Now Sandy to the wars was gane,

And Janette left to mourn;
With muckle sighs of grief and pain
She prayed his safe return.

When blear-eyed Meg came to her cot,
(A wretch of haggard mien!)

"Dear lass," she cried, "I'll spae thy lot, Sweet Janette of the Green.

"Soon shall thy Sandy be a ghaist,
Slain by the murd'ring swoid;
And thou, wi' a' gude fortune graced,
Shall wed a wealthy lord."

Aroint thee, wutch!-thou'st driv'n me daft,
Wild glares my burning een,

And Madness strikes its rankled shaft
Through Janette of the Green.

But soon young Sandy comes again,
Their hearts wi' joy rebound;
And Janette clasps her winsome swain,
Wi' wealth and honours crowned!

The wretch that spaed her Sandy slain
Na mair believed has been;

.

And Sandy in the heart doth reign

Of Janette of the Green.

HENRY AND LUCY.

(Mrs. Opie.)

ROUND youthful Henry's restless bed,
His weeping friends and parents pressed;
But she who raised his languid head,

He loved far more than all the rest.
Fond mutual love their bosoms fired,
And nearly dawned their bridal day,
When every hope at once expired,

For Henry on his death-bed lay. The fatal truth the sufferer read

In weeping Lucy's downcast eye; "And must I, must I, then," he said,

'Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die? No-deign to grant my last, last prayer, "Twould soothe thy lover's parting breath, Would'st thou with me to church repair, 'Ere yet I feel the stroke of Death! "For, trust me, love, I shall my life With something like to joy resign, If I but once may call thee wife,

And, dying, claim and hail thee mine." He ceased, and Lucy checked the thought That he might at the altar die—

The

with such true love was fraught, prayer How could she such a prayer deny? They reached the church,-her cheek was wan With chilling fears of coming woe, But triumph, when the rites began,

Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow.

The nuptial knot was scarcely tied,

When Henry's eye strange lustre fired; "She's mine! she's mine!" he falt'ring cried, And in that throb of joy expired.

A SOLDIER and a sailor once

By Cupid were betrayed;

Both fell in love-oh, dire mischance,

With the same black-eyed maid.

The sailor by a cannon-shot,

Was of a leg bereft,

And, from that time, it was his lot

To have but one leg left.

Tol lol de rol, de rol, dol lol, dol lol, tol de rel,
Dol dol de rol, de rol, dol lol.

'Twas Molly Cook their love possessed,
For she was plump and young;
And then such nice roast beef she drest,
With chickens, ham, and tongue.
Oh, thou enchanting Molly Cook,
Too lovely, charming fair,
Who on thy bill of fare could look,
And yet to love forbear?

Tol lol de rol, &c.

One day the sailor he came there,
Rigged out in clothes quite new;
His trousers of striped cotton were,
His jacket old true blue.

"Oh, charming Molly Cook," he cried,
"My love," then made a stop.-
"What would you have?" Molly replied.
Quoth he, "a mutton-chop."

Tol lol de rol, &c.

Poor Molly, as you all will guess,
Expected something more;

And, moping, went (how could she less?)
The larder to explore.

Says she," how will you have them drest,
My hero of the navy?"

Quoth he, "Dear Moll, I like 'em best
Fried-and full of gravy."

Tol lol de rol, &c.

O, THE ACCENTS OF LOVE.
(E. C. Walker.)

O, the accents of Love! can they ever again
Speak peace to this desolate soul;

When o'er my life's lord the deep floods of the main

Now darkly and mournfully roll?

O, no! let them search in my Algernon's grave, Would they learn where my heart is entombed;

Let them pierce to those chambers beneath the dark wave

No sun-beam hath ever illumed.

But let them not hope to revive it with sighs,

Or reach it with accents of love;

"Twill mock their endeavours, for, buried, it lics, With fathomless waters above.

THE ELECTRICAL EXPERIMENTALIST.
Air-" Bow, wow, wow."-(E. J. B. Box.)
WHILE philosophic mania rage,
In science most amazing;

In Fame's great book I claim a page,
To keep the world still gazing;

As theirs, an equal right is mine,
Who're skilled in gull effect trick,
To show that I in science shine
A positive electric !

