ALLEGORY. A MORAL VEHICLE. HAD a Gig-Horse, and I called him Pleasure, I had a Chaise, and christened it Enjoyment, A son called Frolic, who was never still: Delight was thrown, and Frolic had a spill, A SOMNAMBULIST. "A change came o'er the spirit of my dream."-Byron. M ETHOUGHT-for Fancy is the strangest gadder riven Methought that I ascended Jacob's ladder, With heartfelt hope of getting up to Heaven: Some bell, I knew not whence, was sounding seven When I set foot upon that long one-pair; And still I climbed when it had chimed eleven, Nor yet of landing-place became aware; Step after step in endless flight seem'd there; But on, with steadfast hope, I struggled still, To gain that blessed haven from all care, Where tears are wiped, and hearts forget their ill, When, lo! I wakened on a sadder stair Tramp-tramp-tramp-tramp-upon the Brixton Mill! TO VAUXHALL. "The English Garden."-MASON. HE cold transparent ham is on my fork It hardly rains-and hark the bell!-ding dingle Away! Three thousand feet at gravel work, Mocking a Vauxhall shower!-Married and Single Crush-rush;-Soak'd Silks with wet white Satin mingle. Hengler! Madame! round whom all bright sparks lurk, Calls audibly on Mr. and Mrs. Pringle To study the Sublime, &c.—(vide Burke) All Noses are upturn'd !-Whish-ish-! On high TO A SCOTCH GIRL, WASHING LINEN AFTER HER COUNTRY FASHION. ELL done and wetly, thou Fair Maid of Perth, Dashing about the water of the Firth, To cleanse the calico of Mrs. Skirving, I do not mean to give thee a new damper, Of washer, wearer, mangler, presser, stamper, Deserving better character-thou art What Bodkin would but call-" a common tramper." 任 TO A DECAYED SEAMAN. AIL! seventy-four cut down! Hail, Top and Lop! Unless I'm much mistaken in my notion, Thou wast a stirring Tar, before that hop Became so fatal to thy locomotion ; Now, thrown on shore, like a mere weed of ocean, Spite of that limb, begot of acorn-egg, Thou walkest ever with thy "Constant Peg!” TO LORD WHARNCLIFFE, ON HIS GAME-BILL. 'M fond of partridges, I'm fond of snipes, cocks I'm fond of wild ducks, and I'm fond of wood cocks And grouse that set up such strange moorish pipes. A man that holds all kinds of game so dear |