lujnrvjy 
 
 'ja3/\inirjn' 
 
 -MV3llf^3V 
 
 'MUJIIIil 9V 
 
 
 
 ^sm 
 
 
 
 '^OAtl 
 
 
 en m 
 ea 
 
 is 
 
 t [- 1 r 1 1 1 1 trf\J^ 
 
 '(/;UV 
 
 't/AUvaau-ii'^' 
 
 I /^r^ « .tr*r'» ^ 
 
 'Yq^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ';»:^li3W!WV^^ 
 
 v/iaj>\, 
 
 CO 
 
 =3 - 
 
 
 
 
 t'^/: 
 
 
 m 
 
 I' 
 
 oe < 
 ea 
 
 <^t•UBRARYQ^^ 
 
 
 
 < 
 4r» 
 
 
 ^OF'CAllF0/?,i^ 
 
 
 
 ■ -i ij-'(l t OV t 
 
 ,5MEUNIVERVa 
 
 CO 
 
 , L" ' ■ o 
 
 
 CO 
 
 //Sa3AINn3\\V 
 
 ^lOS'ANCEl^^ 
 V/sa3MNfl-3\\V* 
 
 5>
 
 '^viaaAiNn-jwv 
 
 !» O 
 
 3 .<; 
 
 ? 9 
 
 i ^
 
 ^
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 J. T. B. 
 
 LONDON: 
 EDWARD WEST, 
 
 17, DLLL-AKD-MOUTH STJIEET, ST. MA11T1N'S-LE-C)UANI). 
 
 1852.
 
 ■pR ■ 
 
 WITH THE DEEPEST FEELINGS OF EEOARD 
 
 AND GRATITUDE 
 
 TO THE author's OLD AND VERY KIND FRIEND, 
 
 THE eight honourable 
 
 THE 
 
 EARL OF YARBOROUGH, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS, BY PERMISSION, DEDICATED. 
 
 LONDON, AUGUST, ISSa. 
 
 978400
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The follo\dng miscellaneous Poems, the result of efforts 
 to banish liarassing- thought from lonely hours, have, at 
 the earnest wish of several kind friends, been arranged 
 in a collected form. 
 
 By far the most of them, as the pieces will themselves 
 convey, were preserved only for the amusement of the 
 Author's children — yet, he trusts he may not be consi- 
 dered presumptuous in hoping they may also afford some 
 pleasure to others.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Sacred. page 
 
 The Dawn after the Flood 3 
 
 Abraham's Offering •••....,. 7 
 
 The Pool of Siloam 12 
 
 The Pharisee and the Publican . . . , . . .14 
 Paraphrase on Psalm xv. . . . . . , . .16 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm xxv. . . . . . . . .17 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm xxxix. ....... 21 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm xlvi. ........ 25 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm Ixxvii. 27 
 
 Paraphrase on the Fourteenth Portion of Psalm cxix. ... 30 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm cxxiii. ....... 33 
 
 Paraphrase on Psalm cxxxvii. ....... 35 
 
 Lines suggested by Part of the Eighth Chapter of St. Mark . . 37 
 
 To my Son. Paraphrase on the Second Chapter of Wisdom . . 39 
 
 The Orphan's Hymn 43 
 
 Domestic and Miscellaneous. 
 
 Alone with my Children ........ 47 
 
 Lines suggested with my Boy ....... 49 
 
 On ray Boy's going to Church for the First Time ^ . . 51 
 
 To my Children 53 
 
 At Sea 54 
 
 A Ballad from the History of France 56 
 
 The Loss of the " Solway," West Indiaman Mail Steamer . . 62 
 
 Spring ........... 67 
 
 To a Bird singing on Sophy's Grave ...... 69 
 
 Nora (aged Four) in Exeter Cathedral 7 •
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 UuMFSTir AND Miscellaneous {continued). page 
 
 I..ittle Voicv 73 
 
 •• Portrait Chnrmnnt" 74 
 
 The Chilli nml the Knnpftroo 76 
 
 Tho Swiss Girl on the Hanks of the Lake 78 
 
 •' Till' Swallow and the Exile " 79 
 
 Thoughts in the New Forest 80 
 
 After Moon* 81 
 
 After Campbell 82 
 
 Little Star 83 
 
 Tliere's Music in the Breeze 85 
 
 "Tlio Union" 87 
 
 Fables. 
 
 The Fox and Visor 91 
 
 Tlie Sheei) and Stag 93 
 
 The Bi>ar and tlie Bees 94 
 
 The Inside and the (3ut 96 
 
 The Hawk and tlie Nightingale 98 
 
 The Onc-Eyed Doe 100 
 
 The Frog and the Mouse 102 
 
 The Lion and the Frog 104 
 
 SONOS. 
 
 Up I and let us haste away ! 109 
 
 A happy New Year ! Ill 
 
 " Floreat Etona ! " 1K{ 
 
 "Uncle" 116 
 
 Song to the Strait-laced 118 
 
 Who's who ?......,... 120 
 
 The Crystal Palace of 1851 124 
 
 The Showman of 1861 12G
 
 SACRED.
 
 SACRED. 
 
 THE DAWN AFTER THE FLOOD. 
 
 " Let there be light ! " and at the word a ray 
 
 Unveil'd the perfect bliss of Eden's bowers ; 
 " Let there be light !" and lo, the God of day 
 
 Brought o'er the tranquil space the rosy hours- 
 Night then to her apportioned course withdrew, 
 And young creation rose as innocent as new. 
 
 II. 
 
 So pure a dawn — the first created man, 
 Form'd in the image of his Maker, view'd ; 
 
 He could survey the horizon's boundless span 
 Without an humbling sense of solitude : 
 
 But, sec ! the sun renews his course serene ; 
 
 Again the mists divide, but o'er a different scene. 
 
 b2
 
 TIIK DAWN AITKU llli: I'LUOD. 
 
 III. 
 
 'Go fortli, lone bird — with liberty array 'd ; 
 
 No man's dominion ruletli, waitcth there! 
 The floods are still — the wrath of Heav'n is stay'd, 
 
 And mercy floats upon the suff'ring air : 
 Some sign of earth returning thou may'st bring :" 
 Thus Noali spake, and freed the fear-expanding wing. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It 'scapes — returns — as yet the depths allow 
 To \veary wing and wand'ring foot no rest ; 
 
 No verdure yet is seen — no fav'ring bough 
 In shelter'd grove — no leaf for downy nest : 
 
 So, like the dove, the faithful hearts and meek, 
 
 The Ark of God alone in weary journeying seek 
 
 V. 
 
 The patriarch then another bird released. 
 
 Fowl of a stronger wing — of earth more fond ! 
 
 It fled, and wand'ring onward, never ceased 
 Its carrion flight, until the waste beyond, 
 
 Of varied kind, it found decaying food, 
 
 And never tidin<>s brouoht of land and less'ning flood.
 
 THE DAWN AFTER THE FLOOD. 
 
 vr. 
 
 How like to those the unclean hircl appears, 
 
 Who love this earth, and things of time and sense ; 
 
 Who seek no lasting home, but on through years 
 Live on the world's corrupting influence ! 
 
 The good man then sends forth a second dove, 
 
 And, lo ! she quick returns with branch of hope and love. 
 
 VII. 
 
 • Father of all that was — and is — all mine 
 
 (Spared by thy special grace thy name to praise !) 
 To bless thy seat of mercy — throne divine, 
 On cleansed earth an altar first I raise ; 
 And here, with lifted hand and bended knee, 
 I bow to Thee alone, and Thy supremacy." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus Noah pray'd, and thus the Mighty Lord — 
 The great First Cause — the Everlasting One, 
 
 Pronounced His will : " No more th' avenging word 
 Shall curse the ground for man to evil prone ; 
 
 But cold and heat, and time of seed and grain, 
 
 And day and night shall be whilst nature's laws remain.
 
 6 rm: uawn aitkk the fluup. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Behold with thee, thou holy man, and thine, 
 And on thy seed, and every thing with thee ! 
 
 O'er all that lives my covenant shall shine 
 Tliat no return of wasting flood shall be." 
 
 And, lo ! the clouds display 'd the rainbow's span, 
 
 Seal of Jehovah's pledge to frail and fallen man. 
 
 X. 
 
 Tiicn mark, my child, and whensoe'er you view 
 Upon the weeping clouds the radiant bow, 
 
 Remember well God's promise kept for you, 
 And let from grateful heart your praises flow ! 
 
 Praise that your life is spared with pitying eye, 
 
 And time prolong'd for you to learn to live and die.
 
 ABRAHAMS OFFERING. 
 
 " Jehovah speaks," the Patriarch said 
 
 " llis will, not mine, be done ; 
 The faithful can no trials dread ! 
 
 No pangs, my only son ! 
 Child of my bosom ! nature's dew 
 
 Would veil Moriah's hill, 
 If parent-love were more for you 
 
 Than for his Maker's will. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Haste, then, my boy, to meet the day 
 
 Above the mountain's brow ; 
 And as we welcome each fresh ray 
 
 So let the heart's deep flow 
 Of humble adoration rise. 
 
 Upon th' appointed way, — 
 And thou, my heart, the sacrifice 
 
 With cheerful zeal obey."
 
 8 AUUAllAMS urFKHING. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tlie faith which lirst the patriarcli moved 
 
 God's precepts to obey; 
 And home and country, all he loved, 
 
 To leave in earlier day — 
 In deeper power and beauty shone 
 
 In age — when he was given, 
 llis only child, the promised son, 
 
 An offering to Heaven. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then Abraham with Isaac took 
 
 His course, ere dawn of day ; 
 Devoid of doubt or lingering look. 
 
 And steadfast kept his way, 
 To Zion's sacred height, and where 
 
 Twas told, by Heaven's decree, 
 The sacrifice he should prepare. 
 
 The oftering should be. 
 
 And thus they journey'd onward, till 
 
 They hail'd the sun's arise, 
 Above the dew o'er Hermon's hill, 
 
 Then Abr'ham lift his eyes — 
 Eyes, that a fond, yet holy fear. 
 
 Had weigh'd the journey through ! 
 Now beam'd above the day -break clear, 
 
 The distant height in view.
 
 ABRAHAM S OFFERING. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Moriah reached, the summit's brim 
 
 Approached with hallowed tread, 
 To bondmen that attended him. 
 
 Thus holy Abraham said, 
 " Abide ye here — the journey done, 
 
 Wliilst yonder I repair. 
 With Isaac, my only son, 
 
 To bow to God in prayer." 
 
 VII 
 
 The guileless youth obedient stood, 
 
 His willing shovilder bent. 
 To take and bear himself the wood 
 
 A parent's hand had rent ! 
 Then, " Oh, my father," Isaac said, 
 
 " The fire and wood we bring ; 
 And soon the altar will be made : 
 
 But where the offering ?" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " God will provide, — the mighty God, — 
 
 His will, not mine, be done ; 
 Submissively I kiss the rod, — 
 
 An offering, — my son ! 
 My heart's lone treasure, far more dear 
 
 Than all the world to me, 
 I bring with holy love and fear, 
 
 My sacrifice to be."
 
 10 Abraham's oi'KKUiNr.. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Till* patriarch tlicii outstretched his hand, 
 
 With knife, o'er Isaac bound, 
 Obedient to his Lord's command, 
 
 To make the fatal wound ; 
 When, lo ! upon the solemn scene 
 
 An angel voice declared, 
 " Thy fear and faith so firm has been, 
 
 Thine only son is spar'd." 
 
 Tlien lifted trustful Abraham 
 
 His eyes to where the sound 
 Proceeded from, and, lo ! a ram 
 
 Within a thicket bound ! 
 " Behold, my son, an offering sent 
 
 By never-failing Will ; 
 Then kneel and praise th' Omnipotent, 
 
 On this His holy hill." 
 
 XI. 
 
 Tliis narrative of faith and love, 
 
 Of God's sufficient grace. 
 In Ilim, the lukewarm heart should move 
 
 A surer trust to place. 
 Proof of the Gospel's fadeless word 
 
 And light, tli' account supplies — 
 A Saviour's cross at Calvary 
 
 It ■|)lainly typifies.
 
 Abraham's offering. 11 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then mark, my children, thro' yonr day 
 
 Of life, with many a snare, 
 (Frail hearts upon a treach'rous way 
 
 Deprived of parent care, 
 Whilst hoping, striving earnestly. 
 
 To learn the good from ill), 
 That faith can never perfect be, 
 
 Without obedient will.
 
