2.

With Drury's for sartain we'll never have done, We've built up another, and yet there's but one; The old one was best, yet I'd say, if I durst,

The new one is better-the last is the first.

3.

Tol de rol, &c.

These pillars are called by a Frenchified word,
A something that's jumbled of antique and verd,
The boxes may show us some verdant antiques,
Some old harridans who beplaster their cheeks.
Tol de rol, &c.

4.

Only look how high Tragedy, Comedy, stick,
Lest their rivals, the horses, should give them a kick!
If you will not descend when our authors beseech ye,
You'll stop there for life, for I'm sure they can't
reach ye.

Tol de rol, &c.

5.

Each one shilling God within reach of a nod is,

And plain are the charms of each Gallery Goddess.

You, Brandy-faced Moll, don't be looking askew, When I talked of a Goddess I didn't mean you. Tol de rol, &c.

6.

Our stage is so prettily fashion'd for viewing,

The whole house can see what the whole house is

doing.

'Tis just like the Hustings, we kick up a bother, But saying is one thing and doing's another.

Tol de rol, &c.

7.

We've many new houses, and some of them rum ones, But the newest of all is the new House of Commons; 'Tis a rickety sort of a bantling I'm told,

It will die of old age when it's seven years old.

Tol de rol, &c.

8.

As I don't know on whom the election will fall,

I move in return for returning them-all;

But for fear Mr Speaker my meaning should miss,

The house that I wish 'em to sit in is this.

Tol de rol, &c.

9.

Let us chear our great Commoner, but for whose aid We all should have gone with short commons to bed, And since he has saved all the fat from the fire,

I move that the House be call'd Whitbread's Entire. Tol de rol, &c.

ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS.

Translated by Dr. B.

Lege, Dick, Lege!

JOSEPH ANDrews.

To be recited by the Translator's Son.

AWAY, fond dupes! who smit with sacred lore,
Mosaic dreams in Genesis explore,

Dote with Copernicus, or darkling stray
With Newton, Ptolomy, or Tycho Brahe:
To you I sing not, for I sing of truth,
Primæval systems, and creation's youth;
Such as of old, with magic wisdom fraught,
Inspired LUCRETIUS to the Latians taught.

I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb, Encounter'd casual horse hair, casual lime;

How rafters borne through wondering clouds elate,
Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate,
Clasp'd solid beams in chance directed fury,
And gave to birth our renovated Drury.

Thee, son of Jove, whose sceptre was confessed, Where fair Eolia springs from Tethys' breast: Thence on Olympus 'mid Celestials placed, GOD OF THE WINDS, and Æther's boundless waste, Thee I invoke! Oh, puff my bold design,

Prompt the bright thought, and swell the harmoni, ous line;

Uphold my pinions, and my verse inspire
With Winsor's patent gas, or wind of fire,
In whose pure blaze thy embryo form enroll❜d,
The dark enlightens, and enchafes the cold.

But while I court thy gifts, be mine to shun
The deprecated prize Ulysses won;

Who, sailing homeward from thy breezy shore,
The prison'd Winds in skins of parchment bore :-
Speeds the fleet bark, till o'er the billowy green
The azure heights of Ithaca are seen;
But while with favouring gales her way she wins,
His curious comrades ope the mystic skins :