ADAM'S SLEEP.

He laid him down and slept,-and from his side A woman in her magic beauty rose,

Dazzl'd and charm'd, he call'd that woman"bride,"

And his first sleep became his last repose.

Besser

A MOTHER'S LOVE.

Ere yet her child has drawn its earliest breath,
A mother's love begins-it glows till death,
Lives before life with death not dies-but seems
The very substance of immortal dreams.

Wernicke.

ON A HYPOCRITE.

Joe hates a Hypocrite. This shews
Self-love is not a fault of Joe's.

THE ROCKINGHAM ADMINISTRATION.

On Lord Rockingham's becoming Minister, during our disputes with America, a declaratory bill was brought into the House of Commons, which was judged to be too tame a measure by the adverse party. Accordingly the following distich appeared in the newspapers.

"You had better declare, which you may without shocking'em,

That the nation's asleep, and the Minister Rocking'em."

ON A VERY SHORT LADY, ACCUSED OF PRIDE.

She's vastly proud, I've heard you say,
But you must be in fun;
For does she not (in truth reply)
Look up to every one?

A STRIKING LIKENESS.

"Come hither, Sir George, my picture is here, What think you, my love? don't it strike you?” "I can't say it does, just at present my dear, But I think it soon will, it's so like you."

A POETICAL BARBER.

There is now residing in Blandford-mews, in the vicinity of Portmansquare, an old and very intelligent shaver, who, in addition to keen instruments and warm water, has the following poetical invitation in his window.

My name is M'Dermot, No. 6, in the Mews,
A knight of the razor, and dealer in news;
Ye dandyfied beaux, who require a trim job,
A Brutus, or Titus, I'll well do the job;

And for ladies who wish to add art to their grace,
I've ringlets and tresses to suit each sweet face!
And I wish that each customer quitted their cares,
As easy as I can deprive them of hairs.

DISAPPOINTMENT IN LOVE.

On a gallant and enterprising Officer, who was very ill after his arrival from the Polur regions, in consequence of an affair of the

heart.

P-y, why that distracted air?

Why for a jilt be so cast down?

None but the brave deserve the fair,
But any one may have the Browne.

ON CHANGEABLE WEATHER.

The season, 'tis granted, is not very gay;

But we cannot, in justice, complain of the wea

ther,

--

For if changes delight us, we have, in one day, Spring and Summer, and Autumn and Winter together.

SPAIN AND PORTUGAL, OR LEGITIMATE AMBITION.

If Ferdinand that best of kings,
Makes petticoats and such like things,
Adorn'd with his own stitches,

There is no reason to be seen,

Why, in that case, a neighbouring Queen,
Should not put on the breeches!

AN OPEN HAND.

The other day, Says Ned to Joe,—
Near Ipswich confines groping,-
"Whene'er I hear the cries of woe,
My hand is always open."

"I own," says Joe, "that to the poor
"You prove it every minute;
"Your hand is open, to be sure,-

"But then there's nothing in it!"

THE END OF LIFE.

Tom prais'd the friend who chang'd his state,
For binding fast himself and Kate

In union so divine;

"Wedlock's the end of life," he cried:
-"Too true, alas; (said Jack and sigh'd)
'Twill be the end of mine!"

ON WOMEN.

Women's doubtful theme I sing,
Dear, delightful, dangerous thing :
Magic source of all our joy,
Tempting, trifling, tinsel toy;
Every faculty possessing,

Which constitutes a curse or blessing;

Witty, empty, fond, capricious,

Pious sometimes, sometimes vicious;
As angels handsome, devils proud,
Modest, pert, submissive, loud,
The most ambiguous work of heaven,
To charm us, and torment us given;
Without them, what, ye gods, is life;
And with them what but care and strife!

DR. GOODENOUGH.

The following was written by a Peer, on being told that the Bishop of C. (Dr. Goodenough) was appointed to preach before the House of Lords.

Tis well enough that Goodenough
Before the Lords should preach,
For sure enough they're bad enough
He undertakes to teach.'

j

REJECTED LOVE.

The late Sir Gregory Page, when he was about seventy, sent a pair of Gloves to a young Lady, with the following lines.

Take G from Glove,

There remains Love,

Which I send thee!

The lady suspecting whom they came from, returned them with this answer,

Take P from Page,

There remains Age,

Which suits not me.

TRUE HAPPINESS.

By the late R. B. Sheridan, Esq.

True happiness is not the growth of earth
The soil is fruitless, if you seek it there;
"Tis an exotic of celestial birth,

And never blooms but in celestial air.
Sweet plant of paradise, its seeds are sown,
In here and there a mind of heavenly mould;
It rises slow and buds, but ne'er was known
To blossom here, the climate is too cold!

ON THE WINDOW OF A SCOTTISH INN.

Scotland! thy weather's like a modish wife,
Thy winds and rain for ever are at strife;
Like thee, the termagants their blustering try,
And when they can no longer scold, they cry.