How gaudy all the gilding shews !
It puts

out as it

What a rich glare of various hues !
What shining yellows, scarlets, blues !
It must have cost a heavy price ;
'Tis like a mountain drawn by mice.


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So painted, gilded, and so large,
Bless me! 'tis like my lord mayor's barge.
And so it is look how it reels !
"Tis nothing else-a barge on wheeis.




Large ! it can't pass St. James's gate,
So big the coach, the arch so strait.
It might be made to rumble thro',
And pass as other coaches do,
Could they a body-coachman get
So most preposterously fit,
Who'd undertake (and no rare thing)
Without a head, to drive the king.

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Lard ! what are those two ugly things
There with their hands upon the springs,
Filthy, as ever eyes beheld,
With naked breasts, and faces swellid ?
What could the faucy maker mean,
To put such things to fright the QUEEN?




Oh! they are Gods, Ma'am, which you see,
Of the Marine Society.
Tritons, which in the ocean dwell,
And only rise to blow their shell.

Gods, d'ye call those filthy men ?
Why don't they go to sea again?
Pray, tell me, fir, you understand,
What do these Tritons do on land ?


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And what are they? thofe hindmost things,
Men, fish, and birds, with flesh, scales, wings? 240


Oh, they are Gods too, like the others,
All of one family and brothers,
Creatures, which feldom come a-fhore,
Nor seen about the King before.
For Show, they wear the yellow Hut,
Their proper colour is True-blue.

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Lord bless us ! what's this noife about ?
Lord, what a tumult and a rout!
How the folks holla, hiss, and hoot!
Well—Heav'n preserve the EARL OF BUT?! 250
I cannot stay, indeed, not I,
If there's a riot I shall die.

Let's make for any house we can,
Domgive us shelter, honest man.



I wonder'd where you was, my dear,
I thought I should have died with fear.
This noise and racketing and hurry
Has put my nerves in such a flurry !
I could not think where you was got,
I thought I'd loft you, Mrs. Scot;
Where's Mrs. Tape, and Mr. Grin?
Lard, I'm so glad we're all got in.


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Swell the clarion, sweep the fring,
Blow into rage the Muse's fires !

All thy answers, Eccho, bring,
Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring,

'Tis Madness self inspires.

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Hail, awful Madness, hail !

Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail,
Far as the Voyager spreads his 'ventrous fail.

Nor best nor wiseft are exempt from thee;
Folly-Folly's only free.


Hark! To the aftonished ear
The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound.

They now approach, they now appear,-
Phirenzy leads her Chorus near,
And Dæmons dance around.-


Pride-Ambition idly vain,
Revenge, and Malice (well her train,-

# Born 2743; dyed 2779.

Devotion warped

- Affection croit-
Hope in Disappointment loft-
And injured Merit with a downcast eye,
(Hurt by neglect) flow stalking heedless by.


Loud the shouts of Madness rise,
Various voices, various cries,
Mirth unmeaning- causeless moans,

Bursts of laughter,-heart-felt groans--
All seem to pierce the skies.-

Rough as the wintry wave, that roars
On Thule's desart shores,
Wild raving to the unfeeling air,
The fetter'd Maniac foams along, 30

(Rage the burthen of his jarring song)
In rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming


No pleasing memory left-forgotten quite
All former scenes of dear delight,
Connubial love-parental joy-

No sympathies like these his soul employ,
--But all is dark within, all furious black Despair.

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Not so the love-lorn maid,
By too much tenderness betrayed ;

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