Yet no wallet had I, for to fpunging I'm prone,
And 'bove all things I love to pick other folk's bone:
So while fiiter regal'd with a cruft and polony,
I decently mefs'd with a chance-meeting crony :
But what in my ftomach I put, as it fed,
The eyes of the women put out of my head,
So can't here relate any more than the dead.
All that pafs'd at the table in vain I should tell;
I can only fay this, that between beau and belle
Mickle punning, bon mots, repartees went about,
While alike beau and belle fipp'd (who'd think it?) brown
ftout!
When the stars twinkled bright, as they told us from deck,
Quick away up the cabin ftairs each cran'd his neck;
With the captain, the cook fang a strain at the poop,
And, darkling about 'em, we hover'd en groupe,
'Till the chill cold of night made us lubbers retreat,
And the smiles of the fair in the cabin to greet.
THE RUSTICATED CANTAB.
[From the Morning Herald]
DREAD worthies, I bow at your fhrine,
And, kneeling, fubmiffive, petition
You'll pardon this false step of mine,
And pity my difmal condition.
When ye met all together of late,
In the room which we term Combination,
To fix your Petitioner's fate,
Alas! why did you choose Ruftication?
That my conduct was wrong, I must own,
And your juftice am forc'd to acknowledge;
But can I in no wife atone
For my fault without leaving the college?
Confider how ftrange 't will appear,
In the mind of each fine jolly fellow,
That a Cantab was banish'd a year
Juft for roving a little when mellow.
You have precedents, no one denies,
To prove it but just that I went hence;
But furely no harm could arise
If you were to relax in your sentence.
No; traft me, much good should proceed
From granting this very great favour,
For, impreft with a fenfe of the deed,
I'd carefully mead my behaviour.
You will then have on me a fast hold,
For gratitude's ftronger than any tie:
Then pray do not think me too bold
In thus begging hard for fome lenity!
But why fhould I humbly implore,
Since to you all my: forrow's a farce?
I'll fupplicate fellows no more!
So, ye reverend dons, caret pars.
The lad who good drinking enjoys,
I'll cheerfully pledge in a full can;
Ruftication's quite common, my boys---
Remember Apollo and Vulcan!
These two heroes were hurl'd from the fkies,
Neither forges nor mufic could fave them,
For, heartily d--ning their eyes,
Joye a travelling fellowship gave them.
Then no longer let mortals repine,
If to grafs fent from Oxon or Granta,
But stick to the bleffings divine
Which flow from a well-fili'd decanter.
When our goblets with nectar are crown'd,"
And our fpirits rife fafter and faster,
While good-humour fmiles gaily around,
A fig for the Fellows and Master !
ALWAYS AUDIBLE.
PASS under Jack's window at twelve at night,
You'll hear him ftill; he 's roaring!
País under Jack's window at twelve at noon,
You'll hear him ftill-he's fnoring!
A DELICATE TURN TO A DELICATE
COMPLIMENT.
UOTH Bet, "Since I have thought at all,
I've form'd this stedfast rule,
Let whate'er other ill befall,
Never to wed a fool."
Says Jack, "Then nothing can, I fear,
From celibacy fave you;
For, take my word for it, my dear,
None but a fool would have you."
ON A LIBRARY, WHERE THE BOOKS WERE
IN CURIOUS BINDINGS.
WITH eyes of wonder the gay fhelves behold !
Poets all rags alive-now clad in gold;
In life and death one common fate they fhare,
And on their backs still all their riches wear.
ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
POLLIO, who values nothing that's within,
Rates books, like beavers-only for their fkin!
TO THE RIGHT HON. HENRY DUNDAS, &c.
GROUSE-SHOOTING IN THE HIGHLANDS,
RETIRING FROM OFFICE IN 1801.
FROM public toils, and cares, and ftrife,
Welcome once more to private life,
In Scotia's rude domain;
Enjoy repofe, content, and ease,
Inhale th health-infpiring breeze,
Nor think of France and Spain.
E'en peace on their devoted heads
No balmy dew of comfort sheds,
But Difcord flaps her wings;
For who fhall fix each adverse claim,
Untouch'd his wisdom and his fame
By Cenfure's venom'd stings?
Far from the ferate and the throne,
From budget, tax, inveftment, loan,
Impeachment, expedition;
Peace fhall your Hether pillow bind,
And war no more distract your mind,
Nor projects of ambition.
The eafy, focial, joyous hour,
Unknown to pomp, remote from power,
Awaits you in the wild;
Friendship shall lead you by the hand,
And Caledonia's arms expand
To clafp her patriot child.
Should warfare ftill your thoughts engage,
To Muirland fcenes confine your rage,
In mimic camp array'd;
Unheard the found of noisy drums,
There no Myforean tyrant comes
Your quiet to invade.
The laurels won at Aboukir,
Deep moisten'd with a nation's tear,
Were death and glory's prize;
But where you urge the gay campaign,
No tears the cheek of friendship ftain,
No Abercromby dies!
AN IRREGULAR ODE ON SIR SIDNEY SMITH.
HENCE with the laurel's barren wreath!
Hence with the trophy pil'd on high!
Let nobler incenfe fill the sky!
Le: bright, immortal flow'rs,
Pick'd from Ely fian bow'rs,
Thron all the breezy air delicious breathe.
O! crown not Sidney with the laurel's bough ;
For common deeds, iet common prize be given→→→
Be his, dread Wisdom's olive rear'd in heaven,
And Mercy's palm of verdant hue,
The Graces' rofes, fresh with dew,—
All, all, fhould mingle on his godlike brow!
And then, if man might know the fcene,
Where grows fome tree of giant fize,
Ne'er look u on yet by mortal eyes,
Beneath whole branchy maze ·
His country's Cenius ftrays,
Oh! let its virgin leaves adorn the garland green.
For not to him belongs the vaunted name
Of valour only; in his glorious mind,
Judgment, and tafte, and genius, are combin'd;
And through the vastness of his foul
The fplendid fpheres of virtue roll,
And lighten through his eyes, and wrap his form in flame.
O Sidney! like that Sidney form'd,
Who nobly fell on foreign land;
Like him in war a light'ning brand,
In peace a brilliant moon,
Beneath whofe foften'd noon
The apture thrilling heart is elevate and warm'd,
Oh! long amid that ifle, whofe rights and laws
Thy dauntiefs breaft has bulwark'd and upheld,
Long be thine eyes' bright energies beheld;
And round thy facred perfon long
Crowd Britain's fons, a grateful throng,
When the ftill bofom's voice fucceeds to loud applaufe!
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