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So he took to his darling old IDOLS again,

And, just mending their legs and new bronzing their faces,

In open defiance of gods and of men,

Set the monsters up grinning once more in their places!

WREATHS FOR THE MINISTERS.

AN ANACREONTIC.

HITHER, Flora, Queen of Flowers!
Haste thee from Old Brompton's bowers-
Or (if sweeter that abode),

From the King's well-odour'd Road,
Where each little nursery bud

Breathes the dust and quaffs the mud!
Hither come, and gaily twine
Brightest herbs and flowers of thine
Into wreaths for those who rule us-
Those who rule and (some say) fool us:
FLORA, Sure, will love to please
England's HOUSEHOLD DEITIES!

First you must then, willy-nilly,
Fetch me many an orange-lily-
Orange of the darkest dye
Irish G-FF-RD can supply!
Chuse me out the longest sprig,
And stick it in old ELD-N's wig!

Find me next a poppy-posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy,
Garland gaudy, dull and cool,
For the head of L-v-RP-L!-
'T will console his brilliant brows
For that loss of laurel boughs
Which they suffer'd (what a pity!)
On the road to Paris City.

Next, our C-STL-R-GH to crown,
Bring me, from the County Down,
Wither'd shamrocks, which have been
Gilded o'er to hide the green-
(Such as H-DF-T brought away
From Pall-Mall last Patrick's Day.)
Stitch the garland through and through
With shabby threads of every hue-
And as, Goddess!-entre nous-
His Lordship loves (though best of men)
A little torture now and then,
Crimp the leaves, thou first of syrens!
Crimp them with thy curling-irons.

That's enough-away, away—
Had I leisure, I could say
How the oldest rose that grows
Must be pluck'd to deck Old R-se,—
How the DOCTOR'S brow should smile
Crown'd with wreaths of camomile!
But time presses-To thy taste

I leave the rest; so, prithee, haste!

The ancients, in like moaner, crowned their lares, or household gods. See Juvenal, sat. 9. v. 138. Plutarch too tells us that household gods were then, as they are now, much given to war and penal statutes.» εριννυώδεις και ποινικούς δαίμονας.

2 Certain tinsel imitations of the Shamrock, which are distributed by the servants of C-n House every Patrick's-day.

THE NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS.

-Nova monstra creavit. OVID. Met. lib. i. ver. 437.

HAVING sent off the troops of brave Major CAMAC,
With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back,
And such helmets-God bless us!-as never deck'd any
Male creature before, except Signor GIOVANNI-
Let's see, said the R-G-NT (like Tires, perplex'd
With the duties of empire), whom shall I dress next?»
He looks in the glass-but perfection is there,
Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts, all right to a hair;
Not a single ex-curl on his forehead he traces—
For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is,
The falser they are, the more firm in their places.

His coat he next views-but the coat who could doubt' For his Y-RM-TH's own frenchified hand cut it out; Every pucker and seam were made matters of state, And a grand Household Council was held on each plait '

Then whom shall he dress? Shall he new rig his brother,
Great C-MB-RL-ND's Duke, with some kickshaw or other' |
And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes?
Ah! no-here his ardour would meet with delays,
For the Duke had been lately pack'd up in new Stays,
So complete for the winter, he saw very plain
"T would be devilish hard work to unpack him again!

So what's to be done?—there's the MINISTERS, bless 'em'
As he made the puppets, why should n't he dress 'em?
An excellent thought!-call the tailors-be nimble-
Let CUM bring his spy-glass, and H-RTF-RD her thimble;
While Y-RM-TH shall give us, in spite of all quizzers,
The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissars..
So saying, he calls C-STL-GH, and the rest

Of his heaven-born statesmen, to come and be dress'd.
While Y-RM-TB, with snip-like and brisk expedition,
Cuts up, all at once, a large Catholic Petition
In long tailors' measures (the P▬▬ɛ crying, « Well
done!)

And first puts in hand my Lord Chancellor ELD-N.

OCCASIONAL ADDRESS.

For the Opening of the New Theatre of St St-ph-n, intended to have been spoken by the Proprietor, in full Costume, on the 24th of November.

THIS day a New House, for your edification,
We open, most thinking and right-headed nation!
Excuse the materials-though rotten and bad,
They're the best that for money just now could be had;
And, if echo the charm of such houses should be,
You will find it shall echo my speech to a T.

That model of princes, the Emperor Commodus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and be used, accordingly, to burn off his beard. Timore tonsoris, say Lampridius.-(Hist. August. Scriptor.) The dissolute Ælius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of bis wig.-(See Jul. Ce pitolin.) Indeed, this was not the only princely trait in the character of Verus, as he had likewise a most hearty and dignified contempt for his wife.-See bis insulting answer to her in Spartianus.

As for actors, we've got the old Company yet,
The same motley, odd, tragi-comical set:

And, considering they all were but clerks t' other day,
It is truly surprising how well they can play.
Our manager (he who in Ulster was nursed,
And sung Erin go bragh for the galleries first,
But, on finding the Pitt-interest a much better thing,
Changed his note, of a sudden, to God save the King!)
Still wise as he's blooming, and fat as he's clever,
Himself and his speeches as lengthy as ever,
Here offers you still the full use of his breath,
Your devoted and long-winded proser till death!

