THE WEE MAN.

A ROMANCE.

It was a merry company,

And they were just afloat,

When lo! a man, of dwarfish span, Came up and hail'd the boat.

"Good morrow to ye, gentle folks, And will you let me in?—

A slender space will serve my case, For I am small and thin."

They saw he was a dwarfish man,

And very small and thin;

Not seven such would matter much,

And so they took him in.

They laugh'd to see his little hat,

With such a narrow brim;

They laugh'd to note his dapper coat,
With skirts so scant and trim.

But barely had they gone a mile,
When, gravely, one and all,

At once began to think the man
Was not so very small.

His coat had got a broader skirt,

His hat a broader brim,

His leg grew stout, and soon plump'd out

A very proper limb.

Still on they went, and as they went,

More rough the billows grew,

And rose and fell, a greater swell,

And he was swelling too!

And lo! where room had been for seven,

For six there scarce was space!

For five-for four !-for three !-not more Than two could find a place!

There was not even room for one!
They crowded by degrees―
Aye-closer yet, till elbows met,

And knees were jogging knees.

66

Good sir, you must not sit a-stern,
The wave will else come in!"

Without a word he gravely stirr'd,

Another seat to win.

"Good sir, the boat has lost her trim,

You must not sit a-lee!"

With smiling face, and courteous grace,

The middle seat took he.

M

But still, by constant quiet growth,

His back became so wide,

Each neighbour wight, to left and right,

Was thrust against the side.

Lord! how they chided with themselves,

That they had let him in ;

To see him grow so monstrous now,
That came so small and thin.

On every brow a dew-drop stood,
They grew so scared and hot,-

"I' the name of all that's great and tall, Who are ye, sir, and what?"

Loud laugh'd the Gogmagog, a laugh
As loud as giant's roar―

"When first I came, my proper name

Was Little-now I'm Moore !"

ETCHING MORALIZED.

TO A NOBLE LADY.

"To point a moral."-JOHNSON.

FAIREST Lady and Noble, for once on a time,
Condescend to accept, in the humblest of rhyme,
And a style more of Gay than of Milton,
A few opportune verses design'd to impart
Some didactical hints in a Needlework Art,

Not described by the Countess of Wilton.

An Art not unknown to the delicate hand
Of the fairest and first in this insular land,
But in Patronage Royal delighting;

And which now your own feminine fantasy wins,
Tho' it scarce seems a lady-like work that begins
In a scratching and ends in a biting!