* To crown us, Lord Warden,

In C-mb-rl-nd's garden

Grows plenty of monk's hood in venomous sprigs : While Otto of Roses

Refreshing all noses

Shall sweetly exhale from our whiskers and wigs.

+ What youth of the Household will cool our Noyau In that streamlet delicious,

That down 'midst the dishes,

All full of gold fishes,

Romantic doth flow?

Or who will repair

Unto M

ch―r Sq―e,

Go bid her haste hither,

* And let her bring with her

The newest No-Popery Sermon that's going + Oh! let her come, with her dark tresses flowing, All gentle and juvenile, curly and gay,

In the manner of - Ackermann's Dresses for

May!

Eburna, dic age, cum lyra (qu. liar-a)
Maturet.

Incomtam Lacænæ

More comam religata nodo.

HORACE, ODE XXII. LIB. I.

FREELY TRANSLATED BY LORD ELD-N.

* THE man who keeps a conscience pure,
(If not his own, at least his Prince's,)
Through toil and danger walks secure,
Looks big and black, and never winces.

No want has he of sword or dagger,

Cock'd hat or ringlets of Geramb; Though Peers may laugh, and Papists swagger, He doesn't care one single d-mn.

Integer vitæ scelerisque purus.

Non eget Mauri jaculis, neque arcu,
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis,

Fusce, pharetra.

* Whether midst Irish chairmen going,
Or through St. Giles's alleys dim,
'Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing,
No matter, 'tis all one to him.

For instance, I, one evening late,

Upon a gay vacation sally,

Singing the praise of Church and State,

Got (God knows how) to Cranbourne Alley.

Sive per Syrtes iter æstuosas,
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum, vel quæ loca fabulosus
Lambit Hydaspes.

The Noble Translator had, at first, laid the scene of these imagined dangers of his Man of Conscience among the Papists of Spain, and had translated the words "quæ loca fabulosus lambit Hydaspes" thus -"The fabling Spaniard licks the French;" but, recollecting that it is our interest just now to be respectful to Spanish Catholics (though there is certainly no earthly reason for our being even commonly civil to Irish ones), he altered the passage as it stands at present.

Namque me silvâ lupus in Sabinâ,

Dum meam canto Lalagen, et ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditis,
Fugit inermem.

I cannot help calling the reader's attention to the peculiar ingenuity with which these lines are paraphrased. Not to mention the happy conversion of the Wolf into a Papist, (seeing that Romulus was suckled by a wolf, that Rome was

When lo! an Irish Papist darted

Across my path, gaunt, grim, and big —

I did but frown, and off he started,

Scar'd at me, even without my wig.

* Yet a more fierce and raw-bon'd dog
Goes not to Mass in Dublin City,
Nor shakes his brogue o'er Allen's Bog,
Nor spouts in Catholic Committee.

+ Oh! place me midst O'Rourkes, O'Tooles, The ragged royal-blood of Tara;

founded by Romulus, and that the Pope has always reigned at Rome,) there is something particularly neat in supposing "ultra terminum" to mean vacation-time; and then the modest consciousness with which the Noble and Learned Translator has avoided touching upon the words " curis expeditis," (or, as it has been otherwise read, "causis expeditis,”) and the felicitous idea of his being "inermis" when "without his wig," are altogether the most delectable specimens of paraphrase in our language.

t

Quale portentum neque militaris

Daunias latis alit æsculetis,

Nec Juba tellus generat leonum

Arida nutrix.

Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis

Arbor æstiva recreatur aura: