One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife
Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the

world

That then-oh disgrace upon manhood!—even then, You should falter-should cling to your pitiful

breath, Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood

men, And prefer the slave's life of damnation to death!

It is strange—it is dreadful ;-shout, Tyranny shout, Through your dungeons and palaces, “ Freedom is

o'er!"If there lingers one spark of her light, tread it out,

And return to your enpire of darkness once more.

For, if such are the braggarts that claim to be free,

Come, Despot of Russia, thy feet let me kissFar nobler to live the brute bond-man of thee,

Than to sully even chains by a struggle like this!

Paris, 1821.

THE INSURRECTION OF THE PAPERS.

A Dream.

"It would be impossible for His Royal Highness to disengage his person from the accumulating pile of papers that encompassed it."

Lord CASTLEREAGH's Speech upon Colonel
M'MAHON'S Appointment.

LAST night I toss'd and turn'd in bed,
But could not sleep-at length I said,
"I'll think of Viscount C-stl-R-GH,
"And of his speeches-that's the way."
And so it was, for instantly

I slept as sound as sound could be;

And then I dream'd-oh, frightful dream!
FUSELI has no such theme ;

never wrote or borrow'd

Any horror half so horrid !

Methought the P——E, in whisker'd state,
Before me at his breakfast sate:

On one side lay unread Petitions,

On t'other, Hints from five Physicians

Here tradesmen's bills, official papers
Notes from my Lady, drams for vapours-
There plans of saddles, tea and toast,
Death-warrants and the Morning-Post.

When lo! the Papers, one and all,
As if at some magician's call,
Began to flutter of themselves
From desk and table, floor and shelves,
And, cutting each some different capers,
Advanced-oh jacobinic papers !
As though they said, “ Our sole design is
" To suffocate His Royal Highness !”
The leader of this vile sedition
Was a huge Catholic Petition :
With grievances so full and heavy,
It threaten'd worst of all the bevy.
Then Common-Hall Addresses came
In swaggering sheets, and took their aim
Right at the R-G-T's well-dress'd head,
As if determined to be read!
Next Tradesmen’s Bills began to fly-
And tradesmen's bills we know mount high;

Nay, even Death-Warrants thought they'd best
Be lively too and join the rest.

But oh!-The basest of defections!
His Letter about "predilections"-
His own dear Letter, void of grace,
Now flew up in its parent's face!
Shock'd with this breach of filial duty,
He just could murmur, " et Tu Brute?"
Then sunk, subdued, upon the floor
At Fox's bust, to rise no more!

I waked-and pray'd, with lifted hand,
"Oh! never may this Dream prove true;
"Though Paper overwhelms the land,
"Let it not crush the Sovereign too!"

PARODY OF A CELEBRATED LETTER.

AT length, dearest FREDDY, the moment is nigh,
When, with P-RC-V-L's leave, I may throw my chains by;
And, as time now is precious, the first thing I do

Is to sit down and write a wise letter to you.

I meant before now to have sent you this Letter,
But Y-RM-TH and I thought perhaps 'twould be better
To wait till the Irish affairs were decided-

That is, till both Houses had prosed and divided,
With all due appearance of thought and digestion-

For, though H-RTF-RD House had long settled the ques

tion,

I thought it but decent, between me and

you,

That the two other Houses should settle it too.

I need not remind you how cursedly bad

Our affairs were all looking when Father went mad; A strait-waistcoat on him and restrictions on me,— A more limited Monarchy could not well be.

I

was call'd upon

then, in that moment of puzzle,
To choose my own Minister-just as they muzzle
A playful young bear, and then mock his disaster
By bidding him choose out his own dancing-master.