TO A WELL-KNOWN MUSICAL CRITIC,

REMARKABLE FOR HIS EARS STICKING

THROUGH HIS HAIR.

! 0- ! of you we complain For exposing those ears to the wind and the rain.

Thy face, a huge whitlow just come to a head, agrees with those ears so raw and so red.

Ill

A Musical Critic of old fell a-pouting,

When he saw how his asinine honours were sprouting;

But he hid 'em quite snug, in a full frizz of hair,

And the Barber alone smoked his donkeys rare.

Thy judgment much worse, and thy perkers as ample,

O give heed to King Midas, and take his example.

Thus to publish your fate is as useless as wrong

You but prove by your ears what we guess'd from your tongue.

TO MR. PYE*

On his Carmen Seculare (a title which has by various persons who have heard it, been thus translated, “ A Poem an age long").

OUR Poem must eternal be,
Eternal! it can't fail,

For 'tis incomprehensible,

And without head or tail!

"JACK'S ESTATE.” †

ACK drinks fine wines, wears modish clothing,

But prithee where lies Jack's estate? In Algebra, for there I found of late A quantity call'd less than nothing.

* The verse is headed, in the edition of 1834, "To the Author of the Ancient Mariner. This may be an inten. tional touch of humour. It originally appeared, as headed in the text, in the Morning Post, in 1800. It was afterwards appropriated, and applied, in ignorance of its author, to Coleridge's poem.

This, and the next seven epigrams, will be found in the Bristol Anthology, vol. ii., 1800. The one on Rufa is after Lessing.

"INFORMATOR."

S Dick and I at Charing Cross were walking

Whom should we see on t'other side

pass by

65

But Informator with a stranger talking,
So I exclaim'd, “ Lord what a lie!"
Quoth Dick-"What, can you hear him?”
"Hear him! stuff!

I saw

him open his mouth-an't that enough? '

TO A PROUD PARENT.

HY babes ne'er greet thee with the father's name;

'My Lud!' they lisp. Now whence can this arise ?

Perhaps their mother feels an honest shame, Aud will not teach her infant to tell lies.

“HIPPONA.”

IPPONA lets no silly flush

Disturb her cheek, nought makes her blush.

H

Whate'er obscenities you say,

She nods and titters frank and gay.
O Shame awake one honest flush
For this, that nothing makes her blush.

"RUFA'S LAP-DOG."

HY lap-dog, Rufa, is a dainty beast,
It don't surprise me in the least

To see thee lick so dainty clean a beast.
But that so dainty clean a beast licks thee,
Yes-that surprises me.

"A RHYMSTER."

EM writes his verses with more speed
Than the printer's boy can set 'em ;
Quite as fast as we can read,
And only not so fast as we forget 'em.

"DORIS'S TEA."

ORIS can find no taste in tea,
Green to her drinks like Bohea;
Because she makes the tea so small
She never tastes the tea at all.

ON A MODERN DRAMATIST.

OT for the Stage his plays are fit,
But suit the closet, said a wit.

N

"AVARO'S GRAVE."

HERE comes from old Avaro's grave
A deadly stench-why, sure they have
Immured his soul within his grave?

ON A BAD MAN.*

F him that in this gorgeous tomb doth lie

This sad brief tale is all that Truth can give

He lived like one who never thought to die, He died like one who dared not hope to live! *Printed in 1801.