You remember, last season, when things went perverse

on,

We had to engage (as a block to rehearse on)
One Mr V-NS-TT-RT, a good sort of person,
Who's also employ'd for this season to play
In Raising the Wind, and the Devil to Pay.

We expect too-at least we've been plotting and planning

Το

get that

great actor from Liverpool, C-NN-NG; And, as at the Circus there's nothing attracts Like a good single combat brought in 'twixt the acts, If the Manager should, with the help of Sir P-PH-M, Get up new diversions, and C-NN-NG should stop 'em,

Who knows but we 'll have to announce in the papers, Grand fight-second time-with additional capers. Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad, There is plenty of each in this House to be had; Where our Manager ruleth, there weeping will be, - For a dead hand at tragedy always was he; And there never was dealer in dagger and cup, Who so smilingly got all his tragedies up. Ilis powers poor Ireland will never forget, And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet.

So much for the actors.-For secret machinery,
Traps, and deceptions, and shifting of scenery,
Y-RM-TH and CUM are the best we can find
To transact all that trickery business behind.
The former's employ'd too to teach us French jigs,
Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs.

In taking my leave, now I 've only to say

A few Seats in the House, not as yet sold away, May be had of the Manager, PAT C-STL-R-GH.

But you'll find them good hard-working Tools, upon trying

Were it but for their brass, they are well worth the buying;

They are famous for making blinds, sliders, and screens, And they're, some of them, excellent turning machines!

The first Tool I'll put up (they call it a Chancellor)
Heavy concern to both purchaser and seller.-
Though made of pig-iron, yet (worthy of note 't is)
"Tis ready to melt at a half-minute's notice.
Who bids? Gentle buyer! 't will turn as thou shapest-
'T will make a good thumb-screw to torture a Papist;
Or else a cramp-iron, to stick in the wall

Of some church that old women are fearful will fall;
Or better, perhaps (or I'm guessing at random),
A heavy drag chain for some Lawyer's old Tandem!
Will nobody bid? It is cheap, I am sure, Sir—
Once, twice-going, going-thrice-gone!—It is yours,
Sir.

To pay ready money you sha'n't be distress'd,
As a bill at long date suits the CHANCELLOR best.

Come, where's the next Tool?-Oh! 't is here in a trice

(A tenacious and close sort of Tool, that will let
This implement, Gemmen! at first was a Vice-
Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get)—
But it since has received a new coating of Tin,
Bright enough for a Prince to behold himself in !
Come, what shall we say for it?-briskly! bid on,
We'll the sooner get rid of it-going-quite gone!
God be with it! Such Tools, if not quickly knock'd
down,

Might at last cost their owner-how much? why, a
Crown!

The next Tool I'll set up has hardly had handsel or
Trial as yet, and is also a Chancellor-
Such dull things as these should be sold by the gress:
Yet, dull as it is, 't will be found to shave close,
And, like other close shavers, some courage to gather,
This blade first began by a flourish on leather!
You shall have it for nothing-then, marvel with me
At the terrible tinkering work there must be,
Where a Tool, such as this is (I'll leave you to judge it)
Is placed by ill luck at the top of the Budget!

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Then said his little Soul,

Peeping from her little hole,

. I protest, little Man, you are stout, stout, stout, But, if 't is not uncivil,

Pray tell me, what the devil

Must our little, little speech be about, bout, bout, Must our little little speech be about?»>

The little Man look'd big,
With the assistance of his wig,

And he call'd his little Soul to order, order, order,
Till she fear'd he'd make her jog in

To jail, like Thomas Croggan,

(As she was n't duke or earl) to reward her, ward her, ward her,

As she was n't duke or earl, to reward her.

The little Man then spoke,

Little Soul, it is no joke,

For, as sure as J-CKY F-LL-R loves a sup, sup, sup, I will tell the Prince and People

What I think of Church and Steeple,

And my little patent plan to prop them up, up, up, And my little patent plan to prop them up."

Away then, cheek by jowl,

Little Man and little soul

And though oft, of an evening, perhaps he might

prove,

Like our brave Spanish Allies, « unable to move;1
Yet there is one thing in war, of advantage unbounded,
Which is, that he could not with ease be surrounded!
In my next, I shall sing of their arms and equipment.
At present no more but-good luck to the shipment!

LORD WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS. 1813.

So gentle in peace Alcibiades smiled,

While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand, That the emblem they graved on his seal was a child, With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand.

Oh, WELLINGTON! long as such Ministers wield
Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do;
For, while they 're in the Council and you in the Field,
We 've the babies in them and the thunder in you!

To the Editor of the Morning Chronicle. SIR,-In order to explain the following fragment, it is necessary to refer your readers to a late florid de

Went, and spoke their little speech to a tittle, tittle, scription of the Pavilion at Brighton, in the apartments

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of which, we are told, FUM, The Chinese Bird of Royalty, is a principal ornament.

