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Thus Flattery whispered round; And straight the humorous fancy grew, That lyres are sweet when hearts are true; And all who feel a lover's flame Must rhyme to-night on Chloe's name; And he's unworthy of the Dame,

Who silent here is found.
Since Head must plead the cause of Heart,
Some put their trust in answer smart,

Or pointed repartee;
Some joy that they have hoarded up
Those Genii of the jovial cup,

Chorus, and Catch, and Glee.
And, for one evening, all prepare
To be “ Apollo's chiefest care.”

Then Vapid rose—no Stentor this,

And his no Homer's layMeek victim of antithesis,

He sighed and died away:-
“Despair my sorrowing bosom rives,

And anguish on me lies;
Chloe may die while Vapid lives,

Or live while Vapid dies !
You smile! the horrid vision flies,

And Hope this promise gives ;
I cannot live while Chloe dies,

Nor die while Chloe lives !”

Next Snaffle, foe to tears and sadness,

Drew fire from Chloe's eyes; And, warm with drunkenness and madness,

He started for the prize.
“Let the glad cymbols loudly clash!

Full bumpers let's be quaffing!
No poet I! Hip! hip! here goes !-
Blow-blow the trumpet !—blow the
Here he was puzzled for a rhyme,
And Lucy whispered "nose” in time,

And so they fell a-laughing.

“Gods!” cried a Minister of State,
“You know not, Empress of my Fate,
How long my passion would endure,
If passion were a sinecure;
But since, in Love's despotic clime,
Fondness is taxed, and pays in rhyme,
Glad to retire, I shun disgrace,
And make my bow, and quit my place.”

And thus the jest went circling round,

And ladies smiled and sneered, As smooth Fourteen, and weak Fonrscore, Professed they ne'er had rhymed before, And Drunkards blushed, and Doctors swore,

And Soldiers owned they feared : Unwonted Muses were invoked

By Pugilists and Whips ;

And many a Belle looked half-provoked,
When favored Swains stood duinb and choked,
And Warblers whined, and Punsters joked,

And Dandies bit their lips.

At last an old Ecclesiastic, Who looked half kind, and half sarcastic, And seemed, in every transient look, At once to flatter and rebuke, Cut off the sport with “Psha! enough ;" And then took breath, and then-took snuff; “Chloe,” he said, “ you're like the moon! You shine as bright, you change as soon ! Your wit is like the moon's fair beam,

In borrowed light 'tis o’er us thrown; Yet, like the moon’s, that sparkling stream

To careless eyes appears your own;
Your cheek by turns is pale and red; .

And then (to close the simile,
From which, methinks, you turn your head,

As half in anger, half in glee,)-
Dark would the night appear without you-
And—twenty fools have rhymed about you.”

CHANGING QUARTERS.

A SKETCH.

“Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress !

And there was mounting in hot haste.”

Byron.

Fair laughs the morn, and out they come At the solemn beat of the rolling drum,

Appareld for the march;
Many an old and honourd name,
Young warriors, with their eyes of flame,
And aged veterans in the wars,
With little pay, and many scars,
And titled Lord, and tottering Beau,
Right closely wrapt from top to toe

In vanity and starch.
The rising Sun is gleaming bright,
And Britain's flag is waving light,
And widely, where the gales invite,

The charger's mane is flowing:
Around is many a staring face
VOL. II.—5

Of envious Boor, and wondering Grace, And Echo shouts through all the place,

“The Soldiers be a-going.” Beauty and Bills are buzzing now

In many a martial ear,
And, midst the tumult and the row,
Is seen the Tailor's anxious bow,

And Woman's anxious tear.
Alas! the thousand cares that float
To-day around a scarlet coat!
There's Sergeant Cross, in fume and fret,
With little Mopsa, the coquette,

Close clinging to his side:
Who, if fierce Mars and thundering Jove
Had had the least respect for love,

To-day had been his bride-
And, midst the trumpet's wild acclaim,
She calls upon her lover's name

In beautiful alarm;
Still looking up expectantly
To see the tear-drop in his eye,

Still hanging to his arm ;
And he the while—his fallen chop

Most eloquently tells
That much he wishes little Mop
Were waiting for-another drop,

Or hanging—somewhere else.

Poor Captain Mill! what sounds of foar Break sudden on his startled ear;

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