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Now Satan exults in his vengeance compleat,
To the Husband he makes the scheme known, Night comes and the lovers impatiently meet, Together they fly, they are seiz'd in the street,
And in prison the Painter is thrown.
With Repentance, his only companion, he lies,
And a dismal companion is she !
You are paid for your insults to me!
tender heart it is easy to move If to what I propose you agree ; That pi&urė,-be just ! the resemblance improve, Make a handsomer portrait, your chains I'll remove,
And you shall this instant be free.
Overjoyed, the conditions so easy he hears,
I'll make you quite handsome! he said,
The Painter is snug in his bed.
At morn he arises, composes his look,
And proceeds to his work as before;
And to prison they led him once more.
They open the dungeon, behold in his place
In the corner old Beelzebub lay. He smirks and he smiles and he leers with a grace, That the Painter might catch all the charms of his face;
Then yanish'd in lightning away.
Quoth the Painter, I trust you'll suspect me no more, Since you find my
assertions were true, But I'll alter the picture above the Church door, For I never saw Satan so closely before,
And I must give the Devil his due.
On some MODERN IMPROVEMENTS
In a celebrated SPOT in
Oh you who these crags in so happy a taste
On Reading MAJOR CARTWRIGHT'S APPEAL, &c.
By GEORGE DYER.
Ah ! why should Song, enchanting Song,
Why Flattery, pois’ning future days,
Avaunt ! thou Bard of ancient time,
I hail the man of generous frame,
Who leaves the vulgar great behind,
Patriots ! the touch-stone page explore,
Where Discord hurl'd her torch on high,
The blood of gallant Britons shed,
How stream'd the Rhine with German gore !
Ah ! vain the pomp, the imperial sway,
Actions she weighs with patient hand,
the mad heroic race,
Lift high to Catharine's name the strain,
But, first, survey that Form of woe
And hear the groan from Ismael's tower,