Obtusely chaste, and so correct indeed,

Our heads grow sleepy as we try to read;
Till tired and sicken'd with the languid stuff,
We curse the poet, and exclaim, "Enough!"

VIRGIN LOVE.

WHEN blushing Love first breathes its virg'n sigh, And fond devotion glitters in the eye;

How soon it steals an unsuspecting mind,
That melts away, like perfume on the wind!
Not half so fondly does the bud repose,
Its drooping beauty on the parent rose ;
Not half so tenderly the dew-lit gem
At morning, hang upon the languid stem,—
As woman's maiden love,-when true and warm,
Rests on the plighted vow, and lover's charm:
How base the bosom then, with treach'ry fraught,
For her who claims the homage of each thought!

VOTARY OF FASHION IN OLD AGE.

In wint'ry age, how sadly drear the lot

Of Fashion's hack, by Fashion's host forgot!-
Bow'd down by crippled age, impurely grey,
To mental throes, and peevish qualms a prey :
Dimm'd now the youthful gleams of love-lit eyes,
And cold the filmy lid that o'er them lies;

O, where are they that throng'd her matin court,
Plann'd out the day's intrigue, and shared its sport,
Who praised her plumes, her love-attracting gait,
And ball-room glance, that bade the proudest wait?
Alas! the parasites of youth have fled,

Some mope like her, some fill their wormy bed.

VENAL CRITICS.

FROM authors, turn we to the critic tribe,
Well panoplied with serpent eye and gibe;
The canine noisome, unrepenting herd,

That snarl, like bull-dogs, o'er each luckless word;
Skill'd but to jeer, or like poltroons assault,
Commit the blunder, and create the fault;—
Save frown and censure softly sink away
In the full languishment of balmy pay!

Who reads to trust ?-who dreams the dies of heaven
Will last unchanged from morning to the even ;
Who thinks to split a rainbow with a straw,

Or find a gem in every goose's maw?
Such puling puppets are the critics turn'd,
By craft and perjury, their bread is earn'd;
Lurk'd back, like spiders in their dismal holes,
They mangle merit, and belie their souls.

VULGAR PRIDE.

JUDGE by the tongue, and all mankind are true,
Sincere, untainted, and religious too;

Judge by appearance, and the poorest shine
In grandeur, happier far than, Beckford, thine!
But, Pride's the monster passion of the times,
The spring of folly, and the nurse of crimes;
Pride makes the black-leg swindle for his ore,
Pride makes the honest to be so no more;

Pride tempts the guilty to become more vile,
At once the curse and ruin of our Isle !
Superbly see the trader's costly bale
Rolled on the counter for patrician sale;
The ribbon garland, and the plated glass
To catch the beauty of each country ass;
The brass-lined window, and Peruvian show
Of silks for belles, and kerchiefs for the beaux-
All prove the spirit of commercial pride,
And shed a glory on the counter's side!
And then the master of this mighty place-
Oh! what a model of slim form and grace;
So prim and spruce-so civet-like and sweet,
Such taper fingers and such dainty feet!

He keeps a groom and "blood," and Sabbath chaise, Olivia waltzes, and Amelia plays;

And then, he gives his ball, and guzzles wine,

And deems it courtly not till eve to dine :
In short, no Nabob more sublimely swells,
Than this same connoisseur of yards and ells.
Till debt and ruin rouse the rascal's fears,
And George's whitewash blots his long arrears!

VICIOUS EFFECTS OF JOINT-STOCK
COMPANIES.

In early times, Vice felt her true disgrace,

And mostly put a mask upon her face;

But, see the privilege of modern times,

When thieves and knaves can advertise their crimes!

Furious with plans, large " Companies unite,
Bait their nice hook, and get the dupes to bite :
Tremendous ones for coke, and salt, and steam,
For starching bed-gowns and for skimming cream;
For horseless coaches and potatoe flour,

For gin well poisoned, and for wine soon sour;
Or schemes for golden mines,- -as yet all clay,
For South Sea Islands-catch 'em if you may!

And thou, fair Greece! by Turkish hands. prophaned,

By Britons plunder'd, and by Moslems chained;
Time honoured soil, where god-like Plato taught,
Where Pindar sung, and Spartan valour fought;
Thy storied clime bedewed with Hellic gore,
Thy martyr'd freedom-who will not deplore?
When Contemplation takes her silent stand
To mourn the havoc of thy beauteous land,
How fondly weeping Mem'ry stoops to trace
Each monumental wreck and marble grace,
Each pillar'd relic of the proud and free,

Each hallowed bust, that, Athens, breathes of thee!
Each graven tomb-pile of some patriot son
Who dared-as Freedom did at Marathon!
To chase the spoilers from their classic ground,
And bid fair Liberty exult around,

This deed of greatness and perennial flame,
Became thee, Albion! rival of her name:
And one there was, Britannia's pilgrim bard,
Whose genius grac'd the clime he came to guard:
Achaia's soil he sought-there doom'd to die,
Remember'd Hellas sped his parting sigh!

Accursed bondsmen !-ye who groan'd for Greece,
Ye mean imposters, who combined to fleece,
When kindled England heard the freeman's moan,
And glowing patriots gave the needed loan,
Oh! what a hell was in your common heart,
That Greece was robb'd, and Plunder hugg'd its
part?

Oh! when can Avarice more vileness show,
Than when she gluts upon the wreck'd and low?

WONDERS OF THE NINETEENTH

CENTURY.

OH! for the pen that scribed that Naval List,
The beacon pride of the Philologist,—
To trace the jaunty triumphs of our day,
When startled elements resign their sway!—
Ballooning bedlamites to top the air,
Goose-grease to plaster for eternal hair;
Unrivall'd pills, to poison and to purge,

And steam, to ride-or blow us o'er the surge,—
Equestrian kites, and Salamander throats,

Immortal eyes and teeth, cork rumps and coats,—
Champagne for cocknies, made of gooseberry juice,
And Hamiltonian puffs-of little use!

Lake-water'd bards, and automatic twins,
Apostate whigs, and parsons without sins,

Young maids at seventy-two, besmear'd with sham,
And dowagers that pine,—“sed ohé jam!!”