* * * * *

ON SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BART., not M.P.  FOR LINCOLN.

  That Bulwer’s from fair Lincoln bann’d,
    Doth threaten evil days;
  For, having much waste time on hand,
    Alas! he’ll scribble plays.

* * * * *

THE NEW HOUSE.

“This is the House that Jack (Bull) built.”

  Once there lived, as old histories learnedly show, a
  Great sailor and shipbuilder, named MISTER NOAH,
  Who a hulk put together, so wondrous—­no doubt of it—­
  That all sorts of creatures could creep in and out of it. 
  Things with heads, and without heads, things dumb, things loquacious,
  Things with tails, and things tail-less, things tame, and things pugnacious;
  Rats, lions, curs, geese, pigeons, toadies and donkeys,
  Bears, dormice, and snakes, tigers, jackals, and monkeys: 
  In short, a collection so curious, that no man
  E’er since could with NOAH compare as a show-man
  At length, JOHNNY BULL, with that clever fat head of his,
  Design’d a much stranger and comical edifice,
  To be call’d his “NEW HOUSE”—­a queer sort of menagerie
  To hold all his beasts—­with an eye to the Treasury. 
  Into this he has cramm’d such uncommon monstrosities,
  Such animals rare, such unique curiosities,
  That we wager a CROWN—­not to speak it uncivil—­
  This HOUSE of BULL’S beats Noah’s Ark to the devil. 
  Lest you think that we bounce—­the great fault, we confess, of men—­
  We proceed to detail some few things, as a specimen
  Of what are to be found in this novel museum;
  As it opens next month, you may all go and see ’em. 
  Five Woods, of five shades, grain, and polish, and gilding,
  Are used this diversified chamber in building. 
  Not a nail, bolt, or screw, you’ll discover to lurk in it,
  Though six Smiths you will find every evening at work in it. 
  A Forman and Master you’ll see there appended too,
  Whose words or instructions are never attended to. 
  A Leader, whom nobody follows; a pair o’ Knights,
  With courage at ninety degrees of old Fahrenheit’s;
  Full a hundred “Jim Crows,” wheeling round about—­round about,
  Yet only one Turner’s this House to be found about. 
  Of hogs-heads, Lord knows, there are plenty to spare of them,
  But only one Cooper is kept to take care of them. 
  A Ryder’s maintain’d, but he’s no horse to get upon;
  There’s a Packe too, and only one Pusey to set upon. 
  Two Palmers are kept, holy men, in this ill, grim age,
  To make every night their Conservative pilgrimage. 
  A Fuller, for scouring old coats and redressing them;
  A Taylor to fashion; and Mangles for pressing them.