RECIPE TO MAKE A FRENCH LEGION OF

HONOUR.

[From the Morning Poft.]

SELECT fome fit tools

From Philofophy's schools,

Well vers'd in the laws of fubmiffion ;

Who can chatter, read, write,

Turn black into white,

Cheat, flatter, cajole, and petition.

Take mountebanks, prancers,
Fops, fiddlers, and dancers,

So volatile, verfatile, nimble;

Pimps, parafites, fpyers,

Apoftates, rogues, liars,

State coblers, and knights of the thimble,

Take impious bravadoes,

Malapert renegadoes,

Who laugh at religion so hearty;

Take infidel priests,

Half men and half beasts,

But ftaunch friends to great Bonaparte.

Take pomp, pride, and puff,

With tinfel enough,

To gild, and to make them go down;
Take treachery, knavery,

Poverty, flavery,

Rape, murder, and warlike renown.

When thus you have done,

Take folly and fun,

Treville, Gantheaume, and Arthur O'Connor;

Blend all in a mass,

And the mixture will pafs

For a modern French Legion of Honour!

HAFIZ.

VOL. X.

THE

THE DEVOTED AND VICTORIOUS BRITISH

SOLDIER.

BY JOHN COURTENAY, ESQ. M. P.

TO battle let defpots compel the poor flave,
His country for him has no charms ;

But the voice of fair Freedom is heard by the brave,
And calls her own Britons to arms.

Our Country and King may triumphantly rest,
Encircled by loyalty's bands,

For the fpirit of liberty glows in each breast,
And her fword fhall ne'er drop from our hands.

In the bright race of glory Britannia still runs,
And her foes fhall fhrink back in despair;
What nation in valour can rival her fons,
Or vie with the charms of her fair ?

How glorious to fall in youth's manly bloom,
For Britain life's joys to refign!

The voice of loud Fame will be heard in each tomb,
And our names be enroll'd in her shrine.

Raife the fong to the heroes of Freedom's proud ifle,
While in ftrains of exultance we tell,

How the foldier's lov'd chief, by the blood-ftreaming Nile,
Triumphantly conquer'd and fell.

Then, Britons, ftrike home-to the French on our fhore,
Their Invincible standard difplay;

By Moira array'd, on their vain legions pour,

And rival fam'd Aboukir's day.

While proudly the banners of victory wave,

The foldier exultingly dies,

The trophies of glory fhine over his grave,
And his fpirit afcends to the skies.

FOR

FOR THE ENGLISH VOLUNTEERS.

BY JOHN O'KEEFE, ESQ

AIR-" With fwords on their thighs the bold yeomen are feen.",

WHE

HEN fwell'd with ambition old Satan rebell'd,
When angel apoftates from blifs were expell'd,
And Mercy, indignant, fet feal on their doom,
Then man was created to fill up their room.
But,ere his election, defert he must prove,
As Juftice divine is co-equal with Love;
A place of probation, this earth was affign'd,
And Reafon's bright lamp to illumine his mind.

His terms of existence by man fhould be known;
The land he first breathes in, that land be his own:
That dear fpot invaded, the foe from it driven,
Our tenure's fecur'd by a charter from Heaven.
For midway in fkies a fair temple is plac'd,
To Liberty facred! By her we're embrac'd;
She cries," My lov'd children, remain ever free!
Fight! conquer! 'tis glory to conquer for me."
The demon caft downwards now ranges below,
Eternal his rancour, as endless his woe.

To chain us in thraldom his pride and his boast,
In hopes we may forfeit thofe joys which he loft.
Though father of lies, we believe now his word;
Why wait for his coming? All, gird on the fword!
And fhew that, by guarding our house and our field,
A Briton deferves the fweet comforts they yield.

THE INVASION.

[From the Oracle.]

AT the fign of the George, a national fet,
(It fell out on a recent occasion,)

A Briton, a Scot, and Hibernian were met
To difcourfe 'bout the threaten'd Invafion.

K 2

The liquor went round, and they jok'd and they laugh'd; Were quite pleasant, facetious, and hearty;

To the health of their King flowing bumpers they quaff'd,
With confufion to great Bonaparte.

Quoth John, "'Tis reported, that snug little strait
Which runs between Calais and Dover,

With a hop, step, and jump, that the Emp'ror elate,
Intends in a trice to skip over.

"Let him try ev'ry cunning political stroke,

And devife ev'ry scheme that he's able,
He'll find us as firm and as hard to be broke,
As the bundle of fticks in the fable."

The Scot and Hibernian replied, "You are right-
Let him go the full length of his tether;

When England, and Scotland, and Ireland unite,
They defy the whole world put together!"

VOX POPULI.

ALBION, THE PRIDE OF THE WORLD!

OLD Neptune one day invited the Gods
To feaft in his coralline caves;

With pleasure the Deities left their abodes,
To carouse with the God of the waves.
His palace of coral, his chamber of pearls,
Delighted the God who the dire thunder hurls;
And as they all rode in his water-borne car,

The fight of his ifles pleas'd the fam'd God of War.
But that which appear'd the most pleasing of all
Was the fnug little ifland, which truly we call
The spot where first Freedom her banners unfurl'd—
Albion, the glory, the pride of the world!

Mighty Jove with delight view'd the int'resting spot,
Where Peace feem'd her treasures to bring-

A people fo happy, he envied their lot,

And e'en with'd that he was their king.

As

As for Mars, he declar'd there a feat he would have,
And he much lov'd to dwell with a people fo brave;
And fays Venus, "This fpot I fhall ever approve,
'Tis the Temple of Valour, of Beauty, and Love."
Then aloud in a chorus its fame they proclaim'd,
And for ever agreed that the Ifle fhould be nam'd
The fpot where first Freedom her banners unfurl'd-
Albion, the glory, the pride of the world!

The Mufes the works of the natives admir'd,
The wonders of nature and art;

And down on their knees, of great Jove they defir'd
That hence they might never depart.

To their one grand request foon his Godship agreed,
And, fwearing by Styx, thus aloud he decreed,
That England of Gods the delight e'er fhould be,
Her monarch quite happy, her people quite free.
Then again in a chorus its fame they proclaim'd,
And for ever agreed that the Ifle fhould be nam'd
The fpot where first Freedom her banners unfurl'd-
Albion, the glory, the pride of the world!

In vain then let Frenchmen boaft what they will do,
Led on by the Corfican elf;

No power on earth fhall make England rue,
If the be but true to herself.

Be then firmly united in one common cause,
To defend our good king, our country, and laws,
Single-handed maintain, we ftill fhall be free,
The envy of nations, and lords of the fea.

It will then in all parts of the globe be proclaim'd,
That this little ifland fhall ever be nam'd

The fpot where firft Freedom her banners unfurl'd-
Albion, the glory, the pride of the world!

W. H.

THE EAGLE AND MONKEY:-A FABLE.

ADDRESSED TO AN EMPEROR.

On the top of a wide-spreading oak
An Eagle conftructed her neft,

In a wood where no axe's keen ftroke
Nor schoolboys were known to moleft.