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Of hostile arms lapsed for a season, they Employed those bards to sing a roundelay. So, now my Lawies, when yoiir wordy fray Has lulled, at length, although your eyes still glisten With warlike ardour, prithee turn away To some cool shade, where you, in peace, may listen The while the bard, in plaintive number, sings Of your career, and divers other things. 'Tis said, by whom I know not, at your birth. Whilst still you lay enshrined within your cradle — A human snowdrop peeping from the earth — ■ Your infant jaws contained no silver ladle : A stupid oversight — by Nature's fluke, You found yourself a tanner — not a duke. And yet the fairies, who are said to trace Man's fate ere birth, refused to leave you stranded Upon the desert shores of Common-place ; To struggle on, unarmed and single-handed. They named you " Lawies." Had they wished you ill. They might have blighted you with simple " Bill." " Bill Jackson." Ah, oiwrapped in such a name, Cursed liy a term so bare and uncuphonious. Though born a statesman, still unknown to Fame, You might have died a rat, like poor Polonius ; Your " proper xjerson " hidden from men's gaze Behind the arras of a homely ))hrase. LOCAL LYRICS.