Whofe tongues ran too fast! a Chinese Mandarin,
Exactly the fame as you fee on a fcreen;

Brave Tars, whose sweet perfons ne'er ventur'd to fea;
Grave Phyficians, whofe palms never itch'd for a fee;
And a Quack, who would drug the political body-
Like the regular Doctor, he feem'd a Tom Noddy;
Gave phyfic to Chriftians not fit for the stables,
And ficken'd the fick by mistaking the labels:
There were Pilgrims from Mecca, Loretto, and Rome;
And a Stranger I noted, who feem'd quite at home.
A grave Matron appear'd in a child's flip array'd;
We will candidly hope 't was the first flip the made.
An Old Scotchman was there from the ifland of Skie,
Who could paint this affembly much better than I:
With Carters and Carmen, and Old Clothes-man Mofes,
And Gipfies, that rubb'd out their lilies and roles,
Who por❜d on Fate's volume, pretending to spell it,
Who could make a man's fortune, much fooner than tell it.
A ftrange creature was one, whom I could not but mark-
An impudent Baggage in queft of her spark ;

Her tongue went as faft as the fly of a jack

I wish that her wit had kept pace with her clack.

There were Tailors who knew not their goose from their fcaffars,

And bare-fac'd Divines, who came there without vizors.

A Jew Broker I met, whom I knew upon 'Change;

That the Stocks fl.ould be fteady he thought very strange,,
For Omnium was plenty (no thanks to the war),
Sober fenfe at a discount, and wit above par..
An Old Fiddler was there, and his merry Old Wife;;
I wish that their mirth may continue for life..
Among others with whom this aflembly was ftor'd,
Were a learned grave Sergeant, if not a law Lord,
And an honeft. Young Barrifter, modeft and wife;
Yet they both (and I fear it is more than furmife)
Soon infolvent muft prove, with their deeds and their clauses,
For effects, we all know, can proceed but from causes;
And their palms (now can any thing make the cafe plainer?),
Ne'er had felt a refresher-no, not a retainer.
But hearing the Humdrums, a fplenetic race,
Had conceiv'd the defign of indiating her Grace,

For

For disturbing the peace of our Sovereign the King,
By making with riot the Abbey roof ring,
And for levying of forces to aid her defign,
(Who her fummons obey'd from the pole to the line,)
They both had come here with intention to plead,
(But not till they both by both fides had been fee'd,)
The grave learned Sergeant first open'd the cafe,
Then the young one replied with a ftill graver face-
"Shall the Humdrums pretend that their peace is destroy'd,
Because with my client each moment's enjoy'd?
Shall they fancy life's current is running to waste,
When with pleafure it flows, they want fpirit to taste?
As well might the oysters, pack'd close in a barrel,
With my client's fweet notes, when the fings, pick a quarrel;
As well might complain their fine feelings the wounds,
When light in the dance like a fairy fhe bounds.
Of our final fuccefs we've no fears, I affure ye—
Prepare for the trial, empannel the jury;
Of her peers, a fair jury is all we exact,
A jury to try both the law and the f"

Says the man of the coif, "Through the whole country

round

Her peers (for I've fearch'd) are no where to be found;
So, of course, the indictment must fall to the ground."
Their labours how fruitless, how idle their fears!
For how could the peerless be tried by her peers?
There were Quakers, who horrible oaths out were rapping,
And rough-handed Shavers, whofe wit wanted ftrapping:
Kitchen Wenches and Scullions, fo fweet with perfume!
And a Housemaid who never yet handled a broom;
We every one thought her a fweet pretty blowze,
A lively young huffy, who rul'd the whole boufe *.
There were Dairymaids too, who, if rightly I deem,
Of pleasure, perhaps, may have skimm'd off the cream;
But as for their butter, were 't all he could get,
Rouvere would have thrown up his place in a pet;
We, hungry and fulky, had fat on our cruppers,
Or been fent, like bad children, to bed without fuppers.
There were Haymakers too, now fo blooming and gay-
Then while the fun fhines, my advice is, "Make hay;'

* The Dutchess herself, as a Housemaid.

That

That cheerful and happy, when hay-time is over,

Though their fun may decline, they may ftill live in clover. An Old Spark caught my eye, who, though turn'd of fourscore,

Had I daughter or wife, fhould not enter my door.

