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 profaned,

By Britons plunder'd, and by Moslems chain'd;
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 impostors, 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 cockneys, 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!!”

NOTES.

BB