SPOKEN.] And in positive contravention of all positive theories on electricity, I am positively attractive, both as an electric and magnetic body; combining the positive double power in my own single substance; ecce signum. And, although I have never yet positively set the Thames on fire, I

daughter,

First raised her soft bosom the green waves above,

Her long yellow locks floating loose o'er the water,

Her sparkling eyes full of lustre and love:
Old Neptune, delighted,

The Powers invited,

To join in festivity, frolic, and gay;

At Neptune's desire,

Sol struck up his lyre,

And Mars made his trumpet to ring through the place,

And Pan piped away

As they danced to the lay,

While Jupiter thundered a great double bass: All merrily kept tune,

To jolly old Neptune,

As he struck up a lilt for his daughter's birthday!

Gay Cupid soon paid to the nymph his addresses, And Hymen consenting, with amorous joy, Fair Erin returning his tender caresses,

From their union proceeded a tight Irish boy! And surely his daddy,

To honour young Paddy,

Invited the gods to a bit of a lunch;

Mars, to grace the young fellow,
Endued him with valour,

And Venus with beauty-Apollo with wit

as I can positively strike fire from a basin of cold water with a snap of my finger! I am an electrical phenomenon and a magnetical prodigy! so don't be alarmed if I negatively set you in a blaze with the first, because I can positively quench it with the last, by attracting merry water from your eyes, enough to drown you in before I put you out, roasted and boiled, and electrically well cooked! But before I proceed farther with either electrics or non-electrics, let me entreat you, as I am a queer compound, an electrical amalgamation of quiz and quicksilver,-not to mistake a philosopher for an old clothes man; for, suffer me to add, it would be an insufferable degradation for an electrician to be taken for a barking tailor, because he barks his merits to the tune of a real scientific-

Bow, wow, wow!
While trying
His electrifying
Bow, wow, wow!

The grand electrical machine
And apparatus I am,

That you, my coated jars, I mean,
A full battery to try am;

But when your sides, full charged, are by
Excitement, cracking after,

The electrometer then I,

To draw it off in laughter.

SPOKEN.] I am in myself a complete magazine of electric fun and fulminating oddity;-a walking

machins of electrical comicality: my head is the cylinder, my brain the rubber, and my tongue the conductor of the fire of electric fancy; so, while at full work in experimental operation, don't be surprised if I should happen to explode all at once! At any rate, I shall endeavour all I can to go off with a good loud report at last, like an electrical meteor or Congreve rocket, only with the difference of having no hissing at my tail! Don't admire snakes at all; and never could abide goose in my life, although a natural philosopher. However, I shall be satisfied now with proving myself an effective experimentalist of the first order in the scientific

Bow, wow, wow! While trying An electrifying Bow, wow, wow!

cash

By positive electric FLASH,
Negatively explicit,
Or non-electric, 'tis your
The learned would elicit ;
My flash electric nihil est

But joke;-multus in cause is;
For that ELECTRIC I hold best,

Loud positive APPLAUSE is!

SPOKEN.] That is positive electricity, and-Oh! it is omnis in omnibus to me! no other hope or wish, pro multum lucri, of any thing but that. Few electricians would be content with that though, by-theby; and there are plenty of electricians, too. There is your pickpocket, he is an electrician of the first practice! His digits are all positive electrics; every thing he touches becomes electric, but are negative electrics if he miss them; he gives the shock to many, yet never receives the shock himself, till Mr. Nab touches him! The tailor is an electrician, who only knows of one positive electric, and that is cabbage! The brewer's poselectric is the chymist's poison-box: the gin-spin

ner's and the baker's electrics come from the same

shop; and then we have doctors and butchers, parsons and pump-builders, barristers and blockmakers, proctors and pigeon-fanciers, judges and Jew-jugglers, dukes and dancing-masters, prime ministers, pastry-cooks, fox-hunters, fishmongers, barons, blacking-makers, barrow-men, bishops, barbers, bell-hangers, bugle-blowers, bankers, and brush-makers; captains, costermongers, lords and lumbermen, with a long LINE of et cæteras, all of whom are electricians in their own way, having their electrics positive and negative, as best may suit their purposes, although they don't explode with the same eclat in going off that I do, in a positive electric body of experimental

Bow, wow, wow!

