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May every transport wont to sail
A convict bring from Doneraile;
May every churn and milking-pail
Fall dry to staves in Doneraile.

May cold and hunger still congeal
The stagnant blood of Doneraile;
May every hour new woes reveal
That hell reserves for Doneraile.

May every chosen ill prevail
O'er all the imps of Doneraile;
May no one wish or prayer avail
To soothe the woes of Doneraile.

May the Inquisition straight impale
The rapparees of Doneraile;
May Charon's boat triumphant sail,
Completely manned, from Doneraile.

Oh may my couplets never fail
To find a curse for Doneraile;
And may grim Pluto's inner jail
For ever groan with Doneraile!

ORLANDO THOMAS DOBBIN.

[The Rev. Dr. Dobbin, a clergyman of the Anglo-Irish Church, was born in the County of Armagh in 1807. Along with various original writings, he has published, with a translation, Diodati's De Christo Græce loquente, and the Codex Montfortianus].

MY MANX MINX.

ALL the Bard's rhymes, and all his inks,
Will scarce pourtray the Proteus-MINX;

Nor artist brush with brightest tincts
Of Fancy's rainbow picture MINX.

The child of Man and beast: a sphinx
Of noble rearing: that is MINX.

With paw of leopard, eye of lynx,
And spring of tiger, such is MINX,

She's playful, harmless: Mousie thinks:
But dreadful earnest's artful MINX.

Seems nonchalante, and bobs, and blinks:
Ma foi, toute autre chose is MINX.

Dormitat Homer oft: her winks

Are rare: no "nid-nid-noddin"-MINX.

Aye "takkin notes" of holes and chinks:
A slee and pawky body's MINX.

An Abbess of Misrule: she slinks
From no malfeasance: wilful MINX.

(Law:)-Ne quid nim. of neighbour's trinks: She's always nimming: roguish MINX.

With reels of silk, thread, wool, plays rinks:
Tossing and tangling: tricksy MINX.

Loves frisks, curvets, and highest jinks:
Frolic's own daughter, merry MINX.

As high-born dame in idlesse sinks,
So idleth fa-mente MINX.

A pert, coquettish, flirting finks:
Has fifty beaux at once: vain MINX.

On window-sill, in sunshine, prinks
Her dainty paws and fur: neat MINX.

Simplex munditiis, all the sminks

And smears of sluthood shuns spruce MINX.

Soprani trill their tink-a-tinks:

My prima cat-atrice's MINX.

Horns blare, drums beat, and cymbal clinks:
No mewsic equals mews of MINX.

His richest creams, nectareous drinks,
Her master sets aside for MINX.

From human cares and snares he shrinks,
To spend serener hours with MINX.

The Dean's rare taste in his precincts
Pets wild ducks: I pet wilder MINX.

Of the CAT world the pink of pinks
Is tailless, peerless, schönste MINX.

'Es del twinned, the Bard enlinks
The names for ever: OTHO,1 MINX.

10. THO, D.

Z

A DITHYRAMB ON CATS.

CONFOUND the Cats! All Cats-alway-
Cats of all colours, black, white, grey;
By night a nuisance and by day—

Confound the Cats!

Confound their saucy-looking whiskers!
Confound them whether staid or friskers!
Confound their midnight squeally discourse!
Confound the Cats!

Confound their roof-ridge caterwaulings-
Their spittings, hissings, skirlings, squallings,
And their still more lugubrious miaulings-
Confound the Cats!

Confound all Cats! Whate'er the fashion-
Persian, Manx, Maltese, or Circassian,
The sleek young Kit, or skinny passé one—
Confound the Cats!

Confound the Cats! Yet Egypt loved 'em,
With balsams and with unguents stuffed 'em,
And then within Grand Pyramids shoved 'em-
Confound the Cats!

Not Puss in Boots, of fairy scribe,

Which charmed my youth, could ever bribe
My heart to love that claw-armed tribe:

Confound the Cats!

Sly Pussies lap their milky food,
Seeming a harmless playful brood-
Yet nurse a tiger's thirst for blood.

Confound the Cats!

My Tenny-that's her name-is black,
Soft, shining, furry is her back;
But she has griffin's claws, alack!

Confound the Cats!

Confound the blackamoorish sinner!
Of waifs and strays the strenuous winner,
Purveying "small deer" for her dinner-

Confound the Cats!

While other game abound in plenties,
And young soft mice are caught in twenties,
Song-birds should still be tabooed dainties-
Confound the Cats!

O Tenny, Tenny, arch-deceiver!

Assassin, Fenian, filch and reiver !

How wilt, when tried, thy soul deliver?

Confound the Cats!

The Judge's charge-a Robin's-read,
Twelve honest Robins' verdict said,
A Robin Ketch will hang thee dead,-

Confound the Cats!

Laid in unblest abysmal tomb,
Resurgam none-a cat-acomb-

Thou'lt rot in Paris, Memphis, Rome

Confound the Cats!

Would, Richard Whittington! you'd ta'en
Your "turn again" through my domain,
And shipped a cargo off for Spain!

Confound the Cats!

'Twould have saved Robin-cheeriest fellow! With pipe so clear, and soul so mellow, Amongst his mates a regular swell, Oh

Confound the Cats!

In scarlet vest and breeches grey,
He looked the gentleman so gay-
His nut-brown coat, a cut-away.

Confound the Cats!

Puss eyed him plump and debonnair,—
Compassion cried in vain "Oh spare!"-
And trussed his gentle carcase there :

Confound the Cats!

Cat venit, vidit, vicit Rob,

A Cæsarlike and summary job,

Without one quick compunctious throb.

Confound the Cats!

Swooned Queen Robina at his rape;

While her Lord Chamberlain bade drape
All Robindom with deepest crape.

Confound the Cats!

"Confound the Cats," she cried sob-sobbing, "Who took their hard and hungry gob in

My royal spouse—my peerless Robin!

Ah me, sweet Robin!

"O feline and felonious breed!

My true love's red breast-Ah foul deed!-
To cause with redder red to bleed,

Dear murdered Robin!

"The bagpipes drone fu' sad and sairlie, Aye liltin' Wae's me for Prince Charlie;' My heart responds, Wae's me for rarely Gifted Prince Robin!

"O early lost and long adored! My dhilka tookra, my soul's lord! Thy virtues how shall I record,

My noble Robin?

"Victoria builds her Alberteum, As Caria's Queen her Mausoleum; I'll raise, I vow, my Robineum

For Consort Robin!

"Ad Viduarum nexa choream, Extruam, in majorem gloriam Robini, propriam In Memoriam.

O loved-lost-Robin!'

Her grief we share :-confound the brutes
Who turn sweet warblers into mutes,
And clothe their mates in mourning-suits--
Confound the Cats!

O one-tailed Cats, remorseless crew!
Did all Garotters meet their due,

A nine-tailed Cat would harry you—

Confound the Cats!

When Thetis dipped her bantling stout
In Styx, she pulled him quickly out
By the heel-whence came Achilles' gout:
Confound the Cats!

Far different guerdon thou shouldst win,
Tenny! for thine enormous sin;

No heel I'd hold, but plump thee in :

Confound the Cats!

O utinam the watery strife

Absorbed the last Cat's last ninth life,
Nor left one thread for Fate's sharp knife!
Confound the, Cats!

Were the Cat-world one-necked, as Nero
Wished all mankind a one-necked hero,
"Off with his head!" I'd ring out clear, Oh
Confound the Cats!

But hush, my soul, bereavement-riven !
Bow to the dark behest of Heaven-
In this round world there may be even

Needs-be for Cats!

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