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Man. Hist-silence-don't you hear the drum
Now, ladies, now, the king's a coming.
Which is the coach?
Scotchman. Which is the noble earl of Bute?
Troth, he's a bonny muckle man.
Man. Here comes the coach, so very slow
As if it ne'er was made to go,
In all the gingerbread of state,
And staggering under its own weight.
Mrs. S. Upon my word, its monstrous fine!
Mrs. B. So painted, gilded, and so large, Bless me! 'tis like my lord mayor's barge. And so it is-look how it reels!
'Tis nothing else a barge on wheels.
Man. Large! it can't pass St. James's gate,
Could they a body-coachman get
Mrs. S. Lard! what are those two ugly things
With naked breasts, and faces swell'd?
Man. Oh! they are gods, ma'am, which you see, Of the Marine Society,
Tritons, which in the ocean dwell,
And only rise to blow their shell.
Mrs. S. Gods, d'ye call those filthy men?
Why don't they go to sea again?
Pray, tell me, sir, you understand,
Mrs. B. And what are they? those hindmost things,
Men, fish, and birds, with flesh, scales, wings?
Man. Oh, they are gods too, like the others,
For show, they wear the yellow hue,
Mrs. S. Lord bless us! what's this noise about? Lord, what a tumult and a rout!
How the folks hollow, hiss, and hoot!
Let's make for any house we can,
Mrs. B. I wonder'd where you was, my dear,
Has put my nerves in such a flurry!
Or Mallet's birth-place and family nothing is certainly known; but Dr. Johnson's account of his descent from the sanguinary clan of Mac Gregor is probably not much better founded than what he tells us of his being janitor to the high school of Edinburgh. That officer has, from time immemorial, lived in a small house at the gate of the school, of which he sweeps the floors, and rings the bell.
Mallet, at the alleged time of his being thus employed, was private tutor in the family of Mr. Home, of Dreghorn, near Edinburgh. By Mr. Home he was recommended to be tutor to the sons of the Duke of Buccleugh, and after travelling on the continent with his pupils, and returning to London, made his way, according to Dr. Johnson, into the society of wits, nobles, and statesmen, by the influence of the family in which he had lived. Perhaps the mere situation of a nobleman's tutor would not have gained such access to a diffident man; but Mallet's manners and talents were peculiarly fitted to make their way in the world. His ballad of William and Margaret first brought him into notice. He became intimate with Pope, and had so much celebrity in his day as to be praised in rhyme both by Savage and Lord Chesterfield. In time he was appointed private secretary to the Prince of Wales. Some of his letters in the earlier part of his life express an interest and friendship for the poet Thomson, which do honour to his heart, but it cannot be disguised that his general history exhibits more address than principle, and his literary career is unimportant. Some years before his death he was appointed keeper of the book of entries for the port of London, and enjoyed a pension for an address to the public, which contributed to hasten the execution of Byng-a fact for which, if true, his supposed ancestors the MacGregors might have been ashamed to acknowledge him.
WILLIAM AND MARGARET.
'Twas at the silent, solemn hour
Her face was like an April-morn,
So shall the fairest face appear,
When youth and years are flown: Such is the robe that kings must wear, When Death has reft their crown.
Her bloom was like the springing flower, That sips the silver dew;
The rose was budded in her cheek,
But love had, like the canker-worm,
The rose grew pale, and left her cheek;
“Awake!" she cried, " thy true love calls, Come from her midnight-grave;
Now let thy pity hear the maid,