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LONDON:

PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.

GAIETIES

AND

GRAVITIES.

PETER PINDARICS.

The Mayor of Miroblais.

WHILE he was laying plans for getting
The honours of the Chapeau rouge,
The Cardinal Du Bois was ever fretting;
All his days and nights allotting

To bribes and schemes, intriguing, plotting,
Until his face grew yellow as gambouge,
His eyes sepulchral, dull, and gummy,
And his whole frame a walking mummy.

Meanwhile his steward, De la Vigne,
Seem'd to be fattening on his master;
For, as the one grew lank and lean,
The other only thrived the faster,
Enjoying, as he swell'd in figure,
Such constant spirits, laugh, and snigger,
That it e'en struck his Excellency,

Who call'd him up, and ask'd him whence he VOL. II.

B

Contrived to get so plump and jolly;
While he himself, a man of rank,
Visibly shrank,

And daily grew more melancholy.

66

Really, my lord," the steward said,
"There's nothing marvellous in that:
You have a hat for ever in your head;
My head is always in my hat."

Du Bois, too wealthy to be marr'd in all
His plots, was presently a Cardinal,

And wore what he had pined to win;
When pasquinades soon flew about,
Hinting his sconce was deeper red without,
Than 'twas within.

Perhaps it was, but that's no matter:
The Pope, like any other hatter,
Makes coverings, not heads; and this
With its new guest agreed so well,
That he soon wore an alter'd phiz,
Ate heartily, began to swell,
Recover'd from his ails and ills,
And got quite rosy in the gills.

'Tis strange, but true-our Worthy wore

Fine robes, and wax'd both plump and fresh,

From the first moment he forswore

All pomps and appetites of flesh.

His Eminence, on this inflation
Both of his stomach and his station,
His old Château resolved to visit,
Accompanied by one Dupin,
A sandy-headed little man,

Who daily managed to elicit

Jokes from some French Joe Miller's page,
Old, and but little of their age;

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