ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT.

REV. SAMUEL WESLEY.

WHILE Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive,
No generous patron would a dinner give.

See him, when starved to death and turn'd to dust,
Presented with a monumental bust.

The poet's fate is here in emblem shown-
He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone.

ON THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF THE WHIG ASSOCIATES OF THE PRINCE REGENT, AT NOT OBTAINING OFFICE.

YE politicians, tell me, pray,

CHARLES LAMB.

Why thus with woe and care rent?
This is the worst that you can say,
Some wind has blown the wig away,
And left the Hair Apparent.

TO PROFESSOR AIREY,

On his marrying a beautiful woman.

SIDNEY SMITH

AIREY alone has gained that double prize,
Which forced musicians to divide the crown;
His works have raised a mortal to the skies,

His marriage-vows have drawn a mortal down.

ON LORD DUDLEY AND WARD.

SAMUEL ROGERS

"THEY say Ward has no heart, but I deny it;
He has a heart-and gets his speeches by it."

EPIGRAMS OF LORD BYRON.

TO THE AUTHOR OF A SONNET BEGINNING

“SAD IS MY VERSE,' YOU SAY, AND YET NO TEAR.'"'

THY verse is "sad" enough, no doubt,
A devilish deal more sad than witty!
Why should we weep, I can't find out,
Unless for thee we weep in pity.

Yet there is one I pity more,

And much, alas! I think he needs it-
For he, I'm sure, will suffer sore,

Who, to his own misfortune, reads it.

The rhymes, without the aid of magic,
May once be read—but never after;
Yet their effect's by no means tragic,

Although by far too dull for laughter.

But would you make our bosoms bleed,
And of no common pang complain?
If you would make us weep indeed,
Tell us you'll read them o'er again.

WINDSOR POETICS.

On the Prince Regent being seen standing between the coffins of Henry VIII. and
Charles I., in the royal vault at Windsor.

Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies;
Between them stands another sceptered thing-
It moves, it reigns-in all but name, a king;
Charles to his people, Henry to his wife,
-In him the double tyrant starts to life;
Justice and death have mixed their dust in vain,
Each royal vampyre wakes to life again.

Ah! what can tombs avail, since these disgorge
The blood and dust of both to mold a George?

ON A CARRIER WHO DIED OF DRUNKENNESS.

John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more-so was carried at last;
For the liquor he drank, being too much for one,
He could not carry off-so he's now carrion.

EPIGRAMS OF BARHAM.

ON THE WINDOWS OF KING'S COLLEGE REMAINING BOARDED.

Loquitur Discipulus Esuriens.

PROFESSORS, in your plan there seems
A something not quite right:
'Tis queer to cherish learning's beams
By shutting out the light.

While thus we see your windows block'd,

If nobody complains;

Yet everybody must be shock'd,

To see you don't take pains.

Leave us no longer in the lurch,

With Romans, Greeks, and Hindoos:

But give us beef instead of birch,

And board us--not your windows.

[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.

EHEU FUGACES.

What Horace says is,

Eheu fugaces

Anni labunter, Postume, Postume!

Years glide away, and are lost to me, lost to me!

Now, when the folks in the dance sport their merry toes,
Taglionis, and Ellslers, Duvernays and Ceritos,
Sighing, I murmur, "O mihi præteritos !”

ANONYMOUS EPIGRAMS.

ON A PALE LADY WITH A RED-NOSED HUSBAND.

WHENCE Comes it that, in Clara's face,

The lily only has its place?

Is it because the absent rose

Has gone to paint her husband's nose?

UPON POPE'S TRANSLATION OF HOMER

So much, dear Pope, thy English Homer charms,
As pity melts us, or as passion warms,

That after ages will with wonder seek
Who 't was translated Homer into Greek.

RECIPE FOR A MODERN BONNET.

Two scraps of foundation, some fragments of lace,
A shower of French rose-buds to droop o'er the face;
Fine ribbons and feathers, with crage and illusions,
Then mix and derange them in graceful confusion;
Inveigle some fairy, out roaming for pleasure,
And beg the slight favor of taking her measure,
The length and the breadth of her dear little pate,
And hasten a miniature frame to create;
Then pour, as above, the bright mixture upon it,
And lo! you possess "such a love of a bonnet!"

MY WIFE AND I

As my wife and I, at the window one day,
Stood watching a man with a monkey,
A cart came by, with a "broth of a boy,"

Who was driving a stout little donkey.
To my wife I then spoke, by way of a joke,

"There's a relation of yours in that carriage."
To which she replied, as the donkey she spied,
"Ah, yes, a relation by marriage !"

ON TWO GENTLEMEN,

One of whom, O'Connell, delayed a duel on the plea of his wife's illness; the other declined on account of the illness of his daughter.

Some men, with a horror of slaughter,
Improve on the Scripture command,
And honor their wife and their daughter,
That their days may be long in the land.

WELLINGTON'S NOSE.

"Pray, why does the great Captain's nose
Resemble Venice ?" Duncomb cries.
"Why," quoth Sam Rogers, "I suppose,
Because it has a bridge of size (sighs)."