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TO

OF

The race,

But how the game did end, or may end-why-
Time, if it choose, may tell-in sooth, not I.

Ye fair, intended, by the powers above,
With silken chains to bind the world in love;

THE MEMORY On whose soft sway, to Earth's extremest end,

the brotherhood of man depend ! O, never, never swer rage with rage,

LIEUTENANT COLONEL HENRY CLEMENTS But shun the tempest which you can't assuage; Your tyrants, then, shall spend their wrath in Shall boastful pomp, the high imperial name, vain,

Or title, only, swell the trump of Fame? Return quite tame, and reassume their chain;

To equal worth be equal glory due, So shall submission win despotic sway,

And wreaths that bloom'd for Clayton bloom for And the world's lord shall willingly obey !

you !
0, once endow'd with ev'ry pleasing pow'r,
To cheer the sad or charm the social hour;
To sweeten life with many a gentle art,

And win the whole dominion of the heart;
EPILOGUE

I deem'd, far other than the Fates allow,

The laurels bound upon your living brow,
ON HUMBUGGING.

To greet my friend returning from bis toil,

Grac'd with his deeds, and laden with his spoil. Of all trades and arts in repute or possession,

Too fond of what the martial harvests yield, Humbugging is held the most ancient profession.

Alas, too forward to the dangerous field, "Twixt nations, and parties, and state politicians, As one of old renown in battle tried, Prim shopkeepers, jobbers, smooth lawyers, phy- The glory of the dusty plain you died ! sicians,

The tongues of Dettingen your triumph tell, Of worth and of wisdom the trial and test

And weeping Tournay points where Clements fell. Is-mark ye, my friends! --who shall humbug the

0, in some future day of loud alarms, best.

When virtue and my country call to arms Our neighbour of France, with his prologue so

For freedom-struggling nations to unbind, kind,

And snap the sceptres that would bruise manAnd his epilogue spoke by his cannon behind;

kind Who, in banter and bully, in cringing and hugging, At such an hour, in such a cause as thine, Is counted of old, the great prince of humbugging; The honour'd close of such a death be mine! For once stands amaz'd, howsoe'er it was hit on,

Then may some kindred bard appoint my grave, To find he's humbugg'd by his cullies of Britain.

Snatch forth my name, and roll it with the brave; But why, honest friends, should we ramble and Assign my pen and sword the wish'd applause, roam,

And say that both were drawn in virtue's cause ! To look for humbuggers so distant from home?

Then drop the salutation given to you— Poor Ireland, as well as her neighbours, of late

Companion, countryman, and friend-adieu !" Has begun to remove the fool's cap froin her pate. Our hummers in state, physic, learning, and law, Do not all sit, as chiefs, in the court of Nassau : And, once, a whole house of humbuggers was seen In a place--let me think-ay-'t is callid Col

A CHARACTER. lege-green! Since Galen, in slopping, and doseing, and drug- When o'er the canvass flows the master's line, ging,

He adds no name to mark the just design; Gave rules for the physical branch of humbugging; The portrait, midst a mingling world, is known, The patient, when once duly drain’d of his treasure, and stands admir’d, distinguish’d, and alone! Is welcome to die-or recover-at leisure.

Behold him, full of virtues as of days, 'T other day, in tive four courtz-sweet pow'rs! Laden with worth, infirmities, and praise! how I wonder'd

Down the hoar flowings of his silver'd head, To see, of my friend Harry Lone, a whole hundred! | Wisdom and time their equal honours shed; With gowns, bands, and faces, so smooth and so Truth and benevolence, with equal grace, smug'd,

Rise from his breast, and lighten in his face. And the world crowding in to be surely humbug'd! His languid limbs expect the peaceful bier ;

So much for the lawyer and doctor-what lacks- His head and heart still active, free, and clear! The parson, you think, should come in for his snacks. On his own frame, though dire distemper preys, We doubt not his will-but, in these learned days, He's borne around, to give all others ease; We are all grown too knowing, to mind what he Before his healing presence life respires, says.

