ODE TO MR. BRUNEL.

"Well said, old Mole! canst work i' the dark so fast? a worthy pioneer!" HAMLET.

ELL! -Monsieur Brunel,

How prospers now thy mighty undertaking,
To join by a hollow way the Bankside friends
Of Rotherhithe, and Wapping,-

Never be stopping,

But poking, groping, in the dark keep making
An archway, underneath the Dabs and Gudgeons,
For Collier men and pitchy old Curmudgeons,
To cross the water in inverse proportion,
Walk under steam-boats under the keel's ridge,
To keep down all extortion,

And without sculls to diddle London Bridge!
In a fresh hunt, a new Great Bore to worry,
Thou didst to earth thy human terriers follow,
Hopeful at last from Middlesex to Surrey,

To give us the "View hollow."

In short it was thy aim, right north and south,
To put a pipe into old Thames's mouth;
Alas! half-way thou hadst proceeded, when'
Old Thames, through roof, not water-proof,
Came, like "a tide in the affairs of men ;"
And with a mighty stormy kind of roar,
Reproachful of thy wrong,

Burst out in that old song

Of Incledon's, beginning "Cease, rude Bore"-
Sad is it, worthy of one's tears,

Just when one seems the most successful,
To find one's self o'er head and ears

In difficulties most distressful!

Other great speculations have been nursed,
Till want of proceeds laid them on a shelf;

But thy concern was at the worst,

When it began to liquidate itself!

But now Dame Fortune has her false face hidden,
And languishes thy Tunnel,-so to paint,

Under a slow incurable complaint,

Bed-ridden !

Why, when thus Thames-bed-bother'd-why repine!
Do try a spare bed at the Serpentine !

Yet let none think thee daz'd, or craz'd, or stupid;
And sunk beneath thy own and Thames's craft;
Let them not style thee some Mechanic Cupid
Pining and pouting o'er a broken shaft !
I'll tell thee with thy tunnel what to do;
Light up thy boxes, build a bin or two,
The wine does better than such water trades:
Stick up a sign-the sign of the Bore's Head;
I've drawn it ready for thee in black lead,
And make thy cellar subterrane,-Thy Shades?

ANACREONTIC.

FOR THE NEW YEAR.

OME, fill up the Bowl, for if ever the glass
Found a proper excuse or fit season,
For toasts to be honour'd, or pledges to pass,

Sure, this hour brings an exquisite
For hark! the last chime of the dial has ceased,
And Old Time, who his leisure to cozen,
Had finish'd the Months, like the flasks at a feast,

Is preparing to tap a fresh dozen!

Hip Hip and Hurrah!

Then fill, all ye Happy and Free, unto whom
The past Year has been pleasant and sunny;
Its months each as sweet as if made of the bloom
Of the thyme whence the bee gathers honey--
Days usher'd by dew-drops, instead of the tears,
May be wrung from some wretcheder cousin -
Then fill, and with gratitude join in the cheers
That triumphantly hail a fresh dozen!

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah!

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;

reason:

Why, when thus Thames-bed-bother'd-why repine!
Do try a spare bed at the Serpentine !

Yet let none think thee daz'd, or craz'd, or stupid;
And sunk beneath thy own and Thames's craft;
Let them not style thee some Mechanic Cupid
Pining and pouting o'er a broken shaft !
I'll tell thee with thy tunnel what to do;
Light up thy boxes, build a bin or two,
The wine does better than such water trades:

Stick up a sign-the sign of the Bore's Head;
I've drawn it ready for thee in black lead,
And make thy cellar subterrane,—Thy Shades?

ANACREONTIC.

FOR THE NEW YEAR.

reason:

OME, fill up the Bowl, for if ever the glass Found a proper excuse or fit season, For toasts to be honour'd, or pledges to pass, Sure, this hour brings an exquisite For hark! the last chime of the dial has ceased, And Old Time, who his leisure to cozen, Had finish'd the Months, like the flasks at a feast,

Is preparing to tap a fresh dozen !

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah!

Then fill, all ye Happy and Free, unto whom
The past Year has been pleasant and sunny;
Its months each as sweet as if made of the bloom
Of the thyme whence the bee gathers honey
Days usher'd by dew-drops, instead of the tears.
May be wrung from some wretcheder cousin
Then fill, and with gratitude join in the cheers
That triumphantly hail a fresh dozen!

Hip! Hip! and Hurrah!

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;