 K TOOL OF SILOAM. 
 
 " Go, wash in the pool of Siloam." 
 
 John ix. 7. 
 
 Loud, my Saviour, deign to give 
 
 Thy saving help to me ; 
 That every moment spared to live, 
 
 I may come nearer Thee : 
 Grant me thy tintli and fadeless light 
 To guide my steps from sin and night. 
 
 As ho, to darkness born, was sent 
 
 To pure Siloam's fount, 
 May I be led obedient 
 
 To Zion's holy mount ; 
 Led on by faith and duty there 
 To bless thy mercy, love, and care. 
 
 To praise thy name that Thou hast shown 
 
 The Gospel light to me ; 
 In darkness born, a sinful one. 
 
 Too vile to look on Thee. 
 To pray that in this world of strife, 
 
 I may discern the way to life.
 
 THE POOL OF SILOAM. 13 
 
 That way which Thou alone, Lord ! 
 
 Hast purchased with thy blood. 
 For all who will fulfil thy word, 
 
 And live in purpose good. 
 Oh ! grant that with such light I may 
 Not blindly lose the path to perfect day.
 
 u 
 
 THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Two men, with prayerful intent, 
 Within the holy temple went, 
 
 But each a diff'rent way, 
 A Pharisee and Publican, — 
 And thus the former one began, 
 
 Within himself to pray. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Lord, in thy presence I aver 
 I am not an extortioner ; 
 
 Or, like my fellow-man — 
 Adulterer, or e'er unjust. 
 Within my soul I've no distrust, 
 
 As yonder Publican. 
 
 III. 
 
 " A week does never pass o'er me. 
 But twice I fast ; and, Lord, to Thee 
 
 Pour out my heart's distress : 
 I follow strictly every rite ; 
 I pay my tithe to smallest mite 
 
 Of all that I possess."
 
 THE PHARISKE AND THE PUBLICAN. 15 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whilst thus, witli haughty boasting, he. 
 The proud, self-righteous Pharisee, 
 
 In lofty accents pray'd : 
 The Publican, in spot remote. 
 In lonely whisper, knelt, and smote 
 
 His stricken breast, and said, — 
 
 V. 
 
 " Spare me, a sinner, — spare, God ! 
 I bow beneath a crushing load. 
 
 In suppliance to Thee : 
 I dare not raise towards the sky 
 My guilty hand and weeping eye, — 
 Be merciful to me." 
 
 VI. 
 
 This parable, from Holy Word, 
 A bright example doth aiford 
 
 Of deep humility ; 
 It tells us, too, that, free from pride, 
 The Publican was justified 
 
 More than the Pharisee. 
 
 VII. 
 
 If then, in their conceit, the wise 
 Should dare another to despise. 
 
 As poor or lowly placed ; 
 Tlie meek they shall exalted see, 
 Whilst those who're raised to high degree. 
 
 Themselves shall be abased.
 
 k; 
 
 PAHAPTTllASE ON PSALM XV. 
 
 Lord, wlio in thy abodo shall dwell ? 
 
 Or "wlio upon thy holy hill ? 
 None e'en but he who doeth well, 
 
 And strives thy dictates to fulfil. 
 
 None but the true and pure of heart, 
 That have not used deceitful tongue. 
 
 Nor tried by any slanderer's art 
 To do unto their neighbour wrong. 
 
 Ee'n he who is not proud, Lord ! 
 
 Who only lowly looks can bear ; 
 Who values him who loves thy word. 
 
 And to his neighbour truth will swear. 
 
 Who breaketh not his pledge, though he 
 Is injured by the strict regard ; 
 
 Wlio lends not upon usury, 
 
 Nor takes from innocence reward ! 
 
 Wlioe'er will do these few things well 
 Shall never fall — shall never die ; 
 
 But in thy tabernacle dwell 
 In happiness, eternally.
 
 17 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXV. 
 
 With sinking spirit, failing eyes, 
 
 Lord, I turn to Tliee : 
 A contrite heart thou'lt not despise, 
 Then suffer not my enemies 
 
 To triumph over me. 
 
 II. 
 
 In Thee my hope alone shall be, 
 
 In Thee my trust I'll place ; 
 When trouble then oppresseth me, 
 And time of dark adversity. 
 Hide not from me thv face. 
 
 III. 
 
 All they who, with a wilful mind, 
 
 Thy holy laws transgress ; 
 Shall nothing but a world unkind. 
 Sin — suffering — and confusion find, 
 Despair in their distress.
 
 18 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXV. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh I sliow inc, Lord, the liviiii,^ way, 
 
 And load mc in Thy trutli ; 
 Remember not in this, my day 
 Of tnal, need, and health's decay. 
 The oftcnces of my youth. 
 
 V. 
 
 Thy loving kindness ever shewn, 
 
 And mercy grant me still ; 
 For Thou art good — and Thou alone 
 Canst succour me, a fallen one, 
 Of poor and feeble will. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! think of me — in mercy, think ; 
 
 Correct me — yet, Lord ! 
 Withhold thine anger, lest I sink 
 Beneath the dejjths by sorrow's brink. 
 
 And perish at thy word. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Teach me, of resolution weak, 
 Tlie paths of truth to trace ; 
 Thy ways with humble steps to seek. 
 And Thou, who never fail'st the meek. 
 Direct me with thy grace.
 
 PARAPHRASE UN PSALM XXV. 19 
 
 viir. 
 
 Oh ! spare me, Lord, — and may mj' sin 
 
 So great, no more increase ; 
 May I, with earnest zeal, begin 
 To follow Thee, and surely win 
 The paths that lead to peace. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Him, who the Lord Jehovah fears, 
 
 Will He in safety guide — 
 With soul at ease the' troubled years, 
 And tho' o'erwhelming care appears, 
 
 On life's consuming tide. 
 
 X. 
 
 The land his offspring shall possess 
 
 Till earth shall pass away ; 
 To him the Lord His righteousness 
 Will shew, and on his heart impress 
 
 The path to endless day. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To God 1 11 lift mine eyes for e'er, 
 
 And pray for peace divine ; 
 And He will feel my inmost care. 
 Protect me from the hidden snare 
 
 Unholy men design. 
 c 2
 
 20 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXV. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Oh ! look upon mc, desolate, 
 
 Too worn distress to stem 
 While scornful hearts upon me wait, 
 And enemies with cruel hate ; 
 
 But Thou canst scatter them. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 From sin, Lord, preserve me free, 
 
 Forgive imperfect dust — 
 Let righteous dealing rest with me, 
 My God — for I have placed in Thee 
 
 My only hope and trust. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To chosen race of Israel 
 
 Vouchsafe thy mercy, Lord ; 
 Ajid may all those, in whom doth dwell 
 Thy saving tnitli — ne'er cease to tell 
 Of Thy eternal word.
 
 21 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXXIX. 
 
 I "WILL, unto my ways take heed, 
 
 Offend not with my tongue ; 
 Until from sinners' presence freed, 
 
 For fear of doing wrong. 
 
 II. 
 
 My mouth as with a bridle hold, 
 
 Whilst evil doers scoff ; 
 Life is but as a story told, 
 
 A vapour passing off. 
 
 IIL 
 
 Whilst hardened hearts more sinful grow. 
 
 My tongue shall silent be 
 From even doing good ; although 
 
 'Twere pain and grief to me. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus in my mind contemplating, 
 
 My feelings rise above 
 The things of earth — and thus I sing 
 
 To heaven in song of love.
 
 22 I'AKAPHKASK ON PSALM XXXIX. 
 
 V. 
 
 Teach mc, Lord, to know mine end, 
 
 And nxnnber of my days ; 
 Tliat I from tliouglitless paths may bend, 
 
 And turn to wisdom's ways. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To know liow short mine age must be, 
 
 To feel, and certify ; 
 'Tis nothing in respect of Thee 
 
 Whenever I may die. 
 
 VII. 
 
 My years are but a little span — 
 
 As they advance they flee 
 And fade away — Oh ! what is man, 
 
 But living vanity ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 His earthly treasures pass away, 
 
 He labours, all in vain ; 
 And what one gathereth to-day, 
 
 To-morrow others gain. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And now, what is my hope, Lord ? 
 
 Tis truly e'en in Thee ; 
 Whose love — whose mercy — and whose word, 
 
 Is all eternity.
 
 PARAPHRAtJE ON PSALM XXXIX. 23 
 
 X. 
 
 Of sin convinced, and all its woes, 
 Vouchsafe I may not be 
 
 A scorn and a reproach to those 
 Who will not turn to Thee. 
 
 XI. 
 
 I will not murmur at the blow 
 Thy chast'ning hand may give : 
 
 In mercy all afflictions know, 
 That they may better live. 
 
 XII. 
 
 In meek submission, Lord ! I pray, 
 Mv sins Thou wilt remove ; 
 
 And grant that I, from day to day, 
 May more deserve thy love. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 When Thou rebukest — lo, the form 
 
 Of man, so fair to-day, 
 And beautiful ; a canker worm, 
 
 Will fret and wear away. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Like as the moth, by slow degree. 
 Destroys with dire control ; 
 
 So surely, and as stealthily. 
 Doth sin consume the soul.
 
 o| PAKAPllKASK oN PSALM XXXIX. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Oil ! licarlvcn to mc ;— sec the tear 
 Tliat flows from spring of care : 
 
 Am not I, Lord, a stranger here, 
 As all my fathers were ? 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Oh ! spare me ! — yet a little, give, 
 
 Of life, Lord ! that I 
 May strive the better how to live, 
 
 And better learn to die.
 
 25 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XLVI. 
 
 Jehovah is our hope and strength, 
 A present help in time of need ; 
 
 And therefore though the hills be moved, 
 Our hearts from terror shall be freed. 
 
 Tho' o'er the sea the hills be swept, 
 
 Shall courage in our hearts be kept. 
 
 What, though the raging waters swell, 
 Their tempest even mountains shake — 
 
 Right glad the city of our God, 
 The rivers of the flood shall make. 
 
 His tabernacle nought can stir, 
 
 For He is in the midst of her. 
 
 The heathen's tumult loud is heard, 
 And kingdoms move in proud array ; 
 
 Yet, at our God's almighty word. 
 The universe shall melt away. 
 
 The Lord of Hosts is our abode. 
 
 Our refuge is in Jacob's God.
 
 26 I'AUAPllRASE ON PSALM XLVI. 
 
 0, conic ! bchokl, ;ind contemplate, 
 
 What wond'rous works the Lord can do ; 
 
 Tlic earth lie can make desolate, 
 
 All ^\al• to cease, and break the bow ; 
 
 Tlic chariot burn, and snap in twain 
 
 Tlie spear ; God never speaks in vain. 
 
 13c cahn, my soul, Jehovah reigns — 
 As yesterday — for e'er the same ! 
 
 The heathen shall, with holy strains. 
 And furthest nations praise his name. 
 
 Our only help is from above. 
 
 Our refuge is in Jacob's God,
 
 27 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM LXXVII. 
 
 To God Avith trusting voice I cry, 
 
 In Him will I confide ; 
 And He will hear me — not deny 
 
 His aid ; there's none beside. 
 I've sought my God in lone distress, 
 
 In my continued grief; 
 And when, in hours of heaviness. 
 
 My soul found no relief. 
 
 Should I be tempted to despair. 
 
 If my poor heart should sink, 
 Beneath the burden of its care, 
 
 On God alone I'll think. 
 'Tis He sustains my waking eyes 
 
 Since I am brought so weak ; 
 My tongue all utterance denies, 
 
 1 have no power to speak. 
 
 I'll turn my thoughts to time foregone, 
 To days — to years misspent ; 
 
 To mark the wickedness I've done. 
 For my afflictions sent.
 
 28 PAUAPllRASE ON PSALM LXXVIl. 
 
 I'll comnuiiK- with my heart, find try 
 My soul in hour of niglit — 
 
 Ills mercies call to memory 
 P)oforo the morninc: light. 
 
 Will God cast off, and must not I 
 
 His help again implore ? 
 Hath promise fled for ever by ? 
 
 Can hope return no more ? 
 Will He withdraw his grace from me- 
 
 A contrite heart despise ? 
 It is my own infirmity, 
 
 My sinking soul replies. 
 
 His wond'rous works in memory, 
 
 His works of ancient days, 
 I'll ponder well — and they shall be 
 
 My song of love and praise. 
 How righteous are thy ways, Lord ! 
 
