ANACREONTIC—TO A PLUMASSIER.
Fine and feathery artisan!
Best of Plumists, if you can
With your art so far presume,
Make for me a PE's Plume-
Feathers soft and feathers rare,
Such as suits a P-E to wear!
First, thou downiest of men!
Seek me out a fine Pea-hen;
Such a Hen, so tall and grand,
As by Juno's side might stand,
If there were no Cocks at hand !
Seek her feathers, soft as down,
Fit to shine on Poe's crown;
If thou canst not find them stupid !
Ask the way of Prior's Cupid.
Ranging these in order due,
Pluck me next an old Cuckoo ;
Emblem of the happy fates
Of easy, kind, cornuted mates!
Pluck him well-be sure you
Who wouldn't be an old Cuckoo,
Thus to have his plumage bless'd,
Beaming on a R-y-l crest?
Bravo, Plumist!-now what bird
Shall we find for Plume the third?
You must get a learned Owl,
Bleakest of black-letter fowl-
Bigot bird that hates the light,
Foe to all that's fair and bright!
Seize his quills (so form'd to pen
Books that shun the search of men,
Books that, far from every eye,
In "swelter'd venom sleeping" lie!)
Stick them in between the two,
Proud Pea-hen and old Cuckoo !
Now you have the triple feather,
Bind the kindred stems together
With a silken tie, whose hue
Once was brilliant Buff and Blue ;
Sullied now-alas! how much!-
Only fit for Y-RM-TH's touch.
There-enough-thy task is done;
Present worthy G-GE's Son!
Now, beneath, in letters neat,
Write "I SERVE," and all's complete.
FROM THE DIARY OF A POLITICIAN.
THROUGH M-NCH-ST-R Square took a canter just
Met the old yellow chariot, and made a low bow.
This I did, of course, thinking 'twas loyal and civil,
But got such a look-oh, 'twas black as the devil!
How unlucky!-incog. he was trav'lling about,
And I, like a noodle, must go find him out!
Mem.-when next by the old yellow chariot I ride, To remember there is nothing Princely inside.
At Levee to-day made another sad blunder-
What can be come over me lately, I wonder?
The P-E was as cheerful as if, all his life,
He had never been troubled with Friends or a Wife-
“Fine weather," says he―to which I, who must prate,
Answer'd, "Yes, Sir, but changeable rather, of late.”
He took it, I fear, for he look'd somewhat gruff,
And handled his new pair of whiskers so rough,
That before all the courtiers I fear'd they'd come off,
And then, Lord! how GERAMB would triumphantly scoff!
Mem.-to buy for son DICKY some unguent or lotion To nourish his whiskers-sure road to promotion! *
Last night a Concert-vastly gay-
Given by Lady C-STL-R-GH.
My Lord loves music, and, we know,
Has two strings always to his bow.
In choosing songs, the R-G-NT named
"Had I a heart for falsehood framed."
While gentle H-RTF-RD begg'd and pray'd
For "Young I am, and sore afraid."
* England is not the only country where merit of this kind is noticed and rewarded. "I remember," says Tavernier, have seen one of the King of Persia's porters, whose mustachioes were so long that he could tie them behind his neck, for which reason he had a double pension.”
KING CRACK AND HIS IDOLS.
Written after the late Negotiation for a new
M-n-stry.
KING CRACK was the best of all possible Kings
(At least, so his Courtiers would swear to you gladly),
But CRACK now and then would do het'rodox things,
And, at last, took to worshipping Images sadly.
Some broken-down IDOLS, that long had been placed
In his Father's old Cabinet, pleased him so much
That he knelt down and worshipp'd, though-such was
his taste!-
They were monstrous to look at and rotten to touch!
And these were the beautiful Gods of King Crack !— Till his People, disdaining to worship such things,
* One of those antediluvian princes with whom Manetho and Whiston seem so intimately acquainted. If we had the Memoirs of Thoth, from which Manetho compiled his History, we should find, I dare say, that CRACK was only a Regent, and that he, perhaps, succeeded Typhon, who (as Whiston says) was the last king of the Antediluvian Dynasty.
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