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And now, dearest Kitty,
WHEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN. Indeed it's a pity,
WHEN the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far We 'll have done with our rhymin',
As the place where the clustered palm-trees are, Swap Cupid for Hymen,
At the last of the thirty palace-gates,
The Pet of the Harem, Rose in Bloom,
Glittering squares of colored ice,
Of my wine I plunged and sank him ; Sweetened with syrop, tinctured with spice ; And what d'ye think I did ?- I drank him! Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates; Faith, I thought him dead. Not he! Syrian apples, Othmance quinces,
There he lives with tenfold glee;
And now, this moment, with his wings
THE YOUNG MAY MOON.
The young May moon is beaming, love, Are anemones, myrtles, and violets ;
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, And a musical fountain throws its jets
How sweet to rove Of a hundred colors into the air.
Through Morna's grove, The dark Sultana loosens her hair,
While the drowsy world is dreaming, love! And stains with the henna plant the tips
Then awake! -- the heavens look bright, my dear! Of her pearly nails, and bites her lips
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear! Till they bloom agajn ; but alas, that rose
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear !
Now all the world is sleeping, love, Then at a wave of her sunny hand,
But the sage, his star-watch keeping, love, The dancing girls of Samarcand
And I, whose star, Float in like mists from Fairy-land !
More glorious far, And to the low voluptuous swoons
Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. Of music, rise and fall the moons
Then awake! -- till rise of sun, my dear, of their full brown bosoms. Orient blood The sage's glass we 'll shun, my dear, Runs in their veins, shines in their eyes;
Or, in watching the flight And there in this Eastern paradise,
Of bodies of light,
AH, SWEET KITTY NEIL!
“Ah, sweet Kitty Neil ! rise up from your wheel,
Your neat little foot will be weary from spinNow, when I see an extra light
ning; Flaming, flickering on the night,
Come, trip down with me to the sycamore-tree; From my neighbor's casement opposite,
Half the parish is there, and the dance is beI know as well as I know to pray,
ginning. I know as well as a tongue can say,
The sun is gone down; but the full harvest moon That the innocent Sultan Shah-Zaman
Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened
valley; Has gone to the city Ispahan. THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
While all the air rings with the soft, loving things
Eachlittle bird sings in the green shaded alley."
TOTHER day, as I was twining
With a blush and a smile, Kitty rose up the
while, Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair,
glancing; 'Tis hard to refuse when a young lover sues, So she could n't but choose to -- go off to the
dancing And now on the green the glad groups are seen, -Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his
And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty | Slighted love is sair to bide --• Neil,
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, refusing.
For a haughty hizzie dee?
She may gae to - France for me ! Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion ;
How it comes let doctors tell With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! ground,
Meg grew sick as he grew heal — The maids move around just like swans on the
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! ocean.
Something in her bosom wrings, -Cheeks bright as the rose, - feet light as the doe's,
For relief a sigh she brings; Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing ;
And 0, her een they speak sic things! Search the world all around from the sky to the
Ha, ha! the wooing o't !
Duncan was a lad o grace --No such sight can be found as an Irish lass
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't! dancing!
Maggie's was a piteous case —
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Sweet Kate ! who could view your bright eyes
Duncan could na be her death : of deep blue, Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so
Swelling pity smoored his wrath.
Now they're crouse and canty baith, mildly,
Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded
RORY O'MORE ;
OR, GOOD OMENS.
YOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn; The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, Hewas bold as the hawk, and she soft as the dawn; “Dance light, for my heart it lies under your He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, feet, love !"
And he thought the best way to do that was to
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 DUNCAN GRAY CAM' HERE TO WOO.
I'm about; DUNCAN GRAY cam’here to w00
Taith you ’ve teazed till I've put on my cloak Ha, ha ! the wooing o't!
“Och ! jewel,” says Rory, “that same is the way On blythe Yule night when we were fou — Ha, ha! the wooing o't!
And't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure ? Maggie coost her head su' high, Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
For 't is all for good luck,” says bold Rory O'More. Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh --Ha, ha! the wooing o't!"
“Indeed, then,” says Kathleen, “don't think of
the like, Duncan fleeched and Duncan prayed -
For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; Ha, ha! the wooing o't!
The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig --
bound”. Ha, ha! the wooing o't !
“Faith !” says Rory, “I'd rather love you than Duncan sighed baith out and in,
the ground.'' Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
“Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go : Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn
Sure I dream ev'ry night that I'm hating you Ha, ha ! the wooing o't !
“Och !” says Rory, “ that same I'm delighted Time and chance are but a tide —
to hear, Ha, ha! the wooing o't !
For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear.
DENIS FLORENCE MACCARTHY.
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!
ture, And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be And fixed in my heart quite another design.
| 'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory | Just to set us a-going and season the wine. O'More.
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, hope; quite a baste,
But the slim, taper, elegant Fanny looked at me, So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest." | And, troth, I no longer for Nancy could pine. Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her l’T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing neck,
Just to set us a-going and season the wine. So soft and so white, without freckle or speck; And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming Now Fanny's light frame was so slender and fine with light,
That she skimmed in the air like a shadow divine. And he kissed her sweet lips - Don't you think Her motion bewitched, and to my loving eye he was right?
| 'T was an angel soft gliding 'twixt earth and the “Now, Rory, leave off, sir - you 'll hug me no sky. more, -
'T was all mighty well till I saw her fat sister, That's eight times to-day you have kissed me. And that gave a turn I could never define. before."
'Tis a bit of a thing that a body might sing " Then here goes another,” says he, “ to make Just to set us a-going and season the wine.
For I find I've a great stock of love in my breast;
To all kinds of beauty I bow with devotion,
And all kinds of liquor by turns I make mine;
So I'll finish the thing that another may sing, 0, THAT's what you mean now, a bit of a song, Just to keep us a-going and season the wine. Arrah, faith, then here goes, you sha'n't bother
CAPT. MORRIS. * me long; I require no teazing, no praying, nor stuff,
THE AGE OF WISDOM. To give you no end ; you shall have a beginning,
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
Wait till you come to forty year.
Wait till you come to forty year.
Grizzling hair the brain doth clear ;
Then you know a boy is an ass,
Pledge me round ; I bid ye declare,
All good fellows whose beards are gray, ----Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere
Ever a month was past away?
While she sits in her low-backed car, The lovers come, near and far,
And envy the chicken
That Peggy is pickin',
The reddest lips that ever have kissed,
The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper and we not list, Or look away and never be missed,
Ere yet ever a month is gone.
Gillian's dead ! God rest her bier,
How I loved her twenty years syne!
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
I'd rather own that car, sir,
With Peggy by my side,
And a lady for my bride;
On a cushion made with taste,
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!