"Their fortress we assail;

Hurroo! my boys, hurroo!

The bloody Saxons quail

To hear the wild shaloo;

Strike, and prevail, proud Innesfail, O'Brine, aboo, aboo!

"Our people they defied;

They shot at 'em like savages,

Their bloody guns they plied

With sanguinary ravages;

Hide, blushing Glory, hide

That day among the cabbages!

"And so no more I'll say,

But ask your Mussy great,

And humbly sing and pray,

Your Majesty's poor Wait:

Your Smith O'Brine in 'Forty-nine

Will blush for 'Forty-eight."

LINES ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT.*

BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE FOOT-GUARDS (BLUE).

I PACED upon my beat

With steady step and slow,

All huppandownd of Ranelagh Street;
Ran'lagh St. Pimlico.

While marching huppandownd
Upon that fair May morn,

Beold the booming cannings sound,

A royal child is born!

The Ministers of State

Then presnly I sor,

They gallops to the Pallis gate,

In carridges and for.

The birth of Prince Arthur.

With anxious looks intent,

Before the gate they stop,

There comes the good Lord President,

And there the Archbishopp.

Lord John he next elights;

And who comes here in haste?

'Tis the ero of one underd fights, The caudle for to taste.

Then Mrs. Lily, the nuss,

Towards them steps with joy;

Says the brave old Duke, "Come tell to us, Is it a gal or a boy?"

Says Mrs. L. to the Duke,

"Your Grace, it is a Prince." And at that nuss's bold rebuke,

He did both laugh and wince.

By memory backards borne,

Peraps his thoughts did stray

To that old place where he was born, Upon the first of May.

Peraps he did recal

The ancient towers of Trim;

And County Meath and Dangan Hall They did rewisit him.

I phansy of him so

His good old thoughts employin';

Fourscore years and one ago

Beside the flowin' Boyne.

His father praps he sees,
Most musicle of Lords,

A playing maddrigles and glees
Upon the Arpsicords.

Jest phansy this old Ero
Upon his mother's knee!

Did ever lady in this land

Ave greater sons than she?

And I shoudn be surprise

While this was in his mind,

If a drop there twinkled in his eyes Of unfamiliar brind.

To Hapsly Ouse next day

Drives up a Broosh and for,

A gracious prince sits in that Shay (I mention him with Hor!)

They ring upon the bell,

The Porter shows his Ed,

(He fought at Vaterloo as vell, And vears a Veskit red.)

To see that carriage come The people round it press: "And is the galliant Duke at ome?" "Your Royal Ighness, yes."

He stepps from out the Broosh
And in the gate is gone,
And X, although the people push,

Says wery kind "Move hon."