 All justice springs from Thee ; 
 Thy merciful and mighty word 
 
 Sets all thy people free. 
 
 The depths perceived thy majesty 
 
 And instantly obey'd ; 
 The waters shrank — and were of Thy 
 
 Omnipotence afraid.
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM LXXVII. 29 
 
 The troubled clouds Thine arrows dealt 
 
 Throug-hout the weeping air ; 
 The suffering earth thy judgments felt 
 
 In terror everywhere. 
 
 Within the floods, and wide and far 
 
 As ocean's bounds have been, 
 Thy ways, and paths, and footsteps are. 
 
 Which eye hath never seen. 
 By Moses' and by Aaron's hand, 
 
 Thy wandering ones of old. 
 Were safely brought to promised land. 
 
 Like sheep to surest fold. 
 
 Then, oh ! my soul, in thy distress. 
 
 Feel not devoid of friend ; 
 But through life's dreary wilderness, 
 
 On God alone depend. 
 In stedfast pui^DOse doubt dispel 
 
 Though sunk in sorrow deep ; 
 And in thy grief, remember well, 
 
 He careth for his sheep.
 
 50 
 
 •AKArillLV.SK UN THE FOURTEENTH TORTION 
 OF PSALM CXIX. 
 
 A PILGRIM through the ■wilderness 
 Of life, to promised land ; 
 
 Grant nie, Lord, in my distress, 
 Thy never-failing hand. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thy word's a lantern to my feet, 
 
 A light unto my way ; 
 My guide, tho' raging tempests beat, 
 
 And cloud my lonely way. 
 
 III. 
 
 AVith stedfast purpose wandering, 
 To full obedience sworn ; 
 
 I rest on hope's unerring wing, 
 To greet th' eternal morn.
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIX., FOURTEENTH PART. 31 
 
 IV. 
 
 Vouchsafe, Lord, to stubborn will, 
 
 Thy tnith in nature's road ; 
 'Twill lead me to thy holy hill, 
 
 To Thine unseen abode. 
 
 V. 
 
 With song of praise, let me call 
 
 To Thee on trembling knee ; 
 I know the meanest cannot fall 
 
 Unheeded, Lord, by Thee. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My life, how frail ! So easy lost. 
 
 As if but in my hand : 
 Yet I'll not swerve, though tried the most, 
 
 From all Thou dost command. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Though sinners may lay wait for me, 
 
 To turn my heart from right, 
 Thy perfect law shall ever be, 
 
 My portion and delight. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then should misfortune o'er me heap. 
 
 And false be every friend, 
 I know, 'till I shall fall asleep, 
 
 Thy mercy will not end.
 
 :>'2 I'AHAIMIKASK nN P.-^ALM CXIX., I'OUllTEENTII PART. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thy Sjiirit, Lord, my hcail alone 
 Witli jjfoodncss can instil ; 
 
 Then will I strive, till life is done, 
 Tliv ninndnto.s; to fulfil. 
 
 So day by da}' may I improve ! 
 
 Hcdccn\ tlie misspent past : 
 So may I walk with Thee in love, 
 
 Unwav'ring to the last.
 
 33 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXXIII. 
 
 I. 
 
 To Thine abode beyond the skies, 
 Lord, I lift my longing eyes ; 
 
 Deliverance alone I crave 
 Of Thee, my God ; Thou knowest well 
 The broken heart's consuming swell ! 
 
 And Thou alone canst save. 
 
 II. 
 
 Whilst struggling on, a wanderer here, 
 Oppress'd, yet I will banish fear, 
 
 Confiding all to Thee — 
 The sinking soul anew must rise, 
 Wlien from o'erwhelming enemies 
 
 Thy mercy sets it free. 
 
 III. 
 
 Lord, what is man Thou dost respect ! 
 And cliild of man Thou would'st protect 
 
 From sin's alluring snare ? 
 And why should I, a wayward tiling, 
 Unworthy of Thy cherishing, 
 
 Receive Thy constant care ? 
 
 D
 
 34 I'AliAl'llUASE ON PSALM OXXlll. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As servants seek their master's aid, 
 Wlioii by disease and suff'ring made 
 
 To feel adversity ; 
 On Tliee my sorrowing eyelids rest, 
 For Thou Avilt succour all distressed 
 
 Wlio trulv turn to Thee. 
 
 Bestow Tliy bounteous mercy, Lord, 
 On those who love and trust thy word ; 
 
 And make the scornful know, 
 How at the last Thou wilt remove 
 The meek to fadeless bliss above, 
 
 The proud to endless woe.
 
 35 
 
 PARAPHRASE ON P8ALM CXXXVII. 
 
 By Babel's streams we sat and wept, 
 Whilst, Zion, we remembered thee ; 
 
 Our harps the saddest silence kept, 
 Suspended to the willow tree ; 
 
 The mournful breezes moaning by 
 
 Alone could rouse their melody. 
 
 II. 
 
 They that have led us, bid us sing- 
 In foreign land, a captive throng, 
 In heaviness and suifering, 
 
 Our praise in Zion's former song : 
 But how the Lord's song can we sing- 
 In stranger's country sorrowing ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Jerusalem, if ever I 
 
 Should fail to give a thought for thee, 
 Or mourn in my captivity. 
 
 May all my skill forgotten be 
 To strike the harp's melodious string, 
 My power and feeling withering ! 
 d2
 
 ;i(j I'AKAI'llUASK nX I'SALM OXXXVII. 
 
 IV. 
 
 licnicinbcr, Loid, in Salem's day, 
 
 How Edom's children help'd to swell 
 
 Tlio misery of her decay, 
 The enemies of Israel — 
 
 And join'd destruction's cry around, 
 
 " Her altars level to the ground ! " 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, Babylon ! a day of doom 
 
 And just reward on thee shall come ; 
 
 In misery wasted — happy he 
 
 Who aids the hand destroying thee. 
 
 And bless'd be he, who 'gainst the stones, 
 
 Shall dash thy helpless little ones.
 
 37 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY PART OF THE EIGHTH 
 CHAPTER OF ST. MARK. 
 
 I. 
 
 Seek thou, my weary soul, the Lord, 
 
 While yet He may be found ; 
 And doubt not His unerring Word, 
 
 Though gloom be spread around. 
 Seek Him alone in time of need, 
 
 Who with Almighty pow'r 
 The sinking multitude could feed. 
 
 In hunger's craving hour. 
 
 11. 
 
 Seek Him, my soul, with love profound, 
 
 Without whose searching eye 
 A sparrow cannot fall to ground. 
 
 The meanest cannot die. 
 And He who clothes the flow'rs of field, 
 
 And hears the young birds cry, 
 Will fail thee not ; then never yield 
 
 To life's adversity.
 
 38 KKFLEITIOKS ON MAKK VI II. 
 
 III. 
 
 Confide in Ilini — and Him alone — 
 
 Who can make pity flow 
 From liard'ning heart, — and prosp'rous one 
 
 To feel for other's woe : 
 Who to the weary sure relief 
 
 O'er sorrow's waste can bring — 
 Those that can feel another's grief, 
 
 And soothe misfortune's sting.
 
 39 
 
 TO MY SON. 
 
 PARAPHRASE UN THE SECOND CHAPTER OF WISDOM. 
 ' My son, if thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy soul for temptation." 
 
 My son, if thou the Lord would'st serve, 
 
 From honest purpose never swerve ; 
 
 And thus in constancy prejjare 
 
 To meet temptation's subtlest snare. 
 
 As human nature 's never free 
 
 From evil thoughts, they'll come to thee. 
 
 Affliction to the weak and wise 
 
 Is sure to come, as sparks arise. 
 
 II. 
 
 Kemember now, in day of youth, 
 
 Thy Maker, God of love and truth ; 
 
 Preserve thine heart aright, and He, 
 
 In troubled hours will succour thee. 
 
 To all his chast'nings meekly bend, 
 
 That thou may'st share, Avhen life shall end, 
 
 Increased reward ; and whatsoe'er 
 
 Your suflT'ring is, that meekly bear.
 
 +0 
 
 Til MY SON. 
 
 III. 
 
 Though great the trial dealt to thee 
 
 Submit in silence, cheerfully ; 
 
 And if reduced to low estate, 
 
 The Lord's own time in patience wait ; 
 
 For like as gold by fire is tried, 
 
 Till cleansed from dross and purified, 
 
 So man's condition proved must be, 
 
 In furnaco of adversity. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let all your trust in God be laid, 
 And He will ne'er withdraw his aid ; 
 Let love direct your way aright, 
 Let faith in Him be your delight ; 
 And wait his mercy :— Those who fear 
 The Lord of Life with truth sincere, 
 His tender care will succour all : 
 Then wait his mercy — lest you fall. 
 
 Let holy fear for Him prevail 
 Through life, for He will never fail 
 To care for them in ev'ry grief 
 Who place in Him unfeigned belief. 
 Oh ! fear and pray for that bless'd peace 
 Which passeth knowledge, ne'er will cease- 
 Peace that will never pass away ! 
 And Joy that dwells in endless day !
 
 TO MY SOK. 'il 
 
 VI. 
 
 Look back to generations old, 
 And ponder well their history told — 
 Were any to confusion driven, 
 ^Y]lO placed entire trust in Heaven ? 
 Did God the lowliest heart despise, 
 That look'd to Him with trusting eyes ? 
 The Lord will never turn aside 
 From those who in his love confide. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Full of compassion is the Lord, 
 In mercy plentiful his Word — 
 Of goodness bountiful to spare 
 A suffering soul in time of care ; 
 But woe to doubting hearts, and hands 
 Too faint to do their Lord's commands ! 
 And woe to him who fears and prays, 
 Yet will not leave unholy ways ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Woe unto him of feeble heart, 
 To him who but believes in part ! 
 All who will not in faith depend 
 Alone on Him, He'll not defend ; 
 Woe unto all devoid of pow'r 
 To wait his time ; for in the hour 
 Of sure affliction journeying througl 
 A vale of tears — what will they do ?
 
 [■J, in MV SON. 
 
 IX. 
 
 O ! love till' Lord with holy fear, 
 
 Mv >nii, aiul seek his wonl to licar, 
 
 Lovo Him with nil thine hc;irt ; tor they 
 
 Wlio love the Lord his laws obey. 
 
 fear the Lord, and ever try 
 
 To please Iliin in simplicity ; 
 
 For they who love Him, He will bless. 
 
 And fill their hearts with righteousness. 
 
 All they who fear prepare their soul, 
 With honest heart and meek control 
 To do their Maker's will alone, — 
 And they will cry, as journeying on, 
 " To mortal hand we ne'er will fall, 
 But to our God, who rulcth all ; 
 For as his Majesty is great, 
 His mercy none can estimate."
 
 43 
 
 THE ORPHAN^S HYMN. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Lord will be my constant guide, 
 
 If I with love sincere, 
 And faitli and liope in Him confide ; 
 
 Then what have I to fear ? 
 
 11. 
 
 If, wand'ring on, through weary night 
 
 Of sorrow, sin, and pain, 
 I turn to Him for saving light, 
 
 I shall not turn in vain. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then trust, my soul, in God alone. 
 Seek Him in early youth ! 
 
 He gives to cv'ry faithful one, 
 The knowledge of his truth. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If wicked men, like beast of prey. 
 
 Design to injure me ; 
 If enemies, and even they, 
 
 My friends, would faithless be ;
 
 44 TiiK oki'Han's hymn. 
 
 V. 
 
 If Vainst me, journeying tivni1)ling on, 
 
 An host of them be laid ; 
 My courage, strong in God alone, 
 
 Will never be dismay 'd. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then grant that I through life may kneel, 
 
 My God, to Thee, in love ; 
 And in thy courts a foretaste feel, 
 
 Of peace which reigns above. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So shall I be in time of care, 
 
 A stranger still to fear ; 
 For Thou wilt bless the orphan s pray'r, 
 
 And sanctify his tear. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 On Thee alone will I depend — 
 
 Thee only I'll confess — 
 AVlio dost the widow's cause defend. 
 
 And shield the fatherless. 
 
 IX. 
 
 So shall my soul in sure repose, 
 Await Thine own good time, 
 
 And pray to hear w^hen life shall close, 
 The angels' jn'aises chime.
 
 DOMESTIC 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS.
 
 47 
 
 ALONE WITH MY CHILDREN. 
 
