Princes were born, and drums were banged; Now and then batches of Highwaymen hanged.

"Glorious news!"-from the Spanish Main; PORTO-BELLO at last was ta'en.

"Glorious news !"-for the liquor trade; Nobody dreamed of "BEAU BROCADE."

People were thinking of Spanish Crowns ;
Money was coming from seaport towns!

Nobody dreamed of " BEAU BROCADE," (Only DOLLY the Chambermaid !)

Blessings on VERNON! Fill up the cans; Money was coming in "Flys" and "Vans."

Possibly, JOHN the Host had heard ;
Also, certainly, GEORGE the Guard.

And DOLLY had possibly tidings, too,
That made her rise from her bed anew,

Plump as ever, but stern of eye,

With a fixed intention to warn the "Fly."

Lingering only at JOHN his door,
Just to make sure of a jerky snore;

Saddling the gray mare, Dumpling Star;
Fetching the pistol out of the bar;

(The old horse-pistol that, they say, Came from the battle of Malplaquet ;)

Loading with powder that maids would use, Even in "Forty," to clear the flues;

And a couple of silver buttons, the Squire
Gave her, away in Devonshire.

These she wadded-for want of better

With the B-SH-P of L-ND-N'S "Pastoral Letter";

Looked to the flint, and hung the whole,

Ready to use, at her pocket-hole.

Thus equipped and accoutred, DOLLY
Clattered away to “Exciseman's Folly";—

Such was the name of a ruined abode,
Just on the edge of the London road.

Thence she thought she might safely try,
As soon as she saw it, to warn the "Fly."

But, as chance fell out, her rein she drew,
As the BEAU came cantering into the view.

By the light of the moon she could see him drest In his famous gold-sprigged tambour vest;

And under his silver-gray surtout,

The laced, historical coat of blue,

That he wore when he went to London-Spaw,
And robbed Sir MUNGO MUCKLETHRAW.

Out-spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid, (Trembling a little, but not afraid,)

"Stand and Deliver, O 'BEAU BROCADE'!"

But the BEAU rode nearer, and would not speak, For he saw by the moonlight a rosy cheek;

And a spavined mare with a rusty hide;
And a girl with her hand at her pocket-side.

So never a word he spoke as yet,

For he thought 'twas a freak of MEG or BET;— A freak of the "Rose" or the "Rummer" set.

Out-spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid,

(Tremulous now, and sore afraid,)

"Stand and Deliver, O 'BEAU BROCADE'!"—

Firing then, out of sheer alarm,

Hit the BEAU in the bridle-arm.

Button the first went none knows where,

But it carried away his solitaire;

Button the second a circuit made,

Glanced in under the shoulder blade;—

Down from the saddle fell "BEAU BROCADE"!

Down from the saddle and never stirred!-
DOLLY grew white as a Windsor curd.

Slipped not less from the mare, and bound
Strips of her kirtle about his wound.

Then, lest his Worship should rise and flee,
Fettered his ankles-tenderly.

Jumped on his chestnut, BET the fleet (Called after BET of Portugal Street);

Came like the wind to the old Inn-door;-
Roused fat JOHN from a three-fold snore;—

Vowed she 'd 'peach if he misbehaved.
Briefly, the "Plymouth Fly" was saved!

Staines and Windsor were all on fire:-
DOLLY was wed to a Yorkshire squire;
Went to Town at the K-G's desire!

But whether His M-J-STY saw her or not,
HOGARTH jotted her down on the spot;

And something of DOLLY one still may trace
In the fresh contours of his "Milkmaid's" face.

GEORGE the Guard fled over the sea:
JOHN had a fit-of perplexity;

Turned King's evidence, sad to state;-
But JOHN was never immaculate.

As for the BEAU, he was duly tried,
When his wound was healed, at Whitsuntide;

Served for a day-as the last of "sights,"
To the world of St. James's-Street and "White's”,

Went on his way to TYBURN TREE,
With a pomp befitting his high degree.