(N.B.-His horns, they say, unscrew; So he has but to take them out of the socket, And-just as some fine husbands do-Conveniently clap them into his pocket.) In short, he looked extremely natty, And even contrived to his own great wonder By dint of sundry scents from Gattie, To keep the sulphurous hogo under. And so my gentleman hoofed about, Unknown to all but a chosen few At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt, He had many post-obits falling due. Alike a gamester and a wit, At night he was seen with Crockford's crew; At morn with learned dames would sit So passed his time 'twixt black and blue. Some wished to make him an M.P.; But, finding W-lks was also one, he Was heard to say 'he'd be d-d if he Would ever sit in one house with Johnny.' At length, as secrets travel fast, And devils, whether he or she, Are sure to be found out at last, The affair got wind most rapidly. to 've seen 'em, As paw shook hand, and hand shook paw, And 'twas 'Hail, good fellow, wel' met,' between 'em. Straight an indictment was preferred And much the Devil enjoyed the jest. When, looking among the judges, he heard That, of all the batch, his own was In vain Defendant proffered proof That Plaintiff's self was the Father of Evil Brought Hoby forth to swear to the hoof, And Stultz to speak to the tail of the The Jury-saints, all snug and rich, And readers of virtuous Sunday papers Found for the Plaintiff; on hearing which The Devil gave one of his loftiest capers For oh, it was nuts to the father of lies (As this wily fiend is named in the Bible), To find it settled by laws so wise, That the greater the truth, the worse the libel! Oh! there's nothing left us now, But to mourn the past; Vain was every ardent vowNever yet did Heaven allow Love so warm, so wild, to last. Not even hope could now deceive meLife itself looks dark and cold: Oh! thou never more canst give me One dear smile like those of old. THE DAY OF LOVE. THE beam of morning trembling Stole o'er the mountain brook, With timid ray resembling Affection's early look. Thus love begins-sweet morn of love! The noontide ray ascended, And o'er the valley stream As passion's riper dream. But evening came, o'ershading From Passion's altered eye. Thus love declines-cold eve of love! THE SONG OF WAR. THE song of war shall echo through our mountains, Till not one hateful link remains Of slavery's lingering chainsTill not one tyrant tread our plains, Nor traitor lip pollute our fountains. No! never till that glorious day Shall Lusitania's sons be gay, Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay Resounding through her sunny mountains. The song of war shall echo through our mountains, Till Victory's self shall, smiling, say, 'Your cloud of foes hath passed away, And Freedom comes with new-born The snow on Jura's steep Can smile with many a beam, Yet still in chains of coldness sleep, How bright soe'er it seem. But when some deep-felt ray, Whose touch is fire, appears, Oh! then the smile is warmed away, And, melting, turns to tears. For his was the error of head, not | A prince without pride, a man without heart, And-oh, how beyond the ambushed foe, Who to enmity adds the traitor's part, And carries a smile, with a curse below! If ever a heart made bright amends For the fatal fault of an erring head Go, learn his fame from the lips of friends, In the orphan's tear be his glory read. guile, To the last unchanging, warm, sin 'I NEVER give a kiss,' says Prue, 'To naughty man, for I abhor it.' She will not give a kiss 'tis true, She'll take one though, and thank you for it . ON A SQUINTING POETESS. To no one Muse does she her glance incline, A JOKE VERSIFIED. 'COME, come,' said Tom's father, at your time of life, ON LIKE a snuffers this loving old dame, Though so oft she has snapped at the flame, A SPECULATION. Or all speculations the market holds forth, Is to buy up, at the price he is worth, And then sell him at that which he sets on himself. FROM THE FRENCH. Of all the men one meets about There's none like Jack, he's everywhere, At church-park-auction-dinner-rout,Go where and when you will he's there. Try the world's end; he's at your back, Meets you, like Eurus, in the east: You're called upon for- How do, Jack?' One hundred times a day at least. A friend of his, one evening, said, As home he took his pensive wayUpon my soul, I fear Jack's dead, I've seen him but three times to-day!' ILLUSTRATION OF A BORE. If ever you've seen a gay party Relieved from the presence of NedHow instantly joyous and hearty They've grown when the damper was fled You may guess what a gay piece of work, And come sparkling to you, love, and me. |