BY ONE ELEVEN YEARS IN PRISON. WHENE'ER with haggard eyes I view niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. [Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds:] Sweet kerchief, checked with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting inAlas, Matilda then was true! At least I thought so at the U niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen. Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift you flew, Her neat post-wagon trotting in! Ye bore Matilda from my view; Forlorn I languished at the U niversity of Gottingen, This faded form! this pallid hue! niversity of Gottingen, There first for thee my passion grew, THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. FRIEND OF HUMANITY. NEEDY knife-grinder! whither are you going? Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order. Bleak blows the blast ;- your hat has got a hole in 't ; So have your breeches! Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpikeroad, what hard work 't is crying all day ‘Knives and Scissors to grind O!' niversity of Gottingen, I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned niversity of Gottingen. first, -- whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance, Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast! [Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.] GEORGE CANNING. English and Irish, French and Spanish, In one conglomeration! So subtle a tangle of blood, indeed, Depend upon it, my snobbish friend, Or, worse that that, your boasted line Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar — Which the same I am free to maintain. FRANCIS BRET HARTE. NONSENSE. GOOD reader, if you e'er have seen, Floats wild along the winding shore, If you have seen through mist of eve The fairy train their ringlets weave, Glancing along the spangled green ; If you have seen all this, and more, God bless me ! what a deal you've seen! THOMAS MOORE. WOMAN'S WILL. AN EPIGRAM. MEN dying make their wills-but wives Escape a work so sad; Why should they make what all their lives The gentle dames have had ? JOHN GODFREY Saxe. BACHELOR'S HALL. BACHELOR'S HALL, what a comical place it is! Keep me from such all the days of my life! Sure but he knows what a burning disgrace it is, Never at all to be getting a wife. See the old bachelor, gloomy and sad enough, Fussing around while he's making his fire; His kettle has tipt up, och, honey, he's mad enough, If he were present, to fight with the squire! Pots, dishes, and pans, and such other commodities, Ashes and praty-skins, kiver the floor; His cupboard a storehouse of comical oddities, Things never thought of as neighbors before. When his meal it is over, the table's left sittin' so; Dishes, take care of yourselves if you can; Devil a drop of hot water will visit ye. Och, let him alone for a baste of a man! |