Then Moses, goldsmith, damsel, clerk, Into their pickle fell; They found they were no sooner _sold_ Than clapp'd into a _cell_: From which not one of them could _bolt_, While bolted in so well! At last the trial did come on, The Court was in a throng, The _Evidence_ against them all Was _heavy, dense_, and strong; Guilty the _Ju_-ry found the _Jews_, And so might end my song:— But no; the lawyers found a flaw, To keep the law at bay— Not Bot'ny-bay—the way by which They should be sent away— So one or two, _by getting off_, May still in London _stay_. Now all the Culprits' fates depend On what the Judges choose; To sin-a-gain, not Synagogue, Their liberty they'd use: So England hopes her Judges wont Emancipate the Jews! MARCH. [1840. [Illustration] MARCH DUST.—THE BELL SAVAGE. [Sidenote: SEASON'S SIGNS. ——————— ♈ ♂ ♒ 'Tis hard for dust they may not ring; ♀ ♐ ♄ ⊕ because, in March, 'twill buy a King. [Illustration: A Jolly Cock] [Illustration: A Dustman and his Belle.]] That dustman's bell—that dustman's bell— What horrid tales its tongue did tell! He surely served his country well Who freed us from the dustman's bell. When basking in the morning beams, I revell'd in Elysian dreams, 'Mong flowers, by Helicon's sweet bubble, Inventing rhymes with little trouble; What did so soon the charm dispel, As that detested dustman's bell! Or, thinking all the night away, On debts ungather'd, bills to pay; And pondering how it might be known Whether 'twas best to hang or drown, I've dropped into a wearied snooze, And quickly tied the fatal nooze, Then, starting at my funeral knell, Found 'twas the dustman's passing bell.