Hibernia strikes his harp!
Shuttle, fly!-woof! web! warp!
Far, far, from me and you,

In latitude North 52% OR

Rebellion's hush'd,

The merchant's flush'd ;-
the mer

Hail, awful Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha, hail!

Not George, but Louis, now shall turn his tail!

I

Thus, I a-far from mad debate,
Like an old wren,

Fair

With my good hen,
Or a young gander,
Am a by-stander,

To all the peacock pride, and vain regards of state!-

fet {*.***?

Yet if the laurel prize,
Dearer than my eyes,
Curs'd Warton tries
For to surprize,
By the eternal God I'll SCRUTINIZE!

T

1

STROPHE.

O FOR a Muse of Fire,
With blazing thumbs to touch my torpid lyre!
Now in the darksome regions round the Pole,
Tigers fierce, and Lions bold,

With wild affright would see the snow-bills roll,
Their sharp teeth chattering with the cold-
But that Lions dwell not there-

Ncr beast, nor Christian-none but the White Bear!
The White Bear howls amid the tempest's roar,
And list'ning Whales swim headlong from the shore!

ANTISTROPHE. (By Brother HARRY.)

Farewell awhile, ye summer breezes!
What is the life of man?

1

A span!
Sometimes it thaw3, sometimes it freezes,
Just as it pleases!
If Heaven decrees, fierce whirlwinds rend the air,
And then again (behold!) 't is fair!

Thus peace and war on earth alternate reign:
Auspicious GEORGE, thy powerful word
Gives peace to France and Spain,
And sheaths the martial sword!

STROPHE II. (By Brother CHARLES.)

And now gay Hope, her anchor dropping, And blue-ey'd Peace, and black-ey'd Pleasures, And Plenty in light cadence hopping, Fain would dance to WHITEHEAD's measures. But WHITEHEAD now in death reposes, Crown'd with laurel! crown'd with roses! Yet we, with laurel crown'd, his dirge will sing, And thus deserve fresh laurels from the KING,

NUMBER III,

O DE,

By SIR JOSEPH MAWBEY, BART.

STROPHE.

to yon heavenly skies,

HARK
Nature's congenial perfumes upwards rise!
From each throng'd sty
That saw my gladsome eye,

Incense, quite smoking hot, arose,
And caught my seven sweet senses-by the nose!

AIR-accompanied by the LEARNED Pig.

Tell me, dear Muse, O! tell me, pray,
Why JOEY's fancy frisks so gay;
Is it! you slut, it is-some holy-holiday!

[Here Muse whispers I-Sir Joseph:] Indeed!-Repeat the fragrant sound! Push love and loyalty around,

Through Irish, Scotch, as well as British ground!

CHORUS.

For this BIG MORN

GREAT GEORGE was born!

The tidings all the Poles shall ring!

Due homage will I pay,

On this, thy native day,

GEORGE, by the grace of God, my rightful KING!

AIR with Lutes.

Well might my dear lady say,
As lamb-like by her side I lay,
This

very, very morn; Hark! JOEY, hark!

I hear the lark,

Or else it is

the sweet Sowgelder's horn!

ANTISTROPHE.

Forth from their sties the bristly victims lead ;

A score of HoGs, flat on their backs, shall bleed.
Mind they be such on which good Gods might feast!

And that

In lily fat

They cut six inches on the ribs, at least!"

DUET-with Marrow-bones and Cleavers.

Butcher and Cook, begin!

We'll have a royal greasy chin!

Tid-bits so nice and rare—;

Prepare! prepare!
Let none abstain,
Refrain!

I'll give 'em pork in plenty-cut, and come again!

RECITATIVE.

Hog! Porker! Roaster! Boar-stag! Barbicue!
Cheeks! Chines! Crow! Chitterlings! and Harselet new!
Springs! Spare-ribs! Sausages! Sous'd-lugs! and Face!
With piping-hot Pease-pudding-plenteous place!
Hands! Hocks! Hams! Haggis, with high seas'ning
fill'd!
Gammons! Green Griskins! on gridirons grill'd!