The Daily Advertiser

For the DAILY ADVERTISER.

Mr. CHILDS.

I send you a few lines on the disbanding of a Corps, about the time of Chevy Chase battle. It was expected by the great Duke, to have done great honor to itself, and service to its country; and tho' it failed in both, yet the great Commander was not to blame. He alone would have crushed all his enemies.

If you like it, perhaps I will send you the remainder of his story, tho' it is hard to pick it out of the old book which contains it.

Like David was as brave a wight,
As ever strode a saddle,
And sweetest verses he could write
With this, or t'other daddle.

Upright he was, and six feet high,
A sweet majestic figure,
His trusty sword hung on his thigh
Like to a ship's out-rigger.

In silk'n coat when he was clad,
And stuff'd in silken jacket.
He sounded like a drum well braced,
A tight-strung tennis racket.

His wig was made of dainty hair
With curls on either side,
A mask he wore to keep off air
When he did take a ride.

His beast was of a dapple grey
And could both pace and trot,
But seldom getting oats or hay
She was right lean I wot.

All mounted on his trusty jade
(With his Esquire en croup)
He slowly drew his nut-brown blade
And thus address'd his troop.

Adieu, my friends both great and small,
By Arthur, you're disbanded,
Accept my thanks each one and all,
You'll get nought else--I'm candid.

In Europe's Courts, where I have stay'd,
Full many a Corps I've seen
But never saw such foul pranks play'd
With any Corps I ween.

Right ready have you been to kill
Your cruel country's foes.
And black insurgent blood to spill
By tweaking of the nose.

Oh! had Duke Day but come this way
We'd fought him like the nation,
And at one gulp we'd ate him up,
As we would eat a ration.

Let this suffice, I can't say more
My heart is ill at ease,
I give to my beloved Corps
Each half a pound of cheese.

A gill of rum I give also
To fit each man to grapple
With this vile world, before I go
Three cheers for me and dapple.

TIMON.