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As oft on Gadshill we have ta'en our stand,
When 'twas so dark you could not see your hand,
Some true bred Falstaff we may hope to start,
Who, when well bolster'd, well will play his part.

The scenes to vary, we shall try in time
To treat you with a little Pantomime;
Here light and easy Columbine's are found,
And well tried Harlequins with us abound.

From durance vile our precious selves to keep,
We've often had recourse to th' flying leap;
To a black face have sometimes ow'd escape,
And Hounslow Heath has prov'd the worth of crape.

But how, you ask, can we e'er hope to soar
Above these scenes, and rise to tragic lore?
Too oft, alas! we forc'd th' unwilling tear,
And petrified the heart with real fear.

Macbeth a harvest of applause will reap,
For some of us, I fear, have murder'd sleep;
His Lady, too, with grace, will sleep and talk,
Our females have been us'd at night to walk.

Sometimes, indeed, so various is our art,
An actor may improve and mend his part:

"Give me a horse," bawls Richard, like a drone,

We'll find a man would help-himself to one.


Grant us your favour, put us to the test,
To gain your smiles we'll always do our best :
And, without dread of future Turnkey Lockets,
Thus, in an honest way, still pick your pockets.


THE Chief has fallen, but not by you,
Vanquishers of Waterloo !

When the soldier citizen

Swayed not o'er his fellow men-
Save in deeds that led them on

Where glory smiled on Freedom's son
Who, of all the despots banded,


With that youthful chief competed?
Who could boast o'er France defeated,
Till lone Tyranny commanded?
Till, goaded by ambition's sting,
The Hero sunk into the King?
Then he fell ;-So perish all
Who would men by man enthral !

And thou too of the snow-white plume!
Whose realm refused thee ev'n a tomb ;*
Better hadst thou still been leading
France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,
Than sold thyself to death and shame
For a meanly royal name;

* Murat's remains are said to have been torn from the grave and burnt.


Such as he of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears.
Little didst thou deem, when dashing
On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks,
While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,
Shone and shivered fast around thee-
Of the fate at last which found thee:
Was that haughty plume laid low
By a slave's dishonest blow?

Once-as the Moon sways o'er the tide,
It rolled in air, the warrior's guide;
Through the smoke-created night
Of the black and sulphurous fight,
The soldier rais'd his seeking eye
To catch that crest's ascendancy,-
And, as it onward rolling rose,
So moved his heart upon our foes.

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There, where death's brief pang was quickest,
And the battle's wreck lay thickest,
Strew'd beneath the advancing banner
Of the eagle's burning crest-
(There with thunder-clouds to fan her,
Who could then her wing arrest-
Victory beaming from her breast?)
While the broken line enlarging
Fell, or fled along the plain;
There be sure was MURAT charging!
There he ne'er shall charge again!



AHASUERUS the Jew crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel. Near two thousand years have elapsed since he was first goaded by never-ending restlessness, to rove the globe from pole to pole. When our Lord was wearied with the burthen of his ponderous cross, and wanted to rest before the door of Ahasuerus, the unfeeling wretch drove him away with brutality. The Saviour of mankind staggered, sinking under the heavy load, but uttered no complaint. An angel of death appeared before Alasuerus, and exclaimed indignantly, "Barbarian! thou hast denied rest to the Son of Man: be it denied thee also, until he comes to judge the world.”

A black demon, let loose from hell upon Ahasuerus, goads him now from country to country; he is denied the consolation which death affords, and precluded from the rest of the peaceful grave.

Ahasuerus crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel-he shook the dust from his beard -and taking up one of the skulls heaped there, hurled it down the eminence: it rebounded from the earth in shivered atoms. This was my father! roared Ahasuerus. Seven more skulls rolled down from rock to rock; while the infuriate Jew, following them with ghastly looks, exclaimed-And these were my wives. He still continued to hurl down skull


after skull, roaring in dreadful accents-And these, and these, and these, were my children! could die; but I reprobate wretch, alas! I cannot die! Dreadful beyond conception is the judgment that hangs over me. Jerusalem fell-I crushed the sucking babe, and precipitated myself into the destructive flames. I cursed the Romans-but, alas ! alas! the restless curse held me by the hair—and I could not die !

Rome the giantess fell I placed myself before the falling statue-she fell, and did not crush me. Nations sprung up and disappeared before me-but I remained, and did not die. From cloud-encircled cliffs did I precipitate myself into the ocean-buț the foaming billows cast me upon the shore, and the burning arrow of existence pierced my cold heart again. I leaped into Etna's flaming abyss, and roared with the giants for ten long months, polluting with my groans the Mount's sulphureous mouth -ah! ten long months. The volcano fermentedand in a fiery stream of lava, cast me up. I lay torn by the torture-snakes of hell, amid the glowing cinders, and yet continued to exist. A forest was on fire: I darted on wings of fury and despair into the crackling wood. Fire dropped upon me from the trees, but the flames only singed my limbs— alas! it could not consume them. I now mixed with the butchers of mankind, and plunged in the tempest of the raging battle. I roared defiance to the infuriate Gaul-defiance to the victorious Ger

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