EPILOGUE,

Spoken by MR WILSON, at the Theatre-Royal, in the Character of an Edinburgh Buck.

YE who oft finish care in Lethe's cup;
Who love to swear, and roar, and keep it up;
List to a brother's voice, whose sole delight
Is-sleep all day, and riot all the night.

Last night, when potent draughts of mellow wine

Did sober reason into wit refine;

When lusty Bacchus had contrived to drain
The sullen vapours from our shallow brain,
We sallied forth (for valour's dazzling sun
Up to his bright meridian had run) ;
And, like renowned Quixote and his Squire,
Spoils and adventures were our sole desire.

First, we approached a seeming sober dame, Preceded by a lanthorn's pallid flame,

Borne by a liveryed puppy's servile hand,
The slave obsequious of her stern command.
Curse on those cits, said I, who dare disgrace
Our streets at midnight with a sober face ;
Let never tallowchandler give them light,
To guide them thro' the dangers of the night.
The valet's cane we snatched; and, demme! I
Made the frail lanthorn on the pavement lie.
The guard, still watchful of the lieges' harm,
With slow paced motion stalked at the alarm.
"Guard, seize the rogues!" the
angry madam

cried,

And all the guard, with "Sieze ta rogue,” replied.

As, in a war, there's nothing judged so right As a concerted and prudential flight:

So we, from guard and scandal to be freed,
Left them the field and burial of their dead.

Next, we approached the bounds of George's Square:

Blest place!-No watch, no constables, come there.

Now, had they borrowed Argus' eyes, who

saw us,

All was made dark and desolate as chaos;

Lamps tumbled after lamps, and lost their lustres,

Like doomsday, when the stars shall fall in clusters.

Let Fancy paint what dazzling glory grew From crystal gems, when Phoebus came in view :

Each shattered orb ten thousand fragments strews,

And a new sun in every fragment shews.

Hear then, my Bucks! how drunken fate decreed us

For a nocturnal visit to the Meadows, And how we, valorous champions! durst engage

O deed unequalled!-both the Bridge and Cage, The rage of perilous winters which had stood ;— This 'gainst the wind, and that against the flood:

But what nor wind, nor flood, nor heaven could bend e'er,

We tumbled down, my Bucks! and made surrender.

What are your far-famed warriors to us, 'Bout whom historians make such mighty fuss! Posterity may think it was uncommon

That Troy should be demolished for a woman;

But ours your ten years sieges will excel,
And justly be esteemed the nonpareil.

Our cause is slighter than a dame's betrothing; For all these mighty feats have sprung fromnothing.

THE AUTHOR'S LIFE.

My life is like the flowing stream
That glides where Summer's beauties teem,
Meets all the riches of the gale,

That on its watery bosom sail,

And wanders, 'midst Elysian groves,
Thro' all the haunts that Fancy loves.

May I, when drooping days decline,
And 'gainst those genial streams combine,
The Winter's sad decay forsake,
And centre in my parent lake.

ON THE AUTHOR'S INTENTION OF GOING TO SEA.

FORTUNE and Bob, e'er since his birth,

Could never yet agree;

She fairly kicked him from the earth,
To try his fate at sea.

MY LAST WILL.

WHILE Sober folks, in humble prose,
Estate, and goods, and gear, dispose,
A poet surely may disperse

His moveables in doggerel verse ;

And, fearing death my blood will fast chill,
I hereby constitute my last will.

Then, wit ye me to have made o'er
To Nature my poetic lore:

To her I give and grant the freedom
Of paying to the bards who need 'em