 Is there a gloom hangs o'er me now, 
 
 And makes the salt springs swell ? 
 Is there a grief that pains me now, 
 
 My Nora can't dispel ? 
 Her smile is not of mere pretence, 
 
 Nor yet her love so mild, 
 Combining mirth with innocence : 
 
 God bless my darling child ! 
 
 A charm like this, so sweet, so pure, 
 
 Though for a season lent. 
 Makes me submissively endure 
 
 Life's sorrow with content. 
 Against this frail, waybeaten form. 
 
 Whatever ills combine, 
 It matters not how great the storm. 
 
 If Nora s love be mine. 
 
 And you, my little man, as dear, 
 
 I cannot love you less ; 
 But tum'd your first and infant year, 
 
 You heed not my distress.
 
 48 ALONK WITH MY OHILURKN. 
 
 So juvous, — like til 1)11(1 of Spring-, 
 That sports from tree to tree, — 
 
 'Tis well, tluat from my sorrowing 
 Ycmv little heart is free. 
 
 The jrav and morry morning now 
 
 Of life ami all before it. 
 Is lireakinp; o'er that careless brow, 
 
 Yet treacherous mists hang o'er it ! 
 I dare not think that you must live. 
 
 My poor and helpless one, 
 Without the best guide life can give ; 
 
 But Heavenly Will be done. 
 
 May treasures such as these, my share, 
 
 In all their time to come, 
 Ne'er want a kind protector's care, 
 
 Nor yet an honest home : 
 Soon may they learn that life's a span, 
 
 And, as in years they grow. 
 To trust alone in Him who can^ 
 
 A better home bestow !
 
 49 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED WITH MY BOY. 
 
 Thou canst only remember, my dear little son, 
 
 The beloved one that bore thee, by name ; 
 Your desolate pilgrimage had but begun, 
 
 Wlien the blast crush'd her delicate frame. 
 And yet must thou know her ; for friend hath impressed 
 
 On thy mind from its earliest day, 
 The heart that protected thee, cherish'd, caress'd. 
 
 As the morning of life passed away, 
 
 Tnic friendship hath taught thee all this, and has told 
 
 Thee her love and her generous smile ; 
 Such knowledge will cheer thee when life is grown old, 
 
 And when little is left to beguile, 
 A fond mother's name ! e'en as mem'ry decays, 
 
 Will survive with its primitive joy. 
 'Tis true ! and yet sorrow a whisper will raise, 
 
 " Thou canst know little of her, my boy ! " 
 
 Still, as tenderly over this soft little face 
 
 A fond hand, and the gentlest, I move, 
 As warmly this innocent form I embrace, 
 
 I dare hope you remember her love : 
 
 E
 
 no LINES SUaOESTED WITH MY BOY. 
 
 Nay, a glow from my lone heart assures me you do. 
 
 As a beam from that merry blue eye 
 Conveys the same look which a mother's would show, 
 
 Ere her noonday of life had gone by. 
 
 Tlicn stay with me, little man ; give me the most 
 
 Of your company while yet you may : 
 It goes very far to restore what I lost 
 
 In the storm of adversity's day. 
 I know that you love me, and fret all the while 
 
 WHien I'm gone — and we're destined to part ! 
 Then stay with me, little man ; stay the sweet smile 
 
 That restores so much joy to my heart.
 
 51 
 
 ON MY BOY'S GOING TO CHURCH FOR THE 
 
 FIRST TIME. 
 
 With meek submission, Heavenly King, 
 
 Almighty God, and Lord ! 
 I bring this poor and tender thing, 
 
 To hear Thy Holy Word. 
 How soon ! — as reason's dawn expands, 
 
 Ere infant years decay, 
 To raise in faith his little hands, 
 
 And reverently pray. 
 
 To love the place of Thine abode, 
 
 And in devotion there 
 To celebrate Thy praise, God ! 
 
 And mercy everywhere ; 
 To ask — a child of earth so frail — 
 
 For Thy continued care : 
 Father of all ! Thou wilt not fail 
 
 To grant an orphan's prayer. 
 
 Approaching now Thy sacred court. 
 
 And where Thine Honour dwells, 
 Full of the vanish'd past each thought. 
 
 My stricken bosom swells. 
 E 2
 
 r,2 ON MY boy's OOINQ TO CHURCH FOR THE FIRST TIME. 
 
 1 look ii]M.ii tills infant brow, 
 
 So calm and innocent, 
 And own in humbled accents low, 
 
 ^ly days — how much mispent ! 
 
 Corrected by Thy chastening- hand, 
 
 May I the time redeem ! 
 Yet who a moment can command 
 
 Of life— at most a dream ! 
 'Tis borne upon the tempest's wing, 
 
 Like shadows passing by ; 
 'Tis like to flowers of field, that spring 
 
 To blossom but to die. 
 
 Oh ! may this child, remembering Thee 
 
 His God in day of youth. 
 Thy loving mercy, majesty. 
 
 Omnipotence, and truth, 
 Adorn Thy courts in after years, 
 
 And at the close resign 
 His spirit, cleansed by sorrow's tears, 
 
 In hope of bliss divine.
 
 53 
 
 TO MY CHILDREN. 
 
 Oft do I wisli to have again 
 My pets, ere tliey grow older ; 
 
 For when life's spring is on the wane, 
 How soon the heart grows colder ! 
 
 My sun, I'm told, hath not yet set. 
 Still flattering hope I trust not ; 
 
 The heart subdued by deep regret. 
 Assures me that I must not. 
 
 How can I look for home new made ? 
 
 Wlien, lo ! its spirit sleepeth. 
 They'd pine beneath the willow shade, 
 
 That o'er my dwelling weepeth. 
 
 To have them then in cherub glee, 
 
 A lonely hour to gladden, 
 "Would chill their glow of infancy. 
 
 Life's gayest season sadden. 
 
 Oh ! rather than in least degree 
 I'd check their spring of pleasure, 
 
 From them for e'er I'd banish'd be. 
 And thus fill sorrow's measure.
 
 54 
 
 AT 8ExV. 
 
 Becalm 'd upon the tranquil deep, 
 
 Wlien night winds brctatlie no sigh, 
 \V1iat visions o'er my senses creep, 
 To hokl my wearied eyes from sleep, 
 And freshen memory ! 
 
 Witli wond'ring gaze o'er boundless space, 
 
 What former charms are view'd ! 
 HoAV many a smile of youthful face, 
 How many a look methinks I trace, 
 To brighten solitude ! 
 
 Tlien, as each little orb serene 
 
 Its cheering lustre gives ; 
 With them departed souls, I ween, 
 Repose ; with them, in changeless scene, 
 
 The true heart ever lives. 
 
 And deeper than the midway sea, 
 
 Upon the stan-y sphere 
 Will busy contemplation be 
 With things for ever gone from me — 
 
 Too loved and treasured here !
 
 AT SEA. 55 
 
 Till, lost in fancy's rich repose, 
 
 The mind is strain'd to sleep ; 
 And drowzy zephyrs gently close 
 The veil o'er joy, which mem'ry throws 
 Upon the slumb'ring deep.
 
 :>() 
 
 A liALLAD FROM THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. 
 
 Jn Daupliiuc there liv'd of old 
 
 A loyal man and strong, 
 Four noble sons had he, 'tis told ; 
 Yet only one was warrior bold — 
 
 The hero of my song ! 
 
 Pierre Bayard was liis name ; and lie, 
 
 Aroused by war's alarms, 
 Whilst youth was gay and courage free. 
 Forsook his native roof, to be 
 
 Rcnown'd in deeds of arms. 
 
 For conquest and for war the rage, 
 
 Would blood like his inflame ! 
 Then, as Duke Charles of Savoy's page, 
 In stirring and chivalrous age, 
 
 He sought knight-crrant's fame. 
 
 His mother, in her castle tow'r, 
 
 Wept lone and bitterly ; 
 For, oh ! it made her spirits low'r, 
 To think at such an early hour 
 
 A tliild from her should flee.
 
 A BALLAD FROM THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. 57 
 
 But when she knew her gallant son 
 
 On steed was mounted well. 
 Bold, and impatient to be gone, 
 Him down she came to look upon, 
 
 And take a last farewell ! 
 
 Her lips few words had power to say, 
 
 Yet they could not deny 
 The three injunctions, she would pray 
 Her boy to keep in adverse day 
 
 As in prosperity. 
 
 The first — To reverence his God 
 
 Before all things, and serve 
 Him truly through life's varied road ; 
 And ne'er from resolutions good 
 
 Be known to shiink or swerve. 
 
 The second — Full of courtesy 
 
 To be to each estate 
 Of men — of high or low degree ; 
 Nor talebearer, nor faithless be ; 
 
 Nor yet intemperate. 
 
 The third — a mother's gen'rous care 
 
 Could never fail to show — 
 How much he should, in mercy, spare 
 The poor, if Heav'n a bounteous share 
 
 Of good gifts should bestow !
 
 £8 A HALLAD 
 
 Pierre Bayard listcn'd : — nor in vain 
 
 \[r plodi^^cd in danger's hour 
 A niotlicr's precepts to maintain : — 
 Thou turu'd lie steed to battle-plain — 
 She, to her castle tow'r. 
 
 As years advanced he was beloved, 
 
 Devoid of all offence ; 
 In bloody fight he kept unmoved 
 At post ; and rich his valour proved 
 
 As his benevolence. 
 
 Yet not to rank or dignity 
 He rose from low estate : 
 
 He could not win by flattery, 
 
 By art of base servility, 
 The favour of the great. 
 
 But, though of just reward denied, 
 
 He gain'd a nobler prize : 
 His virtues, spreading far and wide, 
 Secured for him, on every side, 
 A fame that never dies. 
 
 A country's love dispell'd the blight 
 That hung o'er his career : 
 
 His fellow-men preserved his right ; 
 
 They gave him title of '' The Knight 
 Without reproach or fear."
 
 FK.OM THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. 59 
 
 How oft the desp'rate fight he'd brave, 
 
 Witli heart that could not yield 
 To danger ; and how often have 
 A longing wish to make his grave 
 
 Upon the battle-field ! 
 
 The war, by Francis often plann'd, 
 
 The Milanese to gain, 
 Gave wounded Bonivet's command 
 To Pierre, who was, with sword in hand, 
 
 Among the foremost slain. 
 
 Near Romagnano's blood-stain'd ground, 
 
 In full, yet close retreat, 
 Pierre Bayard met his mortal wound ; 
 And many a warrior s heart around 
 
 With thriird devotion beat. 
 
 The conflict they could not renew ; 
 
 But, with all-measured pace 
 Retiring, their protection threw 
 Around their wounded chieftain, who 
 
 Turn'd not away his face. 
 
 With eager eye he gazed upon 
 
 The foe, o'er field so gory 
 Advancing ; and he thought alone 
 If left to him, he might have won 
 
 A field of fame and glory.
 
 (id A BALLAD 
 
 Another wuuiul, wliilst brandishing 
 
 His sword against the foe, 
 Increased the hero's suftcring ; 
 But still was courage in its spring — 
 
 lie grasp'd his saddle bow. 
 
 At length exhausted, 'neath the shade 
 
 or time-worn forest tree, 
 The warrior's shatter 'd form was laid 
 A lifeless corse ; and none could fade, 
 
 Loved more devotedly. 
 
 Each soldier wish'd his form to bear 
 
 From danger hov'ring round ; 
 But he had breathed, in latest pray'r, 
 " His body might be left to share 
 A grave on battle ground/' 
 
 For him could sorrow be denied ? 
 
 Could France lament in vain ? 
 Full many a hardy bosom sigh'd. 
 When Pierre the loyal chieftain died 
 
 On Romagnano's plain. 
 
 E'en tears were shed from Bourbon's eye, 
 
 Ere Bayard sunk to sleep : 
 " Oh ! shed them not for me, I die 
 For country !" was his loyal cry : 
 " For victory rather weep ! "
 
 FROM THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. 61 
 
 Thus fled as noble, great a mind, 
 
 As e'er fill'd hist'ry's page. 
 That fame which Bayard left behind. 
 Shall, wafted, live in ev'iy wind, 
 
 And fresh in ev'ry age.
 
 G2 
 
 THE LOSS OF THE "SOLWAY," WEST INDIAMAN 
 
 MAIL STEAMER. 
 
 'TwAS Spring, and softly fell the night 
 
 With sable gloom around, 
 When Duncan left Coruuna's hcieht. 
 
 For Western islands bound. 
 
 II. 
 
