Ladies and gentlemen, to-day,
With scenes adapted to th' occasion,
A grand new pantomime we play,
Entitled Harlequin's Invasion.

No comic pantomime before
Could ever boast such tricks surprising;
The hero capers Europe o'er —
But hush! behold the curtain rising.

And first the little isle survey,
Where sleeps a peasant boy so hearty;
That little isle is Corsica,
That peasant boy is Bonaparte.

Now lightnings flash, and thunders roar,
Demon of witchcraft hover o'er him;
And, rising through the stage trap-door,
An evil genius stands before him.

His arms in solemn state are cross'd
His voice appals th' amaz'd beholders,
His head in circling clouds is lost,
And crimson pinions shade his shoulders.

" Mortal, awake! " the phantom cries,
" And burst the bonds of fear asunder,
My name is Anarchy — arise!
Thy future fortunes teem with wonder.

" To spread my reign the earth around,
Here take this sword, whose magic power
Shall sense, and right, and wrong confound,
And work new wonders ev'ry hour.

" Throw off that peasant garb, begin
T' assume the party-colour'd rover,
And, as a sprightly Harlequin,
Trip, lightly trip, all Europe over. "

He spoke, and instant to the view
Begins the curious transformation;
His mask asumes a sable hue,
His dress a pantomimic fashion.

Now round the stage, in gandy pride,
Capers the renovated varlet;
Shakes the lath weapon at his side,
And shines in blue, and white, and scarlet.

High on a rock, his cunning eye
Surveys half Europe at a glance,
Flat Holland, fertile Italy,
Old Spain, and gay regen'rate France.

He strikes with wooden sword the earth,
Which heaves with motion necromantic:
The nations own a second birth,
And trace his steps with gestures antic.

The Pope prepares for war, but soon
All powerful Hariequin disarms him;
And changing into Pantatoon ,
Each motion frets, each noise alarms him.

With trembling haste he seeks to join
His daughter Gallia , lovely rover!
But she, transform'd to Columbine ,
Her father scorns, and seeks her lover.

The Duichman next his magic feels,
Changed to the Clown , he hobbles after;
Blundering pursues the light of heels,
Convulsing friends and foes with laughter.

But all their various deeds of sin,
What mortal man has ever reckon'd?
The mischief plann'd by Harlequin,
Fair Columbine is sure to second.

They quickly kill poor Pantaloon,
And now our drama's plot grows riper:
Whene'er they frisk it to some tune,
The Clown is forced to pay the piper .

Each foreign land he dances through,
In soms new garb beholds the hero.
Pagan and Christian, Turk and Jew,
Cromwell, Caligula, and Nero.

A butcher Harlequin appears,
The rapid scene to Egypt flying;
O'er captive Turks his sword uprears,
The stage is strew'd with dead and dying.

Next by the crafty genius taught,
Sportive he tries a doctor's trick;
Presents the bowl with poison fraught,
And kills his own unconscious sick.

Hey! pass! he's back to Europe gone,
All hostile followers disappointed;
Kicks five old women from the throne,
And dubs himself the Lord's anointed.

In close embrace with Columbine,
Pass, gaily pass, the flying hours;
While, prostrate at their blood-stain'd shrine,
Low bend the European powers.

Touch'd by his sword, the morals fly,
The virtues into vices dwindling;
Courage is turn'd to cruelty,
And public faith to private swindling.

With atheist Bishops, jockey Peers,
His hurly-burly court is graced;
Contractors, brewer-charioteers,
Mad Lords, and Duchesses dis-Graced.

And now th' invasion scene comes on;
The patch'd and pie-ball'd renegado
Hurls at Britannia's lofty throne
Full many a mad and proud bravado.

The trembling Clown dissuades in vain,
And finds too late there's no retreating
Whatever Harlequin may gain,
The Clown is sure to get a beating.

They tempt the main, the canvass raise,
A storm destroys his valiant legions;
And lo! our closing scene displays
A grand view of th' infernal regions.

Thus have we, gentlefolks, to-day,
With pains proportion'd to th' occasion,
Our piece perform'd; then prithee say,
How like you Harlequin's Invasion?