And his Grandmother too! he, who makes her a wife,
Will find the young romp be the plague of his life;
Turning night into day is her deareft delight!
But another sweet Guest had turn'd day into night—
Such a night as is not to be purchas'd with money-
May its stars be propitious! its moons be all honey!
Who their days for a night fuch as that would not barter?
And the mild moon, it feem'd too, was in the first quarter;
And yet, had we judg'd by the whirl in each skull,
We all must have thought it had been at the full.

THE

LAWYER.

[From the Monthly Mirror.]

PROFESSIONS will abufe each other:

The priest won't call the lawyer brother;
While Salkeld still beknaves the parfon,
And fays he cants to keep the farce on!
Yet will I readily fuppofe

They are not truly bitter foes,
But only have their pleasant jokes,
And banter, juft like other folks,
As thus; for fo they quiz the Law!
Once on a time th' attorney Flaw,
A man, to tell you as the fact is,
Of vaft chicane, of courfe of practice,
(But what profeffion can we trace
Where fome will not the corps difgrace?
Seduc'd, perhaps, by roguith client,
Who tempts him to become more pliant,)
A notice had to quit the world-
And from his desk at length was hurl'd!
Obferve, I pray, the plain narration:-
'T was in a hot and long vacation,
When time he had, but no affiftance,
Though great from courts of law the distance,

Το

To reach the Court of Truth and Justice,
(Where, I confefs, my only truft is :)
Though here below the learned pleader
Shew'd talents worthy of a leader,
Yet his own fame he muft fupport,
Be fometimes witty with the court,
Or work the paffions of a jury
By tender ftrains, or, full of fury,
Mifleads them all, though twelve apostles,
While with new law the judge he joftles,
And makes them all give up their pow'rs
To fpeeches of at least three hours!

But we have left our little man,

And wander'd from our purpos'd plan :-
'T is faid, without ill-natur'd leaven,
"If ever lawyers get to heaven,
It furely is by flow degrees;"
Perhaps 't is flow they take their fees!
The cafe, then, now I'll fairly state;
Flaw reach'd at last to heav'n's high gate:
Quite spent, he rapp❜d-none did it neater;
The gate was open'd by St. Peter,
Who look'd aftonish'd when he saw,
All black, the little man of law!
But charity was Peter's guide,
For, having once himfelf denied
His Mafter, he would not o'erpafs
The penitent of any class;

Yet, never having heard there enter'd
A lawyer, nor of one that ventur'd
Within the realms of Peace and Love,
He told him, mildly, to remove-
And would have clos'd the gate of day,
Had not old Flaw in fuppliant way,
Demurring to fo hard a fate,

Begg'd but to look, though through the gate.
St. Peter, rather off his guard,
Unwilling to be thought too hard,
Opens the gate to let him peep in :—
What did the lawyer?-Did he creep
Or dafli at once, to take poffeffion?
Oh, no-he knew his own profeffion :

in;

He

He took his hat off with respect,
And would no gentle means neglect;
But, finding it was all in vain
For him adınittance to obtain,
Thought it were beft, let come what will,
To gain an entry by his skill;
So, while St. Peter ftood afide,
To let the door be open'd wide,
He skimm'd his hat with all his strength
Within the gates, to no fmall length!
St. Peter ftar'd: the Lawyer afk'd him

Only to fetch his hat"-and pafs'd him:
But, when he reach'd the Jack he 'd thrown,
Oh, then was all the lawyer fhown!-
He clapp'd it on; and, arms a-kimbo,
As if he'd been the gallant Bembo,
Cried out,
"What think you
of my plan?
"Eject me, Peter, if you can!"

ANECDOTE.

T.

A GERMAN Bishop, who was alfo a temporal

Prince, being much addicted to swearing, was reproached by his Confeffor for the practice of a vice fo peculiarly difgraceful to an ecclefiaftical character. The Prelate, however, excufed himfelf by faying, "that he fwore as a Prince, and not as a Bishop.'" "All that may be very true," replied the Confeffor; "but I fhould be glad to know, when the Prince goes to the Devil for fwearing, what will become of the Bishop."

THE BLINDNESS OF HOMER

[From the Suffex Chronicle.]

WHAT time the penfive evening's twilight gray
Had dimm'd the brightnefs of the fetting day,
When Phoebus' car the western surge had gain'd,
And fober stillness o'er the landscape reign'd;

* A Prize Poem, May 1803.

Wrapt