28. In fact she was a smuggler. At that time 'Tis all given up-extinguish'd I may say. 29. Dan roar'd, but might have roar'd for ever there; 30. "Pray, don't be foolish, Dan!" exclaimed the goose; In staying here, and, if I fell on ground, I must be dash'd to bits; oh! don't refuse; The crew perhaps will catch me safe and sound. I'll trust in God, with faith sincere and humble." 31. "Had you not better let some body fall, To ascertain the spot whereon you'd light? But not a farthing could he find at all, Or aught to drop. "They're going out of sight, Silk stockings were a principal article of contraband trade. + Here follows Buzzhun's account of the affair, for the benefit of the literati. Fogartius homo erat tam modestus, Ut finem verum carminis celaret ; Non videar (spero) parum nunc honestus, Si narrem ut amicus mi narraret. Est delicatis auribus infestus; Fogartius igitur non eum daret; Cum Daniel navem videt, missionem Nam super ratem sumus non omnino. Dejiciens aliquid experiare, Utrum in navem caderes an mare." "Nil habco," inquit. "Nihil! O projicias "Nummulum aliquem auri vel argenti" "Aurum! Argentum! Unde has divitias Mihi ne æst aheneum habenti ?” "Rem aliam quæras."—"Odepol conficias Si porto quicquid præter excrementi Pondus haud parvum,quod contineat venter, Et hoc in mare mitterem libenter." Anser Merdose" clamans veniam dedit: Et braccas Daniel usque ad pedes solvit, Strepitu multo atque vi pepedit, Merdamque magni ponderis devolvit— Territus hoc, somnium statim cedit, (Nam somnium erat) oculos resolvit, Et ait, "Quam fui astro malo natus Obdormio ebrius, surgoque cacatus." The learned reader will remember a somewhat similar conclusion to a story in Fog. 33. The goose, on finding him so obstinate, Stretch'd out his leg, and opening wide his paw, Down through the air. The goose above him saw 34. He felt the waters compass him about, Ring in his ears, and gurgle in his throat; 35. At one time he was thrown upon the mud, 36. "You do not care how you desert your door, 37. The fact was, Mistress Rourke and Mistress Blake, A cup of tea, when granted by the Fates, 38. There, having fill'd their vessels to the brim, For he knew not the object of his fear, VOL. X. 3 I 39. But when he saw 'twas neither shark nor whale, A bumper just as brimful as the last, And 'scaped the waterspout, which by him past; "Leave off," says he, " and better manners learn: O Judy, Judy, why art thou so stern?"— 40. "How can you ask?" quoth she, "you drunken dog, Who never come beneath this wicked roof, That you can move away, but like a log, Lie quite knock'd up, and helpless. Keep aloof From Mountain daisies-that you shall, you hog, Next time I catch you this way, hand and hoof I'll have you pinion'd smartly, I engage: You know not yet what 'tis to rouse my rage." 41. " "Och! peace!" says Dan; "I promise on my word, To souse me so with water: such a fright Come home, my heart, and do not look so grum.”. 42. This said he stagger'd forward, caught his wife Full in his arms, and smack'd her with a kiss ; (The plan most excellent, upon my life, Of stopping women's angry mouths is this,) Her hands of water full, of fire her phiz: What points she urged-how Mrs Mulshenan How she at last was pacified-how Dan Begg'd (but in vain) permission from his spouse To take for fear of cold, but one more glassBeing in haste I here beg leave to pass. 4.4. In fine, they routed Blake, who stretch'd along MORAL OF THE WHOLE POEM. ΑΡΙΣΤΟΝ ΜΕΝ ΥΔΩΡ. PINDAR. MANKIND! ye learn from this with truth, that slaughter Of brandy can't be cured by pails of water. * See Milman's Samor, the Lord of the Bright City. "O duty, duty, why art thou so stern!" Somewhat similar. I prefer my own. Explicit. Daniel O'Rourke is at length concluded. The composition of this poem has beguiled many a weary moment, and, I trust, purified by the sweet sentimentalities of poetry many an hour which might else have been devoted to subjects less sacred. That it can make a deep and lasting impression on the morals of my country, is my wish, though my modesty forbids me to say my expectation: but if one reader rises from its perusal with a heart better adapted for the reception of the sublime and devotional-if one spirit has been refreshed by the inspiration of holy musings while reading it-if one better citizen, one better man, has been made by the work I have just finished, I shall not look upon my labour to have been in F. O'FOGARTY. vain. SONNET. FOGARTY! FRIEND AND PARTNER OF MY HEART, NOW THAT THY POEM, WORK OF HIGH RENOWN, IN VERSE PERHAPS NOT DELICATE OR FINE, FROM THE CLOSE FLASK WHERE STREAMS OF SODA WORK, SHALT O'ER THE MURMURING CROWD TO ETHER PLOUGH. Founder of the Soda-Water School of Poetry. [In addition to the Sonnet presented to us by the great Bard of Soda, we have been favoured with the following lines from the able pen of a favourite Correspondent. We trust our friend Mr Fogarty's notorious and national modesty will not be put to the blush by the well-deserved encomiums contained in them.