IN PITY GIVE THREE CHEERS!
A PARODY ON THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.

PITY the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose gilded yacht has borne him to your shore :
Let not his wife chastise him with her fan ;
Oh ! give three cheers, if you can give no more.

These well-made clothes my wish to please bespeak,
These curling locks disguise my lengthen'd years,
And the bluff whiskers on each ample cheek,
Might strike an Indian warrior with fears.

The house which once I fondly thought my own—
Scene of my triumphs—now has ceas'd to shine;
For Justice there shall fix her golden throne,
And truth, and law, and liberty combine.

Hard is the fate of the infirm and weak !
Here, as I crav'd them to disgrace my wife,
They said ano her bride I must not seek,
And saucy Denman bade me mend my life.

Had fate reduced me, I should not repine ;
My friends have brought me to the state you see,
And your condition will be soon like mine—
They'll bring you, too, to want and misery.

A huge Green Bag, delighted they display—
Gay as a lark I view'd the valued prize ;
But, oh, its treasures melt in dirt away,
Beneath the flash of Brougham's inquiring eyes.

My sprightly Canning, soother of my cares,
Keen as a Rat, the coming storm to see,
Departed, when I tamper'd with the pray'rs
And left the Bag to Gifford and to me.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose gilded yacht has borne him to your shore :
Let not his wife chastise him with her fan ;
Oh ! give three cheers, if you can give no more.

The above Stanzas were lately picked up on the shore
near Cowes. The lines that are left out were illegible, appa-
rently from the Manuscript, which was torn, having been
used in keeping a pair of refractory whiskers in good order.