 His ship, of Britain's art the pride, 
 
 Rode o'er the waters free, 
 With wealth, and many a soul beside, 
 
 To its deep destiny. 
 
 III. 
 
 And soon the vessel, " Sol way" named, 
 
 With all her precious store, 
 Took leave of land in story famed , 
 
 But to return no more ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The wind was fair, the depths were still, 
 
 And most, with weary eye, 
 To rest were gone : no thought of ill. 
 
 Or insecurity
 
 THE LOSS OF THE " SOLWAY." 63 
 
 Disturbed the tranquil mind's repose, 
 Nor cliiird the bosom's glow, 
 
 Of all who'd breathed a prayer for those 
 They'd left and loved ; when, lo ! 
 
 vi. 
 
 At midnight's solemn hour, when most 
 
 Enjoy'd their placid sleep, 
 Aroused were all the helpless host, 
 
 By " danger on the deep." 
 
 VII. 
 
 " She strikes ! " the hardy seaman cries : 
 " Untimely death we share." 
 
 Distract, awakening sinners rise 
 With look of wild despair. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! can imagination paint 
 
 The struggling bosom's swell ? — 
 
 Describe the sinking soul's complaint ? — 
 The piercing last farewell ? — 
 
 IX. 
 
 The fervent, momentary pray'r. 
 Above th' ingulfing wave ? — 
 
 The self-condcmn'd, with frenzied stare, 
 As hurried to the grave ?
 
 04 Tlir LOSS nl- TUK " SOLWAY 
 
 X. 
 
 Willi, to tin' pinnace vainly fly 
 
 Too many, life to save : 
 'Tis overborne, and instantly 
 
 Tt sinks hononth the wave! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Again another launch is made ; 
 
 When sixty souls and more, 
 Awe-struck and speechless, are convey 'd 
 
 In safety to the shore. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet some remain ; and harrowing 
 
 It is to think, that there 
 How many fail'd, with frantic spring, 
 
 The crowded boat to share ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 How mute was each convulsive lip ! 
 
 And then a wild shriek heard ! 
 A moment's pause ! — and how the ship 
 
 Wont down like ocean bird ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Few to the highest topmast cling, 
 And grasp the ropes in vain ; 
 
 Whilst some below are struggling. 
 In short, but stifling pain.
 
 THE LOSS OF THE '' SOLWAY." 65 
 
 XV. 
 
 Now floating on the misty air, 
 
 Like note of lone sea-bird, 
 From hearts o'erwhelm'd in depth of care, 
 
 The wailing sigh is heard 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Of those preserved : they look around ; 
 
 But none the spot can tell, 
 Where sti-uck the ship, o'er treach'rous ground 
 
 Borne by the current's swell. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Oh ! 'twas a fearful sight, to view. 
 
 At break of wish'd-for morn, 
 A sorrowing, awe-stricken crew, 
 
 Upon the wide waves borne. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The sun's all-cheering beams arise 
 
 O'er sea, with sorrow rife, — 
 O'er all bereft of earthly ties, 
 
 The destitute in life. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Oh ! think not, when the way seems fair, 
 
 And Nature's lull'd to sleep. 
 No trouble can be lurking there 
 
 No dangei' in the deep ! 
 
 F
 
 66 THE LOSS OF THE " SOLWAY. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And ne'er on Imman aid rely, 
 On man's inventive skill : 
 
 There can be no security 
 But in Almighty Will.
 
 67 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 The Spring returns by Goers all-bounteous grace. 
 And Nature smiles on ev'ry tree and flow'r : 
 
 Mankind, though still a disobedient race, 
 He yet permits to greet the vernal hour. 
 
 How great to Him the gratitude we owe ! 
 
 The foliage bursting from the time-worn stem, 
 The lilies still that in the valleys grow, 
 
 Repeat the all-cheering truth — He cares for them. 
 
 And yet the new-born 3'ear, with charm serene, 
 Fails to revive the drooping hearts of some, 
 
 Who, by the blasts o'er Winter's barren scene. 
 Have lost the treasure of their earthly home. 
 
 The hearths, where parent, child, and friend would wait 
 The closing shadows of the day to cheer, 
 
 For ever gone ! how far more desolate, 
 As hours increase, their vacancies appear ! 
 
 Many a once all-joyous spirit's breaking, 
 On the dark current of affliction borne ; 
 
 Wliilst all around to energy is waking, 
 
 Roused by the small bird's song and smiling morn. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 SPRING. 
 
 For them, no more the verdant meads disclose 
 The cheering prospect, as in bygone years ; 
 
 I'.ut still to them the meanest flow'r that grows, 
 liids tliought and feeling rise, too deep for tears. 
 
 And why should all not greet returning Spring, 
 The golden east proclaiming jocund day ? 
 
 Oh ! why should some so soon be withering, 
 Deprived of joy a solitary ray ? 
 
 All must decay : a wintry hour must come, 
 We know not when ; but its advance is sure. 
 
 Life's varied course unruffled is to some ; 
 Wliile some, how much of suffering endure ! 
 
 One may behold, on Hope's seducing wing, 
 A summer, autumn, and a green old age ; 
 
 But oft, how soon does winter follow spring, 
 And close the story of our pilgrimage ! 
 
 E'en at the most a few short years — a span ! 
 
 Cling as we may to human aid, we must 
 Obey the sentence pass'd on fallen man, 
 
 And yield our bodies to their native dust. 
 
 But firm in faith, the humbled creature dies, 
 Trusting a purer fadeless spring to share. 
 
 Far, far above the azure plains, where sighs 
 Are never heard upon the tranquil air. 
 
 1842.
 
 m 
 
 TO A BIRD SINGING ON SOPHY'S GRAVE. 
 
 Sing on, sweet bird, your melody : 
 Here, in the churchyard, far and free 
 From busy life's unfeeling throng. 
 There's nothing- to disturb your song. 
 
 No little crumb have I for thee, 
 For thine unsullied sympathy ; 
 There's nothing from this barren land, 
 That I can give with grateful hand. 
 
 In this lone place, how few can share 
 Thy welcoming in hallow'd air ! 
 Then tell me, pretty, cheerful thing. 
 Why dost thou tarry here, and sing ? 
 
 True, there is nothing hov'ring near. 
 To startle tim'rous eye or ear ; 
 Yet, tell me why dost thou prolong 
 In desert spot your joyous song ? 
 
 Perhaps, by Nature's gift imbued 
 With that rare bounty — gratitude ! 
 Remembering once the hand that gave. 
 You greet the morn o'er Sophy's grave.
 
 70 TO A HlUn S1N01N<} uN SOPIIY's GRAVK 
 
 Hcv care it was, by yonder lawn, 
 When lioar-lVost clad the furze and thorn. 
 To feed, with ever-willing love, 
 The <;raving songster of the grove. 
 
 With siuUlcr soul / greet thee, bird ; 
 For I have loved, as I have heard 
 The selfsame note with her in spring, 
 Above whose resting-place yon sing. 
 
 If thou could'st trust me, I'd engage 
 
 To cherish thee : no narrow cage 
 
 Should ci-anip your gen'rous liberty ; 
 
 But tliou should'st live as joyous and as free !
 
 71 
 
 NORA (AGED FOUR) IN EXETER CATHEDRAL. 
 
 " Tell me, papa," my little child, 
 Sweet Nora, said, in whisper mild. 
 As in the vaulted aisle she sat, 
 Alone, by me, — " What form is that V — 
 
 Before, in such a solemn place 
 
 She had not been. Her infant face, 
 
 Her innocent, inquiring eye, 
 
 Was rich in pure serenity ; 
 
 But yet a look of awe was there — 
 
 A soul subdued by inward pray'r : 
 
 And, as the music louder swell'd. 
 
 More firm my hand with hers she held. 
 
 Her earnest look at once defied 
 The least evasion. — I replied — 
 " That form, my little innocent, 
 Is but an ancient monument ! 
 The figure hath not life nor breath ; 
 It merely marks a grave beneath."" 
 
 Then Nora looked on me, and said, 
 " Mamma is in the churchyard laid !
 
 72 TO NORA (aged FOUR) IN KXETKR CATHKDRAL. 
 
 And slic is gone to God, you say ; 
 Oil I tell mc, dear papa, I pray, 
 Wlioii we are dead and gone, shall we 
 AVitliin the church or churchyard be ? 
 I'm sure, if I am good, papa. 
 You'll let me be with my mamma." 
 
 My eyes were fill'd ; I could not see 
 The cherub lips that spake to me ; 
 But, as I press'd them to my face, 
 Her warm, devotional embrace 
 Convinced me, she felt sure that I 
 Would, if within my power, comply.
 
 7.'^ 
 
 LITTLE VOICE. 
 
 Though long liatli ceased a little voice, 
 
 With winning charm my way to cheer, 
 Which made my weary soul rejoice, 
 
 When darkest sorrow hover'd near : 
 How oft methinks, as all alone, 
 
 With wandering foot and aching brain 
 I struggle on, I hear a tone 
 
 Of that same little voice again ! 
 
 'Tis then, although tlie loneliest thing 
 
 That creeps among the gathering throng 
 Of careless hearts, my thoughts take wing, 
 
 As if aroused by holiest song ! 
 'Tis then, above the grovelling way 
 
 Of man's unwilling sympathy, 
 Fresh as the breeze at peep of day. 
 
 The heart renews its foraier glee. 
 
 Beats it not high then, far beyond 
 
 The dull and cold, the grave and real ; 
 When Mem'ry bids it not despond 
 
 For treasure lost, 'mid things ideal ? 
 Tliough trouble then would weigh me down. 
 
 If I but hear that little voice, 
 Despite the gloom of fortune's frown, 
 
 My spirit shall, as erst, rejoice.
 
 74 
 
 "PORTRAIT CHARMANT." 
 
 I. 
 
 CHARMING portrait of one loved so dear ! 
 Pledge of fond love, by love alone obtained ! 
 In tliee my greatest treasure is regain'd, 
 
 And life returns when I beliold tliee here. 
 
 II. 
 
 Bless'd skill to bring thee back ! Oh ! magic pow'r ! 
 
 Some disappointed heart created thee, 
 
 To lighten its overwhelming misery, 
 And charm away the solitary hour. 
 
 III. 
 
 There are her features, innocent and fair — 
 
 There her expression — there the winning smile ; 
 And as I press them to my heart, the while 
 
 1 feel the lost original is there. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But thou hast not the same dear charm — oh, no ! 
 Thou silent witness of my fond distress : 
 And, calling back my transient happiness, 
 
 You only make the tear more freely flow.
 
 " PORTRAIT CHARMANT." 75 
 
 V. 
 
 Forgive this language — so unjust ! forgive 
 Reproach, occasioned by my deep regret ! 
 Thou art not happiness, picture ! yet 
 
 How oft thou mak'st the image of it live !
 
 THE CHILD AND THE KANGAROO. 
 (From the French.) 
 
 " Mamma," said, one day, a Peruvian child, 
 To the tenderest mother that ever yet smiled, 
 
 As he sat on her knee, 
 
 " What creature, I wonder, 
 
 Is that which I see 
 
 A capering yonder. 
 In the midst of the heath, with the little ones near ? — 
 It looks like a fox." " No," says she ; " 'tis, my dear, 
 
 A kangaroo mother. 
 
 Whose little ones share. 
 
 Each one with another. 
 
 Most vigilant care. 
 No mother hath e'er for her children more love, 
 And lier feelings of tenderness nature doth prove ; 
 For a cradle she carries through life so complete. 
 It can keep her young pets from the cold and the heat : 
 And for safety and succour, they never once fail 
 There to hang round her heart when dangers assail. 
 Make a noise," said mamma to her son, " and you'll see 
 Where the young kangaroos will immediately be." 
 
 The hoy his hands clapp'd, 
 And the old kangaroo,
 
 THE CHILD AND THE KANGAROO. 77 
 
 In watchfulness wrapp'd, 
 
 Made a cry would pierce through 
 The hardest of hearts ; then each young one, so fleet, 
 Gave a hop and a bound to its wonted retreat ; 
 And soon, in her pouch, did the tenderest mother 
 All fear in the hearts of her little ones smother. 
 
 Thus all disappear, 
 
 And off mamma goes. 
 
 With her treasures so dear, 
 
 To a place of repose. 
 Then said the Peruvian mother : " My son, 
 Whatever misfortune, as life hastens on. 
 May fall to your share, on this truth you may rest — 
 The best refuge is found in a fond mother's breast."
 
