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To' engross a moment's notice; and yet begs,
Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts,
However trivial all that he conceives.

Sweet bashfulness! it claims at least this praise;
The dearth of information and good sense,
That it foretells us, always comes to pass.
Cataracts of declamation thunder here;
There forests of no meaning spread the page,
In which all comprehension wanders lost!
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there,
With merry descants on a nation's woes.
The rest appears a wilderness of strange
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows of faded age,
Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,
Heaven, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets,
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews,

Sermons, and city feasts, and favourite airs,
Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits,

And Katerfelto, with his hair on end

At his own wonders, wondering for his bread!

COWPER.

THE NEWSMAN.

"I, that do bring the News."-Shakspere.

OUR calling, however the vulgar may deem,
Was of old, both on high and below, in esteem;
E'en the gods were to much curiosity given,
For Hermes was only the Newsman of heaven.

Hence with wings to his cap, and his staff, and his heels,
He depictured appears, which our myst'ry reveals,
That news flies like wind, to raise sorrow or laughter,
While, leaning on Time, Truth comes heavily after.

1747.

K

Newsmen's Verses

NEWS.*

A MASTER-passion is the love of news
Not music so commands, nor so the muse:
Give poets claret, they grow idle soon:
Feed the physician, and he 's out of tune;
But the sick mind, of this disease possessed,
Flies from all cures, and sickens when at rest.
CRABBE.

SONG.

Tune-"Gee-ho, Dobbin."

COME, each Chapelonian! I hope you'll agree,
To drink to the mem'ry of CAXTON, with me;
The Father of Printing,-his labour to bless,
In Westminster abbey he fix'd the first Press :

Oh! rare, Printing, the fam'd Art of Printing!
Long may it flourish, and never decay.

The use of our Art spread in each British town,
Tho' the monks and the friars would fain put it down;

The original orthography was newes, and in the singular. Johnson has, however, decided, that the word newes is a substantive without a singular, unless it be considered as singular. The word new, according to Wachter, is of very ancient use, and is common to many nations. The Britons, and the Anglo-Saxons had the word, though not the thing. It was first printed by Caxton in the modern sense. In the Siege of Rhodes, which was translated by John Kay, the poet laureate, and printed by Caxton, about the year 1490. In the Assembly of Foulis, which was printed by Williain Copland in 1530, there is the following exclamation:

"Newes! Newes! Newes! have ye ony Newes?"

In the translation of the Utopia by Raphe Robinson, citizen and goldsmythe, which was imprinted by Abraham Nele, in 1551, we are told, "As for monsters, because they be no newes, of them we were nothynge inquysitive."-Such is the rise, and such the progress of the word news, which even in 1551 was still printed newes!

There is not a porch or a market place which the news-monger does not take his stand for a whole day together, tiring his invention and amusing his hearers with an everlasting series of fictions and forgeries.Theophrastus. B. C. 305.

Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy, published in 1621, says if any read now-a-days it is a play-book, or a pamphlet of newes."

"That

In each chapel a devil soon put them to shame,
And batter'd the foes that would mackle our fame!

Oh! rare Printing, &c.

When call'd to the bar we no register need,
For so clean are our proofs to all that can read;
And our hearts, like our quoins, are always secure,
Our characters bold, and the fount will endure.
Oh! rare Printing, &c.

As companions, I trust, we shall ever compose
A broadside of friendship, and on tramps ne'er impose;
To-night, a full case, and the heap not too dry,
A good measure, to-morrow, but the sorts not in pie.
Oh! rare Printing, &c.

May we keep in a JOURNAL,* the joys of this day
That will bear a REVIEW when we wish to be gay;
May a MERCURY* waft to our friends far and near,
The fat work and good pull we have once a year!
Oh! rare Printing, &c.

When the Great Overseer bids the last form to rise,
May our work be correct, and need no revise;
Securely lock'd up, may fresh copy be given,
And be Chapelonians together in Heaven!

Nottingham, June 1831.

Oh! rare Printing, &c.

C. H. TIMPERLEY.

BOOKS.

'TWERE well, with most, if books, that could engage
Their childhood, pleased them at a riper age;
The man approving what had charmed the boy,
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy;
And not with curses on his art who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.

The Nottingham Newspapers."

COWPER.

THE ART OF BEING HAPPY.

АH me! how numberless the ills and cares
Which wait on all that live-and all their heirs!
And must continue while this world exists:
"Wo! wo!" exclaim our best philanthropists-
Words of deep meaning are arresting force,
The same as carter holla's to his horse;
Who, judging well the whip of judgment 's near,
Acts as he ought-and stops in his career.
Typos! to mend it never is too late-
Instead of writing horse-Go, imitate!

But you exclaim-" The d-1 take your Wo!
We do not wish to stop-we want to go;
Or, rather, what is happiness to know."
Hear, and attend, each typographic cove,
While I the "Art of being Happy" prove.
Small Pica twelvemo-reprint-with thin leads;
Companions, eightvo hands and fourto heads-
Fippence per thousand-and, oh, gracious powers!
Fat imposition ev'ry four hours—

Copy not line for line, nor page for page—
Matter at random-partners in a rage-
No shammocks for the indolent or nappy-

This, this, my lad,'s "The Art of being Happy!"

GEORGE BRIMMER.

AN AUTHOR'S VANITY.

the foolish poet, that still writ

All his self-loved verse in paper royal,

Or parchment ruled with lead, smooth'd with the pumice Bound richly up, and strung with crimson strings;

Never so blest as when he writ and read

The ape-loved issue of his brain; and never

But joying in himself, admiring ever.

1633.

GEORGE CHAPMAN.

SONG.-NEWSPAPER HEADINGS.

BRING me the "Times," I'll read awhile
From its exhaustless fonts,

It grieves me much to witness such
A multitude of wants.

What news and queer advertisements,
And headings droll there are;
It is indeed" a pretty page,"
And does look out afar.

A Chartist outrage! What is this?
Great burning down of huts;
The military called out! and here's
A work with fine steel cuts!

Two horses killed while pulling loads,

The timber ways not good;

Then here's "Just out, a work on Roads,"

With "drawings upon wood!"

What now comes here? "Try Barclay's beer!" Then "gin distilled by Hodge;"

"Sir Robert Peel; the income tax; New play" the Artful Dodge."

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Brighton, Dover, France, Herne Bay,
To all these places "Guides; "
What's here? the army flogging men,
And followed by "raw hides."

Advertisements by lots now come,
Here syrups, and here balms;
One is headed" Wanting hands,"
Another " Wanting alms."

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