322 Sir John de Bull. [SEPT. 



quotation, as a fair specimen of the whole, from which our readers will 

 judge of the correctness of the opinion expressed above. 



ff In days of yore, that is some time ago : 



(I'm not obliged to be correct in dates, 



They mar the beauty of a story so,) 



There lived a knight, endowed by lucky fates 



With every blessing that on earth we know. 



Our learned author but insinuates 



The country where he dwelt I'll do the same, 



And merely hint, and hint then tell his name. 



'Twas Bull Sir John de Bull he calls him Taurus, 



Which I must take the liberty this time 



To change, for such an uncouth word would bore us ; 



My verse depends so very much on chime 



And jingle : so I've looked into Thesaurus, 



And chosen the above, because 'twill rhyme 



To gull, and better still to pull and full 



Words very apropos to John de Bull. 



Sir John was fully stored with everything, 



With speeches, stocks, close-boroughs, banks, and fame. 



He had a temper rather blustering 



In fact, 'twas savage, as perhaps his name 



May seem to signify ; but time doth bring 



All worth to emptiness ; and how it came 



That John was blinded by enchanters fell, 



Was gulled, and starved, and tamed this tale doth tell. 



Sir John was full, I've said; his pockets lined, 

 And, most of all, his belly, which was round, 

 With sack and capon. Heartily he dined 

 And drank ; and in his cellar did abound 

 Right potent stuff. Some said that he inclined 

 To corpulence ; but yet his frame was sound ; 

 His eye was bold and noble ; and his heart, 

 All men well knew 'twas in the proper part. 



When seated at his table with a friend, 



John was a pattern of conviviality ; 



His face was open, as if Nature penned 



Upon its features bluff each quality 



Which he inherited, and loved to blend 



The traits of strength and power with comicality ; 



For* when he laughed, his huge cheeks, wrinkling, spoke 



A mountain labouring to produce a joke. 



Another man was he when in his ire ; 



(Woe to the luckless wight who moved him so !) 



His wrath, in sooth, was a volcanic fire 



Sudden and fierce a word, and then a blow ! 



He had no middle course, no tame desire 



To be that grave, cold thing half friend, half foe. 



He'd but two moods a laugh, or frown terrific ; 



As for his gravity, 'twas all specific. 



Thus John lived on, and stronger grew and fatter ; 

 And as his size increased so did his coat, 

 Which was, I think, of broad-cloth ; but no matter. 

 He wore top-boots ; (our author does not note 