 78 
 
 THE SWISS GIRL ON THE BANKS OF THE 
 
 LAKE. 
 
 (From the French.) 
 
 The fragrance of flowers embalms tliis retreat, 
 And the night dews descend with soft, silent feet ; 
 The pure lake is still, and the air is serene. 
 The full peace of evening is spread o'er the scene. 
 my country ! my country ! my heart for thee glows, 
 Tliou source from whence all my true happiness flows ! 
 
 Then come my companions ; with me pass away 
 The loveliest close to the loveliest day : 
 Whilst echo shall ring through the mountains above 
 This song of the gentlest devotion and love — 
 my country ! my country ! my heart for thee glows, 
 Thou source from whence all my true happiness flow 
 
 I 
 
 Through the slumbering leaves the moonbeams now 
 
 play, 
 
 And announce the return of my fond one this way : 
 
 From the distance already I hear his sweet voice. 
 
 Repeating in turn, but in accents more choice, — 
 
 my country ! my country ! my heart for thee glows, 
 
 Thou source from whence all my true happiness flows !
 
 79 
 
 "THE SWALLOW AND THE EXILE." 
 
 (From the French.) 
 
 Why dost thou fly me, wandering bird ? 
 
 Oh ! stay thy wing for me ! 
 Since thou my lonely voice hast heard 
 
 Hast thou no sympathy ? 
 
 Perhaps from some more genial earth, 
 From Friendship's hand, as free 
 
 As thine own home and place of birth, 
 Thou hast been driven, like me ; 
 
 Perhaps by tyrant hand oppress'd. 
 
 But stay — no longer fear : 
 Am not I exiled ? — then, thy nest 
 
 Build by my window here. 
 
 In this lone spot, our equal fate 
 
 Whispers we should not part : 
 Am I not now as desolate 
 
 A stranger as thou art ?
 
 80 
 
 rilOUCillTS IN THE NEW FOREST. 
 
 In few short niontlis, wlicn leaves return, 
 
 And blossom on the tree, 
 The simplest traveller may learn 
 
 Of his eternity. 
 Dull winter past, each unclad stem, 
 
 New deck'd, will then revive : 
 The soul most heedless, seeing them, 
 
 Must wonder how they thrive. 
 
 So shall the fairest form we see. 
 
 Of youth's all-genial clime, 
 Or riper age, like yonder tree, 
 
 Have its own winter time. 
 Our summer gone, how soon we fade. 
 
 Like all around so bare. 
 To spring again ! — but how array 'd? — 
 
 To live again ! — but where ?
 
 81 
 
 AFTER MOORE. 
 
 Whisperings borne o'er shady grove, 
 
 At lonely hour, to cheer us ; 
 Voices heard of home and love ; 
 And twilight bringing near us 
 
 Hearts swelling, 
 
 Love telling — 
 
 Things cherished. 
 
 Long perish'd ; — 
 All tliat's with our summer gone. 
 And now in mem'ry dwelling. 
 
 Toilings far away for some 
 
 New prospect fair to meet us ; 
 Footsteps weary turn'd to home, 
 Where none remain to greet us ; 
 
 Tears stealing, 
 
 From feeling ; 
 
 Hearts sinking, 
 
 With thinking ; — 
 Ah ! old age ! how lone you come ! 
 Without a joy revealing ! 
 
 u
 
 82 
 
 AFTER CAMPBELL. 
 
 At Ascot once, when race-time came, 
 Would man unknown, and man of fame, 
 Join in the sports, and in the game 
 Of thimhlc- rigging roguery. 
 
 But now the Heath another sight 
 Displays ; and men of straw and might 
 Go there : but there is small delight 
 Without the artful-dodgery ! 
 
 No longer " rouge-et-noir" is there 
 The cit and bumpkin to ensnare, 
 Wliilst they would seem, with knowing air. 
 Quite " wide awake" in trickery ! 
 
 To ape the fastest man of town, 
 No puppy sports his half-a-crown ; 
 Which, quick as he could throw it down, 
 Would slide off in the mystery. 
 
 Roulette is gone, and ev'ry game 
 Of chance that ever had a name : 
 In short, the Heath is very tame 
 Without its common foolery.
 
 «3 
 
 LITTLE STAR. 
 
 I. 
 
 I LOVE to watch thee, little star ; 
 When looking back to years, how far ! 
 I find, whilst all things changed have been, 
 Thou still continuest as first seen. 
 
 II 
 
 Friends have changed, and broken ties 
 Have lessened nature's sympathies ; 
 The merry face of youth has gone ; 
 But thou remainest twinkling on ! 
 
 III. 
 
 I love to see thee, little star, 
 So pure and constant, yet so far ! 
 For, whether time goes well or ill. 
 Thou art the same, and cheerful still. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And yet, since first thy light o'er me 
 Was shed, in wond'ring infancy, 
 How many from this world of care 
 Have pass'd away — we know not where ! 
 a 2
 
 84 LITTLE HTAK. 
 
 We know nut ! — for from mortal eyes 
 
 'Tis hid, till Time's last sun shall rise ; 
 When those who would not love while here, 
 
 Will be for ever doom'd to fear. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I love to watch thee, little star ; 
 And, gazing, " wond'ring what you are," 
 I often think some hearts with thee 
 Watch o'er this troubled world, and me.
 
 85 
 
 THERE'S MUSIC IN THE BREEZE. 
 
 (WEITTEN BY AN OLD TREE.) 
 
 There's music in the breeze to-day — 
 
 A fresh and merry song ; 
 The young leaves through the branches play 
 
 Beneath, a joyous throng, 
 Methinks with tones of olden time, 
 
 And looks devoid of care. 
 Now mingles with the zephyr's chime 
 
 True mirth in summer air. 
 
 II. 
 
 Old faces smile around yon stem : 
 
 It makes my spirit glow, 
 To sit me down and look at them ; 
 
 At least, I fancy so ! 
 For all have gone from me, alas ! 
 
 Some fled, and some laid low ; 
 And stranger hearts come there, to pass 
 
 The leisure moment now.
 
 86 TlIKHK'fS MUSIC IN THE lUiKEZE. 
 
 III. 
 
 Did Jem looks on, with tearful gaze, 
 
 Awhile the village boys 
 Pursue the old time-honour'd plays — 
 
 The still-same youthful joys ; 
 Then turning oif to tend his flock, 
 
 lie thinks, the fields across, 
 Of friends of youth in May-day frock,- 
 
 Of many a true one's loss. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But blow, ye summer breezes, blow ! 
 
 Ye cannot come unkind, 
 Since ye do bring to spirit low 
 
 Old voices in the wind. 
 And in the shade thy branches give, 
 
 Old tree ! and shelt'ring boughs, 
 The sounds of home for ever live, 
 
 And new-made lovers' vows.
 
 87 
 
 "THE UNION." 
 
 See yonder pile, on rising land ! 
 
 It marks an age refined ! 
 Such is tlie home, by Freedom's hand, 
 
 For failing poor designed ! 
 With outward show of glistening taste, 
 
 It mocks the lone one's tears : 
 Within, the with'ring faster waste — 
 
 The wrecks of toiling years ! 
 
 No hand of fellowship is there, 
 
 Tlie sinking form to raise ; 
 No look, to charm the scanty faro. 
 
 From friend of other days : 
 Of late it was, for kindred poor 
 
 The closing day to be 
 In gossip, by the almshouse door, 
 
 But harmless company. 
 
 There would they tell of deed of fame, — 
 
 Of feat by neighbour won ; 
 There would they boast, who in the game 
 
 All others had outdone ! 
 What small relief, in modern state. 
 
 Attends the worn of time ! 
 What smile beams through the prison grate, 
 
 Now poverty's a crime !
 
 HH "Tiir. rNioN." 
 
 "A miion liouso" such place tlicy call ! 
 
 As if 'tworc in derision : 
 It seems to me, to sum up all, 
 
 A home of loncf division ! 
 For no more there, a neighbour's care 
 
 Can pain or sorrow soften : 
 In kindnesses, the poorest are 
 
 The brightest patterns often ! 
 
 Thev ne'er have known the small relief 
 
 To woe, like favour'd one ; 
 They are not taught to feel for grief 
 
 Of others bv their own : 
 Then go, ye sons of wealth or pride, 
 
 Within the humblest dwelling ; 
 You'll find, the scantiest thatch mai/ hide 
 
 The tend'rest bosom swelling. 
 
 Go not to prison home like this. 
 
 Though grand and fair without ! 
 The poor need no such edifice — 
 
 A world to talk about ! 
 Oh ! turn from such, with look of shame, 
 
 Toward the free creation ; 
 And blush to think, that Freedom's name 
 
 But soundeth in the nation.
 
 FABLES.
 
 ^SOP IN VERSE. 
 
 THE FOX AND VISOR. 
 
 As Reynard once, in days of old, 
 
 Was in a sliop where masks were sold, 
 
 On one of them his paw he laid ; 
 
 And whilst reflecting how 'twas made. 
 
 Succeeded, in his curious fit, 
 
 At last to put his foot in it. 
 
 He then exclaimed, w^ith flippant tone. 
 
 Regardless of the damage done, 
 
 " Bless me ! how smooth a phiz and fair ! 
 
 To make it, great has been the care ! 
 
 Wliat pity, after all the pains, 
 
 The pretty creature has no brains ! " 
 
 Moral. 
 
 The world, it truly may be said, 
 Ls but a gen'ral masquerade :
 
 92 TlIK FOX AND VISOR. 
 
 And many faces tliat we see, 
 
 So winning in society ; 
 
 And many heads, that have the credit 
 
 Of topping tip a man of merit ; — 
 
 Would, if examined, 'tis quite clear, 
 
 As brainless as the mask appear.
 
 93 
 
 THE SHEEP AND STAG. 
 
 Said a stag to a sheep, in accents most sweet, 
 
 " Pray, give me the loan of a bushel of wheat : 
 The risk, there is none ; for a surety IVe found 
 In dear Mr. Wolf, who consents to be bound." 
 " Indeed I" quoth the sheep, with a wink in its eye, 
 Suspecting the case was " a do " on the sly : 
 " Your friend, who's so kind as to act thus for you, 
 Will find an escape, like Attorney or Jew ; 
 Wliilst you, by the help of feet nimble and light, 
 Can pack up your all, and be soon out of sight ! 
 Then where for redress would my woolly sides hunt, 
 For the bushel of wheat, or its value in blunt ?" 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Be cautious, whenever requested to lend 
 Your goods or your money to neighbour or friend ; 
 For this you'll find true, ev'ry day more and more, 
 That wolves stand on two legs, as much as on four !
 
 94 
 
 THE BEAR AND THE BEES. 
 
 A BEAR came o'er a fence one noon, 
 
 Where bees were working under ; 
 And then the rogue began full soon 
 
 The honied store to plunder ! 
 The bees then moved at so much harm 
 
 And mischief done, together 
 Attaclv'd old Bruin, in a swarrn. 
 
 And tickled up his leather. 
 
 Each busily its utmost tried, 
 
 As if 'tAvere for a wager, 
 To tease the features and the hide 
 
 Of pilf ring Ursa Major. 
 In vain could skin such onslaught bear ! 
 
 He claAv'd it into cracks ; 
 And thus he suffer'd everywhere 
 
 For meddling with the wax ! 
 
 Moral. 
 
 How some will oft in injury 
 To others find delight,
 
 THE BEAR AND THE BEES. 95 
 
 Some wanton wish to gratify, 
 
 Or selfish appetite ! 
 But oft the actors of sucli wrong, 
 
 By unforeseen event, 
 Find that their crime doth bear alone: 
 
 Its own sure punishment.
 
 .9G 
 
 THE INSIDE AND THE OUT. 
 
 In time beyond the memory of man, 
 
 A great contention loud and fierce began 
 
 Between the body and the members each, 
 
 Who then enjoy'd the faculty of speech. 
 
 The members swore it justified their strife, 
 
 That one so big should lead an idle life, 
 
 And spend and squander all their store away. 
 
 The produce of their labour day by day ! 
 
 The outside then resolved to cut things short, 
 
 And make the inside his own state support : 
 
 So each in purpose firm at once did rise, 
 
 And resolution pass'd to stop supplies. 
 
 The hands for him would neither cut nor carve, 
 
 The moutli would shut up shop, and he should starve 
 
 The eyes no more would keep a good look out. 
 
 And legs no longer carry him about ! 
 
