THE NEW YEAR
(For the Mirror.)
Twenty-nine, Father Janus! and can it be true,
That your double-fac'd sconce is again in our view?
Take a chair, my old boy—while our glasses we fill,
And tell us, "what news"—for you can if you will.
Shall we have any war? or will there be peace?
Will swindlers, as usual, the credulous fleece?
Will the season produce us a deluge of rain?
Did the comet bring coughs and catarrhs in his train?