The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1840-10-16 00:00:00

SHIPPING INTELLIGENCE.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16.
Thomas Tattersall, from Drogheda.
John Bull, Ormond, and Regular, Bond, from Bombay, at St.
Helena
Mathew, Johnson, hence at Marseilles
Don Juan, Luscombe, hence for Copenhagen, at Deal
Minerva, -, hence to Riehibucto, was spoken 9th instant,
in lat. 47, long. 39
John Bull, Ormond, from Bombay to Liverpool, was spoken 14th
ultimo, in lat. 12 N, long. 25 W

iii o ttrp.

PROTEUS THE POLITICIAN.

(From Blackwood', Magazine.)

Come you, who'd learn the statesman's trade,

Andlistin to my tale, sir;
I'll show you how a fortune's made,
Without the risk of jail, sir;
Alike in sunshine and in rain,
I'll teach you to make hay, sir,
Get on, with neither heart nor brain,
And never miss quarter-day, sir.
CHORUS.
And this is sense, I will maintain—
Until I'm on half-pay, sir,
I'll wear, whoever gilds, the chain,
And never miss quarter-day, sir.
When first, a clown, I tried the town,
I play'd, of course, the Tory,
For Pitt was up, and Fox was down,
And England in her glory.
I curi'd my locks, I laugh'd at Fox,
Swore Grey was but his lees, sir;
Cali'd every Whig a fool and prig,
And got my bread and cheese, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
But Death, that strikes the man of might,

And leaves the mean behind, sir,
Took Pitt, and left, in Bngland's spite,
The blind to lead the blind, sir.
So, since stocks were up with Fox,
(As honest as his sire, sir,)
I saw new light, found black was white,
And followed him through the mire, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then foggy Grenville, for a week
Took up old Charley's dice, sir;
I got my livery and my steak,
A patriot's honest price, sir.
But Perceval took up the box,
And threw the lucky Main, sir;
I ratted back, found white was black,
And Tory turn'd again, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
To Perceval I stoutly clung

Till ended his career, sir,
For which old Bellingham was hung—

My conscience then grew clear, sir;
I play'd court fool for Liverpool,
I fetch'd and carried news. sir ;
From year to year I bore his sneer,
And would have wiped his shoes, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then Canning, pledged the state to save,
Came in 'twixt Whig and Tory,
Unrivall'd at a pun or stave,
Speech, epigram, or story;
But just as fit to follow Pitt,
As squibs to light the sun, sir,
To stick to place is no disgrace,
So I kept sticking on, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then out went Canning's sparkling lamp,
And Goderich came, the placid;
The first the meteor of the swamp,
The next a neutral acid.
I changed my cloth, and, nothing loth.

Fell back upon the Whig, sir.
A wise man likes his supper hot,
The rest's not worth a fig, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then Lansdowne came, that son of fame,
Once puff'd to rival Pitt, sir ;
Thus learned pigs wear Judge's wigs,
And monkeys show their wit, sir.
Thus Brummagem makes London knives,
And Liverpool cigars, sir;
And every village stroller strives
To rank with Drury's stars, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then Wellington, the mighty, reign'd,
And I was his recruit, sir ;
I felt my conscience unrestrain'd,
And kiss'd his Tory boot, sir.
The Papist Bill, his sovereign will
Commanded to be law, sir;
'Twas all the same, from whom it came,
His Highness, or Jack Straw, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
But every dog will have his day,
The Whigs once more slipt in, sir,
High times for granite-visaged Grey,
And al/ his kith and kin, sir;
My conscience whisper'd—" Cut his Grace,
And serve your country still, sir."
I kept its counsel and my place,
And swallow'd Lord John's pill, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Next Melbourne came, the ladies' flame,
A man to " courts" well known, sir;
The nation's pride, the Church's guide,
True pillar of the Throne, sir ;
Who guards our isles with smirks and smiles,
And laughs at troops and ships, sir,
But makes reports on Windsor sports,
And chamber women's slips, sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain, &c.
Then Chartism roar'd from north to south,
And Whigs for once, were mute, sir,
And Melbourne, unsuspecting youth,
Lent Owen, his Court-suit, sir.
I ogled then " Mackenzie" Hume,
My conscience was new skinn'd, sir ;
In Rome we do like those in Rome
And none can live on wind, sir.
And this is senss, I will maintain, &c.
And now I stand, like Talleyrand,
And every quack the drum, sir,
Through time and space I'll keep my place,
And worship all that come, sir,
Peel, Jack the Painter, Wellington,
Wat Tyler, or old Grey, sir,
My rule--" Take care of Number One,
And never miss quarter-day," sir.
And this is sense, I will maintain—
To gather place and pay, sir,
To labour, live, and die for gain,
And never miss quarter-day, sir.