ON TRADES' UNIONS.

WHAT is a Unionist? One who has yearnings
For an equal division of unequal earnings;
Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing
To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling.

THE GAMING-HOUSE.

To this dark cave three gates pertain
Hope, infamy, and death, we know:
'Tis by the first you entrance gain,-
By the last two alone you go.

TRUTH IN WINE.

A BRUTE thou art at best; but mad with wine,
The rage of tigers is less fierce than thine;
Wine but displays the baseness of thy heart;
Not makes thee bad-but shows thee as thou art.

FROM THE FRENCH.

READER! no longer fear the rage of fate,
On me it wasted all its shafts of hate;
Through one long round of woes my life it drew;
And my last sigh was the first bliss I knew.

R. A. D.

THE WORLD.

'Tis a very good world that we live in,

To lend, or to spend, or to give in;

But to beg or to borrow, or get a man's own,

'Tis the very worst world, sir, that ever was known.

THE very bees, O sweet Menander, hung,
To taste the Muse's spring, upon thy tongue :
The very Graces made the scenes you writ
Their happy point of fine expression hit:

Thus still you live; you make your Athens shine,
And raise her glory to the skies in thine.

HERODOTUS.

THE muses to Herodotus, one day,
Came, nine of them, and dined;
And in return, their host to pay,
They left a book behind.

K

ON PLUTARCH'S STATUE.

FROM THE GREEK.

WISE, honest Plutarch! to thy deathless praise,
The sons of Rome this grateful statue raise;
For why? both Greece and Rome thy fame have shared,
Their heroes written, and their lives compared.
But thou thyself couldst never write thine own;
Their lives had parallels-but thine had none.

DRYDEN.

ON HOMER.

FROM Colophon some deem thee sprung;
From Smyrna some, and some from Chios;
These noble Salamis have sung,

While those proclaim thee born in Ios;

And others cry up Thessaly,

The mother of the Lapitha.

Thus each to Homer has assigned

The birthplace which best suits his mind;

But if I read the volume right,

By Phoebus to his followers given,

I'd say, they are mistaken quite,

And that his real country's Heaven;

While for his mother, she can be

No other than Calliope.

ANTIPATER OF SIDON. MERIVALE.

THE SAME IN LATIN, BY SANNAZARO, THE ITALIAN POET.

SMYRNA, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athenæ, Cedite, jam cœlum, patria Mæonidæ est !

THE MAID OF ORLEANS. FROM THE FRENCH OF

MALHERBE.

FAIR Amazon! the cruel foe

Who to the flames consigned

Thy form, his scorn of laws displayed,

And base perfidious mind!

But just was Fate, by such a death

Who raised thee to the sky;

For she who like Alcides lived,
Should like Alcides die.

ON MILTIADES.

MILTIADES! thy valour best,

(Although in every region known,) The men of Persia can attest; Taught by thyself at Marathon.

THE MAID OF SARAGOSSA.
THE Spanish maid, aroused,

Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused,
Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war!
And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
Appalled, an owlet's 'larum chilled with dread,
Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar,
The falchion flash; and o'er the yet warm dead

Stalks, with Minerva's step, where Mars might quake to tread.

BYRON.

ON ALFRED THE GREAT.

REPLETE with soul, the monarch stood alone,
And built on freedom's basis England's throne;
A legislator, patriot, warrior, sage,

He died, the light of a benighted age.

DIBDIN.

ON CROMWELL AND DE WITT.

DE WITT and Cromwell had each a brave soul;
I freely confess it, I am for old Noll.

Though his government did a tyrant's resemble,---
He made England great and her enemies tremble.

ON CHARLES II.*

His conversation, wit, and parts,

His knowledge in the noblest useful arts,
Were such, dead authors could not give,
But habitudes of those that live,

Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive;
He drained from all, and all they knew;
His apprehension quick, his judgment true:
That the most learned, with shame confess,
His knowledge more, his reading only less.

DRYDEN.

This praise may be transferred to Dryden himself.

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.*

O NATURE! to Old England still

Continue these mistakes;

Give us for all our Kings, such Queens,
And for our Dux, such Drakes.

UNDER THE STATUE OF EDWARD VI., IN ST. THOMAS'S
HOSPITAL.

ON Edward's brow no laurels cast a shade,
Nor at his feet are warlike spoils displayed:
Yet here, since first his bounty raised the pile,
The lame grow active, and the languid smile.
See this, ye chiefs, and, struck with envy, pine;
To kill is brutal, but to save, divine!

ON THE EARL OF CHATHAM.

SHALL Chatham die and be forgot? O no!-
Warm from its source let grateful sorrow flow;
His matchless ardour fired each fear-struck mind,
His genius soared when Britons drooped and pined.

GARRICK.

ON THE LATE WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ., M.P.
THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious called
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthralled
From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wronged, the fetter-galled,
Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain.
Thou hast achieved a part; hast gained the ear

Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause:

Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause
And weave delay, the better hour is near

That shall remunerate thy toils severe

By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.

Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love

From all the just on earth, and all the blest above.

COWPER.

Written in consequence of Queen Elizabeth having dined on board Sir Francis Drake's ship on his return from circumnavigating the globe.