Oh Echo, sweet nymph of the hill,
Of the dell and the deep-sounding shelves;
If in spite of Narcissus you still
Take to fools who are charmed with themselves,
Who knows but, some morning retiring,
To walk by the Trent's wooded side,
You may meet with Newcastle, admiring
His own lengthened ears in the tide!
Or, on into Cambria straying,
Find Kenyon, that double tongued elf,
In his love of ass-cendency, braying
A Brunswick duet with himself!
[1] "Let us from Clubs."
[2] Commonly called "Paddy Blake's Echoes".
[3] Anti-Catholic associations, under the title of Brunswick Clubs, were at this time becoming numerous both in England and Ireland.
INCANTATION.
FROM THE NEW TRAGEDY OF "THE BRUNSWICKERS."
SCENE.—Penenden Plain. In the middle, a caldron boiling. Thunder.— Enter three Brunswickers.
1st Bruns.—Thrice hath scribbling Kenyon scrawled,