_Number I._

IRREGULAR ODE.

The WORDS by SIR CECIL WRAY, BART.

The SPELLING by Mr. GROJAN, Attorney at Law.

HARK! hark!--hip! hip!--hoh! hoh! What a mort of bards are a-singing! Athwart--across--below---- I'm sure there's a dozen a dinging! I hear sweet Shells, loud Harps, large Lyres-- Some, I trow, are tun'd by Squires-- Some by Priests, and some by Lords!--while Joe and I Our bloody hands, hoist up, like meteors, on high! Yes, Joe and I Are em'lous--Why? It is because, great CÆSAR, you are clever-- Therefore we'd sing of you for ever! Sing--sing--sing--sing God save the King! Smile then, CÆSAR, smile on Wray! Crown at last his poll with bay!---- Come, oh! bay, and with thee bring Salary, illustrious thing!---- Laurels vain of Covent-garden, I don't value you a farding!---- Let sack my soul cheer For 'tis sick of small beer! CÆSAR! CÆSAR! give it--do! Great CÆSAR giv't all, for my Muse 'doreth you!-- Oh fairest of the Heavenly Nine, Enchanting Syntax, Muse divine! Whether on Phoebus' hoary head, By blue-ey'd Rhadamanthus led, Or with young Helicon you stray, Where mad Parnassus points the way;-- Goddess of Elizium's hill, Descend upon my Pæan's quill.---- The light Nymph hears--no more By Pegasus' meand'ring shore, Ambrosia playful boy, Plumbs her jene scai quoi!---- I mount!--I mount!-- I'm half a Lark--I'm half an Eagle! Twelve stars I count---- I see their dam-- she is a Beagle! Ye Royal little ones, I love your flesh and bones-- You are an arch, rear'd with immortal stones! Hibernia strikes his harp! Shuttle, fly!--woof! wed! warp! Far, far, from me and you, In latitude North 52.-- Rebellion's hush'd, The merchant's flush'd;-- Hail, awful Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha, hail! Not George, but Louis, now shall turn his tail! Thus, I a-far from mad debate, Like an old wren, With my good hen, Or a young gander, Am a by-stander, To all the peacock pride, and vain regards of state!-- Yet if the laurel prize, Dearer than my eyes, Curs'd Warton tries For to surprize, By the eternal God I'll SCRUTINIZE!