en
hath he no true inspiration in him, and is a poet without vanity, a
_vara avis_ who delighteth not in receiving the reward of merit; so on,
old fellow, to our quarters, where we will

'Carve the goose, and quaff the wine,'
And wish our sprite were here to dine--
We'd give him hearty cheer;
A welcome such as hand and heart
To kindred spirits should impart,
Where friendship reigns sincere.'

~237~~We would punish him for sending his odes to us without sending his
family cognomen therewith. Have we not done him immortal honour--placed
him in front of our second volume like a golden dedication, and what is
more, selected him from many a pleasant whim, to stand by our side; the
only associate who can claim one line engrafted on to the never-ending
fame of the English Spy?--But to the 'Preachment;' let us have another
taste of his quality."

A SECOND ODE TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.

or A MICHAELMAS-DAY PREACHMENT.

BY AN HONEST REVIEWER.

"_Iterumque, iterumque vocabo_."--Ancient Classics.

"'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do goods on't."
--Winter's Tale.

"Ours is the skie,
Where at what fowle we please our hawks shall flie."
--Anon.

Ay, here I come once more, great sir,
Out of pure love to minister
Some golden truths to thee;
Faustus ye're not, nor Frankenstein,
Yet, being up to trap, I ween
You'll need a sprite like me.

Eve watch'd you closely, my young squire,
Since at vol. two I cool'd the ire
That left a little stain;
And therefore wonder not, sweet Spy,
Since both of us at follies fly,
Your "Tonson comes again."

~238~~

This is the day of Michaelmas.
Many would say, ay, "let that pass"
As a forgotten thing.
Not so with us, our rent we pay,
And do we not, on quarter-day,
Our taxes to the king?

Since, then, "our withers are unwrung,"
And we need wish no blister'd tongue
To creditors and duns,
Let's carve the goose, and quaff the wine,
And toast September twenty-nine,
Nor mark how fast time runs.

We've clone the same; that is, we've quaffd,
And sung, and danced, and drunk, and laugh'd,
When w