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Small « Triton of the minuows, » the sublime

Of mediocrity, the furious tame,
The echo's echo, usher of the school
Of female wits, boy bards—in short, a fool!

A stalking oracle of awful phrase,

The approving « Good! » (by no means good in law) Humming like flies around the newest blaze,

The bluest of bluebottles you e'er saw, Teasing with blame, excruciating with praise,

Gorging the little fame he gets all raw,
Translating tongues he knows not even by letter,
And sweating plays so middling, bad were better.

One hates an author that's all author, fellows

In foolscap uniforms turned up with ink,
So very anxious, clever, fine, and jealous,

One don't know what to say to them, or think,
Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows;

Of coxcombry's worst coxcombs t'en the pink
Are preferable to these shreds of paper,
These unquenched snuslings of the midnight taper.

Of these same we see several, and of others,

Men of the world, who know the world like men.
S-t, R-s, M-re, and all the better brothers,

Who think of something else besides the pen; But for the children of the « mighty mother's, »

The would-be wits and can't be gentlemen, I leave them to their daily « tea is ready, » Smug coterie, and literary lady.

The poor dear Mussulwomen whom I mention

Have none of these instructive pleasant people,
And one would seem to them a new invention,

Unknown as bells within a Turkish steeple;
I think 'twould almost be worth while to pension

(Though best-sowo projects very often reap ill)
A missionary author, just to preach
Our Christian usage of the parts of speech.

No chemistry for them unfolds her gasses,

No metaphysics are let loose in lectures,
No circulating library amasses .

Religious novels, moral tales, and strictures Upon the living manners, as they pass us;

No exhibition glares with annual pictures;
They stare not on the stars from out their attics,
Nor deal (thank God for that!) in mathematics.

Why I thank God for that is no great matter,

I have my reasons, you no doubt suppose,
And as, perhaps, they would not highly flatter,

I'll keep them for my life ( to come) in prose ; I fear I have a little turn for satire,

And yet methinks the older that one grows *Inclines us more to laugh than scold, though laughter Leaves us so doubly serious shortly after.

Oh! mirth and innocence ! Oh! milk and water!

Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!
In these sad centuries of sin and slaughter,

Abominable Man no more allays

His thirst with such pure beverage. No matter,

I love you both, and both shall have my praise : Oh ! for old Saturu's reign of sugar-candy! Meantime I drink to your return in brandy.

Our Laura's Turk still kept his eyes upon her,

Less in the Mussulman than Christian way,
Which seems to say, « Madam, I do you honour,

And while I please to stare, you'll please to stay. » Could staring win a woman, this had won her,

But Laura could not thus be led astray,
She had stood fire too long and well, to boggle
Even at this stranger's most outlandish ogle.

The morning now was on the point of breaking,

A turn of time at which I would advise
Ladies who have been dancing, or partaking

In any other kind of exercise,
To make their preparations for forsaking

The ball-room ere the sun begins to rise,
Because when once the lamps and candles fail,
His blushes make them look a little pale.

I've seen some balls and revels in my time,

And staid them over for some silly reason,
And then I looked (I hope it was no crime)

To see what lady best stood out the season ; And though I've seen some thousands in their prime,

Lovely and pleasing, and who still may please on, I never saw but one ( the stars withdrawn), Whose bloom could after dancing dare the dawn.

The name of this Aurora l'll not mention,

Although I might, for she was nought to me
More than that patent work of God's invention,

A charming woman, whom we like to see ;
But writing names would merit reprehension,

Yet if you like to find out this fair she,
At the next London or Parisian ball
You still may mark her cheek, out-blooming all.

Laura, who knew it would not do at all

To meet the daylight after seven hours sitting
Among three thousand people at a ball,

To make her curtsy thought it right and fitting; The count was at her elbow with her shawl,

And they the room were on the point of quitting,
When lo! those cursed gondoliers had got
Just in the very place where they should not.

In this they're like our coachmen, and the cause

Is much the same-the crowd, and pulling, hauling, With blasphemies enough to break their jaws,

They make a never intermitted bawling..
At home, our Bow-street gemmen keep the laws,

And here a sentry stands within your calling;
But, for all that, there is a deal of swearing,
And nauseous words past mentioning or bearing.

The count and Laura found their boat at last,

And homeward floated o'er the silent tide,
Discussing all the dances gone and past;

The dancers and their dresses too, beside ;

Some little scandals eke : but all aghast

( As to their palace stairs the rowers glide ) Satc Laura by the side of her adorer, When lo ! the Mussulman was there before her.


« Sir, » said the count, with brow exceeding grave,

« Your unexpected presence here will make « It necessary for myself to crave

« Its import? But perhaps 'tis a mistake; « I hope it is so ; and at once to wave

« All compliment, I hope so for your sake ; « You understand my meaning, or you shall. » « Sir, » ( quoth the Turk ) « 'tis no mistake at all;

LXXXIX. « That lady is my wife ! » Much wonder paints

The lady's changing cheek, as well it might; But where an English woman sometimes faints,

Italian females don't do so outright; They only call a little on their saints,

And then come to themselves, almost or quite ; Which saves much hartshorn, salts, and sprinkling faces, And cutting stays, as usual in such cases.

She said, -—what could she say? Why not a word:

But the count courteously invited in
The stranger, much appeased by what he heard :

« Such things perhaps, we'd best discuss within, » Said he, « don't let us make ourselves absurd

« In public, by a scene, nor raise a din, « For then the chief and only satisfaction « Will be much quizzing on the whole transaction. » !

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