"This spirit Wellington has shown in Spain," To furnish melodrames for Drury Lane.

"Another Marlborough points to Blenheim's story," And George and I will dramatise it for ye.

"In arts and sciences our isle hath shone"
(This deep discovery is mine alone).
"Oh British poesy, whose powers inspire"
My verse- —or I'm a fool—and Fame's a liar,
“Thee we invoke, your sister arts implore"
With "smiles," and "lyres," and "pencils," and
much more.

These, if we win the Graces, too, we gain
Disgraces, too! "inseparable train!"

"Three who have stolen their witching airs from Cupid"

(You all know what I mean, unless you're stupid): "Harmonious throng" that I have kept in petto, Now to produce in a " divine sestetto"!! "While Poesy," with these delightful doxies, "Sustains her part" in all the " upper" boxes! "Thus lifted gloriously, you'll soar along," Borne in the vast balloon of Busby's song; "Shine in your farce, masque, scenery, and play" (For this last line George had a holiday). "Old Drury never, never soar'd so high,"

So

the manager, says

and so says I.

"But hold, you say, this self-complacent boast;' Is this the poem which the public lost?

"True-true- -that lowers at once our mounting pride;"

But lo!—the papers print what you deride.

" 'Tis ours to look on you—you hold the prize," 'Tis twenty guineas, as they advertize ! "A double blessing your rewards impart"I wish I had them, then, with all my heart. "Our twofold feeling owns its twofold cause," Why son and I both beg for your applause. "When in your fostering beams you bid us live," My next subscription list shall say how much you give!

October, 1812.

VERSES FOUND IN A SUMMER HOUSE AT HALES-OWEN. (1)

WHEN Dryden's fool, "unknowing what he sought," His hours in whistling spent, "for want of thought," (2)

This guiltless oaf his vacancy of sense

Supplied, and amply too by innocence;

Did modern swains, possess'd of Cymon's powers,
In Cymon's manner waste their leisure hours,
Th' offended guests would not, with blushing, see
These fair green walks disgraced by infamy.
Severe the fate of modern fools, alas!

When vice and folly mark them as they pass.
Like noxious reptiles o'er the whiten'd wall,
The filth they leave still points out where they crawl.

(1) [In Warwickshire.]

(2) [See Cymon and Iphigenia.]

MARTIAL, LIB. I. EPIG. I.

HIC est, quem legis, ille, quem requiris,
Tota notus in orbe Martialis, &c.

He unto whom thou art so partial,
Oh, reader! is the well-known Martial,
The Epigrammatist: while living,
Give him the fame thou wouldst be giving;
So shall he hear, and feel, and know it-
Post-obits rarely reach a poet,

NEW DUET.

To the tune of "Why, how now, saucy jade?"

WHY, how now, saucy Tom?
If you thus must ramble,
I will publish some

Remarks on Mister Campbell.

ANSWER.

Why, how now, Parson Bowles?

Sure the priest is maudlin!

(To the public) How can you, d-n your souls, Listen to his twaddling?

EPIGRAMS.

OH, Castlereagh! thou art a patriot now;
Cato died for his country, so didst thou:
He perish'd rather than see Rome enslaved,
Thou cutt'st thy throat that Britain may be saved!

So Castlereagh has cut his throat! - The worst Of this is, that his own was not the first.

So He has cut his throat at last!-He! Who? The man who cut his country's long ago.

EPITAPH.

POSTERITY will ne'er survey

A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveller

THE CONQUEST.

[This fragment was found amongst Lord Byron's papers, after his departure from Genoa for Greece.]

I.

March 8-9. 1823.

THE Son of Love and Lord of War I sing; Him who bade England bow to Normandy, And left the name of conqueror more than king To his unconquerable dynasty.

Not fann'd alone by Victory's fleeting wing,

He rear'd his bold and brilliant throne on high: The Bastard kept, like lions, his prey fast, And Britain's bravest victor was the last.

[Since Vol. XV. was printed off, the concluding page of Lord Byron's "Observations upon an Article in Blackwood's Magazine" has been received.]

... And, in return for Mr. Wilson's invective, I shall content myself with asking one question; Did he never compose, recite, or sing any parody or parodies upon the Psalms (of what nature this deponent saith not), in certain jovial meetings of the youth of Edinburgh? (1) It is not that I think any great harm if he did; because it seems to me that all depends upon the intention of such a parody. If it be meant to throw ridicule on the sacred original, it is a sin; if it be intended to burlesque the profane subject, or to inculcate a moral truth, it is none. If it were, the unbelievers' Creed, the many political parodies of various parts of the Scriptures and liturgy, particularly a celebrated one of the Lord's Prayer, and the beautiful moral parable in favour of toleration by Franklin, which has often been taken for a real extract from Genesis, would all be sins of a damning nature. But I wish to know if Mr. Wilson ever has done this, and if he has, why he should be so very angry with similar portions of Don Juan? - Did no "parody profane" appear

(1) [The allusion here is to some now forgotten calumnies which had been circulated by the radical press, at the time when Mr. Wilson was a candidate for the Chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh.-E.]