Thus urged, she went the snoring man to call,

And long, indeed, was she obliged to bawl Ere she could rouse the torpid lump of clay.

At last he wakes-he rises-and he

Swears

But scarcely had he totter'd down the stairs,

When King attacks him in his usual

way.

The Frenchman now perceived 'twas all in vain

To this tormentor mildly to complain,

And straight in rage began his crest to

rear,

"Sare, vat de devil make you treat me so?— Sare, I inform you, sare, tree nights ago, Begar, I swear, no Monsieur Tonson here."

True as the night King went and heard a strife

Between the harass'd Frenchman and his wife,

Which should descend to chase the fiend

away;

At length to join their forces they agree, And straight impetuously they turn the key, Prepared with mutual fury for the fray. Our hero, with the firmness of a rock, Collected to receive the mighty shock,

Utt'ring his old inquiry, calmly stood,The name of Thompson raised the storm so high,

He deem'd it then the safest plan to fly, With "Well, I'll call when you're in gentler mood."

In short our hero, with the same intent, Full many a night to plague the Frenchman went,

So fond of mischief was the wicked wit; They threw out water-for the watch they call,

But King, expecting, still escapes from allMonsieur at last was forced his house to quit.

It happen'd that our wag, about this time, On some fair prospect sought the Eastern clime;

Six ling'ring years were there his tedious lot:

At length, content amid his ripening store, He treads again on Britain's happy shore, And his long absence is at once forgot.

To London with impatient hope he flies, And the same night, as former freaks arise,

He fain must stroll the well-known haunt.to trace.

"Ah! here's the scene of frequent mirth," he said;

"My poor old Frenchman, I suppose, is dead

Egad, I'll knock, and see who holds his place."

"But hold! whose funeral's that?" cries John.

EPITAPH ON THE TOMBSTONE EREC

TED OVER THE MARQUIS OF AN-
GLESEA'S LEG, LOST AT THE BAT-
TLE OF WATERLOO.

HERE rests, and let no saucy knave.
Presume to sneer and laugh,
To learn that mouldering in the grave
Is laid a British Calf.

For he who writes these lines is sure,
That those who read the whole,
Will find such laugh was premature,
For here, too, lies a sole.

And here five little ones repose,

Twin born with other five,
Unheeded by their brother toes,
Who all are now alive.

A leg and foot, to speak more plain,
Rests here of one commanding;
Who, though his wits he might retain,
Lost half his understanding.

And when the guns, with thunder fraught,
Pour'd bullets thick as hail,
Could only in this way be taught

To give the foe leg-bail.

And now in England, just as gay
As in the battle brave,

Goes to a rout, review, or play,

With one foot in the grave.

Fortune in vain here show'd her spite,
For he will still be found,
Should England's sons engage in fight,
Resolved to stand his ground.

But Fortune's pardon I must beg;
She meant not to disarm,
For when she lopp'd the hero's leg,
She did not seek his harm.

Since he could walk with one, She saw two legs were lost on him, Who never meant to run.

GEORGE CANNING.

MALBROUCK.

MALBROUCK, the prince of commanders,

Is gone to the war in Flanders;

His fame is like Alexander's;
But when will he come home?

Perhaps at Trinity feast; or
Perhaps he may come at Easter.
Egad! he had better make haste, or
We fear he may never come.

For Trinity feast is over,

And has brought no news from Dover;
And Easter is past, moreover,

And Malbrouck still delays.

Milady in her watch-tower
Spends many a pensive hour,
Not knowing why or how her
Dear lord from England stays.

While sitting quite forlorn in
That tower, she spies returning
A page clad in deep mourning,

With fainting steps and slow.

"O page, prythee, come faster!

What news do you bring of your master? I fear there is some disaster

Your looks are so full of woe."

"The news I bring, fair lady," With sorrowful accent said he, "Is one you are not ready

So soon, alas! to hear.

"But since to speak I'm hurried," Added this page quite flurried, "Malbrouck is dead and buried!” -And here he shed a tear.

"He's dead! he's dead as a herring! For I beheld his berring, And four officers transferring

His corpse away from the field.

"One officer carried his sabre;
And he carried it not without labor,
Much envying his next neighbor,
Who only bore a shield.

"The third was helmet-bearerThat helmet which on its wearer Fill'd all who saw with terror,

And cover'd a hero's brains.

"Now, having got so far, I

Find that by the Lord Harry!—
The fourth is left nothing to carry ;—

So there the thing remains."
FRANCIS MAHONY (“Father Prout.)"
(From the French.)

THE MARCH TO MOSCOW. THE Emperor Nap he would set off On a summer excursion to Moscow; The fields were green, and the sky was blue, Morbleu! Parbleu !

What a pleasant excursion to Moscow! Four hundred thousand men and more Must go with him to Moscow: There were Marshals by the dozen, And Dukes by the score;

Princes a few, and Kings one or two; While the fields are so green, and the sky

so blue.