 And thus, with all their stratagems and tricks, 
 
 The outside put the inside in a fix ! 
 
 This compact, so republican, was held. 
 
 Till each short-sighted member that rebeird, 
 
 Found, to his cost, he could hold out no longer ; 
 
 And that, in fact, the inside was the stronger ; — 
 
 That, though so lazy he might seem to be, 
 
 He brought the state as much utilitv
 
 THE INSIDE AND THE OUT. 97 
 
 As all the rest : and so thev lost the ruh. 
 With all their tricks, to stop free trade in grub ; 
 And found beside, in spite of strong objection, 
 They dared not fail to give the state protection. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Though man against his fellow-man may turn, 
 And trust to self a livelihood to earn, 
 He'll find too soon that he can never thrive 
 By self alone ! To live, he must let live ! 
 No class has ever, since the world was made, 
 Been known to thrive without another s aid. 
 
 If
 
 9cS 
 
 THE HAWK AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 As sat a nightingale alone, 
 Singing with melodious tone, 
 Beneath the thick and mellow shade 
 A venerable oak had made, 
 His note, so full of melody, 
 A distant hawk attracted nigh, 
 One who, o'er meadows far away, 
 Was poized and watching for his prey. 
 The hawk with speed did quickly gain 
 The spot from whence the pleasing strain 
 Was warbled forth ; then, by the throat, 
 He stopp'd the small musician's note. 
 And, with his talons threatening, there 
 Bade him at once for death prepare. 
 " Alas ! " says he ; " for mercy's sake. 
 No mean advantage of me take ! 
 Do not so barbarous a thing. 
 As take my life because I sing ! 
 I never did to any wrong ; 
 And look's it well, that one so strong 
 Should crush a frame so weak as mine. 
 To serve a stomach big as thine ? 
 Nay, rather on another spring, 
 More large and lusty on the wing ;
 
 THE HAWK AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 99 
 
 'Tvvould gain you credit more a deal, 
 
 And give you, too, a better meal." 
 
 The hawk replied — " This argument. 
 
 Though strong, will change not my intent : 
 
 I've been upon the search all day 
 
 For food, and, with all truth, can say, 
 
 I ne'er discover'd smallest bit, 
 
 Till I found out where now you sit ! 
 
 If I should grant you liberty, 
 
 Wliich would the simpler creature be ?" 
 
 Moral. 
 
 He who the present lets slip by, 
 
 Desei*ves no opportunity ! 
 
 Throw not a single chance away — 
 
 It may not come another day ! 
 
 Yet do not vainly tiy to gain 
 
 A prize which you can ne'er obtain : 
 
 By acting thus, though done at last. 
 
 Remorse will not succeed the past. 
 
 u 2
 
 100 
 
 THE ONE-EYED DOE. 
 
 A DOE, that only had one eye, 
 
 Resolved from dang'rous paths to fly, 
 
 And seek for f)irub beside the sea, 
 
 Beneath the cliffs' security. 
 
 One day, whilst grazing- 'long the coast, 
 
 And making of spare food the most, — 
 
 Her dark side turn'd toward the spray. 
 
 The other keeping a survey 
 
 Of all the headlands round about, 
 
 Lest man or beast should find her out,' — 
 
 A crafty cove, with two or three 
 
 As cunning in his company, 
 
 Who'd found out poaching for the doe. 
 
 O'er hill and dale, was " all no go," 
 
 At last took boat, and, from the sea, 
 
 Came down upon her suddenly ; 
 
 Then shot her dead, ere she could cry out, 
 
 " I'm gone for ever — with my eye out ! " 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Through life there's such uncertainty. 
 From clangers none are ever free :
 
 THE ONE-EYED DOE. 101 
 
 Though we may keep a weather eye 
 
 Well out, some trouble, on the sly, 
 
 Comes on us thick ; and, when we've caught it, 
 
 All we can say, is — " VYho'd have thought it ?" 
 
 E'en those who are most wide-awake, 
 
 Misfortune will at times o'ertake ! 
 
 And oft the self-sufficient find, 
 
 Like others, they've a side that's blind !
 
 102 
 
 THE FROG AND THE MOUSE. 
 
 It happened once, an angry broil 
 
 Commenced, with language harsh, 
 Between two worthies of the soil, 
 
 'Bout "right of way" or marsh. 
 One, Mr. Frog, his title flat 
 
 Would boast from ancient house ; 
 Whilst clear descent from ere a rat (Ararat) 
 
 Was urged by Mr. Mouse. 
 
 Tlien fierce engagements, short and sweet, 
 
 Between the nobs arose ; 
 And one, more nimble with his feet, 
 
 More smartly dealt his blows : 
 The other then, when such were aim'd. 
 
 And he could twig the start, 
 Would spring away, like many famed 
 
 In pugilistic art. 
 
 Thus, one excelling more in strength. 
 
 And one on foot more fleet, 
 They both agreement sign'd, at length, 
 
 In nobler fight to meet, — 
 With pistol or high-temper'd blade, 
 
 Witli foils or single-sticks, — 
 Till dead should one or both be laid, 
 
 As doov nails or as bricks.
 
 THE FROG AND THE MOUSE. 
 
 Now, as with seconds oif tliey went, 
 
 And eacli his bottle-holder, 
 To give or suffer punishment. 
 
 Their pluck not getting bolder : 
 By some secluded dell or creek, 
 
 Just suited for the sport, 
 A Kite appear'd, with all his beak. 
 
 And cut the combat short. 
 
 His duty bound him, day by day, 
 
 To hang about and watch. 
 To stop, like artful bird of prey, 
 
 All coming to the scratch : 
 He took them both to lin^bo nigh, 
 
 Then to some justice wise, 
 Who sent them on to be tried by 
 
 The judges of assize. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 When passion's let to have its start, 
 
 What weak points it exposes ! 
 Some people smote on hinder part, 
 
 And others pulling noses ! 
 Beware, then, not for party's sake. 
 
 To let contentions rise. 
 Lest some one should advantage take. 
 
 And catch you by surprise. 
 
 103
 
 104 
 
 THE LION AND THE FROG. 
 
 A LION having heard a row, 
 And seeing no one started, 
 
 He listen'd, and he said, " As how ! 
 
 I feel as timid as a cow, 
 And very chicken-hearted." 
 
 But wliilst he sat, with puzzled brain, 
 
 A frog appear'd in sight : 
 Quoth Nero, " You sha'n't croak again 
 Then, rising up with all his mane, 
 
 Crush'd it with all his might. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 A sudden noise, however small, 
 
 Oft jars the senses through 
 Of some who can't a reason call 
 For cause of it ; and then thev fall 
 In panic and a stew. 
 
 And, child-like though it seems to be, 
 
 They seize the first door's handle, 
 And try " to cut," especially 
 When all alone, and cannot see 
 The way to find a candle.
 
 THE LION AND THE FROG. 105 
 
 Alarm, when once it taketli root, 
 
 How few are ever able 
 To make the trembling heart recruit 
 Its pluck and spirit ! like the brute 
 
 Or lion in the fable. 
 
 Yet there are those of courag'e found, 
 
 From idle fears exempt, 
 Who nerve themselves, with spirit sound. 
 And crush, like " Nero," to the ground, 
 
 All terror with contempt.
 
 SONGS.
 
 SONGS. 
 
 UP ! AND LET US HASTE AWAY 
 
 Up ! and let us haste away ! . 
 
 The birds are chirping gay, boy : 
 Better far to meet the day, 
 
 Than on the couch to stay, boy. 
 Up ! then, up ! and let us fly ! 
 
 For moments will not wait, boy : 
 Mirth but comes with Morning's eye. 
 
 And sorrow ne'er too late, boy. 
 
 List, oh ! list ! and hear the lark 
 
 Jocund day proclaiming, boy : 
 Joy that comes when day is dark, 
 
 Is not worth the naming, boy. 
 Up ! and let us claim a share 
 
 Of new-made Morning's song, boy : 
 Too soon it cannot come ; for care 
 
 Will ever tarry long, boy.
 
 110 up! and let us haste away! 
 
 Haste, and see tlio sunbeams sport 
 
 Above the furtlicst hill, boy : 
 Summer time is very short, 
 
 And smiles are shorter still, boy ; 
 Manhood's day will soon be nigh, 
 
 Life's noon, with dimmer ray, boy ; 
 And gloom around Morning's eye 
 
 Can never chase away, boy.
 
 Ill 
 
 A HAPPY NEW YEAR ! 
 
 I. 
 
 Adieu to the Old Year ! its story is told ; 
 
 And again we're permitted to see 
 Another New Year, which returns, as of old, 
 
 To the young and the prosperous and free ! — 
 To all with new blessings — fresh hopes — doth it come 
 
 So away with the sigh and the tear. 
 Whilst I pledge to each one that gladdens my home, 
 
 Ev'ry joy with a happy New Year I 
 
 II. 
 
 Long, long cherish 'd words, as they fall on the ear, 
 
 Wliat a charm, what remembrance they bring 
 Of moments when merriest spirits were here, 
 
 In the bloom of their own happy spring ! 
 There's many have faded, — how soon ! — and have gone ; 
 
 But their mirth's left in mem'ry, to cheer 
 The hearts that must miss them : so let ev'ry one, 
 
 O'er the past, greet a happy New Year.
 
 112 A HAPPY NEW YKAK ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Look rouiul, and beliold in tlie innocent smile, 
 
 111 the sport, and tlio cliildhood of some, 
 Resemblance of others who chccr'd us the while, 
 
 And enliven'd our hearts and our home. 
 Is such not a blessing — a privilege left ? 
 
 Look again, and say, have we not here 
 Old faces, and loved ones ? — then never bereft 
 
 Should we feel in another New Year ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then fill, fill the glass ! good old rules I'll maintain, 
 
 Be the world e'er so given to new : 
 What matter our troubles, misfortune, or pain. 
 
 If our old friends continue still true ? 
 Though time may go hard, — no exertion may win 
 
 Ev'ry prize we may seek and hold dear — 
 If fond hearts be stanch, we can never give in, 
 
 But rejoice in a happy New Year.
 
 113 
 
 "FLOREAT ETONA!" 
 
 On glancing back to boyhood's day, 
 
 How many thoughts arise, 
 Wliich bring, with their subduing sway, 
 
 A tear to manhood's eyes ! 
 But through the dew there's nought appears 
 
 To brighten life, and sweeten, 
 So much, as one small peep in years 
 
 That we have pass'd at Eton. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then pledge the bowl, with grateful soul, 
 To Eton ; praise be shown her ! 
 
 Whilst each old boy, with honest joy. 
 Shouts— " Floreat Etona!" 
 
 It. 
 
 Round Henry's shade, where oft we stray'd 
 
 Ere we began to beat on 
 Our road to dust, we'd no distrust ; 
 
 The world was true at Eton ! 
 
 I
 
 114 " FLOREAT ETONA ! " 
 
 'Neatli licr old trees, a summer breeze 
 
 Kept pain and care away ; 
 Few false hearts there would place a snare 
 
 In life's short holiday ! 
 
 Then pledge the bowl, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Small trouble lurk'd in Western's Yard, 
 
 No copy writ or suitor ; 
 Though consequences came full hard, 
 
 When any shirk'd his tutor. 
 We knew no ill, save one S77iall bill, 
 
 To settle on demand made ; 
 And when 'twas due, with honour true, 
 
 'Twas met, and ne'er a stand made. 
 Then pledge the bowl, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There's many gone, who join'd the fun 
 
 At football or at cricket, 
 Who since have toil'd, and never won 
 
 A goal, or got a wicket. 
 But many in our bumpers live, 
 
 Who've been renown'd in story ; 
 And many yet remain, who'll give 
 
 A wreath to Eton's glory.
 
 " FLOREAT ETONa!" 115 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 With warmth the most, then drink the toast 
 
 To Eton ; praise be shown her ! 
 Whilst each old boy, with new-made joy, 
 
 Shouts—" Floreat Etona !" 
 
 1 2
 
 IIG 
 
 " UNCLE." 
 (Tune — "The Heart bow'd down.") 
 
 I. 
 
 When forced abroad, in seedy dress, 
 
 To show, for want of browns ; 
 And, like a vessel in distress. 
 
 To scud along the downs ; — 
 In vain to relatives we send, 
 
 For most of tliem have flown ; 
 But " Uncle," he's the only friend 
 
 That poverty can own. 
 
 II. 
 
