Heister has finger'd HERVEY's gold;
But till the wind is fair, he's told
To vomit at Spithead.

Away the dear bought cut-throats go,
To fight a windmill (your old foe);
Yet hear one serious truth:
We shall not with much sorrow read
How Sclatzen-Knotzen-Blatzchun bleed,
-Unless we break a tooth.

A friend demands the plaintive lay,
With whom I pass'd youth's joyous day,
And felt a soldier's pride;

Still in my breast his virtues dwell,
And down my cheek the fond tear fell,
When ABERCROMBY died.

Strike now, my Muse, no venal lyre,
In Conway mark the patriot's fire,
(Such whigs are out of date :)
He loves his country, loves her laws;
For her alone his sword he draws,

The soldier of the state.

Provide, my lord, sour-crout and hock,
Germans will stand the fiery shock,

And dare the foe's approaches;

And should they fall, with hopes elate,
Still Pharaoh-like they lie in state,
All coffin'd in their coaches.

Did you the glorious treaty sign?
Who but GERMAIN could e'er divine,
Of algebraick head,

That as nine taylors make a man,
Three wounded Hessians, on this plan,
Are equal to one dead?

Is this the way, most valorous lord,
To destine rebels to the cord,'
Or conquer at Quebec?

In spite of every witty boast,
Howe sails along a barren coast,
He could not save his neck!

These glorious triumphs you may tell,
No doubt they'll have a magic spell,
And make 'Squire Boobies willing
To grant supplies at every check;
Give them the plunder of a wreck,
They'll vote another shilling.

Unfit to wield the martial blade,
You chose the state assassin's trade,

Your country to undo:

As copper, tho' no warlike metal,
Can poison the domestic kettle,
And so resemble you.

Or statesmen's wiles I scorn to sing;
Who flatter, to betray, the king,
Can scarce deserve my praise:
O Venus, thy own bard inspire,
In pleasing notes to wake the lyre
For buxom CHARLOTTE HAYES.

Nor let Parnassian maids be coy,
My strain is chaste, though tun'd to joy;
You oft obey my summons:

Though CHARLOTTE'S damsels yield for hire, 'Tis through ambition they aspire

To act-like Lords and Commons.

Her sprightly fair ones laugh aud sing; Bestow love's sweets, without the sting, Since by a lucky stroke,

(APSLEY will vouch it,-if awake,) Sage HANWAY, like the Athenian rake, Hath MERCURY's statues broke.

O CHARLOTTE! I've a glorious theme,
You may get money by my scheme,
Ev'n from the MACARONIES:
Gallini's fops, who trip at balls,
Shall breast the cold air, wrapt in shawls,
Astride their little ponies.

Collect your vestals in a throng,
Then in procession glide along

TO JEMMY TWITCHER'S dome;
With sugar'd kisses glue his lips,
And make him send out patriot PHIPPS
To waft OMIAH home.

Sweet Emily, with auburn tresses,
Will coax him by her soft caresses,
And CHARLOTTE win the day:
Old Jemmy's goatish eyes will twinkle;
Lust play bo-peep from every wrinkle ;
-But first bribe Madam Ray.

Round OMI' queen and virgins gaze,
Whilst he with STANLEY'S grace displays
His splendid arms and dress;

Then shews the steel which bore his weight,
For PALLISER taught him to skate,
And BANKS to play at Chess.

Around him hangs each faithful wife;
He flourishes his fork and knife,
And strokes his well-fed dogs :
Talks of the court, and London pride,
Where ladies sit (but never stride)
On monstrous prancing hogs!

Pantheon-dom'd he rears his hut,
In figure like a cocoa nut;

By art his tutors teach him;
Describes our kings of corks—and ships,
But not a word 'bout pilf'ring chips,
Least TWITCHER should impeach him.

Of wondrous sights, OMIAH tells,
Of asses, apes, and Sadler's Wells,
And of our smooth Sestinos;
How he admir'd a masquerade,
Was sometimes 'prentice to the trade
Of operas and festinos.