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Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,

My Delia bent deliciously to grieve ;
I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair,
And drew the fatal scissars from my

sleeve:

And would that at that instant o'er my thread

The shears of Atropos had open'd then ; And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,

Had cut me sudden from the sons of men !

She heard the scissars that fair lock divide,

And whilst my heart with transport panted big, She cast a fury frown on me, and cried,

“ You stupid puppy--you have spoil'd my wig" The OLD MAN'S COMFORTS,

And how he gained them.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

The few locks that are left you are grey, You are hạle, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason I

pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,

I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my rigour at first

That I never might need them at last.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone,

Now tell me the reason pray.

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In the days of my youth, Father William replied,

I remember'd that youth could not last ; I thought of the future whatever I did,

That I never might grieve for the past.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

And life must be hastening away ; You are chearful, and love to converse upon death!

Now tell me the reason I pray.

I am chearful young man, Father William replied,

Let the cause thy attention engage ;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age.

S.

Tbe WELL of St. KEYNE,

I know not whether it be worth the reporting that there is in Cornwall, near the parish of St. Neots, a Well arcked over with the robes of four kinds of trees, withy, oak, elm, and ash, dedicated to St. Keyne. The reported virtue of the water is this, that whether husband or wife come first to drink thereof, they get the mastery thereby.

Fuller.

A Well there is in the west-country,

And a clearer one never was seen ; There is not a wife in the west-country

But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne,

An oak and an elm tree stand beside,

And behind does an ash tree grow, And a willow from the bank above

Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;

Pleasant it was to his eye,
For from cock-crow he had been travelling

And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear

For thirsty and hot was he, And he sat down upon the bank

Under the willow tree.

There came a man from the neighbouring town

At the Well to fill his pail, On the Well-side he rested it

And bade the stranger hail.

Now art thou a batchelor Stranger ? quoth he,

For an if thou hast a wife The happiest draught thou hast drank this day

That ever thou didst in thy life.

Or has your good 'woman, if one you have,

In Cornwall ever been ?
For an if she have, I'll venture my life

She has drank of the Well of St. Keyne.

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