-C. N.] TO FOGARTY O'FOGARTY, ESQ. OF BLARNEY. (That is at least while Wood and Waithman live ;) When in an alehouse she beholds him floor'd. While England's tongue survives-or, what's the same, Quoth D. DICK, Of the C. E. and §. §. BRIEF ABSTRACT OF MR O'FOGARTY'S JOURNAL ON looking over my journal I find it so barren of incident, that I do not think it worth my while to send it entire. Take then this short abstract. On the 5th ult. I rose after nearly four months' confinement to bed. I had experienced a sad randling during that time. My skin like a lady's loose gown hung about me-my jaws were drawn in-my face hatchety-my eyes sunk and hollow-and my clothes invested my once goodly person with as little congruity as a flour-bag would act the part of waistcoat to a spit. The entries for a week in my diary, consist chiefly of notes of squabbles with my doctors-who one and all seemed leagued in a conspiracy to starve me. I was firm, however, and succeeded in unkennelling them; from which day I got visibly better. I was soon able to despatch my commons with my usual activity. My person acquired its wonted amplitude and my eye resumed its old fire. I could give a halloo with ancient fortitude of lungs, and in fact was completely re-established. On the 14th, while I was in the act of polishing the wheel of my salmon-rod, my old friend, the Earl of ******** called on me en passunt. "The good-natured, blackwhiskered," (to speak regally, for it was by this title, you know, the King addressed him on the pier at Howth,) was delighted to see me pulling up, and congratulated me on my recovery. He told me all the Dublin chit-chat about his Majesty, who, he said, was quite pleased at meeting him, and shook his hand with the utmost cordiality. I had many an anecdote from him which escaped the knowledge of the mere mob. The king's private parties were quite au fuit-and he captivated those who had the honour of being admitted to his own immediate circle, as effectually as in public he by his demeanour won the hearts of the rest of the population. Our conversation then turned upon my poem, of which he, like every body else, spoke in terms of the highest commendation—but modesty forbids me to detail what he said on this point. But who the devil, says his Lordship, is North? I told him he was a gentleman of good family resi ding in the Old Town of Edinburgh, where his wealth, talents, and general virtues, render him the life of society, and the idol of Auld Reekie. He amuses himself, I continued, by conducting the greatest literary work of modern times-by which he makes about six thousand a-year,* (was I right?) which, as well as his private property, (a very considerable one,) he spends in such a bounteous hospitality, that he is in general suspected to be an Irishman. "Yes," said my noble friend, "my son, who was, you know, of Exeter, Oxon, told me he heard as much from a friend of his, Mr Buller, of Brazen Nose, who spent some days, a couple of years ago, with him on a party in the Highlands, when Lord Fife, Prince Leopold, and other distinguished persons, were part of his company. He had with him at that time a pleasant, and very prime poet, of the name of Hogg, in his train, of whom Buller told queer stories. My son, who was a crackman in Oxford, had an idea of contributing to North, but since he has been returned for this ruinous county, he he has not an hour to himself." this way his Lordship and I beguiled an hour, chatting about the two prominent subjects of discourse in Ireland at present, his Majesty (if indeed it be proper to call the King a subject) and the Magazine. He pressed me hard to go with him to Myros, offering me his carriage, if I did not find myself well enough to bestride my chesnut, Donnelly, but I then declined it. I am, however, there this moment, and am writing this Journal in great haste in his library, on some of his best wire-wove. On the 15th, Father Buzzhun, with whom I have corresponded from the commencement of my poem, wrote me from Glangariffe, enclosing some Latin verses, narrating the catastrophe of the poem in a different manner. To oblige the old gentleman, I put them in my notes; they appear to me to be as good as Frere's, in his 3d Canto of Whistlecraft, which, after all, is the best and most pleasantly humorous thing in the ottava rima. From this to the 29th, I Considerably under the mark. C. N. In |