By lawless clerks, that, with their bloody hands, But, ah! what shrilly cry doth now alarm That falsely lets the fierce besieger in, Nor seeks the pedagogue by other course to win. No parent dear he hath to heed his cries; Alas! his parent dear is far aloof, And deep in Seven-Dial cellar lies, Killed by kind cudgel-play, or gin of proof, Or climbeth, catwise, on some London roof, Singing, perchance, a lay of Erin's Isle, Or, whilst he labors, weaves a fancy-woof, Dreaming he sees his home, his Phelim smile; Ah, me! that luckless imp, who weepeth all the while! Ah! who can paint that hard and heavy time, Anon a third, for his delicious root, So soon is human violence afoot, But Alack,-mischance comes seldomtimes alone, aye the worried dog must rue more curs than one For, lo! the pedagogue, with sudden drub, Smites his scald head, that is already sore,Superfluous wound, such is Misfortune's rub! Who straight makes answer with redoubled roar, And sheds salt tears twice faster than before, That still with backward fist he strives to dry; Washing with brackish moisture, o'er and o'er, His muddy cheek, that grows more foul thereby, Till all his rainy face looks grim as rainy sky. So Dan, by dint of noise, obtains a peace, And with his natural untender knack, By new distress, bids former grievance cease, Like tears dried up with rugged huckaback, That sets the mournful visage all awrack; Yet soon the childish countenance will shine Even as thorough storms the soonest slack, For grief and beef in adverse ways incline, This keeps, and that decays, when duly soaked in brine. Now, all is hushed, and, with a look profound, The Dominie lays ope the learned page; (So be it called) although he doth expound Without a book, both Greek and Latin sage; Now telleth he of Rome's rude infant age, How Romulus was bred in savage wood, By wet-nurse wolf, devoid of wolfish rage, And laid foundation-stone of walls of mud, But watered it, alas! with warm fraternal blood. Anon, he turns to that Homeric war, How Troy was sieged like Londonderry town; And so, of parish rights, was, all his days, forlorn. Anon, through old Mythology he goes, And owned their love was naught, and bowed to Pope, Whilst all their purblind race in Pagan mist did grope. From such quaint themes he turns, at last, aside, And shows what railroads have been tracked to guide If English corn should grow abroad, I ween, And gold be made of gold, or paper sheet; And, ah! how man shall thrive beyond his meat,- Close up again their gaping eyes and mouth, It is a thing, God wot! that can be told by none. and four All blithe and boisterous, but leave two more, With Reading made Uneasy for a task, To weep, whilst all their mates in merry sunshine bask. Like sportive Elfins, on the verdant sod, With tender moss so sleekly overgrown, That doth not hurt, but kiss, the sole unshod, So soothly kind is Erin to her own! And one, at Hare and Hound, plays all alone,For Phelim's gone to tend his step-dame's cow; Ah! Phelim's step-dame is a cankered crone ! Whilst other twain play at an Irish row, And, with shillelah small, break one another's brow! But careful Dominie, with ceaseless thrift, Now changeth ferula for rural hoe; But, first of all, with tender hand doth shift His college gown, because of solar glow, And hangs it on a bush, to scare the crow: Meanwhile, he plants in earth the dappled bean, Or trains the young potatoes all a-row, Or plucks the fragrant leek for pottage green, With that crisp curly herb, called Kale in Aberdeen. And so he wisely spends the fruitful hours, Or rules in Learning's hall, or trims her bowers; - Of Cam and Isis; for, alack! at each There dwells I wot some dronish Dominie, That does no garden work, nor yet doth teach, But wears a floury head, and talks in flowery speech ! EPIGRAMS. ON THE ART-UNIONS. THAT picture-raffles will conduce to nourish THE SUPERIORITY OF MACHINERY. A MECHANIC his labor will often discard But a clock and its case is uncommonly hard Will continue to work though it strikes. 39* |