A being I, of earthly breed,

Of meat and drink stand more in need.
Alas! we poets seldom feed!
Why talk of laurel leaves to me?
Be mine thy fragrant leaf, O tea!
Thy fount, Pieria, though divine,
Inspires not half so well as wine!
Fools prate of Pegasus, but I
Would choose a horse to walk, not fly!
I hate your castles in the air,
And mere imaginary fare.-
Surely on earth content I'd find,
Had I but lodgings to my mind-
Some money-making scheme to follow,
And worship Plutus, not Apollo !
Gods! could I but that wish obtain,
I'd never court the Muse again!
No! spite of all her noise and strife,
I'd cut the Nine, and seek-a wife!

DEPRECIATION OF BANK NOTES.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE.

SIR,

[April 20.]*

}

N.

PERMIT me, through the medium of your valuable

paper, to promulgate a discovery, at the present moment, I will venture to say, of the very first consequence, and which has eluded the observation of the battalion of pamphleteers who have been latterly scribbling on the subject-in one word, Sir, I propose, in our present dearth of gold, a coinage of Platina: this valuable metal is more ponderous than gold, and very nearly as ductile; its superiority in weight I have estimated by a series of interesting experiments, and find it exactly equal to the excess in heaviness of Mr. Glocester Wilson's pamphlet over Sir John Sinclair's. I now merely throw out this hint for the consideration.

.of

of Members of both Houses during the recess; by the time that business commences, I shall have ready my pamphlet on this important subject, being a brief ex position of my ideas in 1136 octavo pages.

1 remain, yours, sincerely,

WHO will say that the laws are no longer in force,
Recorded in metamorphosean fable,

Since our manager 's rais'd to a master of horse,
And our theatre sunk to a livery stable?

When beggar'd they hit on this plan, we are told,
To jockey the town, and in clover to revel;
But now they are mounted, like beggars of old,

Or Blue Beard himself, they will ride to the devil.

O, the centaur, sage Houyhnyhm elf!
Henceforth who will care for thy classic revivals ?
Rowe, Congreve, and Otway may sleep on the shelf
Their brains are kick'd out by their quadruped rivals.
Though Shakspeare may frown in your hall in disdain,
You may laugh (if you can) without qualms or remorses;
He swore all the world was a stage, and 't is plain, da
No stage in the world can go on without horses.
Where'er with four legs native talent is bless'd,

The manager's patronage doubly is due;

८

It goes twice as far, and has twice as much zest, on aina
As where the dull rascals have only got two. gallons)
Away with the pit! turn it into a ring; aico I hit Hale
Thalia, Melpomene, joining the hoax,
Shall gallop in grand tragi-comedy swing, up a sua que
While is cracking his whip and his jokes.

Don't

Don't cough and take snuff, Sir, and drag out each word,
Like bottles lugg'd up from some hollow old bin ;
Sing, tumble, cut capers, be seen, felt, and heard,
And tip us Grimaldi's auricular grin.

In wisely attempting our stages to make

Of riding, not morals, the properest schools, Mr. Merryman's part it is fit you should take, The last of our actors;-the first of our f―ls.

THEATRICAL ANECDOTE.

[From the same, April 23.]

H.

A CURIOUS mistake occurred at Mr.'s levee the other morning at Covent Garden. A gentleman was shown into the presence, whose object was to treat about an engagement for his daughter; but as, about this hour, a horse-dealer had been appointed to call, the manager, whose head runs very much at present upon his stud, mistook one for the other, and began, by asking the father of Melpomene, "How old is she?""Sixteen last May, Sir."-" Oh, she's aged then, and won't do for the hard work: pray is she quiet?"—" Perfectly: I never knew a gentler creature." "Has she been long in town?" I only brought her up with me a week ago from East Grinstead.""Has she been properly handled?"-" Mr. Thelwall has given her some lessons."- "Has she ever been between the pillars ?"" Sir, I don't understand you." "" Well, well, no matter; if your terms are moderate, I dare say we shall not differ."-" Sir, that I leave entirely to yourself; she is below, shall I bring her up to you?" Bring her up?"-"Oh no! (smiling; give her to my groom, he'll put her into a stall, till I come down to look at her." "-"Into a stall, Sir!""Yes, Sir, into a stall, to be sure; and as you say she is quite gentle, and I presume perfectly sound, I am determined to try her myself. My friend Morton is writing

writing a melo-drame, in which I am to perform ; and I am determined, should we close the bargain, to make my entrée upon her back!"-" Upon her back!-upon my daughter's back, Sir! Sir, do you mean to affront me?" Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons; but don't you come from the Cumberland Mews ?"" No, I came from East Grinstead.". "With a mare?”— "No, with my daughter."-" Got by Skyscraper out of Andromache?" No, she is the first-born of my own and my ever-lamented wife Mary Muggins's loins."" Bless my soul, Sir, I have been betrayed into a great mistake-but I am glad we happened to be alone (solemnly taking a pinch of snuff)—such meetings should be private.

"

ON MASSENA BEING SENT TO PORTUGAL TO DRIVE THE ENGLISH ARMY INTO THE SEA.

[From the Morning Post, April 23.]

WE're told that Massena to Portugal came,

To conquer the English-and add to his fame. The tyrant, at parting, pronounc'd this decree "Go! drive mi Lord Vellington into de sea!" With humble respect from the room he retir'd, His heart with such glorious conquest was fir'd. The table 's now turn'd-and folks plainly may see, Not My Lord-but Massena, 's driv'n into the sea. 9th April, 1811. VIATOR.

AN IMPROMPTU.

[From the same, April 25.]

THE French, in military terms,
Have made a great improvement;
"What once was call'd retreat or flight,
Is only now a movement.

Such movements may they oft renew,
While Britons, what their arms can do,

Close

Close following, make them feel; Be this the war-whoop, as they fly," Or Wellington, or Graham's cry

No fire, my lads, but steel.

JOHN BULL.

MELPOMENE'S WILL.

[From the Morning Chronicle, April 25.]

MELPOMENE late

Had a pain in her pate,

Her body was all in a tremble;

Her silence she broke,

Then sobbing bespoke

Her sable factotum John Kemble.

"I give and devise

My tears and my sighs,

My racks, mighty bravos to humble;

My poison and scrolls,

My daggers and bowls,

In trust to the following jumble:

"My sighs turn to neighs,

To litter my plays,

To gee-ho my tragedy speeches ;

My bowls made for slaughter,

To buckets of water,

My buskins to brown leather breeches.

"Desdemona forlorn,

With a sieve-full of corn,

Shall soften the rage of Othello;

His jealousy check

With a pat on the neck,

6

And whisper So ho, my poor fellow.'

"In hiring my actors,

In spite of detractors,

Don't look to their features or eyeballs;

Ne'er guide your selection

By voice or complexion,

But give a high price for the pye-balls."

Melpomene