XII.

And so this Ox, in frantie mood,

Faced round like any Bull

The mob turn'd tail, and he pursued,

Till they with heat and fright were stewed,
And not a chick of all this brood

But had his belly full.

XIII.

Old Nick's astride the beast, 'tis clear

Old Nicholas, to a tittle!

But all agree, he'd disappear,

Would but the Parson venture near,

And through his teeth,* right o'er the steer,

Squirt out some fasting-spittle.

XIV.

Achilles was a warrior fleet,

The Trojans he could worry-
Our Parson too was swift of feet,

But shew'd it chiefly in retreat :

The victor Ox scour'd down the street,

The mob fled hurry-scurry.

* According to the superstition of the West-Countries, if you meet the Devil, you may either cut him in half with a straw, or force him to disappear by spitting over his horns.

XV.

Through gardens, lanes and fields new plough'd,

Through his hedge, and through her hedge, He plung'd and toss'd and bellow'd loud, Till in his madness he grew proud,

To see this helter-skelter crowd,

That had more wrath than courage.

XVI.

Alas! to mend the breaches wide

He made for these poor ninnies, They all must work, whate'er betide, Both days and months, and pay beside, (Sad news for Avarice and for Pride)

A sight of golden guineas!

XVII.

But here once more to view did pop

The man that kept his senses;

And now he cried-" Stop, neighbours! stop; "The Ox is mad! I would not swop,

"No! not a school-boy's farthing-top,

"For all the parish-fences."

XVIII.

"The Ox is mad! Ho! Dick, Bob, Mat!"

What means this coward fuss?

"Ho! stretch this rope across the plat

""Twill trip him up-or if not that,

Why, damme! we must lay him flat

See, here's my blunderbuss.

XIX.

"A lying dog! just now he said

"The Ox was only glad—

"Let's break his presbyterian head!"

1

"Hush!" quoth the sage, "you've been misled;

"No quarrels now-let's all make head—

"YOU DROVE THE POOR OX MAD."

XX.

As thus I sat, in careless chat,

With the morning's wet newspaper,

In eager haste, without his hat,

As blind and blundering as a bat,

In came that fierce Aristocrat,

Our pursy Woollen-draper.

XXI.

And so my Muse perforce drew bit;

And in he rush'd and panted

"Well, have you heard?" No, not a whit.

"What, ha'nt you heard?" Come, out with it!

"That TIERNEY votes for Mister Pitt,

"And SHERIDAN's recanted!"

PARLIAMENTARY OSCILLATORS.

ALMOST awake? Why, what is this, and whence,
O ye right loyal men, all undefiled?

Sure, 'tis not possible that Common Sense

Has hitch'd her pullies to each heavy eye-lid?

Yet wherefore else that start, which discomposes
The drowsy waters lingering in your eye?
And are you really able to descry

That precipice three yards beyond your noses?

Yet flatter you I cannot, that your wit

Is much improved by this long loyal dosing';
And I admire, no more than Mr. PITT,
Your jumps and starts of patriotic prosing—

Now cluttering to the Treasury Cluck, like chicken, Now with small beaks the ravenous Bill opposing; With serpent-tongue now stinging, and now licking, Now semi-sibilant, now smoothly glozing