Enter BUONAPARTE sea-sick, leaning on NEY for support,

BONEY.

I'm faint, I'm sick! support me, gentle Ney!
O d-n the cowards, how they ran away!
Fire on the vermin-open with grape-shot,
And send the ragamuffins all to pot.
Let all the batt'ries fire.

They shall be fir'd at.

NEY.

Very well,

BONEY.

Send 'em all to Hell.

There let them tell of all our mighty works.

NEY-[Aside.]

Of poisoning invalids, and murdering Turks.

MARIA LOUISA.

[Exit NEY.

What, have you fail'd in what you thought to do?

BONEY.

Mind your own business-pray, what's that to you?-
Enter Nurse with the King of Rome.

NURSE.

The King of Rome comes to behold the fight.

BONEY.

Hence take the ugly bastard from my sight.
Is it to vex me, hey! you d--'d old cat,
That here you bring the squalling, blear-ey'd brat >
NURSE-Aside.]

The little whelp, 'tis true, est comme son père,

Tune-" Where thou art, O Liberty, there is my Home."

Farewell to the ocean, where lately I've wander'd,
Where fainting I saw but a watery grave,

of

Of Englishmen there let the life-blood be squander'd,
I'd not go again the Great Nation to save.

And thou, senseless Albion, who brav'st the commotion
Of Neptune, cán after all boast in his foam,
But a cup of salt broth for thy portion the ocean—
Hail France, land of Slavery, thou art my home!
Some talk of the tie a free country entwineth,

And say long at heart her remembrance remains;
But rogues cannot thrive well where liberty shineth,
So those will soon quit it who boast any brains.
O thou, who at Tunis wert born, or Algiers,

The grand prop of splendour in Luxury's dome;
Thou treasure of greatness, distill'd blood and tears,
Where thou art, O Slavery, there is my home.
Though some say the Tyrant is born to be hated,
For him teems existence alone with delight;
The mass of mankind were for his use created,
As flies for the spider, as worms for the kite.
Hail then thou blest land, where no impudent peasant
Of Freedom dare talk, of the rights of man foam
milk.
Or even his soul call his own-Ot is pleasant,
Where Slavery lives, there the Tyrant's at home.
But curse on these English, who kick up a riot,

And liberty claim to be sure as their right;
'Tis from rambling at sea that they ne'er can be quiet,
And, d-nem, 't is that makes the vagabonds fight.
But let 'em go on as they may with their slaughter,
No more shall I ever be tempted to roam:
The next time my carcass I trust on the water,
Again may I never see Slavery's home!

Enter Admiral and other Officers of the Flotilla.
How, ye base wretches, dare ye see my face!
How face your Monarch after this disgrace!

ADMIRAL.

Great Sire, we fought like men, fate did the rest,
Our best we did.

Seven praams ye had, ten brigs, ay, and one sloop,
And yet could not make one poor Frigate stoop
To give my presence something like eclat,
And reconcile the people to the war ;

But beat, ye rascals, all flew, (in my mind,)
Before the foe, like chaff before the wind.
Why, I could almost think ye all were drunk ;
Some ten or twelve of ye no doubt were sunk.

ADMIRAL.

No, Sir, but one-one taken.

BONEY.

Humph! that's plenty,

ADMIRAL.

But frequently at once they hobble twenty.

BONEY.

Hey! ay, that's true-Humph! let me see

"Tis not so bad

ADMIRAL.

Nay, 't is a victory.

For when did we their force engage before,
And only lose in fight a Commodore?
This is for France, dread Sir, a glorious day,
Because with little loss we ran away.

DUET-BONEY and ADMIRAL.
Tune-" Have you heard the News ?"
BONEY-NOW I think upon it,

What you say is true;
And for this great triumph,
Thanks are due to you.

ADMIRAL-Nor to me alone,

I would name O'Connor.

BONEY-As his worth is known,

He shall have that honour.

Tara lara la.

BONEY-Vict'ries such as these,
Must do England over;

ADMIRAL-Force them o'er the seas,
To hide their heads at Dover.

34 THE MAGNIFICENT BUILDING ON TOWER HILL. BONEY-Soon I'll scale their cliffs,

Then they must be undone;

ADMIRAL-While straight up the Thames,
I'll proceed to London.

Tara lara la.

BONEY-These two great exploits
Must be done together.

ADMIRAL-We have but to choose

Proper time and weather.

BONEY-True, Sir, that is all.

Then my cannons' roar
Shall be heard afar,

When their fleet 's no more.

GRAND CHORUS.

True, your cannons' roar
Shall be heard afar,

When their fleet's no more.

Tara lara la.

THE

MAGNIFICENT BUILDING ON TOWER HILL, WRITTEN WHILE PASSING IT.

[From the Morning Chronicle, Oct. 4.]

WHEN both silver and gold

Were in plenty, we're told,
There was room in the Tower for coining;
But since bullion has fled,

And there's none to be had,
They've erected a new Mint adjoining.

With huge pillars 't is grac'd,
And two sentries are plac'd,
Over what, as the poor fellows own,
They really can't tell,

For there's nothing to steal,

Unless it be timber and stone.

But reports are afloat,

That a lady of note,

Who of chemical skill justly brags
Finding Threadneedle Street
To be not quite complete
For extracting of specie from rags;
With rich prospect elate,
Has applied to the state,
And presenting a plausible case,
Has obtain'd a decree

That will set her quite free
From the claims of one Henry Hase.
So this elegant pile
Will be lent her awhile,
Fitted up by the public survey'r,
Who, some shrewdly suspect,
This event did expect,
When he built it so close to Rag Fair
Should the hard-hearted Hase:
Have the impudent face-

To insist on immediate payment,.
She has nothing to do

But her process pursue,

And coin a small piece of her raiment.

EXTEMPORE LINES;

ADDRESSED TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD CHANCELLOH),

BY A HUNGRY SINE-CURE PARSON..

[From the Morning Post, Oct. 4.]

HEAR, generous lawyer! hear my prayer ;.
Nor let my freedom make your stare,
In hailing you" Jack Scott!"

Though now upon the woolsack plac'd,
With wealth, with power; with title grac'd;
Once nearer was our lot!'

Say, by what name the hapless-bard

May best attract your

kind regard,

Plain Jack, Sir John, or Eldon ?*

To give, from your vast power of giving,

A starving priest some little living,

And make the world say, "Well dona !"