I am, Sir, yours, ctc.

MUM.

FUM AND HUM, The two Birds of Royalty.

REINFORCEMENTS FOR LORD WELLINGTON. ONE day the Chinese Bird of Royalty, Fum,

suosque tibi commendat Troja penates,

Hos cape fatorum comites.-VIRGIL.

1813.

As recruits in these times are not easily got,
And the Marshal must have them-pray, why should

we not,

As the last and, I grant it, the worst of our loans to him,
Ship off the Ministry, body and bones, to him?
There's not in all England, I'd venture to swear,
Any men we could half so conveniently spare ;
And, though they 've been helping the French for years
past,

We may thus make them useful to England at last.
C-STL-R--GH in our sieges might save some disgraces,
Being used to the taking and keeping of places;
And Volunteer C-NN-NG, still ready for joining,
Might show off his talent for sly undermining.
Could the Household but spare us its glory and pride,
Old H--DE-T at horn-works again might be tried,
And the Ch--f J-ST-CE make a bold charge at his side!
While V-NS-TT-RT could victual the troops upon tick,
And the Doctor look after the baggage and sick.

Nay, I do not see why the great R-G-NT himself
Should, in times such as these, stay at home on the
shelf:-

Though through narrow defiles he 's not fitted to pass, Yet who could resist if he bore down en musse?

Thus accosted our own Bird of Royalty, Hum,

In that Palace or China-shop (Brighton-which is it?) Where FUM had just come to pay Huм a short visit.— Near akin are these Birds, though they differ in nation (The breed of the HUMS is as old as creation), Both full-craw'd Legitimates—both birds of prey, Both cackling and ravenous creatures, half way 'T wixt the goose and the vulture, like Lord C-STL-8--GB; While FUM deals in Mandarins, Bonzes, Bohea— Peers, Bishops, and Punch, HUM, are sacred to thee! So congenial their tastes, that, when Fuм first did, light on

The floor of that grand China-warehouse at Brighton, The lanterns, and dragons, and things round the dome Were so like what he left, Gad,» says Fuм, I'm at home,

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Which the Bird, overhearing, flew high o'er his head,
And some TOBIT-like marks of his patronage shed,
Which so dimm'd the poor Dandy's idolatrous eye,

Which have spoil'd you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise,

Of pure English claret is left in your corpus;

That while Fuм cried Oh Fo!» all the Court cried, And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad, . Oh fie!,

But a truce to digresion.-These birds of a feather
Thus talk'd, t' other night, on State matters together—
(The P▬▬▬ɛ just in bed, or about to depart for 't,
His legs full of gout, and his arms full of ---);

Of the fancy you 're up to, is fibbing, my lad!
Hence it comes,-BOXIANA, disgrace to thy page!
Having floor'd, by good luck, the first swell of the age,
Having conquer'd the prime one, that mill'd us all

round,

You kick'd him, old BEN, as he gasp'd on the ground!

«I say, Huм, says FUM-FUM, of course spoke Chi-Ay-just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got any—

nese,

But, bless you, that's nothing-at Brighton one sees

- Foreign lingoes and bishops translated with ease

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I say Hum, how fares it with Royalty now?

Is it up? is it prime? is it spooney-or how?"

(The Bird had just taken a flash man's degree

Kick'd him, and jaw'd him, and lagg'd him to Botany!
Oh, shade of the Cheesemonger! you who, alas!
Doubled up, by the dozen, those Mounseers in brass,
On that great day of milling, when blood lay in lakes,
When Kings held the bottle and Europe the stakes,
Look down upon BEN-see him dunghill all o'er,

¡- Under B▬▬▬▬E, Y▬▬▬▬tH, and young Master Insult the fallen foe that can harm him no more.

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« As for us in Pekin»---here a devil of a din
From the bed-chamber came, where that long Mandarin,
C-STL-R--GH (whom FUM calls the Confucius of prose),
Was rehearsing a speech upon Europe's repose,
To the deep double-bass of the fat idol's nose!

(Nota bene.-His Lordship and L-V-RP--L come,
In collateral lines, from the old Mother HUM,-
C-STL--GH A HUM-bug-L-v--RP--L a HUм-drum.)-
The speech being finish'd, out rush'd C-STL-R--GH,
Saddled FUM in a hurry, and whip, spur away!
Through the regions of air, like a Snip on his hobby,
Ne'er paused till he lighted in St Stephen's lobby.

EPISTLE FROM TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN,
Concerning some foul play in a late Transaction.'

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Abi, mio Ben !-METASTASIO. 1

your

3

renown!

WHAT! Ben, my old hero, is this
Is this the new go?-kick a man when he 's down!
When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him then-
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN!
Foul! foul; all the lads of the fancy exclaim-
CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified-BELCHER spits flame-
And MOLYNEUX-ay, even BLACKEY, cries Shame!»>
Time was, when Jons BULL little difference spied
'Twixt the foe at his feet and the friend at his side;
When he found (such his humour in fighting and eating)
His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating-

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But this comes, Master BEN, of your cursed foreign no- T is a thing that in every King's reign has been done, tions,

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