English

I.

There sits a bird on yonder tree,
More fond than Cushat Dove;
There sits a bird on yonder tree,
And sings to me of love
Oh! stoop thee from thine eyrie down
And nestle thee near my heart,
For the moments fly, And the hour is nigh,
When thou and I must part,
My love!
When thou and I must part.

( IMITATED FROM MARTIAL )

A FRIEND I met some half-hour since —
" Good-morrow, Jack! " quoth I;
The new-made Knight, like any Prince,
Frown'd, nodded, and pass'd by;
When up came Jem — " Sir John, your Slave! "
" Ah, James; we dine at eight —
Fail not — (low bows the supple knave)
Don't make my lady wait."
The King can do no wrong? As I'm a sinner,
He's spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner.

Another mizzling, drizzling day!
Of clearing up there's no appearance;
So I'll sit down without delay,
And here, at least, I'll make a clearance!

Oh, ne'er " on such a day as this,"
Would Dido with her woes oppressed
Have woo'd Æneas back to bliss,
Or Troilus gone to hunt for Cressid!

No, they'd have stay'd at home, like me,
And popp'd their toes upon the fender,
And drank a quiet cup of tea: —

Ay , here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately,
On whose tender rind — 'twas a little one then —
We carved her initials; though not very lately —
We think in the year eighteen hundred and ten.

Yes, here is the G which proclaimed Georgiana;
Our heart's empress then; see, 'tis grown all askew;
And it's not without grief we perforce entertain a
Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q.

Three little Demons have broken loose
From the National School below!
They are resolved to play truant to-day.
Their primer and slate they have cast away,
And away, away, they go!
" Hey boys! hey boys! up go we!

MISS MARIE MIGNOT was a nice little Maid,
Her Uncle a Cook, and a Laundress her trade,
And she loved as dearly as any one can
Mister Lagardie, a nice little man.
But oh! But oh! Story of woe!
A sad interloper, one Monsieur Modeau,
Ugly and old, With plenty of gold,
Made his approach, In an elegant coach,
Her fancy was charmed with the splendour and show,
And he bore off the false-hearted Molly Mignot.
Monsieur Modeau was crazy and old,

Act 1.

W ALTER TYRREL , the son of a Norman Papa,
Has, somehow or other, a Saxon Mamma:
Though humble, yet far above mere vulgar loons,
He's a sort of a sub in the Rufus Dragoons;
Has travell'd, but comes home abruptly, the rather
That some unknown rascal has murder'd his father;
And scarce has he pick'd out, and stuck in his quiver,
The arrow that pierced the old gentleman's liver,
When he finds, as misfortunes come rarely alone,
That his sweetheart has bolted, — with whom is not known.

An Emperor, famous in council and camp,
Has a son who turns out a remarkable scamp;
Takes to dicing and drinking, And d — mning and sinking,
And carries off maids, wives, and widows, like winking!
Since the days of Arminius, his namesake, than Hermann
There never was seen a more profligate German.
He escapes from the City; And joins some banditti,
Insensible quite to remorse, fear, and pity;
Joins in all their carousals, and revels, and robberies,

BY MISS JEMIMA INGOLDSBY, AGED 15.

(Communicated by her Cousin Tom.)

O H ! how I should like in a Coach to ride,
Like the Sheriffs I saw upon Lord Mayor's day,
With a Coachman and little Postilion astride
On the back of the leader, a prancing bay.

And then behind it, oh! I should glory
To see the tall serving men standing upright,
Like the two who attend Mr. Montefiore

A LEGEND OF BLEEDING-HEART YARD

Sir CHRISTOPHER HATTON he danced with grace,
He'd a very fine form and a very fine face,
And his cloak and his doublet were guarded with lace,
And the rest of his clothes, As you well may suppose,
In taste were by no means inferior to those;
He'd a yellow-starch'd ruff, And his gloves were of buff,
On each of his shoes a red heel and a rose,