But both by dint of passion led,

Did swift as light'ning spring,

And clench'd each other, head to head,

Like bull-dogs in a ring.

So nicely match'd-'twas all agreed,

No stander-by could say,

Whether 'old England' would succeed
Or 'Israel' win the day.

For each endur'd such horrid flings,
With dreadful thumps and pulls,

Till both came off with hanging wings,
And almost naked sculls.

WE'VE often heard it said, my honest brother,
That one good turn always deserves another;
But, as past services are soon forgotten,

'Tis dang'rous trusting sticks when they are rotten.

A CIRCUMSTANCE

WHICH OCCURRED AT SITHNEY CHURCH.

A PARSON on a sabbath day,

Enter'd his church to read and pray.

(The congregation, without doubt,

Were very serious and devout :)

And having run the service o'er,

As often he had done before,

Next to the pulpit he ascends,

To preach a sermon to his friends.

He prov'd by many a text and sentence,

The needful doctrine of repentance.

But his chief subject seemed to be,
Enforcing love and charity;

How Christians should assist the poor,
Nor turn them empty from their door,
But should relieve, with treatment mild,
The widow and her orphan child.
Mankind, he said, may plainly see
All worldly wealth is vanity.

But when he had his sermon ended,

(E're from the pulpit he descended)
The parish clerk, whose desk was under,
Roar'd out aloud, with voice like thunder,
"Next Tuesday is the appointed day

For ev'ry one his tythes to pay.

This notice whosoe'er neglects,

Shall suffer as the law directs."

WRITTEN IN TIME OF

WAR.

OH! my poor threadbare Country! If a quill
Rent from an angel's wing could be procur'd
To paint thy errors,—and my trait'rous muse
Would lend her aid, fallacious argument
And specious sophistry should not avail.-
Reason should then, in her full latitude,

Receive that homage still to Reason due.

But let me strive with this my feeble pen, T'awake the feelings of that sordid tribe

Who basely riot on their country's spoils;
And, still persisting in their foul career,
Heedless and headlong, trample under foot
The known prerogatives of common weal.
Where are the laws our ancestors procur'd,
And seal'd them with their blood? Is England lost
To ev'ry sense of shame? and now a prey

To base self int'rest, and impious pride?
What nation boasts a purer constitution?
Or laws more salutary for the subject?
But what is constitution—when neglected?
And laws, perverted? Is not this our case?
Call not the question doubtful! "Tis too plain.
Can war, can wasteful war procure us wealth?
Or curs'd ambition give us happiness?

These are the causes of our present ills.

Deny it not. These make the foul manure

Where poverty must grow. These are the bane

Of nations,-pest of all society,

And nurse to all the family of want.

The name of VICT'RY is a specious sound

Swelling the bosom with indignant fire.

K

But ah! how dear these victories are won.

Thousands must bleed for one poor branch of laurel ;

Cities must fall; widows and orphans pine:

Devils might blush to view the horrid scenes

Practis'd in war!-for what? To make a hero!

Thirst after worldly greatness is a curse,

That thirst is our misfortune

and that thirst

Has brought our nation to its present state.

Yet still you call it necessary waste,

Inevitable war! Those may believe

Such doctrine, who, amidst the nation's wants,

Reap their own harvests ;-but the suff'ring subjects Have equal cause to curse them to their face.

When nations fall, 'tis the result of pride.

And where pride grows and takes the deepest root,

That nation verges nearest to destruction.

Nor need we far consult prophetic page

To prove a truth so clear.

We seldom find

In all the histories of civil wars,

Subjects revolt without a serious cause.

Complaints, petitions to their governors,