Part 4 — THE MILLING-MATCH BETWEEN ENTELLUS AND DARES. TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE AENEID, BY ONE OF THE FANCY. THOMAS MOORE.

With daddles [Footnote: Hands.] high upraised, and NOB held back, In awful prescience of the impending THWACK, Both KIDDIES [Footnote: Fellows, usually YOUNG fellows.] stood—and with prelusive SPAR, And light manoeuv'ring, kindled up the war! The One, in bloom of youth—a LIGHT-WEIGHT BLADE— The Other, vast, gigantic, as if made, Express, by Nature for the hammering trade; But aged, slow, with stiff limbs, tottering much, And lungs, that lack'd the BELLOWS-MENDER'S touch.

Yet, sprightly TO THE SCRATCH both BUFFERS came, While RIBBERS rung from each resounding frame, And divers DIGS, and many a ponderous PELT, Were on their broad BREAD-BASKETS heard and felt With roving aim, but aim that rarely miss'd, Round LUGS and OGLES [Footnote: Ears and Eyes.] flew the frequent fist; While showers of FACERS told so deadly well, That the crush'd jaw-bones crackled as they fell! But firmly stood ENTELLUS—and still bright, Though bent by age, with all THE FANCY'S light, STOPP'D with a skill, and RALLIED with a fire The Immortal FANCY could alone inspire!

While DARES, SHIFTING round, with looks of thought, An opening to the COVE'S huge carcase sought (Like General PRESTON, in that awful hour, When on ONE leg he hopp'd to—take the Tower!) And here, and there, explored with active FIN [Footnote: Arm.] And skillful FEINT, some guardless pass to win, And prove a BORING guest when once LET IN. And now ENTELLUS, with an eye that plann'd PUNISHING deeds, high raised his heavy hand, But, ere the SLEDGE came down, young DARES spied His shadow o'er his brow, and slipp'd aside— So nimbly slipp'd, that the vain NOBBER pass'd Through empty air; and He, so high, so vast, Who dealt the stroke, came thundering to the ground Not B—CK—GH—M himself, with bulkier sound, Uprooted from the field of Whiggish glories, Fell SOUSE, of late, among the astonish'd Tories! Instant the RING was broke, and shouts and yells From Trojan FLASHMEN and Sicilian SWELLS Fill'd the wide heaven—while, touch'd with grief to see His PAL, [Footnote: Friend] well-known through many a LARK and SPREE, [Footnote: Party of pleasure and frolic] Thus RUMLY FLOOR'D, the kind ACESTES ran, And pitying raised from earth the GAME old man, Uncow'd, undamaged to the SPORT he came, His limbs all muscle, and his soul all flame. The memory of his MILLING glories past, The shame that aught but death should see him GRASS'D, All fired the veteran's PLUCK—with fury flush'd, Full on his light-limb'd CUSTOMER he rush'd— And HAMMERING right and left, with ponderous swing, RUFFIAN'D the reeling youngster round the RING— Nor rest, nor pause, nor breathing-time was given, But, rapid as the rattling hail from heaven Beats on the house-top, showers of RANDALL'S SHOT [Footnote: A favorite blow of THE NONPARIEL'S, so called.] Around the Trojan's LUGS flew peppering hot! Till now AENEAS, fill'd with anxious dread, Rush'd in between them, and, with words well-bred Preserved alike the peace and DARES' head, BOTH which the veteran much inclined to BREAK— Then kindly thus the PUNISH'D youth bespake: Poor JOHNNY RAW! what madness could impel So RUM a FLAT to face so PRIME a SWELL? Sees't thou not, boy, THE FANCY, heavenly Maid, Herself descends to this great HAMMERER'S aid, And, singling HIM from all her FLASH adorers, Shines in his HITS, and thunders in his FLOORERS? Then, yield thee, youth—nor such a SPOONEY be, To think mere man can MILL a Deity!"

Thus spoke the Chief—and now, the SCRIMAGE o'er, His faithful PALS the DONE-UP DARES bore Back to his home, with tottering GAMS, sunk heart, And MUNS and NODDLE PINK'D in every part. While from his GOB the guggling CLARET gush'd, And lots of GRINDERS, from their sockets crush'd, Forth with the crimson tide in rattling fragments rush'd!

NOT A SOUS HAD HE GOT. [PARODY ON WOLFE'S "BUKIAL or SIB JOHN MOORE."] R. HARRIS BARHAM

Not a SOUS had he got—not a guinea or note, And he looked confoundedly flurried, As he bolted away without paying his shot, And the Landlady after him hurried.

We saw him again at dead of night, When home from the Club returning; We twigg'd the Doctor beneath the light Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning. All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, Reclined in the gutter we found him; And he look'd like a gentleman taking a snooze, With his MARSHALL cloak around him.

"The Doctor's as drunk as the d——," we said, And we managed a shutter to borrow; We raised him, and sigh'd at the thought that his head Whould "consumedly ache" on the morrow.

We bore him home, and we put him to bed, And we told his wife and his daughter To give him, next morning, a couple of red Herrings, with soda-water.—

Loudly they talk'd of his money that's gone, And his Lady began to upbraid him; But little he reck'd, so they let him snore on 'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him.

We tuck'd him in, and had hardly done When, beneath the window calling, We heard the rough voice of a son of a gun Of a watchman "One o'clock!" bawling.

Slowly and sadly we all walk'd down From his room in the uppermost story; A rushlight was placed on the cold hearth-stone, And we left him alone in his glory!!