And sickness, with bis rueful train, retires ! But, what are all hummers, their tricks and their Great Leach' both of our persons and our state! arts,

When thou, at some sad hour, shalt yield to fateTo yon roguish round, the humbuggers of hearts O then, adieu Hibernia's chiefest wealth; By whose sweet enchantment, grey wisdom is fool'd, Adieu to liberty! adieu to health! And prowess is conquer'd, and courage is cool'd ? For beauty, by ancient tradition, we find, Has delightfully humm'd the whole race of man ' Dr. Lucas, member of parliament for Dubkind.

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Each fox-hunting justice and landlorded youth, Again, at our door, in the morning of spring,

Are prone to your point, when they may, son; To see the Sun rise, and hear goldfinches sing ! For these, too, are little grand signiors, forsooth, To rouse our companions, and maids of the May, And giants, each man in his way, son.

In copses to gambol, in meadows to play.
Or, at questions and forfeits, all rang'd on the grass;

Or to gather fresh chaplets, each lad for his lass;
AIR V.

To sing, and to dance, and to sport on the plain,

Thy Jack shall return to his Gracey again.
TUNE -- If all the fair maids.
Ambition like jack-o'-the-lantern bewitches;

Or alone, in his Gracey's sweet company bless’d, Ambition like jack-o'-the-lantern bewitches;

To feed thy young robins that chirp on the nest; And leads you benighted through dirt and through To help at her med cines, and herbs for the poor, ditches.

Dol de dol, &c.

And welcome the stranger that stops at the door.

At night, o'er our fire, and a cup of clear ale, Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;

To hear the town-news, and the traveller's tale; Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;

To smile away life, till our heads they grow hoar, And virtue, though humble, looks down upon riches. And part from my sheep, and my Gracey no more.

Dol de dol, &c.

AIR VIII.

Your great men and statesmen, the higher their pitch is,

(pitch is,

TUNE-Dremondoo. Your great men and statesmen, the higher their By climbing the broader, but show us their breeches. O now he has left me, what care shall employ,

Dol de dol, &c.

What object afford me the shadow of joy?
To a heart so o'erladen, all sorrows are meet;
Misfortune is welcome, and mourning is sweet!

AIR VI.

TUNE-Dole and woe fa our cat.

Away, ye companions of daily delight,
And pastimes that gently could steal on the night;
Away, ye fond sports of the wake and the fair!
Your pleasures are vanish’d-no brother is there!

How often our mother has told,

And sure she is wondrous wise! In cities, that all you behold,

Is a fair, but a faithless disguise: That the modes of a court education

Are train-pits, and traitors to youth; And the only fine language in fashion,

A tongue that is foreign to truth.

Of the ball, and the hurling, the dance, and the

race,
His skill was the victor, his person the grace:
The maidens throng'd round him, delighted to see,
And wish'd they had all been his sisters, like me.

Thus, ev'ry dear scene of my former delight,
To my mind will recall him, but not to my sight;
The trees will all droop, and the meadows look lone;
And all say—poor maid! thy companion is gone!

Where honour is barely an oath;

Where knaves are with nublemen class'd; Where nature's a stranger to both;

And love an old tale of times pass'd; Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,

Where smiles are the envoys of art; Where joy lightly swims on the senses,

But never can enter the heart.

AIR IX.

Tune-Gruna Weil.
Though passions contend, and affictions storm,
And shake the frail state of the human form;
If virtue the base of our pile sustain,
Allictions shall rage and assault in vain.

Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners;

Where virtue's divorc'd from success; Where cringing goes current for manners,

And worth is no deeper than dress. Where favour creeps lamely on crutches;

Where friendship is nothing but face; And the title of duke, or of dutchess,

Is all that entitles to grace,

The paths for the steps of all mortals made,
Is simply to follow where truth shall lead:
Nor thou from its rectitude turn aside;
The rest, let hereafter and Heaven provide.

AIR VIT.

AIR X

TUNE--Lochaber.

Farewell to my Gracey, my Gracey so sweet,
How painful to part!--but again we shall meet.
Thy Jack, he will languish, and long for the day
That shall kiss the dear tears of his sister away.
Though honour, in groves of tall laurel, should

grow;
And fortune, in tides, should eternally flow;
Nor honour, nor fortune, thy Jack shall detain,
But he'll come to his Gracey, his sister again.

