Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk,
If "nothing follows all this palming work? "*
True, honest Mirza! — you may trust my rhyme —
Something does follow at a fitter time;

The breast thus publicly resigned to man,
In private may resist him -

—if it can.

O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore, Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more!

And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will

It is to love the lovely beldames still!

Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite
Satan may spare to peep a single night,

Pronounce

if ever in your days of bliss
Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;
To teach the young ideas how to rise,
Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;
Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,
With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame,
For prurient nature still will storm the breast-
Who, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?

But ye who never felt a single thought

For what our morals are to be, or ought;

Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,

Say- would you make those beauties quite so cheap?

* In Turkey a pertinent, here an impertinent and superfluous, question-literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, on seeing a waltz in Pera.-Vide Morier's Travels.

Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form
From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm ?
At once love's most endearing thought resign,
To press the hand so pressed by none but thine;
To gaze upon that eye which never met
Another's ardent look without regret ;

Approach the lip which all, without restraint,
Come near enough · if not to touch to taint;
If such thou lovest-love her then no more,
Or give― like her

caresses to a score;

Her mind with these is gone, and with it go
The little left behind it to bestow.

Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme? Thy bard forgot thy praises were his theme. Terpsichore, forgive!-at every ball

My wife now waltzes — and my daughters shall;
My son (or stop―'t is needless to inquire —
These little accidents should ne'er transpire;
Some ages hence our genealogic tree

Will wear as green a bough for him as me) -
Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends,

Grandsons for me

-in heirs to all his friends.

O DE

то

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE.

"Expende Annibalem :- - quot libras in duce summo

Invenies?"

JUVENAL, Sat. X.*

"The Emperor Nepos was acknowledged by the Senate, by the Italians, and by the Provincials of Gaul; his moral virtues, and military talents, were loudly celebrated; and those who derived any private benefit from his government announced in prophetic strains the restoration of public felicity.

By this shameful abdication, he protracted his life a few years, in a very ambiguous state, between an Emperor and an Exile, till

GIBBON'S Decline and Fall, vol. vi. p. 220.†

*

["Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,
And weigh the mighty dust which yet remains :
AND IS THIS ALL!"-

I know not that this was ever done in the old world; at least, with regard to Hannibal; but, in the Statistical Account of Scotland, I find that Sir John Paterson had the curiosity to collect, and weigh, the ashes of a person discovered a few years since in the parish of Eccles; which he was happily enabled to do with great facility, as "the inside of the coffin was smooth, and the whole body visible." Wonderful to relate, he found the whole did not exceed in weight one ounce and a half! AND IS THIS ALL! Alas! the quot libras itself is a satirical exaggeration

GIFFORD.]

t["I send you an additional motto from Gibbon, which you will find singularly appropriate." ― Byron to Mr. Murray, April 12, 1814.]