THE NEW ALCHEMY.

Midas, they say, possess'd the art, of old,
Of turning whatsoe'er he touch'd to gold.
This modern statesmen can reverse with ease;
Touch them with gold, they 'll turn to what you
please.

ON A LADY WHO SQUINTED.

If ancient poets Argus prize,

Who boasted of a hundred eyes;
Sure greater praise to her is due
Who looks a hundred ways with two.

TONIS AD RESTO MARE.

O Mare æva si forme;

Forme ure tonitru;
Iambicum as amandum,

Olet Hymen promptu ;

Mihi is vetas an ne se,
As humano erebi ;

Olet mecum marito te,

Or eta beta pi.

Alas, plano more meretrix,

Mi ardor vel uno ;

Inferiam ure artis base

Tolerat me urebo.
Ah me ve ara silicet,

Vi laudu vimen thus!

Hiatu as arandum sex

Illuc Ionicus.

Heu sed heu vix en imago,
Mi missis mare sta;
O cantu redit in mihi
Hibernas arida?

A veri vafer heri si,

Mihi resolves indu:

Totius olet hymen cum-
Accepta tonitru.

MODERN POETS.

"Poets," says Horace, "who expect
Their verses should for ever live,
Nine years each poem must neglect
Ere they the final polish give."
This rule might suit the Roman bard;
But will not modern poets smile

To think, if they the sale retard

Nine years-how they must live the while.

A POETICAL MOSAIC.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
In every clime, from Lapland to Japan;
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray,
The proper study of mankind is man.

Tell! for you can, what it is to be wise,

Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain; "The man of Ross!" each lisping babe replies, And drags, at each remove, a length'ning chain.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb,
Far as the solar walk or milky way?
Procrastination is the thief of time,

Let Hercules himself do what he may.

'Tis education forms the common mind, The feast of reason and the flow of soul; I must be cruel only to be kind,

And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.

Syphax! I joy to meet you thus alone,
Where'er I roam, whatever lands I see;
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown,
In maiden meditation fancy free.

Farewell! and wheresoe'er thy voice be tried, Why to yon mountain turns the gazing eye, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, That teach the rustic moralist to die.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, Man never is, but always to be blest.

A LOVE SONG.

Apud in is almi de si re,

Mimis tres I ne ver re qui re,
Alo veri findit a gestis,

His miseri ne ver at restis.

TRUE WIT.

Swift.

True wit is like the brilliant stone,

Dug from the Indian mine,

Which boasts two various powers in one,

To cut as well as shine.

Genius, like that, if polish'd right,

With the same gifts abounds,
Appears at once both keen and bright,
And sparkles while it wounds.

THE SIEGE Of Belgrade.

An Austrian Army, Awfully Array'd,
Boldly, By Battery, Besieged, Belgrade;
Cossack Commanders Cannonading Come,
Dealing Destruction's Devastating Doom;
Every Endeavour Engineers Essay,

For Fame, For Fortune Fighting, Furious
Fray!

Generals 'Gainst Generals Grapple-Gracious
God!

How Honours Heaven Heroic Hardihood!
Infuriate, Indiscriminating In Ill,

Kinsmen Kill Kindred, Kindred Kinsmen Kill!
Labour Low Levels Longest, Loftiest Lines;-
Men March 'Mid Mounds, 'Mid Moles, 'Mid
Murd'rous Mines;

Now Noisy, Noxious Numbers Notice Naught Of Outward Obstacles Opposing Ought;

Poor Patriots! Partly Purchased, Partly Press'd, Quite Quaking, Quickly, Quarter, Quarter Quest: Reason Returns, Religious Right Redounds. Suwarrow Stops Such Sanguinary Sounds; Truce to Thee Turkey! Triumph to the Train! Unjust, Unwise, Unmerciful Ukraine!

Vanish Vain Victory!-Vanish Victory Vain!