LINES ADDRESSED TO D. I. R.

Auckland Examiner, Volume IV, Issue 272, 13 June 1860, Page 3

LINES ADDRESSED TO D. I. R.

When sentiment is sacrificed to sound, And truth cut short to make a period round ; I judge a man of sense can scarce do worse, Than caper in the morris dance of verse. Adapted from Cowper. Oh 1 D. I. R. whoe’er you be, For sake of our humanity, Pray take yourself away to sea, And leave alone the Rifles. Of empty barrels I have read, Which make the greater sound ’tissaid, Such barrels suit your theme instead,

Of barrels of the Rifles. Perhaps you thought you’d cut a dash, By such attempt your wit to flash, But down you’ve come with a pretty crash, With your poetic trifles. I’m no clairvoyant sir, you see, But your verses are enough for me, They shew your monstrous vanity, And fear won’t do for Rifles. And you a Rifleman forsooth, You sure can tell us all the truth, E’en tbo’ in lines the most uncouth,

When you the public feast Sir. Perhaps too, when you write again, You’ll tell us why your fellow men, You slaughter with your valiant pen, Or make attempt at least Sir. To praise yourself and company, You’re welcome if a cause you see, Tho’ I don’t see necessity,

Of self-recommendation. But pay a due respect to those, Who are our fellows, not our foes, And none will obstacles oppose, To your self-admiration. Three hundred foes at least you make, The Rifle fabric help to shake, And make attempt the bond to break. That ne’er was very strong. Sir, If wise, to strengthen it you’d try. Some little pleasure self-deny, Not sell the truth to gratify, A trivial taste for song, Sir., I’ve nearly done, one virtue you (Or vice, but either term will do) Have largely, if your verse be true,. ’Tis called hesitation. Pray cultivate that virtue more, On silenee put a greater store, And think a longer time before,, You send us your narration. Censor.