FATHER NEPTUNE, one day, as he traversed the seas, Much wanted a spot to recline at his ease: For long tossed and tired by the billow's commotion, ''Tis a shame,' cried the god, 'I'm confined to the ocean. I'll have an island!' To VULCAN he flew, Saying, 'Help me this time, and in turn I'll help you. To make a new island's an excellent scheme; And I think, my dear VULCAN, we'll raise it by steam.' 'Agreed!' cried the god. Straight to work they repair, And throw an abundance of smoke in the air. This mariners saw, and it did them affright; They straightway concluded all could not be right. 'We'll to Sicily repair, and appeal to powers civil, For certainly this is the work of the devil!' The Austrians and French came the wonder to view: Said Britain, in anger, 'That isle's not for you! For us, us alone, did Britannia design it, And, d' ye see, we'll be d----d if we ever resign it! On that island we'll land! there our standard we'll raise! We will there plant our jack, if the island should blaze!' The gods, in great wrath, heard all this contention: 'Dear NEPTUNE,' said VUL., 'this has spoiled our invention.' 'It has,' said the god, 'but, I swear by my trident, The proud sons of Britain shall never abide on 't! It was raised for a god, and no vile worthless mortal On that island shall dwell, to eat oysters and turtle. Down! down with it, VUL., that will best end the quarrel, And I'll be content with my old bed of coral.' * * * * *