202

He is not dark, he is not tall-
His forehead's rather low,
He is not pensive—not at all,

But smiles his teeth to show;
He comes from Wales and yet in size
Is really but a sprat ;

With sandy hair and greyish eyes-—
There's no Romance in that!

He wears no plumes or Spanish cloaks,
Or long sword hanging down ;
He dresses much like other folks,
And commonly in brown;
His collar he will not discard,
Or give up his cravat,

Lord Byron-like-he's not a Bard—
There's no Romance in that!

He's rather bald, his sight is weak,
He's deaf in either drum;
Without a lisp he cannot speak,

But then-he's worth a plum.

He talks of stocks and three per cents,
By way of private chat,

Of Spanish Bonds, and shares, and rents

There's no Romance in that!

I sing--no matter what I sing,

Di Tanti-or Crudel,

Tom Bowling, or God save the King,

Di piacer-All's well;

He knows no more about a voice

For singing than a gnat-
And as to Music "has no choice"-

There's no Romance in that!

Of light guitar I cannot boast,

He never serenades;

He writes, and sends it by the post,
He does n't bribe the maids :
No stealth, no hempen ladder-no!
He comes with loud rat-tat

That startles half of Bedford Row-
There's no Romance in that!

He comes at nine in time to choose
His coffee-just two cups,
And talks with Pa about the news,
Repeats debates, and sups.
John helps him with his coat aright,
And Jenkins hands his hat;
My lover bows and says good night—
There's no Romance in that!

I've long had Pa's and Ma's consent,
My aunt she quite approves,
My Brother wishes joy from Kent,
None try to thwart our loves;
On Tuesday reverend Mr. Mace

Will make me Mrs. Pratt,

Of Number Twenty, Sussex Place— There's no Romance in that."

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S MOTTO.

"The Admiral compelled them all to strike."-LIFE OF NELSON, HUSH! silence in School-not a noise! You shall soon see there's nothing to jeer at, Master Marsh, most audacious of boys!

Come!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

So this morn, in the midst of the Psalm,
The Miss Siffkins's school you must leer at,
You're complained of-Sir! hold out your palm—
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

You wilful young rebel, and dunce!

This offence all your sins shall appear at, You shall have a good caning at onceThere!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!''

You are backward, you know, in each verb,
And
your pronouns you are not more clear at,
But you 're forward enough to disturb-
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

You said Master Twigg stole the plums,

When the orchard he never was near at, I'll not punish wrong fingers or thumbsThere!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

You make Master Taylor your butt,

And this morning his face you threw beer at, And you struck him-do you like a cut? There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

Little Biddle you likewise distress,

You are always his hair, or his ear atHe's my Opt, Sir, and you are my Pess: There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

Then you had a pitcht fight with young Rous,
An offence I am always severe at!
You discredit to Cicero-House!

There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!”

You have made, too, a plot in the night
To run off from the school that you rear at!
Come, your other hand, now, Sir-the right,
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

I'll teach you to draw, you young dog!
Such pictures as I'm looking here at!
"Old Mounseer making soup of a frog,"
There !—“ Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

You have run up a bill at a shop

That in paying you'll be a whole year at— You've but twopence a week, Sir, to stop! There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

Then at dinner you 're quite cock-a-hoop,
And the soup you are certain to sneer at―
I have sipped it-it's very good soup-
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

T'other day, when I fell o'er the form,
Was my tumble a thing, Sir, to cheer at?
Well for you that my temper's not warm-
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

206

Why, you rascal! you insolent brat!

All my talking you don't shed a tear at,
There-take that, Sir! and that! that! and that!
There!" Palmam qui meruit ferat!"

HUGGINS AND DUGGINS.

A PASTORAL AFTER POPE.

Two swains or clowns-but call them swains-
While keeping flocks on Salisbury Plains,
For all that tend on sheep as drovers
Are turned to songsters, or to lovers,
Each of the lass he called his dear
Began to carol loud and clear.
First Huggins sang, and Duggins then,
In the way of ancient shepherd men;
Who thus alternate hitched in song,
"All things by turns, and nothing long."

HUGGINS.

Of all the girls about our place,

There's one beats all in form and face;

Search through all Great and Little Bumpstead,
You'll only find one Peggy Plumstead.

To

groves

DUGGINS.

and streams I tell my flame,

I make the cliffs repeat her name:

When I'm inspired by gills and noggins,

The rocks re-echo Sally Hoggins!