Alexandria Gazette & Advertiser

FOR THE ALEXANDRIA GAZETTE.
MR. SNOWDEN,
We are not informed in the following tale in what age or country the "immortal bard"* who is the subject of it flourished. But as it is you are welcome to it.

HALBERT-O! A TALE.
There liv'd some years ago, a man Searson by name,
Than whom a stood higher on the rolls of fame
For poetical composition
Which it was his disposition
To indulge in—Such talents were never known,
Except as in a brother poet will be shewn,
Who is the hero of my story,
His merits too, have spread both far and wide
And is at once our greatest boast and pride,
The muses' fav'rite and the nation's glory!
Reader! you've read of Orpheus of old,
If not, no doubt you have been told
He set all nature cap'ring by his flute.
Orpheus, I beg his pardon. I'd speak true,
And give him, as I would to all, his due,
I mistook the instrument, 'twas—a lute.
Well what this same lute was under his command,
Was Searson's lyre to him, for if he'd but raise
his hand
He'd set the forests all so gaily dancing,
This, take my word for it, is no romance;
Aye, rocks, hills, and vales, would go to prancing,
As if dame Nature had got the Saint's
(St. Vitus's) dance.
Reader! to cut the matter short he died one day,
His lyre, alas! unstrung—his body turned to clay,
Or some say dust, in which he was immur'd;
Which, it is not essential to our subject now to know,
Only that he actually did die some time ago)
And we at length, his equal have secured.
Our kinder stars have raised us up another
Hail'd by the world as his poetie brother.
Albert-o!
Is his name, or, as I've the true cockney dialect and spirit.
Both of which by nature I inherit
Halbert-o
Par nobile fratrum—as we say at College"
That place of all others for increasing knowledge.
This Halbert-o, is unquestionably "a man of parts,"
By which—I mean one well vers'd in arts
Of writing poetry and fiction;
And if he fails (not likely) in applause
For rhyme, he leaves you then abundant cause
To admire his subject and his diction.
He is in fact the prodigy of the age,
And view'd as such by stripling and by sage.…
The girls, dear tender hearts, with many sighs
Will, ha! how sweet! & wipe their pretty eyes,
In reading over some affecting story
Penn'd by our hero,—full of darts and quivers,
Of dying lovers, brooks, & murm'ring rivers—
Ah! me how envied is his glory!
And withal so diffident and reserv'd.—For
whilst the city
Was regal'd by sonnets melting, or Jeu d'esprits so witty
And all alert to know this heir to fame:
He modest youth, never would have told it,
'Twas left for Yankee guesses to unfold it
And publish to the world, Halbert-o's name.
Yes, crowds at the corners were collected,
Business, amusement, all neglected,
Even cooks permitted dinners to be spoil'd,
Meats over roasted, puddings over boil'd,
Their thoughts, so bent our hero to discover,
The bard, who as I said charm'd both young and old,
And they his merits always telling never told,
'This guide, this oracle of the lover.
As for the muses;—one and all, they wait his beck,
At which each will scamper as tho'she'd break her neck,
And to summon fifty instead of 'nine' he's able,
And of Pegasus' those well known poets steeds,
He has more than as many as he needs,
In fact, of these he keeps—a livery stable!
Halbert-o! how bountiful to thee has nature been
For other bards of muses few but one have
(In fact 'tis only a relation.
Nor aids me, one of their rustic cousins.)
Whilst as I've said you summon them by dozens,
But stop—I must not stray from my narrative.
The mayor, (good luck to him!) wore dark glasses
Under which its difficult to see what passes,
But—his eyes, 'tis said, flashed fire of admiration
The Council, and the Council leader too,
Those Solomons of the age, the only true
And brilliant luminaries of the nation;
Well done! the Mayor—Well done! the President cried,
Well done! Well done! the Council all replied,
We'll register him a vote of approbation.
For his "Fragment." of which none I ween
Of more complete blank verse has e'er been seen,
Oh! it was so tragie!
It seem'd like very magic
To steal away our senses,—hem! I should say
Ah! it was such a tale
As could never fail
To rend, e'en the heart of adamant with sor-
His Father,—his mother's husband we con-
clud-,
As other inferences would at least be rude,
Became the object of a ruffian's fury!
Halbert-o, called sweet patience to his aid
And whilst he eyed the meek, the placid maid
He thought of seeking vengeance through
A jury, those honest arbiters of right and wrong
To whom, and very justly too, these powers belong
Of keeping all such myrmidons in awe—
But "second thoughts are best"—honour devis'd a nobler part
To act, 'twas with his sword to seek the offender
And yield the idea—of "going to law."
Halbert-o had a sword.
A trusty blade and true—
But it alas! was rusty, and—good what could he do
If from the scabbard he could not get it free?
What? why do as many have done before
On his stock of patience draw once more,
And as he could not get it out—why,—let it be.
But then he seduc'd his sister! oh fie! vilified
his brother!
Was it Searson? most likely as he never had another..
And now you deem his breast with vengeance burning!
Not so! for yet the offender assail'd his wife
She whom the husband swore to shield through life!
In fact our hero, a perfect Job was turning!
At length
he struck his poor old mammy so.
None of your "make believes" but a downright blow!
And this, could human nature bear it?
No! Halbert-o rais'd his valiant arm at once
And let it fall! Where? Why on the Caitiff's sconce
And broke his head! I guess, or, very near it!
Reader! What think ye? Was'nt Halbert—o
I think he was, he thinks so too—and so—good night.*
SQUIB—O!