Some cleanly churchwarden has cover'd with plaster; While some Vandal or Jew, With a taste for _virtu_, Has knock'd off his toes, to place, I suppose, In some Pickwick Museum, with part of his nose; From his belt and his sword And his _misericorde_ The enamel's been chipp'd out, and never restored; His _ci-gît_ in old French is inscribed all around, And his head's in his helm, and his heel's on his hound, The palms of his hands, as if going to pray, Are joined and upraised o'er his bosom--But stay! I forgot that his tomb's not described in the Play! * * * * * Lady Arundel, now in her own right a Peeress, Perplexes her noddle with no such nice queries, But produces in time, to her husband's great joy, Another remarkably "fine little boy." As novel connections Oft change the affections, And turn all one's love into different directions, Now to young "Johnny Newcome" she seems to confine hers, Neglecting the poor little dear out at dry-nurse; Nay, far worse than that, She considers "the brat" As a bore--fears her husband may smell out a rat. For her legal adviser She takes an old Miser, A sort of "poor cousin." She might have been wiser; For this arrant deceiver, By name Maurice Beevor, A shocking old scamp, should her own issue fail, By the law of the land stands the next in entail; So, as soon as she ask'd him to hit on some plan To provide for her eldest, away the rogue ran To that self-same unprincipled sea-faring man; In his ear whisper'd low ... --"Bully Gaussen" said "Done!-- I Burked the papa, now I'll Bishop the son!" 'Twas agreed; and, with speed To accomplish the deed, He adopted a scheme he was sure would succeed. By long cock-and-bull stories Of Candish and Noreys, Of Drake, and bold Raleigh, (then fresh in his glories, Acquired 'mongst the Indians, and Rapparee Tories,) He so work'd on the lad, That he left, which was bad, The only true friend in the world that he had, Father Onslow, a priest, though to quit him most loth, Who in childhood had furnish'd his pap and his broth, At no small risk of scandal, indeed, to his cloth. The kidnapping crimp Took the foolish young imp On board of his cutter so trim and so jimp, Then, seizing him just as you'd handle a shrimp, Twirl'd him thrice in the air with a whirligig motion, And soused him at once neck and heels in the ocean; This was off Plymouth Sound, And he must have been drown'd, For 'twas nonsense to think he could swim to dry ground, If "A very great Warman, Call'd Billy the Norman," Had not just at that moment sail'd by, outward bound. A shark of great size, With his great glassy eyes, Sheer'd off as he came, and relinquish'd the prize; So he pick'd up the lad,[16] swabb'd, and dry-rubb'd, and mopp'd him, And, having no children, resolv'd to adopt him.