"Your Ladyship smiles, and thus you begin ;

Pray, Captain, be pleas'd to alight and walk in." "The Captain salutes you with congée profound, "And your Ladyship curtfies half way to the ground. " Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us, "I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us; "And, Captain, you'll do us the favour to stay, "And take a short dinner here with us to-day : "You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer, "You come in the very worst time of the year; " If I had expected so worthy a guest"

" Lord! madam ! your Ladyship sure is in jest : "You banter me, madam; the kingdom must

"You officers, Captain, are so complaisant!"

"Hist, hussy, I think I hear somebody coming"

"No, madam; 'tis only Sir Arthur a-humming, "To shorten my tale (for I hate a long story)

"The Captain at dinner appears in his glory;

"The Dean and the Doctor * hath humbled their

" pride,

" For the Captain's entreated to fit by your fide; "And, because he's their betters, you carve for him

" first;

" The parfons for envy are ready to burst. "The servants amaz'd are scarce ever able

" To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table;

* Doctor Jinny, a clergyman in the neighbourhood.

" And

"And Molly and I have thrust in our nose, "To peep at the Captain in all his fine clo'es. " Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man, "Do but hear on the Clergy how glib his tongue

"And madam, says he, if such dinners you give, "You'll ne'er want for Parfons as long as you live. " I ne'er knew a Parson without a good nofe : " But the Devil's as welcome wherever he goes : "G--d d---n me! they bid us reform and repent, "But, z---s! by their looks they never keep Lent: "Mr. Curate, for all your grave looks I'm afraid "You cast a sheep's eye on her Ladyship's maid : " I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand "In mending your cafsock, and smoothing your band.

(For the Dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny,

"That the Captain suppos'd he was Curate to Jinny) "Whenever you fee a cassock and gown,

"A hundred to one but it covers a clown.

"Observe how a Parson comes into a room;

"G---d d---n me! he hobbles as bad as my groom; " A scholard, when just from his college broke loose, "Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose; "Your * Noveds, and Bluturcks, and Omurs, and

"By G-, they don't signify this pinch of fnuff.

"To give a young gentleman right education, "The army's the only good school in the nation :

My school-master call'd me a dunce and a fool. "But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school; " I never could take to my book for the blood o'me. " And the puppy confefs'd he expected no good o'me. "He caught me one morning coquetting his wife, "But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my

life:

"So I took to the road, and, what's very odd, "The first man I robb'd was a Parson, by G-.

Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to fay, "But the fight of a book makes me fick to this

"Never fince I was born did I hear so much wit,

And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split. "So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean,

"As who should say, "Now, am I * skinny and

" lean?"

"But he durst not so much as once open his lips, "And the Doctor was plaguily down in the hips." Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk,

Till she heard the Dean call, " Will your Ladyship " walk?"

Her Ladyship answers, " I'm just coming down :"
Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown,

* Nick-names for my Lady.

Although

Although it was plain in her heart she was glad, Cry'd, " Huffy, why sure the wench is gone mad! "How could these chimeras get into your brains ?"Come hither, and take this old gown for your pains. "But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears, "Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers : "For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye "Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy."

:

ELEGY

ELEG

Y

Written in a COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.

By GRAY.

Read by Mr. SHERIDAN, at Freemason's-Hall.

T

HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The fwallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For