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And found, without joke,

But as each had got hold,
It may truly be told,

That both fell to squabbling and wrangling.

But it soon was agreed,
Without signing a deed,

That the perch should be fairly divided;
Then each took a half,

And grinn'd like a calf,

To think 'twas so quickly decided.

So when ev'ning came,
They pack'd up their game,
And homewards in peace 'gan to
trudge it;

Their sport equal quite,
Each had half a bite,

And took home half a fish in his budget.
June 5, 1815.

For the Sporting Magazine.

A JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE.

WHEN I set out in life with gee ho!

gee ho!

I car'd not how eager my hobby would go; I mounted my nag e'er the steed was broke in,

And though often he threw me I mounted again.

How firm in my saddle I gallop'd all day Nor car'd for a gate though came in my

way;

Quite careless and easy I leap'd over all,

That a fine fish was caught by their Till the filly called Fortune, first gave

angling,

me a fall.

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I recover'd my seat, and to prove I was game,

Still gallop'd the jade till I found she was lame;

'Till at last with experience I thought I'd get down,

So dismounted my hobby and walk'd through the town.

At last we put up at an Inn in our way, Where trav'llers but seldom are tempted to stay,

Their objections however shall never be mine,

The house was a good one, Contentment the sign.

The hostess assur'd me the comforts of life

Were none of them wanting-not even a

wife ;

So my nag to the stables by Reason was led,

And the hostess and I went together to bed.

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Polite your manners as a private guest, Forget politeness at a public feast; Rough are the manners of a city-dinner, Where cuckold elbows cuckold, sinner; sinner;

Let wisdom, then, supply the place of force,

Chuse well your seat, and calculate each

course.

Manoeuv'ring now, you know, is all the

rage;

Be sure at dinner get the weather gage; Then if the ills, the steaming haunch, confin'd,

Burst furious out, and poison half the wind,

Secure you sit, whilst leeward stomachs fail,

And half the table sickens at the gale: Timely advis'd, the coming pheasant wait,

Nor high with beef, incautious, heap your plate,

And if some talon pounces on the dish, That holds your fav'rite fowl, or fav'rite fish,

At once cry out, the Prince, sir, drinks your health,

And, as he bows, secure the prize by

stealth.

One secret more my son, I would im

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to fribble,

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It is the vermeil of the rose, That blooms but 'till the bleak wind blows,

With a foil for companion, she shines Then all entomb'd in sweets doth fade

like a pebble.

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and rot ;

And such is man,

He struts in bravery for a span, And is forgot.

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It is the swallow's sojournment,
Who ere green summer's robe is rent,

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But such the ton is, such the case,
You'll see the first of rank and place,
Step from his carriage all profuse,
Duck at his door-way like a goose.
The humble beam was fix'd so low,
Perhaps to teach some clown to bow.
The air is pure, as pure can be,
And such a prospect of the sea
As I through life ne'er saw before,
From off the cliff of any shore;
On one hand Ceres spreads the plain,
And on the other, o'er the main,
A bark majestic sometimes laves
Far distant, on the buoyant waves.
The hills all mantled o'er with green,
A friendly shelter to the Steyne;
Such is the place and situation,
Such is the reigning seat of fashion.
J. J. B.

TRANSLATION OF AN ODE, By the celebrated Persian Poet SADIO

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taking the reins,

BEHOLD this rose,

How fair it blows, where's my HEBE's rosy cheek, These gales of spring, With freshen'd wing,

Soon drove luckless Toм to the Bench for Tell us the flowing bowl to seek.

his pains;

After paying his fees, and surveying his

room,

TOM stood for a moment in silence and

gloom;

But at length, shaking four shillings out of his purse,

("Twas the whole of his fortune) just mutt'ring a curse,

Tom cried to the turnkey, "Pray, Sir, understand,

"I'm not driv'n so low, but I've still Four-in-hand.

DESCRIPTION OF BRIGHTON.

THIS town or village of renown,

Like London Bridge half broken
down,

Few years ago was worse than Wapping,
Scarce fit for human soul to stop in.
But now like to a worn out shoe,
By patching well the place will do ;
Tis wonderful I'm sure to see,
How 'tis becramm'd with quality,
Here Lords and Ladies oft carouse,
Together in a tiny house,

Like Joan and Darby in their cot,
With stool and table, spit and pot.
And what in town they would despise,
His Lordship praises to the skies;

Each flower displays,

In various ways,

Some sweet remembrance of my love;
But where's the ear,
That deigns to hear,

The soft emotions that I prove.

The amber's scent
Is idly spent,

I ask the fragrance of her hair;
For me these flow'rs

Have lost their pow'rs,

Where is my love, ah, tell me where? Awake, awake,

For envy's sake,

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