POETRY. 451 
& Look’e, landlord, I think,” argu’d Will, with a grin, 
« That with honeft intentions you firft took me in ;” 
« But from the firft night (and to fay it ’'m bold) 
« T have been fo damn’d hot, that I’m fure I caught cold.” 
Quoth the landlord, ¢ Till now, I ne’er had a difpute ; 
‘ ve let lodgings ten years ;—I’m a baker to boot. 
‘In airing your fheets, Sir, my wife is no floven ; 
‘ And your bed is immediately—over my oven.’ . 
& The oven!!!” fays Will. Says the hoft, ¢ why this paffion ?? 
‘In that excellent bed dy’d three people of fafhion. 
‘ Why fo crufty, good Sir?” “ Zounds!”’ cries Will in a taking, 
‘ Who wou’d’nt be crufty with half a year’s baking!” 
Will paid for his rooms. Cry’d the hoft, with a fneer, 
« Well, I fee you’ve been going away half a year :” 
¢ Friend, we can’t well agree’—“ yet no quarrel,’ Will faid ; 
“* For one man may die where another makes bread.” 
ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. — 4 Poem by the Dean of 
Waterford, which obtained the late Chancellor's Prize at Oxford Jome Years fince ; 
the Original never ajpeared in Print but in an interpolated State. ——From the Gentle- 
gan’s Magazine. ‘ 
y* fouls illuftrious, who, in days of yore, 
With peerlefs might the Britifh target bore ; 
Who, clad in wolf-fkin, from the fcythed car, 
Frown’d on the iron brow of mailed war, 
And dar’d your rudely-painted limbs oppofe 
To Chalybean fteel, and Roman foes! 
' And ye of later age, tho’ not lefs fame 
In tilt and tournament, the princely game 
Of Arthur’s barons, wont by hardieft fport 
To claim the faireft guerdon of the court,— 
Say, holy fhades, did e’er your gen’rous blood 
Roll through your nobler fons in quicker flood 
Than late *, when George bade gird on ev’ry thigh 
The myrtle-braided {word of Liberty ? 
Say, when the high-born Druid’s magic ftraim 
Rous’d on old Mona’s top a female train 
To madnefs, and with more than mortal rage, 
Bade them like furies in the fight engage ; 
Frantic when each unbound her briftling hair, 
And fhook a flaming torch, and yell’d in wild defpair ; 
* Thefe lines were written foon after an inftallation at Windfer, 
Ff2 
