SIR FEATHERBRIGHT. (AN APOLOGUE.) BY RICHARD HENGIST HORNE, Author of " Orion," &c. Sir Featherbright was a clever Dwarf,— A Dwarf of sense and talent was he, And he found that Success was a landing-wharf Where ships cannot sight you, though waving your scarf, Unless you can mount to a high degree. Sir Featherbright he got on a wall— A lofty brick wall on a sun-shiny day; And after he'd learnt how to creep and crawl, Who were idle and rich, as they pass'd that way. This popular Dwarf has some pills to sell, Of chaff, and sweet gum--so the bright gilding sticks The quantity sold every day I can't tell ; And the novelty-mongers soon knew him well, He made such a figure a-top of the bricks! The buffo-burlesque-ridden crowds of the Fair, With the town-fashion shewing its whiskers and hips, All came to buy pills, and applaud the fine air - With which the Dwarf sold them-to smile, sigh, and stare At the eloquent fooling that flow'd from his lips. A Giant came by with a sack of corn A large naked man with a noble face; He had plough'd,-sow'd,-reap'd,-and a long way borne But though he brought grain, and was massive and tall, |