often folicited refreshments at his gates, and could never before obtain more than a glass of water. clergyman of the party produced after dinner the following extempore grace :
O Lord, we thank thee for this wondrous bread,
Like finding manna in the defert spread.
Great was the wonder, when the torrent burst
From the cleft rock to quench all Ifrael's thirft;
But greater far, that here we all should dine,
And find our landlord's water turn'd to wine.
THE WORM OF THE STILL.
[From the Morning Poft.]
HAVE found what the learn'd feem fo puzzled to tell,
The true fhape of the devil, and where is his hell.
Into ferpents, of old, crept the author of ill,
But Satan works, now, as a Worm of the Still.
Of all his migrations, this last he likes beft;
How the arrogant reptile, here, raifes his creft!
His head winding up from the tail of his plan,
Till the worm ftands erect o'er the proftrated man!
Here he joys to transform, by his magical fpell,
The sweet milk of the earth to an effence of hell;
Fermented our food, and corrupted our grain,
To famifh the ftomach, and madden the brain.
By his water of life, what diftraction and fear,
By the gloom of its light, what pale fpectres appear!
A demon keeps time with his fiddle, finance,
While the Paffions spring forth in a horrible dance.
Then prone on the earth they adore in the duft
A man's baser half, rais'd in room of his bust :
Such orgies the rites of the drunkard display,
But how black with ennui, how benighted his day!
With drams it begins, and with drams it must end;
The dram is his country, his m ftrefs, his friend:
Then his offified heart hates itfelf at the laft,
And a dram nerves his hand for the deach-doing blast.
Mark that mother, that monster, that fhame, and that curfe,
See her child hang dead-drunk at the breast of its nurse;
As it drops from her arm, arark her ftupified ftare,
Fill the wakes with a yell, and a laugh of despair.
Is this the civility promis'd our nation,
This, the Union, diff lv'd in a cup of damnation,
Which our Chancellor, Comus, extols as divine,
To train up our fate and our fortunes, as fwine?
Drink, Frin, drink deep from the cryftalline round,
Till the torture of felf recollection be drown'd,
Till the hopes of thy heart be all stiffen'd to stone,
Then fit down in the dirt, like a queen on her throne.
No frenzy for freedom to flash o'er the brain,
Thou fhalt dance to the mufical clank of the chain
A crown of cheap ftraw fhall feem rich to thine eye,
And peace and good order will reign in the fty.
Nor boast that no track of the viper is feen,
To ftain thy pure furface of emerald green;
For the ferpent will never want poifon to kill,
While the fat of your fields feeds the Worm of the Still
Ireland.
[From the Morning Chronicle.]
WHEN the violent attack was made upon our writers, by our brethren of the quill in Paris *, I had hopes that the conteft would have ended in a very different way from what now feems probable. As M.. Roederer had fo clearly demonftrated, that the causes of the diforder, as far as our writers are concerned, were to be traced to the pantry and to the
oal-cellar, I expected nothing more from the French court than a projet to be laid before our miniftry, for he more effectually dicting all perfons concerned in the English prefs.
Such a fcheme I fhould have hailed as a very beneficial regulation, and what has been long wanted among us. It is well known, that, in former times, the public paid great attention to the proper fecding of authors, and by reftricting them to very fmall quantities of butcher's meat, and as little coal-fire as M. Roederer himfelf could with, kept down their productions, and prevented thofe evils of indigefted matter, which feen to go against the ftomach of our delicate neighbours in Paris. And I know not why fo ufeful a regimen has been difcontinued. Doubtlefs it we confider the state of the prefs, we shall fee reafon to with that our cookery were a little better adapted to the fubjects on which we write; and as I am yet hope-. ful that the prefent alarming fymptoms of approaching war may be difpelled, I will fuggeft a few thoughts on the fubject by way of meeting the expected projet for regulating the diet of authors.
I humbly prefume, with M. Roederer's leave, that! the gentlemen employed in detailing the proceedings of Parliament may be allowed their ufual quantity of beef and coals, as it does not appear that any flendernefs of diet, or mode of ftarvation, can give more life and fpirit to that branch of English literature. : But a much lefs allowance may furely be made for the: tranflators of the French papers. Here, in order to keep up the fpirit of the originals, fmall thin wines, for drink, and plenty of flummery, by way of diet, may be fufficient; and although this may probably create wind, as we call it, yet as the wind in that quarter is always changing, no very material incon❤ venience can arife from that.
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