LOVE'S ETERNITY.

"Cum Paris Enone poterit spirare relictâ
Ad fontem Xanthi versa recurret aqua."―OVID.
WHAT need of wit? What need of wile?
I know your eyes are killing;

But, ob! he is n't worth a smile
Who is n't worth a shilling!
And yet, by all the Gods of Rhyme,
And by your lips I swear,
Though all my love is loss of time,
And all my hope despair;

The glittering Stream shall cease to stray,

The Wind refuse to rove,

Yea! Heaven and Earth shall pass away-
Before I cease to love!

Fair Freedom shall be found in quod,

Stern Justice in the quorum, Carlile shall praise the grace of God, John Bull shall learn decorum ;

Loyal Addresses shall omit

"Our fortunes and our lives,"
The Commons shall be fam'd for wit,
The Peers for virtuous wives;
The Tenth shall dress without a glass,
Or dine with one remove,

All monstrous things shall come to pass-
Before I cease to love!

Young Widowhood shall love its weeds,

Old Kings shall loath the Tories,
And Monks be tired of telling beads,
And Blues of telling stories;

And titled Suitors shall be crost,
And famished Poets married,
And Canning's Motion shall be lost,

And Hume's Amendment carried;

And Chancery shall cease to doubt,

And Algebra to prove,

And Hoops come in, and Gas go out-
Before I cease to love!

And Peel shall sink his Popery cry,
And Buxton lay his plans down,
And Bankes shall vote with honesty,
And Liverpool with Lansdown;
And hungry Knights shall lose their steak,
And never talk of pairing,

And County Members keep awake
Through half an hour of Baring;
And not a soul shall go to grin,
When Martin goes to move,
And Mr. Cobbett shall get in-
Before I cease to love!

And Saints shall take to masquing;

And kisses and estates be had

For nothing but the asking;
And Beauty shall be Ugliness,
And Ocean shall be dry;
And Passion shall be passionless,

And Truth itself a lie;

And Stars shall cease to shine below,

And Stars to shine above;

And C-nn-ng-me be left for L-we,

Before I cease to love!

Chronicle,

IRISH ODE.

[From the "Memoirs of Captain Rock," whose elegant and spirited author no nom de guerre will ever conceal from his admiring countrymen.]

"The impatience naturally felt by the adherents of the Rock family at the unusual tranquillity which prevailed during the reign of James I. has been well expressed by one of my ancestors, in a spirited Irish Ode, of which I have ventured to translate the opening stanzas, though without the least hope of being able to give any adequate idea of the abrupt and bursting energy of the original." Rupes sonant Carmina.-VIRGIL.

WHERE art thou, Genius of Riot?

Where is thy yell of defiance?

Why are the Sheas and O'Shaugnessies quiet?
And whither have fled the O'Rourkes and O'Briens?
Up from thy slumber, O'Brannigan!

Rouse the Mac Shanes and O'Haggarties!

Courage, Sir Corney O'Toole !-be a man againNever let Heffernan say, "What a braggart 'tis."

Oh! when Rebellion's so feasible,、 Where is the kern would be slinking off?

Con of the Battles! what makes you so peaceable? Nial the Grand! what the dev'l are you thinking of?

Examiner.

CLASSICAL PUN.

As William Spencer was contemplating the caricatures at Fores's the other day, somebody pointed out to him the marine piece, entitled "The Ostend Packet in a Squall," when the wit, without at all sympathising in the nausea visible on some of the faces represented in the print, exclaimed,

SKETCHES AT BOW-STREET.-No. XII.

HENRY JUKES, a tailor, was brought up from St. Martin's watch-house to answer the complaint of Mr. Thomas Trotter, who is also a tailor-that is to say, they are two tailors; Mr. Trotter, the master, and Mr. Jukes, the man, or to speak more proverbially, the servant.

Mr. Jukes lodges on Mr. Trotter's premises, in Green - street, Leicester-square, and at two o'clock in the morning, Mr. Trotter being then fast asleep in bed with his wife, was awoke by some person on his side of the bed, leaning over him, and saying,-"Be quiet! can't you?" At the same moment Mrs. Trotter screamed, and said, "There's a strange man in the room!" "What

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the d- do you want here?" exclaimed Mr. Trotter-valorously jumping out of bed, and seizing the strange man by the collar. To which the strange man replied, by giving Mr. Trotter a thump on the eye, and unseaming his shirt from top to bottom! This was strange treatment in one's own bed-room! But Mr. Trotter kept his hold; Mrs. Trotter alarmed the lodgers; the lodgers called the watch, the watch came (with as much speed as they could), and when they held their lanterns to the strange man's facewho should it be but this identical Mr. Jukes! he had not 66 a word to throw at a dog," as one of the witnesses shrewdly remarked; and therefore he was at once consigned to the care of the watchmen, who bundled him away to the watchhouse. Mr. Trotter added, that his wife was so much alarmed at the circumstance, she was quite unable to attend this examination, but she had told him that she was awoke by some one squeezing her hand, and saying, as aforesaid, "Be quiet!can't you?"

Mr. Jukes was now called upon for his defence. But first it may be as well to say something of his person. He was young-say five and twenty; short in stature; by no means fat; parenthesis legged; brush cropped; nutmeg complexion; unvaccinated; scarlet trimmed eyes; an Ashantée nose, and a mouth capacious enough to admit the biggest Battersea cabbage that ever was boiled

"A combination and a form indeed,

Where everything did seem to set its seal,
To give the world assurance of a tailor!"