But if, perchance, her scale should turn,
And with it change your plight,
'Tis then, 'I'm sorry for your fate,
But times are hard-good night.'

On a Dog-collar.

Latrans excepi fures; et mutus amantes :
Sic placui Domino ; sic placui Dominæ.

Thus translated:

At thieves I bark; at lovers wag my tail!
And thus I please both Lord and Lady Thrale.

Written during Lord Melbourne's Administration (1834).

In olden times one fool was kept at court,
And thought sufficient for the royal sport;
But in Victoria's days we've seen of late
A fool in every office of the state;
And so for state affairs being quite unfit,
Their wives and sisters in the counsel sit.

Brag and Grab.

;

The initials of Brougham, Russell, Althorp, and Grey,
If rightly disposed, the word Brag will display;
Transpose them, and Grab will appear to the view
Which hints at what many assert to be true-
That they, like former statesmen, still follow the plan,
First to brag what they 'll do, and then grab all they

can.

Whiggish Presumption, or the Days of the Bedchamber Plot (1839).

'The Queen is with us,' Whigs exulting say, 'For when she found us in she let us stay.' It may be so; but give me leave to doubt, How long she'll keep you when she finds you out.

Of Two Welshmen.

Two squires of Wales arrived at a town,

To seek their lodging when the sun was down;
And (for the innkeeper his gates had locked)
In haste, like men of some account, they knocked.
The drowsy chamberlain doth ask who's there?
They told, that gentlemen of Wales they were.
'How many,' quoth the man, ‘are there of you
?'
They said,' Here's John ap Rees, ap Rise, ap Hew;
And Nicholas ap Giles, ap Stephen, ap Davy :'
'Then, gentlemen, adieu,' quoth he, 'God save ye.
Your worships might have had a bed or twain,
But how can that suffice so great a train ?’

On the Death of Dr. Morrison(142); from Bentley's Miscellany.

'What's the news?''Why, they say death has killed Dr. Morrison.'

'The pill-maker?' 'Yes.' 'Then death will be sorry

soon.'

Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast:
Physic their cobbler is, and death the last.

On the long Speeches of the French Deputies about the Liberty of the Press.

The French enjoy freedom, they say ;

And where is the man who can doubt it?

For they have, it is clear, every day

The freedom of talking about it.

Hitting the right Nail on the Head.

The Whigs resemble nails. How so, my master?
Because, like nails, when beat, they hold the faster.

On entering by mistake a Lady's Room while she was at her Toilet.

Thus unadorned-was no new charm revealed?
No blemish undisguised?

Oh fool! can Beauty ever be concealed,

Or Innocence surprised?

Parody on 46th Ode of Anacreon.

ΧΑΛΕΠΟΝ τὸ μὴ φιλῆσαι,

etc.

Hard, ye critics, 't is to print,

Hard one's hopes of praise to stint ;
But to print, and lie on stall-
Critics, this is worse than all,

B. N. Turner.

New-made Honour. (Imitated from Martial.)

A friend I met, some half hour since—
'Good morrow, Jack!' quoth I;
The new-made knight, like any prince
Frown'd, nodded, and pass'd by:

When up came Jem- Sir John, your slave!'
'Ah! James; we dine at eight—
Fail not (low bows the supple knave)
'Don't make my lady wait.'

The king can do no wrong? As I'm a sinner,
He's spoilt an honest tradesman, and my dinner.
Rev. R. H. Barham, Author of the Ingoldsby Legends, &c.

When ask'd by Allen t' other day,

What fish I fain would face,
"Turbot,' I said, 'was my delight,'
But Allen swore t' was plaice.

Which Men are preferable?

T. W. Croker.

Whether tall men, or short men, are best,
Or bold men, or modest and shy men,

I can't say, but I this can protest,

All the fair are in favour of Hy-men.

A Wonder to be wondered at.

Sylvia makes sad complaints, 'She's lost her lover.'
Well, nothing strange can I in this discover:
Nay, then thou 'rt dull-for here the wonder lies,
She had a lover once-don't that surprise?

On the Marriage of a Lady named Little, who was remarkably short of Stature.

Thrice happy Tom-I think him so;

For mark the poet's song,

'Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.'

From The Green Book (Dublin, J. Duffy, 1845).

I

When I meet Tom, the purse-proud and impudent blockhead,

In his person the poets' three ages I trace: For the gold and the silver unite in his pocket, And the brazen is easily seen in his face.

2

On Two Pretty Girls.

'How happy could I be with either,' was said
By Macheath to his wives in the play ;

But were two such charmers as you in their stead,
He could not wish either away.

Oh no, until death with such angels he'd grapple ;
They both are so temptingly fair;

That, as Adam lost Heaven by eating an apple,
I'd forfeit my chance for a pair.