Morbleu! Parbleu!

What a pleasant excursion to Moscow !

There was Junot and Augereau,

Heigh-ho for Moscow !
Dombrowsky and Poniatowsky,

Marshal Ney, lack-a-day!
General Rapp and the Emperor Nap;
Nothing would do,

While the fields were so green, and the sky

so blue,

Morbleu! Parbleu!

Nothing would do

For the whole of this crew,
But they must be marching to Moscow.

The Emperor Nap he talk'd so big That he frighten'd Mr. Roscoe. John Bull, he cries, if you'll be wise, Ask the Emperor Nap if he will please To grant you peace upon your knees, Because he is going to Moscow ! He'll make all the Poles come out of their holes,

And beat the Russians, and eat the Prussians;

For the fields are green, and the sky is blue. Morbleu! Parbleu!

And he'll certainly march to Moscow !

And Counsellor Brougham was all in a

fume

At the thought of the march to Moscow: The Russians, he said, they were un

done,

And the great Fee-Faw-Fum

Would presently come,

With a hop, step, and jump, unto London;

For, as for his conquering Russia, However some persons might scoff

it,

Do it he could, and do it he would, And from doing it nothing would come

but good,

And nothing could call him off it, Mr. Jeffrey said so, who must certainly know,

For he was the Edinburgh Prophet. They all of them knew Mr. Jeffrey's Review,

Which with Holy Writ ought to be reckon'd:

It was, through thick and thin, to its party true;

Its back was buff, and its sides were

blue,

Morbleu! Parbleu!

It served them for Law and for Gospel too.

But the Russians stoutly they turn'd

to

Upon the road to Moscow. Nap had to fight his way all through;

They could fight, though they could not parlez-vous;

But the fields were green, and the sky was blue,

Morbleu! Parbleu! ·

And so he got to Moscow.

He found the place too warm for him, For they set fire to Moscow. To get there had cost him much ado, And then no better course he knew, While the fields were green, and the sky was blue,

Morbleu! Parbleu!

But to march back again from Moscow.

The Russians they stuck close to him All on the road from Moscow.

Wasiltchikoff, Kostomaroff,

And Tchoglokoff,

And all the others that end in off;
Rajeffsky, and Novereffsky,
And Rieffsky,

And all the others that end in effsky:
Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky,

And all the others that end in offsky; And Platoff he play'd them off, And Shouvaloff he shovell'd them off, And Markoff he mark'd them off, And Krosnoff he cross'd them off, And Touchkoff he touch'd them off, And Boroskoff he bored them off,

And Kutousoff he cut them off, And Parenzoff he pared them off, And Worronzoff he worried them off, And Doctoroff he doctor'd them off. And Rodionoff he flogg'd them off. And, last of all, an Admiral

And all the others that end in ow;
Milarodovitch and Jaladovitch,
And Karatschkowitch,

And all the others that end in itch;
Schamscheff, Souchosaneff;
And Schepaleff,

And all the others that end in eff;

that hour,

Cared nothing for him, nor for all his

power

For him who, while Europe crouch'd under his rod,

Put his trust in his Fortune, and not in his God.

Worse and worse every day the elements grew,

The fields were so white, and the sky so blue,
Sacrebleu! Ventrebleu !

What a horrible journey from
Moscow !

What then thought the Emperor
Nap

Upon the road from Moscow? Why, I ween he thought it small delight

THE LAWYER'S INVOCATION TO

SPRING.

WHEREAS, on certain boughs and sprays, Now divers birds are heard to sing, And sundry flowers their heads upraise, Hail to the coming on of Spring!

The songs of those said birds arouse

The memory of our youthful hours, As green as those said sprays and boughs,

As fresh and sweet as those said flowers.

And he was besides in a very great

night; fright,

day,

Love, 'mid the aforesaid boughs, inshrines

In freehold nests; themselves, their heirs, Administrators, and assigns.

O busiest term of Cupid's court,

Where tender plaintiffs actions bring,Season of frolic and of sport, Hail, as aforesaid, coming Spring!

HENRY P. HOWARD BROWNELL.

THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING.
How hard, when those who do not wish
To lend, thus lose, their books,
Are snared by anglers-folks that fish
With literary hooks-

Who call and take some favorite tome,
But never read it through;
They thus complete their set at home
By making one at you.

I, of my "Spenser " quite bereft,
Last winter sore was shaken;
Of "Lamb" I've but a quarter left,
Nor could I save my "Bacon;"
And then I saw my
"Crabbe" at last,

Like Hamlet, backward go,
And, as the tide was ebbing fast,
Of course I lost my "Rowe."

My "Mallet" served to knock me down.
Which makes me thus a talker,
And once, when I was out of town,

My "Johnson" proved a “Walker."

away,

As there was on the road from Mos

COW.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

My "Hobbes" amidst the smoke, They bore my "Colman" clean away,

And carried off my "Coke."