 The cast-a-drift, whilst he despairs, 
 
 Through life's successive squalls. 
 Unto a little nook repairs, 
 
 Wliere hang three golden balls : 
 'Tis there the wreck'd, and all the sort 
 
 Who are on beam-ends thrown, 
 Find " Uncle"— and the only port 
 
 That poverty can own.
 
 UNCLE." 117 
 
 III. 
 
 The cove, of better days run out, 
 
 On trouble's billows cast, 
 Wliilst flound'ring 'neatli the waterspout, 
 
 Is forced to spout at last. 
 In narrow straits wliicli have no end 
 
 Or turning, there is none 
 But "Uncle" who remains the friend 
 
 That poverty can own. 
 
 (For after Dinner.) 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then drink to " Uncle", and the balls, 
 
 Wliich hang with cheering sway. 
 More dazzling than the one St. Paul's 
 
 Shows on a sunny day. 
 AVhy balls but three should meet our glance, 
 
 For certain none have known. 
 Except, they tell us, " Uncle's" chance 
 
 Is always two to one.
 
 118 
 
 SONG TO THE STRAIT-LACED. 
 
 (Tune—" Paddy Whack.") 
 
 On ! what is the cliff'rence so long as we're hcappy ! 
 
 This world's full of strange contradictions, depend ; 
 Some live on Boliea, and some live on Black Strappy, 
 
 And some on Blue Ruin — but it's one in the end ! 
 
 II. 
 
 What's the odds so we're happy ? — our day is but short ; 
 
 And a spree now and then needn't always offend : 
 But some are so over-good grown, that the sport 
 
 Of Old England's choked — but it's one in the end ! 
 
 III. 
 
 At balls and at parties some glory in shaking 
 Their toe, or their voice, with a lass or a friend ; 
 
 But now it is sinful set steps to be making, 
 
 And playing the agreeable — but it's one in the end ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sir Roger de Goverleys quite out of fashion, 
 
 The "boulanger" now is ne'er known to unbend. 
 
 The thought of a reel sets the blood in a passion ; 
 
 " They are not reclierche" — but they're one in the end!
 
 SONG TO THE STRAIT-LACED. Ill) 
 
 An old countiy dance is too vulgar to think of, 
 It is not distingue enough, they pretend ; 
 
 A bowl of good punch is too common to drink of ; 
 But what is the odds ? — 'tis all one in the end ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Tis both'ring quite, to think what some are driving at ; 
 
 Ancient and laudable customs offend ; 
 Reform, we are told, we shall soon be arriving at ; 
 
 Yet humbug will ever be one in the end ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 A fig then for those who'd secure in their trammels. 
 But guests at a " tea-and-turn-out" to attend ; 
 
 Tliey stickle at gnats, making nothing of camels ; 
 But what does it matter ? — it's one in the end ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! banish all show, and pretence to be better 
 Than others : soon then would society mend ; 
 
 And Old England, freed from a cankering fetter, 
 "Would see her sons live, as of old, to the end !
 
 120 
 
 WHO'S WHO ? 
 (Tune—" Fanny Gray/') 
 
 Who's who in 1849 ? 
 
 Oh ! say, ere time advances ; 
 For many now, who cut it fine, 
 
 Are straiten'd in finances. 
 Old '48 so strange has gone, 
 
 And made so much ado. 
 That ev'ry one, to ev'ry one, 
 
 May well say, " Who are you V 
 That ev'ry one, to ev'ry one, 
 
 May well say, " Who are you ?" 
 
 Old Time has had a rattling fling, 
 
 Too desperate to relate, 
 One day he's made a railway king. 
 
 The next upset a state. 
 The old world seems stark staring mad, 
 
 With exits and expulsions, 
 As if a second childhood had 
 
 Attack'd it with convulsions ; 
 As if a second childhood had 
 
 Attack'd it with convulsions.
 
 who's WHO? 121 
 
 Poor Louis Phil first had a spill 
 
 From off his throne of France ; 
 He'd not retrench, so lost his bench, 
 
 His pride and circumstance. 
 Who's who with Lou ? when, in a stew, 
 
 He scarce could say, " Odd, rot 'em ! " 
 His pluck all lost, the sea he cross'd 
 
 Upon a British bottom ; 
 His pluck all lost, the sea he cross'd 
 
 Upon a British bottom. 
 
 The Pope no longer, as of yore, 
 " Leads on a happy life ;" 
 
 But one dim day was shown the door, 
 By bodkin and by knife, 
 
 Away he cuts, and fain though dol- 
 orous would Tiber swim ; 
 
 For nothing in his Capitol 
 Seem'd capital to him ; 
 
 For nothing in his Capitol 
 Seem'd capital to him. 
 
 Who's Lamartine, and all that's green ? 
 
 As they come in, they fly out. 
 The mighty Russ has had no fuss, 
 
 Because he kept his eye out. 
 Yet still who's who in government, 
 
 With emperors or kings ? 
 For France they've found a president 
 
 For such a state of things ,
 
 122 who's who ? 
 
 For France they've found a president 
 For such a state of things. 
 
 Wlio's who with Cuffy ? who with Duify ?- 
 
 With Mitchel or O'Brien ?— 
 Each man of might, who's talked of fight, 
 
 And then proved such a shy-un ? 
 But yesterday, with noble bile, 
 
 They made rebellion frantic ; 
 To-day, they're snug in durance vile. 
 
 Or crossing the -^.tlantic ; 
 To-day, they're snug in durance vile, 
 
 Or crossing the Atlantic. 
 
 *o 
 
 Wlio's who with great Feargus O'Con- 
 nor, bloated with his Charter ? 
 
 He stole away from Kennington, 
 And none e'er saw him arter. 
 
 Who's who with many a nob and snob, 
 Of their pretensions shorn ? 
 
 Oh ! who has gain'd a bob by Cob- 
 den and repeal on corn ? 
 
 Oh ! who has gain'd a bob by Cob- 
 den and repeal on corn ? 
 
 And yet, trade free, full soon shall we 
 Need no more work for riches ; 
 
 And all without must look about 
 A pocket for their breeches.
 
 who's who ? 123 
 
 E'en "Uncle's" occupation's fled ; 
 
 He cries none need to pawn here, 
 When ev'ry wretch is thickly spread 
 
 With gold from California ; 
 When ev'ry wretch is thickly spread 
 
 With gold from California. 
 
 So Frolic's time and change severe 
 
 Sets anxious bosoms burning ; 
 Wlien wearied mind thinks ruin near, 
 
 There opens some "new turning. 
 We cannot say what future may 
 
 The darkest cloud peep through ; 
 We cannot reckon on a day, 
 
 Or calculate who's who. 
 We cannot reckon on a day, 
 
 Or calculate who's who.
 
 124 
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE BEFORE 
 THE OPENING. 
 
 (Tune — " Roast Beef of Old England.") 
 
 The Palace of Crystal's the thing to be seen ! — 
 The project of Albert (right well he doth mean). — 
 'Twill dazzle the natives so guUibly green ! 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 ! 
 
 You've heard of magnificent buildings of brass, 
 Of granite, or Stucco ; but none can surpass 
 The one they're now making all over of glass. 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 ! 
 
 Some say 'tis all humbug — a regular do ! 
 To show our Old World there are many things neiu ! 
 Great emblem that life's biggest schemes are seen through ! 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 ! 
 
 There men of all sorts and opinions will mix — 
 " Half a doz'n of one kind — of t'other kind six," 
 All il/es-opotamians — lawk ! what a fix ! 
 
 Huzza foi- the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 !
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE BEFORE THE OPENING. 125 
 
 There Cobden will welcome all-glorious Pax- 
 ton, and his work which John Bull will not tax ! 
 Wliilst soldiers will worship there — heroes in wax. 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 ! 
 
 Then Army and Navy all gone to the Deuce ! 
 And thousands of foreigners once here let loose, 
 The Palace will show them a Middlesex Goose I 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 
 
 There Ma, who for choicest accomplishments hunts 
 
 For her daughters 'mong Frenchmen {John Bidl's such a 
 
 Dunce), 
 Will find suitors plenty with beards a la Muntz. 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 » 
 
 Then haste to the Show— there are sights past belief ! 
 
 A Quaker in love — an attorney in grief ! 
 
 A gem'man, apoth'cary, ploughboy, and thief ! 
 
 Huzza for the Palace of Crystal of glorious 50 and 1 ! 
 
 Let's hope, ere this palace is raised up too high, 
 John Bull may just put up his glass to his eye ; 
 Or else, ''who'd have thought it ?" hell say by-and by ; 
 " I'm done by this Palace of Crystal, 
 By a glass too much, clearly I'm done ! "
 
 126 
 
 THE SHOWMAN OF 1851. 
 (Tune—" Sono Bazaar.") 
 
 Folks, high and low, are all on the go — 
 
 To London they're bringing the grist all ; 
 The world's in the Park, having its lark : 
 Walk into the Palace of Crystal — 
 
 Walk in, I pray, see the display ; 
 It isn't " no diddle," or fol de rol la ! 
 
 No giants here, or pig with one ear, — 
 Dog Toby to lay down the law, sir ; 
 
 No maiden with fins, or Siamese twins. 
 Or " live lions stuiF'd out with straw," sir. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 Bartlemy fair is done, you declare, 
 
 By wonders you'll witness within now ; 
 
 So brace up your ribs, and down with your dibs, 
 The show is a going to begin now. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 See, on yon shelf, the cork leg itself. 
 Which over all Europe went hopping ; 
 
 Here's the steam arm, which caused such alarm,- 
 Tlie identical memherfor Wapping. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c.
 
 THE SHOWMAN OF 1851. 127 
 
 Here's a false nose — the very point shows 
 
 Of science, although 'tis but wooden ; 
 Here, model of lips, that never cry slips. 
 
 And a mummy that lies like a good-un. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 Here's the retreat, for inventors to meet. 
 
 That each other's brains they may scrape here ; 
 
 There's a rum ship, just off from the slip — 
 An out-and-out poser for Napier. 
 Walk in, I pray, «Sz;c. 
 
 If tired and bloivn, here's eau de Cologne, 
 Like best ginger beer from the fountain ; — 
 
 A great wedding-cake, took Etna to bake ; 
 And a nob of coal, big as the mountain. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 Now see above, a quaker in love — 
 
 Such rigs, who'd have thought he'd have been 
 through ! 
 A lawyer in grief, cut up very brief : 
 
 In glasshouses his tricks are seen through. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 A chancery bill, a sheet doesn't fill 
 Of foolscap — oh, law ! what a do now ! 
 
 Stuff and silk gowns, for want of the browns, 
 A looking uncommonly blue now. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c.
 
 128 THF SHOWMAN OF 1851. 
 
 Tlic Show's tlic thing ; for from it may spring 
 A lasting embrace wuth all Thrones there : 
 
 If rulers would dwell in glass houses, well, 
 They never would throw any stones there. 
 Walk in, I pray, &c. 
 
 Long life to the Queen — the best there's been. 
 Since Billy debark'd at Pevensey. 
 
 Here tyrants to spoil, and bigots to soil 
 Her land, will no true Englishmen sec ; 
 Walk in, I pray, &;c. 
 
 But as we owe Prince Albert the Show, — 
 
 This building of vast elevations, — 
 Let's hope that it may, with prosperous sway, 
 Be a Great Exhibition of Nations. 
 
 Walk in, I pray, see the display ; 
 It isn't " no diddle," or fol de rol la ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Edward West, Printer, 17, Bull-and-Mouth Street, St. Martin's-le-Grand, 
 
 y^
 
 1,4^ 
 
 «!> 
 
 P 
 
 P-'
 
 
 
 
 ^1 |Vf7M| 
 
 ^^li 
 
 
 
 "J ij jm oui 
 
 39 
 
 > 
 
 so 
 
 %a3AiNflmv^ 
 
 DO 
 
 «/^) 
 
 OFCAllfOft^ 
 
 '^^AHvaan^ ^^A«vaan#' 
 
 
 I 
 
 ^:^EUNIVER% A^lOS-ANCEl% 
 
 ^^.1 lIwtl<ln.t^3^y "y^nx iiutifin nxw? 
 
 % 
 
 .^UBRARYOc^ v^^f 
 
 < 
 
 L 
 
 < 
 
 =3
 
 L 006 211 735 3 
 
 •/FR.r/^. 
 
 OS 
 
 =5 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 366 669 
 
 V- 
 
 jJuiMv^an^^ 
 
 i^ V^