THE 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OP 

 POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES. 



VOL. XL] JANUARY, 1831. [No. 61, 



MERLIN'S PROPHECY FOR THE YEAR 1831 ! 



WIZARD ! dreaming in your cave, 



Twice ten thousand fathoms deep, 

 Where the brothers of the grave 



Sit enthroned Time, Death, and Sleep ; 

 Where the bones of Saxon kings 



Feed your ancient altars' blaze 

 Tell me what new wonder springs, 



Wizard ! on your New Year's gaze ? 



MERLIN. 



Stranger ! leave me to my slumber 



Merlin long is sick of earth; 

 Scoundrels still the soil will cumber, 



Asses still give asses birth ; 

 Rogues will still be patriot praters, 



Treasury slaves still sell their wives ; 

 Wigs and gowns will still hide traitors 



Polls have pensions for three lives !" 



Times are coming times are coming 



John Bull, you shall break your fast ; 

 Swords are clashing, drums are drumming 



Hours of humbug ! ye are past. 

 Horseguards men their backs are turning 



Pensioned beauties are undone ; 

 Ministers' own wigs are burning 



Boldly, New Year ! thou'st begun. 



Hark, the bells from tower and steeple ! 



All the locusts of the State, 

 All the feeders on the people, 



Must no longer dine on plate 

 M.M. New Series.Voi,. XL No. 61. B 



