Of the tragical cast, when his soul melts away
(And, without any compliment 'twixt you and I,
You re'lly have talents and pow'rs very high,
To make the most striking tragedian alive).
But now to the point. You must tenderly strive
To raise these sweet prostrates; then, heaving a sigh,
And wiping the drops that shall stand in each eye,
Like one sorely cross'd, you shall, weeping, exclaim,
"Oh! why do you tear me from conquest and fame?
But still, if the nation commands me, 'tis fit"
(Your breast thumping hard) "that its Chief should submit."
Then you see, if the army of England should sail,
And the schemes of this cursed armada should fail,
In the _Moniteur's_ faithful official page,
I can humbug the people, and soften their rage;
I will tell them, that, had but the nation permitted
Her Chief to have gone, we had ne'er been outwitted;
That merely the terrible glance of his eye
Would have made all those shop-keeping islanders fly;
This will quiet our friends, and, to harass our foes,
A second invasion I'll slyly propose,
In which, in the van, Buonaparte shall pour
His vengeance divine on that mercantile shore.
Not that I, my dear Premier! conceive 'twould be right
To renew with these cursed tough fellows the fight;
But our people 'twill please, until some new occasion
Shall call from this project the eye of the nation.

FIRST CONSUL.

It will do, it will do, my dear Tally! thy brain
Has my terrors remov'd, and "a man I'm again."
I will rise with the dawn, for this scene to prepare;
Denon, with his crayons, so swift shall be there;
The Parisians the subject with rapture will trace
In my Nosegay[B]; I'll hang it up full in their face.
I embrace thee, my dear little Tal! with delight;
_Ca ira! Ca ira_! Thy hand, and good night.

[The First Consul is said to have enjoyed half an hour's uninterrupted
repose that night. What followed, the next day, all Europe
knows, and all Europe laughs at.]

[Footnote A: Black crape and the bolt of Heaven are the favourite
rhetorical figures of Napoleon the First.]

[Footnote B: "Nosegay"--The anti-chamber of the Hall of the Arts in
the Louvre, in which there are many fine paintings, is called, by the
Parisians, Buonaparte's Nosegay.]

LINES

TO MISS CHINNERY, OF GILLWELL-HOUSE,

_Upon her appearing in a Dress_

WITH MAY-FLOWERS AND LEAVES TASTEFULLY DISPLAYED.

Tell me what taught thee to display
A choice so sweet, and yet so rare,
To prize the modest buds o