And, lest some brother rake be higher,
Drink, till your blood be all on fire,

And face of crimson hue, sir.

Thus you'll be dubb'd a dashing blade,

And, by the genteel world be said,

To be a man of spirit;

For stylish folks despise the chaps,

Who think that they may rise, perhaps,

By industry and merit.

With lubrick arts, and wily tongue,

Debauch some maiden, fair and young,

For that will be genteel;

Be not too scrupulous; win the fair;
Then leave the frail one to despair:

A rake should never feel.

When wine has made your courage stout,

In midnight revel sally out,

Insulting all you meet ;

Play pretty pranks about the town,

Break windows, knock the watchmen down,

Your frolick to complete!

Besides exhibiting your parts,

You're sure to win the ladies' hearts

By dint of dissipation;

Since " every woman is a rake,"

A fool may know what steps to take
To gain her approbation.

By practising these famous rules, You'll gain from wicked men and fools

A world of admiration;

And, as we know from good authority, Such folks compose a clear majority,

There needs no hesitation.

SIMON SPUNKEY'S PLAUSIVE POEM,

Inscribed to a certain

COLONEL CANDIDATE;

Or, Would-be Member of Congress.*

66 ARMA VIRUMQUE CANO."

I SING the idol of a party,
A factious demagogue, as hearty
As ever hung, or lost his head,
Since merry days of Johnny Cade.

* The hero, celebrated in this and the next subsequent poem, is the gentleman of spitting-memory, of whom we have before made honourable mention. [See p. 56 and 57.] These addresses were written in the year 1797, while this our patriot was taking measures to crowd himself into a station, which afforded him an opportunity to entail everlasting ignominy on a legislature, who would suffer such an animal to remain within its walls.

Though Justice frown, and Discord smile,

I will be heard above a mile,

To laud the man, who cannot fail
To go to congress—or to jail!*

I'll praise him, should I lose my ears,
And realize his party's fears;
Should he, and half his gang be hung,
His name shall rattle on my tongue.-

His passing merit will I shout

Through every village round about ;

With fife, drum, ram's-horn, conch-shell, trumpet,

I'll blow, squeak, whistle, roar, and thump it,

Till all shall think the devil's to pay,

From Bennington to Canada !t

What! though the federal junto sneer;

In courts of justice make it clear,

* The colonel was deeply in debt, and has been heard to acknowledge, that a prison, or a seat in congress, was his only alternative.

Alias, from Dan to Beersheba, or from one end of Vermont to the other.

Thy character not over nice is

That Cataline had fewer vices.

Though Hamilton* late intimated
That thou to Knavery wert related;
Declar'd that once you forg'd some letters
To circulate among your betters,

In which you did your best endeavour,
Yourself to recommend to favour ;
And, modestly, then sign'd the same
(A slight mistake) another's name !—

What though in court you had him tri'd, To show how wickedly he lied ;

But there 'twas prov'd, by not a few,

His every wicked word was true!

What though obnoxious to society, For frequent scandalous ebriety,

* Hamilton was a Vermontese, who had the hardihood to splash the pure regimentals of our redoubtable colo. nel.