But, on the British fide, I ween

The tim'rous children may be seen :

They fear the modern thund'rer will jump over,
With one huge ftride, from Calais Pier to Dover;
And then he'll make but one poor dinner,
Alas!-of ev'ry British finner!

Suck at a draught (to wash them down) the Thames; Then fet our houfes and our fhips in flames! Fye-fye-good countrymen-let 's not be fcar'd, Whilft we've fo many oaken boards between us; And, if thefe wooden bulwarks should not skreen us, Why-then, I think, we'd prove-e'en for his teeth too hard.

EPIGRAM.

HE Corfican roars in a voice loud as thunder,

THE

“The fair fields of Britain I'll ravage and plunder !" John calmly replies" If you can, Sir, you may;

And for your kind visit let me fix the day."

"What, you!" exclaims Bony: "Yes, ftorm till you burst, But I fhall not expect you till April the firft."

A HINT ACROSS THE CHANNEL.

OU make fuch a pother,

You

From, one month to t'other,

'Bout coming our lЛle to fubdue;

That fhould you delay

Still the visit to pay,

Our armies fhall-" wait upon you

PRENEZ GARDE!

GALLUS ET TAURUS.

ALL Europe, from one end to t'other,
Of this great war is full;

God bless us, here's a mighty pother,
About a Cock and Bull †.

*

* France.

+ England.

TRANSLATION:

TRANSLATION OF A GERMAN DISTICH ON A NEIGHBOURING STATE.

HER flaves are foldiers, and her foldiers flaves !

Her knaves are rulers, and her rulers knaves!

THE CONSUL IN LOVE.

YES, the Conful's in love! not with glory nor pelf,
Wit, women, nor wine: what then? With himself.

AUT CESAR, AUT NULLUS.

BONAPARTE, of Europe the general teafer,

EGO.

Moft modeftly thinks himself greater than Cæfar; And the schemes with which now he propofes to gull us, If not make him a Cæfar, will fure prove him Nullus.. BOB BAYONET.

ON THE DISCOMFITURE OF THE FRENCH BY THE NEGROES OF ST. DOMINGO.

AID Bony to his Negro brother

each other?"

"Hold!" cried the Black—“ a word or two-
Though black, we are not black like you:
Dark is the colour of our skin;

The black with you is all-within."

THE MAID OF LEEDS.

A TALE.

[From the Morning Herald.]

WO Yorkshire Justices, post-hafte,

Two

Both fage, and of the quorum,

Summon'd a lafs with roundish waist,

And the appear'd before 'em.

"Here, pretty maid," faid one, and fmil'd,

"But come a little nearer;

You certainly are great with child,

Nothing on earth is clearer."

I. O. U.

"Clear

"Clear as the fun," quoth t'other chiefs.
"So, damfel, now we've leifure,
Tell us, on Bible-cath, the thief

That ftole your virgin-treasure." wi
"'T was him, your worthips, I declare,"
She faid with fmack right hearty,-
Him, that doth wonders far and near,
"T was little Boney-parte !??

"Indeed? oh, then, we'll pause a bit,
Till he arrives at Dover,

Where we are told our brother Pitt

Intends to bind him over !”.

OR, THE PEACOCK AND PLUM-PUDDING.
A Christmas Carol.-Tune- Black-ey'd Sufan."
[From the Morning Post.]

THE gun-boats at Boulogne were moor'd,
The ftreamers waving in the wind;

When Mistress Bony came on board,

For there the thought her love to find :

"Tell me, ye gentle failors! tell me true,

Does my fweet Bony, does my fweet Bony fail among your

crew ?"

Bony was in the timber-yard,

Driving the workmen to and fro;

Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

A carpenter efcap❜d a blow!

The knotted fcourge forfook his glowing hands,

And quick as lightning, quick as lightning by her fide he ftands.

"O Bony, Bony, lovely dear!

Why will you venture o'er the main ?

Alas! my darling's doom I fear,

And doubt we ne'er fhall meet again.

7dream'd a difmal dream, my love, laft night;

Feel how my heart, feel how my heart yet palpitates with

fright!

"Methought

"Methought a huge plum-pudding stood
Upon the board; the plums were lead!
Hot pies were there, high-feafon'd foody
And Turkey pouts, on brimftone fed!

And ftill you feem'd to cry, I'll eat no more!'
'Cram, and be curs'd! cram, and be curs'd!' a failor feem'd

to roar.

"His bayonet another drew,

And pick'd your teeth against your will!
A third pull'd out a ballad new—

Something about-an opium pill,

And fung it in your ear, with fuch a note,

My very heart, my very heart bounc'd almost up my throat!"

"O fear not dreams, my lovely dear!
Your Bony's laurels ftill fhall bloom:
But if you can't fubdue your fear-

Why-let another take my room--
Moreau, the gallant, in my place fhall go,

And if he falls, and if he falls-adieu to brave Moreau !

"When to fair India's coaft I fail,

And Selim's troops with mine unite,
I'll gain the glorious Peacock's tail,

That Tippoo form'd of diamonds bright

This o'er my love fall fpread a fplendid fcreen,

When up the Thames, when up the Thames you fail like Egypt's Queen!

"Your pudding is an omen fair

Of that bright gift I mean for you;
Thofe plums the glittering gems declare

That foon fhall blefs your raptur'd view.

For all interpreters in this agree,

That ev'ry dream, that ev'ry dream, denotes its contrary."

The Watchman gave the dreadful word,
That British floops were feen a-head ;
From ev'ry boat the ftepping-board
Was laid, and faft the failors fled.

In vain the Conful flogg'd the flying band,

In vain he cried, in vain he cried, Scoundrels! I'll make

you stand."}

Slieve Donard.

SHILLELAGH.

FOR

Nos facimus, Fortuna, Deam, Coloque locamus.

ORTUNE achieves what never man fufpects,
Exalts the humble and the proud dejects :

'Tis hers thy wild ambition to control,

JUVENAL.

Though now her golden draughts inflame thy foul!
The lowly rufh and shrub unhurt are found,

When lightnings ftrike the pine, high-tow'ring, to the ground!

THE GROANS OF THE GUILLOTINE

[From the Oracle.]

ONE night in cold December's reign,

When sadness sombred ev'ry scene,
Thus long and loudly to complain,
Was heard the gloomy Guillotine:
"Ungrateful France! in vain for thes
Have I of blood fuch torrents fhed-
In vain have toil'd to make thee free,
By lopping off each tyrant's head!
"Bear witnefs, Ghoft of Robespierre !
Aud thou, Marat, bear witnefs too!
Danton, Legendre, and Fouquier,

Bear witnefs!-I appeal to you,

"If e'er machine, or new or old,
In Havoc's armoury arrang'd,
Hath done fuch fervice: yet I'm told,
I- for another must be chang'd!

* Χρυσε νάματα; but, if we read χρυσω πώματα, fuppofing the Firft Conful, owing to his good fortun:, to be able to drink out of cups of gold, it will come nearer to his custom at St. Cloud, which is, we are told, to wash his hands in a bafin compoted of folid gold. Hereafter we may perhaps have to addrefs him Martial's words to Bafia:

Ventris onus mifero nec te pudet excipis auro.

"Ore