EPIGRAMS BY LORD BYRON.

I

The World.

The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses that pull,
Each tugs it a different way,

And the greatest of all is John Bull.

2

Tom Paine and Cobbett.(119)

In digging up your bones, Tom Paine,

Will Cobbett has done well;
You visit him on earth again,
He'll visit you in Hell.

3

Windsor Poetics. On the Prince Regent (Geo. IV.) being seen as he stood between the coffins of Henry VIII. and Charles I. in the Royal Vault at Windsor.

Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies;
Between them stands another scepter'd thing-
It moves, it reigns-in all but name, a king ;
Charles to his people, Henry to his wife,
In him the double tyrant starts to life;
Justice and death have mix'd their dust in vain,
Each royal vampire wakes to life again.
Ah! what can tombs avail, since these disgorge
The blood and dust of both to mould a George?

4

To Mr. Hobhouse (Lord Broughton) on his Election for Westminster.

Would you get to the House through the true gate, Much quicker than even Whig Charley went, Let Parliament send you to Newgate,

And Newgate will send you to Parliament.

On reading Byron's Drama 'Cain, a Mystery' (1822).

Poet of Darkness! 't was thy former plan
To teach mankind t' abhor the race of man;
More darkling now the path thy muse has trod,
It leads the race of man t' abjure their God!

On Bonaparte's Failure in Russia.(120)

Of all hard-named generals that caused much destraction,

And poor Boney's hopes so ill-naturedly cross'd,
The hardest of all, and the keenest in action,
That Russia produces is General Frost.

The changed Lover.

I loved thee beautiful and kind,
And plighted an eternal vow :-
So altered are thy face and mind,

'T were perjury to love thee now.

Lord Nugent.

Wine versus Tea.

If Wine be poison, so is Tea-but in another shape— What matter whether we are kill'd by canister or grape?

On Epigrams.

The best of epigrams should be restrain'd:—
As to be read, in running, and retain’d.

On the Disappointment of the Whig Associates of the Prince Regent at not obtaining office.(121)

Ye politicians, tell me pray,

Why thus with woe and care rent?
This is the worst that you can say,
Some wind has blown the wig away,
And left the Hair Apparent.

Charles Lamb.

On the Mania of Ladies for Diamonds and Men for Play: written at the time of the Opening of Crockford's Club.

Thoughtless that 'all that's brightest fades ;'
Unmindful of that Knave of Spades,

The Sexton and his Subs,

How foolishly we play our parts,

Our wives on Diamonds set their hearts,

We set our Hearts on Clubs.

BY CAMPBELL THE POET.

To a Young Lady who had asked him to write Something Original for her.

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me
To write; but how shall I begin?

For I'm sure I have nothing original in me
Excepting Original Sin.

EPIGRAMS BY S. T. COLERIDGE.

I

On a bad Singer.

Swans sing before they die : 't were no bad thing Should certain persons die before they sing.

2

Job's Luck.

Sly Beelzebub took all occasions
To try Job's constancy and patience;
He took his honours, took his health,
He took his children, took his wealth,
His camels, horses, asses, cows,—
Still the sly devil did not take his spouse.

But heav'n, that brings out good from evil,
And likes to disappoint the devil,
Had predetermined to restore
Twofold of all Job had before,

His children, camels, asses, cows,—
Short-sighted devil not to take his spouse.

3

An Expectoration, or Splenetic Extempore, on his Departure from the City of Cologne.

As I am a rhymer,

And now, at least, a merry one,

Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer,
And the church of St. Geryon,

Are the two things alone
That deserve to be known

In the body-and-soul-stinking town of Cologne.

4

Expectoration the Second.

In Coln, the town of monks and bones,
And pavements fang'd with murderous stones,
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches,

I counted two-and-seventy stenches,

All well-defined and separate stinks !

Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,"
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne.

But tell me, nymphs, what power divine

Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine.