Now, hey for old BEAUVILLIERS'S[3] larder, my boy!
And, once _there_, if the Goddess of Beauty and Joy
Were to write "Come and kiss me, dear BOB!" I'd not budge--
Not a step, DICK, as sure as my name is
R. FUDGE.
[1] The Bill of Fare.--Very, a well-known _Restaurateur_.
[2] The favorite wine of Napoleon.
[3] A celebrated restaurateur.
LETTER IV.
FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ----
"Return!"--no, never, while the withering hand
Of bigot power is on that hapless land;
While, for the faith my fathers held to God,
Even in the fields where free those fathers trod,
I am proscribed, and--like the spot left bare
In Israel's halls, to tell the proud and fair
Amidst their mirth, that Slavery had been there[1]--
On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace
The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace!
No!--let _them_ stay, who in their country's pangs
See naught but food for factions and harangues;
Who yearly kneel before their masters' doors
And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores:
Still let your . . . .[2]
. . . . .
Still hope and suffer, all who can!--but I,
Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must fly.
But whither?--every where the scourge pursues--
Turn where he will, the wretched wanderer views,
In the bright, broken hopes of all his race,
Countless reflections of the Oppressor's face.
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