Thus, some fair spinster grieves in wild affright,

Vex'd with dull megrim, or vertigo light;

Pleased round the fair Three dawdling doctors stand,

Wave the white wig, and stretch the asking hand,

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State the grave doubt, the nauseous draught decree,

And all receive, though none deserve, a fee.

So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides

The Derby dilly, carrying Three INSIDES.

One in each corner sits, and lolls at ease,

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With folded arms, propt back, and outstretch'd knees ;

While the press'd Bodkin, punch'd and squeezed to death, Sweats in the midmost place, and scolds, and pants for breath.

(To be continued.)

No. XXV.

BRISSOT'S GHOST.

As at the Shakspeare Tavern dining,
O'er the well replenish'd board
Patriotic Chiefs reclining,

Quick and large libations pour'd;
While, in fancy, great and glorious,

'Midst the Democratic storm, Fox's Crew, with shout victorious, Drank to Radical Reform.

Sudden up the staircase sounding,

Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; Then, each guest with fear confounding, A grim train of Ghosts appear'd: Each a head with anguish gasping,

(Himself a trunk deform'd with gore)

In his hand, terrific, clasping,

Stalk'd across the wine-stain'd floor.

April 30.

On them gleam'd the lamp's blue lustre,
When stern Brissot's grizly shade
His sad bands was seen to muster,
And his bleeding troops array'd.
Through the drunken crowd he hied him,
Where the Chieftain sate enthroned,

There, his shadowy trunks beside him,
Thus in threatening accents groan'd.

"Heed, oh heed our fatal story,

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(I am Brissot's injured Ghost,) "You who hope to purchase glory

"In that field where I was lost! "Though dread Pitt's expected ruin

"Now your soul with triumph cheers, "When you think on our undoing,

"You will mix your hopes with fears.

"See these helpless headless Spectres

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Wandering through the midnight gloom;

"Mark their Jacobinic Lectures

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Echoing from the silent tomb.

"These, thy soul with terror filling,

"Once were Patriots fierce and bold!"

"Some, from that dread engine's carving,
"In vain contrived their heads to save-
"See Barbaroux and Petion * starving
"In the Languedocian Cave!
"See in a higgler's † hamper buckled
"How Louvet's soaring spirit lay!

"How virtuous Roland,+ hapless cuckold,

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"Condorcet, blaspheming, fell,

Begg'd some laudanum of Garat, §

"Drank;-and slept,-to wake in hell!

* Such was the end of these worthies. They were found starved to death in a cave in Languedoc.-Vide Barrere's Report.

+ See Louvet's Recit de mes Perils.

The virtuous Roland. This philosophic coxcomb is the idol of those who admire the French Revolution up to a certain point.

This little anecdote is not generally known.-It is strikingly pathetic.-Garat has recorded this circumstance in a very eloquent sentence-" O toi, qui arrêtas la “main, avec laquelle tu traçais le progrès de l'esprit humain, pour porter sur tes "levres le breuvage mortel, d'autres pensées, et d'autres sentimens, ont incliné ta "volonté vers le tombeau, dans ta dernière délibération.-(Garat, it seems, did not

"Oh that, with worthier souls uniting,

"I in my Country's cause had shone!
"Had died my Sovereign's battle fighting,
"Or nobly propt his sinking throne !—

“But hold!—I scent the gales of morning—
"Covent-Garden's clock strikes One!

"Heed, oh heed my earnest warning,

“Ere England is, like France, undone!

"To Saint Stephen's quick repairing,

"Your dissembled Mania end;

"And your errors past, forswearing,

"Stand at length your Country's Friend!"

"choose to poison himself.)—Tu as rendu à la liberté éternelle ton âme Répub"licaine par ce poison qui avait été partagé entre nous comme le pain entre des "frères."

"Oh you, who with that hand which was tracing the progress of the human "mind, approached the mortal mixture to your lips-it was by other thoughts and "other sentiments that your judgment was at length determined in that last deli"berated act-You restored your Republican spirit to an eternal freedom, by that poison which we had shared together, like a morsel of bread between two "brothers."