On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's (1) fame,
Cock'd-fired-and miss'd his man-but gain'd his aim;
Hail, moving Muse! to whom the fair one's breast
Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.
Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz,
The latter's loyalty, the former's wits,
To" energise the object I pursue," (2)
And give both Belial and his dance their due!

(1) To rival Lord Wellesley's, or his nephew's, as the reader pleases :-the one gained a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by fighting for; and the ` other has been fighting in the Peninsula many a long day, "by Shrewsbury clock," without gaining any thing in that country but the title of "the Great Lord," and " the Lord;" which savours of profanation, having been hitherto applied only to that Being to whom " Te Deums" for carnage are the rankest blasphemy. It is to be presumed the general will one day return to his Sabine farm; there

66

1

To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,

Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain !'

The Lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer; we do more - we contrive both to conquer and lose them in a shorter season. If the 66 great Lord's" Cincinnatian progress in agriculture be no speedier than the proportional average of time in Pope's couplet, it will, according to the farmers' proverb, be "ploughing with dogs."

By the bye-one of this illustrious person's new titles is forgotten-it is, however, worth remembering-" Salvador del mundo!" credite, posteri! If this be the appellation annexed by the inhabitants of the Peninsula to the name of a man who has not yet saved them-query- are they worth saving, even in this world? for, according to the mildest modifications of any Christian creed, those three words make the odds much against them in the next." Saviour of the world," quotha!-it were to be wished that he, or any one else, could save a corner of it- his country. Yet this stupid misnomer, although it shows the near connection between superstition and impiety, so far has its use, that it proves there can be little to dread from those Catholics (inquisitorial Catholics too) who can confer such an appellation on a Protestant. I suppose next year he will be entitled the "Virgin Mary:" if so, Lord George Gordon himself would have nothing to object to such liberal bastards of our Lady of Babylon.

(2) [Among the addresses sent in to the Drury Lane Committee (see antè, p. 29.) was one by Dr. Busby, which began by asking

"When energising objects men pursue,

What are the prodigies they cannot do?"-E]

Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine (Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine), Long be thine import from all duty free,

And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee;
In some few qualities alike—for hock

Improves our cellar.

-thou our living stock.

The head to hock belongs - thy subtler art
Intoxicates alone the heedless heart:

Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,
And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.

Oh, Germany! how much to thee we owe,
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,
And only left us thy d-d debts and dances!
Of subsidies and Hanover bereft,

We bless thee still-for George the Third is left!
Of kings the best-and last, not least in worth,
For graciously begetting George the Fourth.
To Germany, and highnesses serene,

Who owe us millions-don't we owe the queen?
To Germany, what owe we not besides?
So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides;
Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,
Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud:
Who sent us-so be pardon'd all her faults—
A dozen dukes, some kings, a queen — and Waltz.

But peace to her-her emperor and diet, Though now transferr'd to Buonaparte's "fiat!" Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say, How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?

Borne on the breath of hyperborean gales, From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had mails), Ere yet unlucky Fame-compell'd to creep To snowy Gottenburg-was chill'd to sleep; Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise, Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies;

While unburnt Moscow (1) yet had news to send, Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend,

She came

Waltz came-and with her certain sets Of true despatches, and as true gazettes; Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch, Which Moniteur nor Morning Post can match; And - almost crush'd beneath the glorious news Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's ;

One envoy's letters, six composers' airs,
And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs;
Meiner's four volumes upon womankind,
Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind;
Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and, to back it,
Of Heyné, such as should not sink the packet.

(1) The patriotic arson of our amiable allies cannot be sufficiently commended - nor subscribed for. Amongst other details omitted in the various despatches of our eloquent ambassador, he did not state (being too much occupied with the exploits of Colonel C, in swimming rivers frozen, and galloping over roads impassable,) that one entire province perished by famine in the most melancholy manner, as follows:- In General Rostopchin's consummate conflagration, the consumption of tallow and train oil was so great, that the market was inadequate to the demand: and thus one hundred and thirty-three thousand persons were starved to death, by being reduced to wholesome diet! The lamplighters of London have since subscribed a pint (of oil) a piece, and the tallow-chandlers have unanimously voted a quantity of best moulds (four to the pound), to the relief of the surviving Scythians; - the scarcity will soon, by such exertions, and a proper attention to the quality rather than the quantity of provision, be totally alleviated. It is said, in return, that the untouched Ukraine has subscribed sixty thousand beeves for a day's meal to our suf. fering manufacturers.

Fraught with this cargo- and her fairest freight, Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate,

The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand,
And round her flock'd the daughters of the land.
Not decent David, when, before the ark,
His grand pas-seul excited some remark;
Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought
The knight's fandango friskier than it ought;
Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread,
Her nimble feet danced off another's head;
Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck,
Display'd so much of leg, or more of neck,
Than thou, ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon
Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune!

To you, ye husbands of ten years! whose brows Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse;

Το

you of nine years less, who only bear

The budding sprouts of those that you shall wear, With added ornaments around them roll'd

Of native brass, or law-awarded gold;

Το

you, ye matrons, ever on the watch

To mar a son's, or make a daughter's, match;
To you, ye children of— whom chance accords
Always the ladies, and sometimes their lords;
Το you, ye single gentlemen, who seek
Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;
As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,
To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;
To one and all the lovely stranger came,
And every ball-room echoes with her name.

Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.

Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance, forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz-Waltz alone-both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;
Hands which may freely range in public sight
Where ne'er before-but-pray "put out the light."
Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier

Shines much too far or I am much too near; And true, though strange-Waltz whispers this remark,

"My slippery steps are safest in the dark!" But here the Muse with due decorum halts, And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.

Observant travellers of every time!
Ye quartos publish'd upon every clime!
O say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round,
Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound;
Can Egypt's Almas (1) tantalising group-
Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop –
Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn
With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne ?
Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,
Each tourist pens a paragraph for “Waltz.”

yore,

Shades of those belles whose reign began of With George the Third's- and ended long before!

(1) Dancing girls who do for hire what Waltz doth gratis.