Anxus Mirabilis; or, 



A poem, from that poem-showering 

 Master of jargons, Poet Bowring, 

 (Who, after having in his clutch 

 Grasped all the laurels of the Dutch ; 

 Sung all the gallant Cherokee 

 Discusses to his favourite she ; 

 Collected 011 the native spot 

 The raptures of the Hottentot ; 

 By virtue of his boundless charter, 

 Is gone to poetize the Tartar). 



Lord Crowder has assumed the Chair, 

 In brain and belly a Lord Mayor ; 

 Charles Wynn has made a dozen speeches, 

 Surnamed, by courtesy, his screeches 

 (The old ambition to be Speaker, 

 Still limited to " Mr. Squeaker ;" 

 Still, when he tries his nightly croak, 

 The House all crying out, " Squoke I Squoke !"} 



Two boys from Siam, or baboons- 

 Human, but in their pantaloons ; 

 And brutes, but in their want of tails 

 Came over, packed in India bales. 

 The wretches by the ribs are tied, 

 Through life to wander side by side : 

 Yet where' s the shew ? Ten million wretchei, 

 In nooses tighter than Jack Ketch's, 

 Pass the long drudgery of life ; 

 Yet no one pities man and wife. 

 They walk, they talk, they drink, they fight 

 None gives a sixpence for the sight : 

 They starve, they feast, they hang, or drown 

 Who hawks a placard through the town ? 



The Court had packed up all for Brighton, 

 Till came a countermand from Knighton. 

 Le Sage says wisely, " Overlook 

 All sorts of insults in your cook, 

 Lest the first omelet close your supper, 

 In regions under ground or upper :" 

 So he who loves life's sunny borders, 

 Will take for law his doctor's orders. 



The Donna Bonaparte Wyse 

 Flew from her macaroni skies, 

 Of which her kinsmen were the pillars, 

 To scold that handsome wretch, Stuart Villars. 

 Then, tarlike, having passed the line, 

 Took water in the Serpentine ! 

 Ah ! Italy as poets sing, 

 High mounted on the goose's wing 

 Love sees no spot, from sea to sea, 

 So fit for love as Italy ! 



