Excuse me, that I wander so;

All modern pens digress, you know.

Now to my theme! Thou Being gay,
Houri or Goddess, Nymph or Fay,
Whoe'er, Whate'er, Where'er thou art,
Who, with thy warm and kindly heart,
Hast made these blest abodes thy care,
Being of Water, Earth, or Air,
Beneath the Moonbeam hasten hither,
Enjoy thy blessings ere they wither,
And witness, with thy gladdest face,
The glories of thy dwelling-place!

The Boats put off!-throughout the crowd
The tumult thickens; wide and loud
The din re-echoes; man and horse
Plunge onward in their mingled course.
Look at the troop: I love to see
Our real Etonian Cavalry;
They start in such a pretty trim,
And such sweet scorn of life and limb.
I must confess I never found

A Horse much worse for being sound;
I wish my Nag not wholly blind,
And like to have a tail behind;
And though he certainly may hear
Correctly with a single ear,
I think, to look genteel and neat,
He ought to have his two complete.
But these are trifles! off they go
Beside the wondering River's flow;
And if, by dint of spur and whip,
They shamble on, without a trip,
Well have they done! I make no question
They're shaken into good digestion.

I and my Muse,-my Muse and I,
Will follow with the Company,
And get to Surly Hall in time
To make a Supper, and a Rhyme.
Yes! while the animating crowd,
The gay, and fair, and kind, and proud,
With eager voice and eager glance
Wait till the Pageantry advance,
We'll throw around a hasty view,
And try to get a sketch or two.

First in the race is William Tag,
Thalia's most industrious Fag;
Whate'er the subject he essays,
To dress in never-dying lays,
A chief, a cheese, a dearth, a dinner,
A cot, a castle, cards, Corinna ;
Hibernia, Baffin's Bay, Parnassus,
Beef, Bonaparte, Beer, Bonassus-
Will hath his order'd words and rhymes,
For various scenes and various times;
Which suit alike for this or that,
And come, like Volunteers, quite pat.
He hath his Elegy, or Sonnet,
For Lucy's bier or Lucy's bonnet;
And celebrates, with equal ardour,
A Monarch's sceptre, or his larder.
Poor William! when he wants a hint,
All other Poets are his Mint;
He coins his Epic or his Lyric,
His Satire or his Panegyric,
From all the gravity and wit

Of what the Ancients thought and writ.
Arm'd with his Ovid and his Flaccus,
He comes like thunder to attack us;
In pilfer'd mail he bursts to view
The cleverest thief I ever knew.
Thou noble Bard! at any time
Borrow my measure and my rhyme;
Borrow (I'll cancel all the debt),
An Epigram, or Epithet;

Borrow my Mountains, or my Trees,
My Paintings, or my Similes;
Nay! borrow all my pretty Names,
My real, or my fancied Flames;
Eliza, Alice, Leonora,

Mary, Melissa, and Medora;
And borrow all my "mutual vows,"
My "ruby lips," and "cruel brows;"
And all my stupors, and my startings,
And all my meetings and my partings;
Thus far, my Friend, you'll find me willing;
Borrow all things save one-a shilling!

Drunken, and loud, and mad, and rash, Joe Tarrell wields his ceaseless lash;

They
And

I

f

...d Ranter,

.u Tam O'Shanter;

.. 'brown colts, Sires and Dams,
and Bullyings, Bets and Bams;
now the Favourite should have won,
And how the little Earl was done;
And how the Filly fail'd in strength,
And how some faces grew in length;
And how some people, if they'd show,
Know something more than others know.
Such is his talk; and while we wonder
At that interminable thunder,
The undiscriminating 'snarler
Astounds the ladies in the Parlour,
And broaches, at his Mother's Table,
The Slang of Kennel and of Stable.
And when he's drunk he roars before ye
One excellent, unfailing story,

About a Gun, Lord knows how long,
With a discharge, Lord knows how strong;
Which always needs an Oath and Frown
To make the monstrous dose go o down.
Oh! oft and oft the Muses pray
That wondrous tube may burst one day,
And then the world will ascertain
Whether its Master hath a brain.

Then, on the stone that hides his sleep,
"hese accents shall be graven deep;
"Upton" and "C. B." between,
in the Sporting Magazine;"
to none, except his brutes,
in nought except his boots;
've relics of Joe Tarrell;
Tarrell's double-barrel!"

Surly Hall.

"in the race is William Tag, t industrious Fag;

iect he essays, glays,

a dinner,

mutter'd sounds that slip,
his curling hip;
er of his eye,
ntingly;

on his snout,
ew Crout!
ll'd

and skill'd

is good and fair,

make, a blemish there.

ortune to his cradle sent
self-satisfying Discontent;

And he hath caught from cold Reviews
The one great talent, to abuse;
And so he sallies sternly forth,
Like the cold Genius of the North,
To check the heart's exuberant fullness,
And chill good-humour into dullness.
Where'er he comes, his fellows shrink
Before his awful nod and wink;
And whensoe'er those features plastic
Assume the savage or sarcastic,

Mirth stands abash'd, and Laughter flies,
And Humour faints, and Quibble dies.
How sour he seems! and, hark! he spoke;
We'll stop and listen to the croak;
"Twill charm us, if these happy lays
Are honour'd by a fool's dispraise!-
"You think the boats well mann'd this year!
To you, they may perhaps appear!
I, who have seen those frames of steel,
Tuckfield, and Dixon, and Bulteel,
Can swear-no matter what I swear!
Only-things are not as they were;
And then our Cricket! think of that!
We ha'nt a tolerable Bat;

* Two constant supporters of that instructive Miscellany.

The would-be Sportsman'; o'er the sides
Of the lank charger he bestrides,
The foam lies painfully; and blood
Is trickling in a ruddier flood,
Beneath the fury of the steel
Projecting from his armed heel.

E'en from his childhood's earliest bloom,
All studies that become a Groom,
Eton's spes gregis, honest Joe,

Or knows, or would be thought to know;
He picks a Hunter's hoof quite finely,
And spells a Horse's teeth divinely.
Prime Terror of molesting Duns,
Sole judge of greyhounds and of guns,
A skilful Whip, a steady Shot,
Joe swears he is!-who says he's not?
And then he has such knowing faces
For all the week of Ascot-Races,
And talks with such a mystic speech,
Untangible to vulgar reach,

Of Sultan, Highflyer, and Ranter,
Potatoes, Quiz, and Tam O'Shanter;
Bay colts, and brown colts, Sires and Dams,
Bribings and Bullyings, Bets and Bams;
And how the Favourite should have won,
And how the little Earl was done;'
And how the Filly fail'd in strength,

And how some faces grew in length;

And how some people, if they'd show,
Know something more than others know.
Such is his talk; and while we wonder
At that interminable thunder,
The undiscriminating snarler
Astounds the ladies in the Parlour,
And broaches, at his Mother's Table,
The Slang of Kennel and of Stable.
And when he's drunk he roars before ye
One excellent, unfailing story,

About a Gun, Lord knows how long,
With a discharge, Lord knows how strong;
Which always needs an Oath and Frown

To make the monstrous dose

e go down.

Oh! oft and oft the Muses pray

That wondrous tube may burst one day,
And then the world will ascertain

Whether its Master hath a brain,