TUNE-I have sixpence under my

thumb.
How sweet the gossiping birds that sing !
How sweet the treasure the zephyrs bring,
Light wafted on each odorif'rous wing
That winnows the breast of flowery spring!
How sweet the showers with balm replete!
The fawns that frolic, and lambs that bleat!
But 0! above all, though all should meet,
Our Justice, our queen of sweets is sweet!

AIR XIV.

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My Dolly so bright,

Should your Hob, over night,
AIR XI.

Be surpris'd by his pipe pr bis pot;

Let him sleep his dose out,
TUNE-To you fair ladies now on land.

Nor, by scolding or pout,
The world, a faithless ocean, toss'd

Strive to lessen the true-lover's knot.
By passion's stormy wind,
Is spread with spoils of thousands lost,

When your wives they grow grey,
The wreck of human kind !

And their graces decay, Where all the freight their vessels bear

Of all mortal beauty the lot;
Is but a wilful weight of care.

Remember their youth,
Dol lol, &c. And, by friendship and truth,

Make eternal the true-lover's knot.
For what can Reason's feeble hand

Before the helm perform,
Where he can spy nor port, nor land,
To’scape from stress or storm-

Tune-A begging we will go.
Where Hope, amid the raging main,
Her anchor casts,- but casts in vain?

However some in coaches, on barrows some may
Dol lol, &c.
beg;

[wooden leg.

"T is want that makes the mendicant, and not the O turn, misguided wights !-return

When a begging they do go, &c. To us, who smile on shore! To us, who yet your errours mourn,

'T is thus, by greater poverty, that nobles grow reYour safety who implore!

nown'd;

[want a pound. Your forfeit peace with us renew,

For where we want a penny, friend, state beggars Who shed no tears-except for you.

And a begging they do go, &c. Dol lol, &c.

Your courtier begs for honour-and that 's a want AIR XII.

indeed!

(need, As many should for honesty, but will not own their TUNE - Twang dillo dee.

When a begging they should go, &c. But we to Nature who adhere, nor further bliss re Your vizier begs for subsidies, your party-man for quire,

[desire.
place;

(for grace, To lop the root of all our care, we lop each rain Your church-man, for a benefice ;-but not a man

When a begging they do go, &c. We ask no cynic law, nor saw, nor scrolls of bearded men ;

[can ken. Thus all from Rome to London are of the begging For Nature's the most learned book that innocence

train;

(vain,

But wegwho beg for charity-must look to beg in To baffle want, and sweeten toil, from debt and

When a begging we do go, &c. danger free;

(trious bee. We learn instruction from the ant, and the indus

AIR XV. From dogs we learn unfailing faith, affection from TUNE- Fie, let us awa to the wedding. the dove;

(circling love. And from the hen, who guards her chick, a parent's Yet many, when beggars are pressing,

Of bounty are nothing loth; And, last, we to all bounteous Heav'n our daily The bishop will give you—his blessing ; tribute yield;

(grateful field. The officer give you-his oath, Taught by the fragrant incense breath'd from ev'ry of his promise, to be a free donor,

The courtier is little nice;

And great-ones will give you—their honour!
AIR XIII.

For these are of little price.
TUNE-Ye commons and peers.

AIR XVI.
The time to beguile,

TUNE-A cobbler there was.
Now listen a while,
And I 'll show you an excellent plot;

You yet may behold the surprise of the town,
How husband and wife,

To see truth elated, dishonour pull'd down; Through the crosses of life,

All tricks, low and little, despis'd by the great, May be held by the true-lover's knot.

And honesty fix'd for a maxim of state!

Derry down, &c. As mortals are frail, Let indulgence prevail,

To see our lac'd lordlings deserving of trust; And all mutual infirmities blot;

Our clergymen pious, our justices just; Let the husband but own

Our court ladies blush ; and our thing of a beau, His wife errs not alone,

A something, beside a mere nothing but show. And I 'll vouch for the true-lover's knot.

Derry down, &c.

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