That nothing on earth could defend her,
From Grenville, the Pope, and Pretender;
From the chorus diaboiôn,

And the old Miss of Babylon,
Unless he were call'd to defend her.
So he came with his Administration,
His wonderful Administration!
What a prodigious,

And truly religious,

Vigorous Administration!

When in they had slid, the first thing they did-
As a proof of their terrible vigour,
Was to fit out a fleet so prodigiously great,
That England had ne'er seen a bigger.

They said, "We will make a cominotion,
We swaggering lords of the ocean;
And what this little island
Can do upon dry land,

We'll give Bonaparte a notion."
So said this bold Administration,
This wonderful Administration!
This thundering, plundering,
(Not at all blundering)
Vigorous Administration!

Now, when they went out, and were looking about,
They cried, "Where the devil can we land?
We may chance come to blows, if we light on our foes,
So we'll burn out our friends upon Zealand."
They thought 'twas uncivil to harass
Bonaparte by marching to Paris;

So example they took

From the Prince in the book,
Who stabb'd his old friend in the arras.
What a thought for an Administration {
Such a generous Administration !

What "a victorious,

Happy, and glorious,"

Vigorous Administration!

When Mary Ann Clarke set to work in the dark,
To prove her dear Prince a defaulter,

The good little man to defend him began,
And at last left his neck in the halter.

He

THE VIGOROUS ADMINISTRATION.

He swore he was calumniated,

Challeng'd Wardle to prove what he prated;
So he courteously did

As the Minister bid,

And prov'd rather more than he stated,
Oh, what an Administration !
What a good-natur'd Administration !
What a kind and officious,
Wise and judicious,
Vigorous Administration!

The next thing to mention is Cintra's Convention,
Where bravery by folly was undone;

But their credit they save, by daring to have
Their own Common Council of London.

Then they persecute General Moore, oh!
And make Wellington Baron of Douro ;
Because one told the truth-

And the other, brave youth,

Stuck at nothing their necks to secure, oh!
Oh, what an Administration,
To quell the proud Gallican nation!
Oh, what a martial,

Just and impartial,
Vigorous Administration !

Then a project they fix, in their sage politics,
In hopes the French navy of crushing;
Most bravely to slaughter, by land and by water,
Ten thousand brave Britons at Flushing.

Their menaces vanish in smoke, Sir;
Their schemes are Napoleon's joke, Sir;
While England deplores

Her desolate shores,

And with anguish is ready to choke, Sir;
Chatham's the head of the nation
Heaven-born Administration!

Oh, justly jubileed,

Neither rascal-nor-booby led-
Vigorous Administration!

Hear the last tale of mystery, that closes their history,

With no battles abroad to be heeded :

They fire bullets of lead at each other's head-
Oh! would they for once had succeeded!

379

But

But their challenging, cursing, and banning,
1s heal'd by a Statement from Canning;
While his Lordship retains

His small portion of brains,

And thanks God there's no need of trepanning!
Oh! what a clear explanation
For a luminous Administration!
For a valorous, military,
Civil, conciliatory,
Vigorous Administration!

O. P.—THE GRAND RECONCILIATION DINNER.

A DRAMATIC VISION.

[From the Morning Herald, Jan. 4.]

MR. EDITOR,

BEING

EING remarkable for the mildness of my disposition, and my love of harmony, a friend of mine, who knows one, who knows another, who knows one of the stewards of this memorable feast, sent me a ticket for the dinner. I was, in consequence, so much absorbed with the probable events, and being somewhat heavy-headed, that I fell into a reverie, and from that into a sound sleep; when the following images presented themselves to my distracted fancy.

Methought the great room at the Crown and Anchor tavern was filled with company, almost to a point of suffocation.-Mr. Clifford was the President; and on each side of him were arranged Messrs. Kemble, Harris, Powell, and Savage, and who could scarcely eat, from the endless courtesies which they were paying to each other. They leered and simpered in commutual civility, until complaisance was exhausted.

On the removal of the cloth, the fraternal hug went round; when Mr. Clifford rose, and, after giving the healths of the Sovereign and his august Family, he thus addressed the meeting:

"Gentlemen-We are met here this day to celebrate the restoration of theatrical harmony; and sure I am,

that

O. P. THE RECONCILIATION DINNER.

381 that there is not a Muse on Parnassus who does not sympathize with us in this very extraordinary issue.Give me permission to present my learned and worthy friend Mr. Kemble to your consideration, that he may exact as much of your esteem in private, as he does of your applause in public: he is not only a buttress to the Drama, but an illustrator of our vernacular tongue, as he can add feet to a verb, and castrate a noun substantive, with the facility of a Bolognese operator."

At this instant a clamour arose at one of the sidetables for more wine; and which was not silenced until Messieurs Flaxman and Rossi (both R. A.'s) were loudly announced. This incomparable twain, and types of Praxiteles, entered the room with dignity, and each grappled the handle of a large washing-tub, filled with Parisian plaster, to take a model of the united hands of Messieurs Clifford, Kemble, Harris, and Townsend. They certainly invited John Bull to a participation of the honour, but he growlingly declined the partnership. When the cast had been perfectly made, Mr. Kemble gracefully proposed that the following words be engraved on every thumb-nail:

Ne m'egratignez pas, camarade;

to commemorate the unexpected and public nuptials between oil and vinegar.-During the ceremonies of the coalition, Mr. Harris complained that Mr. Kemble had squeezed him too hard.

In order to give a more mirthful turn to the conversation, the facetious Mr. Munden was called upon to sing; when he favoured the company with the ensuing merry adventure, which he ably sang in the shape and measure of a canzonette.

THE GHOST OF O. P.

The Tune-" Mary's Dream."

The moon was madd'ning half mankind,
While desolation thinn'd life's tree,

'When 'mid night's damps, at Kentish town,
I met the spectre of Ó. P. !

"O. P."

"O. P." said I, "why thus so wan?"
Then, suivelling, thus quoth he to me:
"Go, mend your galligaskins, Joe,

And think no more of poor O. P.!
"Rattles and catcalls now must sleep,
Placards be wrapp'd round bad bohea,
Bugles be scoff'd, and horns of tin,
For Fate hath crippled poor O. P.!
Now I'm Whereas'd in Death's Gazette,
And soon a mass of dust must be;
Pray do not leak upon my tomb,
Nor soil the sod that hides O. P.!
"May Discord rage behind your scenes,
And flash her brands at John and thee;
May all your wives have triple tongues,
And then you'll think of poor O. P.!
On Saturdays may forfeits dire

Vex Fawcett, Young, and Emery;
May Claremont cease to murder belles :
That will be bliss to poor O. P.!"

Mr. Munden was vociferously applauded for this descriptive ditty, which is assuredly crammed full of lyric beauties; but it gave particular delight to the company, inasmuch as they knew, upon the open authority of Mr. Munden, that O. P. was not only driven from the precincts of the Theatre, but that he was disquieted even in extinction.

Mr. Cooke was next summoned to sing; and, after a few apologies, he chanted this Parody, which he delivered with wonderful address, when we consider that the matter of the subject is so utterly foreign to his habits.

Let the Sultan, sable John,

Act the rake and play the don :

Well, well, every man must have his way!
But, to my poor way of thinking,

True joy is drinking!

Could I have Merlin's art, 'clep'd black,

I'd change the Thames to Cogniac:

Well,