"Travellers of that rare tribe, Who've _seen_ the countries
they describe."
HANNAH MORE.

When daudling diligences drag
Their lumbering length along[2] no more--
That odd anomaly!--or wag
Gon call'd, or coach--a misnomer[3]--

That Cerberus three-bodied! and
That Cerberus of music!
Such rattle with their nine-in-hand!
O, Cerbere, an tu sic?

When this, (and of Long Acre wits
To rival this would floor some!)
When this at last the Frenchman quits.
Then! then is the _age d'or_ come!

When coxcomb waiters know their trade,
Nor mix their sauces[4] with cookey's;
When John's no longer chamber maid,
And printed well a book is.

When sorrel, garlic, dirty knife,
_Et cetera_, spoil no dinners--
(The punishment is after life,
Are cooks to punish sinners?)