"Whose humour, as gay as the fire-fly's light, "Play'd round every subject, and shone as it play'd;

"Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, "Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ;

"Whose eloquence-bright'ning whatever it tried, "Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, — "Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, "As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!"

Yes-such was the man, and so wretched his fate;

And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the Great,

And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve.

In the woods of the North there are insects that prey On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh*; Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they,

First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to die!

*Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there was found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten away by them. - History of Poland.

EPISTLE

FROM

TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN*

CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.†

WHAT! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown?

Is this the new go?

kick a man when he's down!

When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him

By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN! "Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaimCHARLEY SHOCK is electrified - BELCHER spits

And MOLYNEUX-ay, even BLACKY S cries "shame!"

* A nickname given, at this time, to the Pr-ce R-g-t. Written soon after Bonaparte's transportation to St.

Helena.

Tom, I suppose, was "assisted" to this Motto by Mr. Jackson, who, it is well known, keeps the most learned company going.

§ Names and nicknames of celebrated pugilists at that time.

Time was, when JOHN 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. But this comes, Master BEN, of your curst foreign notions,

Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and lotions;

Your Noyaus, Curaçoas, and the Devil knows what— (One swig of Blue Ruin* is worth the whole lot!) Your great and small crosses (my eyes, what a

brood!

A cross-buttock from me would do some of them

good!)

Which have spoilt you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise,

Of pure English claret is left in your corpus ;
And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad,
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,

* Gin.

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! Ay-just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got

any

Kick'd him, and jaw'd him, and lag'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,
Insult the fall'n foe, that can harm him no more!
Out, cowardly spooney!—again and again,
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN.
To show the white feather is many men's doom,
But, what of one feather?-BEN shows a whole Plume.

* Transported.

A Life Guardsman, one of the Fancy, who distinguished himself, and was killed in the memorable set-to at Waterloo.