Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/109

Rh

There was once an old sage—'twas some d—d fool or other—how
 * 'Tis I don't know, on his name I can't fix—

But he wrote nine huge folios and tried to discover how
 * Solids and fluids most properly mix —

I've found out the secret so long from his view hid,
 * I found it—and let every friend I have share it,—

The properest mixture of solid and fluid.
 * Is a dinner like this one well washed down with Claret.


 * Then here's to the being still free and light-hearted,
 * Who ne'er cares o'er the woes of this world to repine,
 * But tho' he and false Fortune be long ago parted,
 * Still moistens his woes with a bumper of wine.

No, neither sinecure, nor mastership in chancery, Nor post, nor place, nor pension for a younger son! Hume, Grote, and vile Lord John have dished our only chance or I Might help you, but our halcyon days are almost gone; A failing bar, a falling bench, and, what must most disgust us is No hope for briefless barristers, no hole for Lord Augustuses: The fact is, dear Sir Robert, (to conceal it were hypocrisy) Lord Brougham and Vaux, the man that talks, has swamped the aristocracy.
 * Thus you may see neither sinecure nor chancery.
 * Nor post, nor place, avail us now for younger sons.