TRIUMPH OF BIGOTRY.

"COLLEGE.-We announced, in our last, that Lefroy and Shaw were returned. They were chaired yesterday; the Students of the College determined, it would seem, to imitate the mob in all things, harnessing themselves to the car, and the Masters of Arts bearing Orange flags and bludgeons before, beside, and behind the car."

Dublin Evening Post, Dec. 20. 1832.

Ay, yoke ye to the bigots' car,

Ye chos'n of Alma Mater's scions
Fleet chargers drew the God of War,
Great Cybele was drawn by lions,
And Sylvan Pan, as Poets dream,
Drove four young panthers in his team.
Thus classical L-fr-y, for once, is,
Thus, studious of a like turn-out,
He harnesses young sucking dunces,
To draw him, as their Chief, about,

And let the world a picture see
Of Dulness yok'd to Bigotry :
Showing us how young College hacks
Can pace with bigots at their backs,
As though the cubs were born to draw
Such luggage as L-fr-y and Sh-w.

Oh shade of Goldsmith, shade of Swift,
Bright spirits whom, in days of yore,
This Queen of Dulness sent adrift,
As aliens to her foggy shore * ;
Shade of our glorious Grattan, too,
Whose very name her shame recalls;
Whose effigy her bigot crew

Revers'd upon their monkish walls †,-
Bear witness (lest the world should doubt)
your mute Mother's dull renown,
Then famous but for Wit turn'd out,

Το

And Eloquence turn'd upside down;
But now ordain'd new wreaths to win,
Beyond all fame of forme days,
By breaking thus young donkies in
To draw M.P.s, amid the brays
Alike of donkies and M. A.s ; ·

Defying Oxford to surpass 'em

In this new "Gradus ad Parnassum."

* See the lives of these two poets for the circumstances under which they left Dublin College.

In the year 1799, the Board of Trinity College, Dublin, thought proper, as a mode of expressing their disapprobation of Mr. Grattan's public conduct, to order his portrait, in the Great Hall of the University, to be turned upside down, and in this position it remained for some time.

TRANSLATION FROM THE GULL

LANGUAGE.

Scripta manet.

1833.

'Twas graved on the Stone of Destiny
In letters four, and letters three;
And ne'er did the King of the Gulls go by
But those awful letters scar'd his eye;
For he knew that a Prophet Voice had said,
"As long as those words by man were read,
"The ancient race of the Gulls should ne'er
"One hour of peace or plenty share.”

But years on years successive flew,

And the letters still more legible grew,

At top, a T, an H, an E,

And underneath, D. E. B. T.

Some thought them Hebrew,-such as Jews,
More skill'd in Scrip than Scripture, use;

* Liafail, or the Stone of Destiny, -for which see Westminster Abbey.

While some surmis'd 'twas an ancient way
Of keeping accounts, (well known in the day
Of the fam'd Didlerius Jeremias,

Who had thereto a wonderful bias,)

And prov'd in books most learn'dly boring, 'Twas called the Pontick way of scoring.

Howe'er this be, there never were yet
Seven letters of the alphabet,

That, 'twixt them, form'd so grim a spell,
Or scar'd a Land of Gulls so well,

As did this awful riddle-me-ree

Of T. H. E. D. E. B. T.

*

Hark! it is struggling Freedom's cry;

66

Help, help, ye nations, or I die;

"'Tis Freedom's fight, and, on the field "Where I expire, your doom is seal'd." The Gull-King hears the awakening call, He hath summon'd his Peers and Patriots all, And he asks, "Ye noble Gulls, shall we "Stand basely by at the fall of the Free,

"Nor utter a curse, nor deal a blow?" And they answer, with voice of thunder,

"No."

Out fly their flashing swords in the air!
But, why do they rest suspended there?
What sudden blight, what baleful charm,
Hath chill'd each eye, and check'd each arm?

Alas! some withering hand hath thrown
The veil from off that fatal stone,

And pointing now, with sapless finger,
Showeth where dark those letters linger,-
Letters four, and letters three,

T. H. E. D. E. B. T.

At sight thereof, each lifted brand
Powerless falls from every hand;
In vain the Patriot knits his brow,-
Even talk, his staple, fails him now.

In vain the King like a hero treads,

His Lords of the Treasury shake their heads

And to all his talk of "brave and free,”
No answer getteth His Majesty

But "T. H. E. D. E. B. T."