151 Glittering squares of colored ice, Sweetened with syrop, tinctured with spice ; And wines that are known to Eastern princes. And all that the curious palate could wish, Scattered over mosaic floors Not for the Sultan Shah-Zaman Then at a wave of her sunny hand, Of their full brown bosoms. Orient blood Now, when I see an extra light I know as well as a tongue can say, THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. CUPID SWALLOWED. T'OTHER day, as I was twining And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil, Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of refusing. Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee, And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion; With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the ground, The maids move around just like swans on the ocean. Cheeks bright as the rose, feet light as the doe's, Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing ; Search the world all around from the sky to the ground, No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing! Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue, Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly, Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form, Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly? Poor Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart, Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love; The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, "Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love!" DENIS FLORENCE MACCARTHY. DUNCAN GRAY CAM' HERE TO WOO. DUNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo Ha, ha the wooing o't! On blythe Yule night when we were fou Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Duncan fleeched and Duncan prayed Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig — Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Time and chance are but a tide — Ha, ha the wooing o't! 66 tease. 'Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry, Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye; "With your tricks, I don't know, in throth, what I'm about; Faith you've teazed till I've put on my cloak inside out." "Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? For 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. Och jewel, keep dhraming that same till you | I'd give up the whole world and in banishment die, die; And bright morning will give dirty night the But Nancy came by, a round plump little creablack lie! And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. ture, And fixed in my heart quite another design. 'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing Just to set us a-going and season the wine. Little Nance, like a Hebe, was buxom and gay, 'Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teazed Had a bloom like the rose and was fresher than me enough; May; Sure, I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes O, I felt if she frowned I would die by a rope, and Jim Duff; And my bosom would burst if she slighted my And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest." Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck; And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming with light, hope; But the slim, taper, elegant Fanny looked at me, And, troth, I no longer for Nancy could pine. 'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing Just to set us a-going and season the wine. Now Fanny's light frame was so slender and fine And he kissed her sweet lips - Don't you think Her motion bewitched, and to my loving eye he was right? O, THAT's what you mean now, a bit of a song, I require no teazing, no praying, nor stuff, Just to set us a-going and season the wine. O, I once was a lover, like some of you here, And Kitty slipt out of this bosom of mine. 'Tis a bit of a thing that a body might sing Just to set us a-going and season the wine. Now Betty had eyes soft and blue as the sky, 'T was an angel soft gliding 'twixt earth and the sky. 'T was all mighty well till I saw her fat sister, And that gave a turn I could never define. "T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing Just to set us a-going and season the wine. O, so I go on, ever constantly blest, And all kinds of liquor by turns I make mine; CAPT. MORRIS.* THE AGE OF WISDOM. Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin, Wait till you come to forty year. Curly gold locks cover foolish brains; Wait till you come to forty year. Forty times over let Michaelmas pass ; * A boon companion of George, Prince Regent. Pledge me round; I bid ye declare, The reddest lips that ever have kissed, Gillian's dead! God rest her bier, How I loved her twenty years syne! WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. While she sits in her low-backed car, The lovers come, near and far, And envy the chicken That Peggy is pickin', As she sits in her low-backed car. I'd rather own that car, sir, With Peggy by my side, Than a coach and four, and gold galore, And a lady for my bride; For the lady would sit forninst me, On a cushion made with taste, While Peggy would sit beside me, With my arm around her waist, While we drove in the low-backed car, To be married by Father Mahar; O, my heart would beat high At her glance and her sigh, Though it beat in a low-backed car! SAMUEL LOVER. THE LOW-BACKED CAR. WHEN first I saw sweet Peggy, A low-backed car she drove, and sat But when that hay was blooming grass, As she sat in the low-backed car, Never asked for the toll, And looked after the low-backed car. In battle's wild commotion, The proud and mighty Mars Has darts in her bright eye, That knock men down in the market-town, Cannot cure the heart That is hit from that low-backed car. Sweet Peggy round her car, sir, Has strings of ducks and geese, But the scores of hearts she slaughters By far outnumber these; While she among her poultry sits, Just like a turtle-dove, Well worth the cage, I do engage, Of the blooming god of Love! SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the girls that are so smart, There's none like pretty Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There's ne'er a lady in the land That's half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry 'em ; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy 'em ; When she is by I leave my work, I'll bear it all for Sally ; Of all the days that 's in the week |