now.

Units, Tens, Hundreds, Thousands, Millions.
Whenever public men together dine,

They drink to thee

With three times three

That's nine.

And oft a votary proposes then

To add unto the cheering one cheer more-
Nine and One are Ten;

Or somebody, for thy honour still more keen,
Insists on four times four-

Sixteen!

In Parliament no star shines more or bigger,
And yet thou dost not care to cut a figure;
Equally art thou eloquent and able,
Whether in showing how to serve the nation
Or laying its petitions on the Table

Of Multiplication.

In motion thou art second unto none,

Though fortune on thy motions seems to frown,
For though you set a number down

You seldom carry one.

Great at speech thou art, though some folks cough,
But thou art greatest at a paring off.

But never blench,

Although in stirring up corruption's worms

You make some factions

Vulgar as certain fractions,

Almost reduced unto their lowest terms.
Go on, reform, diminish, and retrench;
Go on, for ridicule not caring;

Sift on from one to nine with all their noughts,
And make state cyphers eat up their own orts,
And only in thy saving be unsparing;
At soldiers' uniforms make awful rackets,
Don't trim though, but untrim their jackets.
Allow the tin mines no tin tax,

Cut off the Great Seal's wax!

Dock all the dock-yards, lower masts and sails,
Search foot by foot the Infantry's amounts,

Look into all the Cavalry's accounts,

And crop their horses' tails.

Look well to Woolwich and each Money-vote,
Examine all the cannons' charges well,

And those who found th' Artillery compel
To forge twelve-pounders for a five-pound note.
Watch Sandhurst too, its debts and its Cadets-
Those Military pets.

Take army-no, take Leggy Tailors

Down to the Fleet, for no one but a nincum

Out of our nation's narrow income

Would furnish such wide trousers to the Sailors.
Next take, to wonder him,

The Master of the Horse's horse from under him ;
Retrench from those who tend on Royal ills
Wherewith to gild their pills.

And tell the Stag-hound's Master he must keep
The deer, &c., cheap.

Close as new brooms

Scrub the Bed Chamber Grooms;
Abridge the Master of the Ceremonies
Of his very monies;

In short, at every salary have a pull,
And when folks come for pay

On quarter-day,

Stop half and make them give receipts in full

Oh, Mr. Hume, don't drink,

Or eat, or sleep, a wink,

Till you have argued over each reduction :

Let it be food to you, repose and suction;

Though you should make more motions by one half

Than any telegraph,

Item by item all these things enforce,

Be on your legs till lame, and talk till hoarse;

Have lozenges-mind, Dawson's-in your pocket,
And swing your arms till aching in their socket;
Or if awake you cannot keep,

Talk of retrenchment in your sleep;

Expose each Peachum, and show up each Lockit-
Go down to the M.P.'s before you sup,

And while they're sitting blow them up,
As Guy Fawkes could not do with all his nous;
But now we live in different Novembers,

And safely you may walk into the House,
First split its ears and then divide its members!

TO ADMIRAL GAMBIER, G.C.B.

"Well, if you reclaim such as Hood, your Society will deserve the thanks of the country."-Temperance Society's Herald, vol. 1, No 1, p. 8.

"My father, when last I from Guinea

Came home with abundance of wealth,

Said, Jack, never be such a ninny

As to drink-' says I, 'Father, your health?'”

Nothing like Grog.

H! Admiral Gam-I dare not mention bier

In such a temperate ear

Oh! Admiral Gam-an admiral of the Blue,
Of course to read the Navy List aright,

For strictly shunning wine of either hue,
You can't be Admiral of the Red or White :-
Oh, Admiral Gam! consider ere you call
On merry Englishmen to wash their throttles
With water only; and to break their bottles,
To stick, for fear of trespass, on the wall
Of Exeter Hall!

Consider, I beseech, the contrariety
Of cutting off our brandy, gin, and rum,
And then, by tracts, inviting us to come
And "mix in your society!"

In giving rules to dine, or sup, or lunch,
Consider Nature's ends before you league us
To strip the Isle of Rum of all its punch-
To dock the Isle of Mull of all its negus-
Or doom-to suit your milk and water view-
The Isle of Skye to nothing but sky-blue !

Consider for appearance' sake-consider
The sorry figure of a spirit-ridder,
Going on this crusade against the suttler;
A sort of Hudibras-without a Butler !

Consider-ere you break the ardent spirits
Of father, mother, brother, sister, daughter;
What are your beverage's washy merits?
Gin may be low-but I have known low-water!

Consider well, before you thus deliver,

With such authority, your sloppy cannon;
Should British tars taste nothing but the river,
Because the Chesapeake once fought the Shannon!

Consider, too-before all Eau-de-vie,

Schiedam, or other drinkers, you rebut

To bite a bitten dog all curs agree;

But who would cut a man because he's cut?

Consider-ere you bid the poor to fill

Their murmuring stomach with the "murmuring rill "-
Consider that their streams are not like ours,
Reflecting heaven, and margined by sweet flowers;
On their dark pools by day no sun reclines,
By night no Jupiter, no Venus shines;

Consider life's sour taste, that bids them mix
Their rum with Acheron, or Gin with Styx;
If you must pour out water to the poor, oh!
Let it be aqua d'oro!

Consider-ere as furious as a griffin,

Against a glass of grog you make such work,

A man may like a stiff'un,

And yet not be a Burke !

Consider, too, before you bid all skinkers

Turn water-drinkers,

What sort of fluid fills their native rivers ;
Their Mudiboos, and Niles, and Guadalquivirs.
How should you like, yourself, in glass or mug,

The Bog-the Bug

The Maine-the Weser-or that freezer, Neva?
Nay, take the very rill of classic ground-

Lord Byron found

Even Castaly better for Geneva.

Consider-if, to vote Reform's arrears,

His Majesty should please to make you peers,
Your titles would be very far from trumps,

To figure in a book of blue and red :-
The Duke of Draw-well-what a name to dread!
Marquis of Main-pipe! Earl New-River-Head!
And Temperance's chief, the Prince of Pumps !

TO SPENCER PERCEVAL, ESQ., M.P.

H, Mr. Spencer !

I mean no offence, sir

Retrencher of each trencher-man or woman's;
Maker of days of ember,

Eloquent Member

Of the House of Com-I mean to say short commons-
Thou Long Tom Coffin singing out, "Hold Fast'

Avast!

Oh, Mr. Perceval! I'll bet a dollar, a

Great growth of Cholera,

And new deaths reckon'd,

Will mark thy Lenten twenty-first and second.
The best of our physicians, when they con it,
Depose the malady is in the air :

Oh, Mr. Spencer! if the ill is there,

Why should you bid the people live upon it?

Why should you make discourses against courses,
While doctors, though they bid us rub and chafe,
Declare, of all resources,

The man is safest who gets in the safe?
And yet you bid poor suicidal sinners

Discard their dinners,

Thoughtless how Heaven above will look upon't,
For man to die so wantonly of want!

By way of a variety,

Think of the ineffectual piety

Of London's Bishop, at St. Faith's or Bride's,

Lecturing such chamelion insides,