Ah! beware of Dispipsy,
And don't ye get tipsy!
For tho' gin and whiskey
May make you feel frisky,
They're but crimps to Dispipsy;

And nose to tail, with this gipsy
Comes, black as a porpus,

The diabolus ipse,

Call'd Cholery Morpus ;

Who with horns, hoofs, and tail, croaks for carrion to feed him, Tho' being a Devil, no one never has seed him!

Ah then my dear honies,

There's no cure for you

For loves nor for monies :-
You'll find it too true.

Och the hallabaloo !

Och och how you'll wail,
When the offal-fed vagrant
Shall turn you as blue

As the gas-light unfragrant,

That gushes in jets from beneath his own tail;—
'Till swift as the mail,

He at last brings the cramps on,
That will twist you like Samson.

So without further blethring,
Dear mudlarks! my brethren!
Of all scents and degrees,
(Yourselves and your shes)
Forswear all cabal, lads,

Wakes, unions, and rows,

Hot dreams, and cold salads

And don't pig in sties that would suffocate sows !

Quit Cobbett's, O'Connell's, and Beelzebub's banners,

And whitewash at once bowels, rooms, hands, and manners!

COLOGNE.

IN Köhln, a 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 several 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?

ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE SAME CITY.

As I am 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.

WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.

PARRY seeks the polar ridge;
Rhymes seeks S. T. Coleridge,

Author of works, whereof-tho' not in Dutch-
The public little knows-the publisher too much.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

YOUR poem must eternal be,

Dear Sir! it can not fail!
For 'tis incomprehensible,

And without head or tail.

METRICAL FEET. LESSON FOR A BOY.

Trochěe trips from lỏng to short ;

From long to long in solemn sort

Slow spondée stalks; strong foot! yet ill able
Evěr to come up with Dactyl trīsyllablě.

Iambics march from short to long;

With a leap and ǎ bound the swift Ānăpăsts thrōng;
One syllable long, with one short at each side,
Amphibrachys hastes with a stately stride;—

First and last being lông, middle short, Amphimăcer
Strikes his thundering hoofs like å proud high-bred Racer.

If Derwent be innocent, steady, and wise,

And delight in the things of earth, water, and skies;
Tender warmth at his heart, with these metres to show it,
With sound sense in his brains, may make Derwent a poet,-.
May crown him with fame, and must win him the love
Of his father on earth and his Father above.

My dear, dear child!

Could you stand upon Skiddaw, you would not from its whole ridge See a man who so loves you as your fond S. T. Coleridge.

TRANSLATED FROM SCHILLER.

1. THE HOMERIC HEXAMETER DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED.

STRONGLY it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows, Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the Ocean.

II. THE OVIDIAN ELEGIAC METRE DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED.

In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column;
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.

TO THE YOUNG ARTIST, KAYSER OF KASERWERTH.

KAYSER! to whom, as to a second self,

Nature, or Nature's next-of-kin, the Elf,

Hight Genius, hath dispens'd the happy skill
To cheer or soothe the parting friend's, alas!

Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass,
That makes the absent present at our will;
And to the shadowing of thy pencil gives
Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.

Well hast thou given the thoughtful Poet's face!
Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind

A more delightful portrait left behind-
Ev'n thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace,
Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee!
Kayser! farewell!

Be wise be happy! and forget not me.

1833.

JOB'S LUCK.

SLY Beelzebub took all occasions
To try Job's constancy and patience;
He took his honors, took his health,
He took his children, took his wealth,
His camels, horses, asses, cows-

And the sly Devil did not take his spouse.

But Heaven that brings out good from evil,
And loves to disappoint the Devil,
Had predetermined to restore
Twofold all Job had before,

His children, camels, horses, cows-
Short-sighted Devil, not to take his spouse!

ON A VOLUNTEER SINGER.

SWANS sing before they die: 'twere no bad thing,
Should certain persons die before they sing.

ON AN INSIGNIFICANT.

'Tis Cipher lies beneath this crust-
Whom Death created into dust.

PROFUSE KINDNESS.

Νήπιοι, οὐκ ἴσασιν ὅσῳ πλέον ἡμισυ πάντος.—Hesiod.

WHAT a spring-tide of Love to dear friends in a shoal! Half of it to one were worth double the whole !

CHARITY IN THOUGHT.

To praise men as good, and to take them for such,
Is a grace, which no soul can mete out to a tittle;—
Of which he who has not a little too much,

Will by Charity's gage surely have much too little.

HUMILITY THE MOTHER OF CHARITY.

FRAIL creatures are we all! To be the best,
Is but the fewest faults to have :-

Look thou then to thyself, and leave the rest
To God, thy conscience, and the grave.

ON AN INFANT

WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM.

“BE, rather than be called, a child of God,"
Death whispered with assenting nod,

Its head upon its mother's breast,

The Baby bowed, without demur-
Of the kingdom of the Blest
Possessor, not inheritor.

ON BERKELEY AND FLORENCE COLERIDGE,

WHO DIED ON THE 16TH OF JANUARY, 1834.*

O FRAIL as sweet! twin buds, too rathe to bear
The Winter's unkind air;

O gifts beyond all price, no sooner given
Than straight required by Heaven;
By a friend.