In trying Last electrifying Bow, wow, wow!

THE ROSE OF AFFECTION.

(M. J. Sullivan.)

THE rose which you gave me at parting, my fair,
Has withered and faded away,

No longer its odours can perfume the air,
All fragrance was gone in a day;
But the promise you gave me will never depart,
Its mem❜ry still lingers behind;

And even the life-pulse must cease in my heart,
Ere its soft hues shall fade from
my mind.
The rose of affection shall dwell in my breast,
And warmer its bright tints shall glow;
proves when by sorrow oppress'd,
It blooms in the midst of my woc.

My solace it

THEN JOIN THE CRY, AND HAIL THE MORN. (Arnold.)

I LOVE to rise at early morn,

To hail the sun's first cheering ray;
I love to mark where whistling gay,
While yet the dew-drop deck'd the thorn,
To work the peasant plods his way,
Rejoicing in the new-born day

I love to see, with downcast eye,
The ruddy milk-maid passing by;
But most I love to hear
The jovial sportsman near,
While in the woods around
The cheerful notes resound:

Then join the cry, and hail the morn,
With hardy huntsman, hounds, and horn!

divorce.

In deaf'ning concert shall their ponderous ham-
While as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil bang,
And into symmetry the mass incongruous beat,
mers clang,
To save from adverse winds and waves the gallant
British fleet.

Now, as more vivid and intense each splinter flies,
The temper of the fire the skilful master tries;
And, as the dingy hue assumes a brilliant red,
The heated anchor feeds that fire on which it fed,
The huge sledge-hammers round in order they ar-
range,

And waking anchorsmiths await the look'd for change,

Longing with all their force the ardent mass to smite,

When issuing from the fire arrayed in dazzling

white.

ERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK.
(O'Keefe.)

ERE around the huge oak, that o'ershadows yon mill,

The fond ivy had dar'd to entwine;

Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill,
Or a rook built his nest on the pine,

Could I trace back the time, of a far distant date,
Since forefathers toil'd in this field;
my
And the farm I now hold on your honour's estate,
Is the same which my grandfather till❜d.
He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name,
Which, unsullied, descended to me;

For

my

child I've preserv'd it, unblemish'd with shame,

And it still from a spot shall go free.

THE TAILOR OF LEICESTER;

OR, THE DEVIL AND THE COBBLER'S WIFE.
A GLEE.

Air-" Dame Durden."-(Bryant.)
A TAILOR he lived in Leicester town,
And he courted a cobbler's wife;
The cobbler knocked the tailor down,
Which caused a terrible strife;
There was, fight and scratch,
And kick and tear,

Oh! there was upon my life!
There was rant and roar,
And bawl and swear,
About this cobbler's wife.

The cobbler's wife was soon struck dead,
She was buried too-and then

To limbo went, and the devil, 'tis said,

He sent her back again;

For 'twas fight and scratch,
And kick and tear;

Oh! it was, upon my life!

It was rant and roar,
And bawl and swear,

With the devil and cobbler's wife.

LOVELY PEGGY.

(Garrick.)

ONCE more I'll tune the vocal shell,
To hills and dales my passion tell,
A flame which time can never quell,

That burns for thee, my Peggy.
You, greater bards, the lyre should hit,
For say, what subject is more fit,
Than to record the sparkling wit

And bloom of lovely Peggy?
The sun first rising in the morn,
That paints the dew-bespangled thorn,
Does not so much the day adorn,

As does my lovely Peggy.
And when in Thetis' lap to rest,
He streaks with gold the ruddy west,
He's not so beauteous as, undrest,
Appears my lovely Peggy.

When Zephyr on the vi'let blows,
Or breathes upon the damask rose,
It does not half the sweets disclose,
As does my lovely Peggy.

I stole a kiss the other day,
And, trust me, nought but truth I say,
The fragrance of the blooming May
Was not so sweet as Peggy.
Was she arrayed in rustic weed,
With her the bleating flocks I'd feed,
And pipe upon the oaten reed,

To please my lovely Peggy;
With her a cottage would delight;
All's happy when she's in my sight,
But when she's gone, 'tis endless night;
All's dark without my Peggy.

While bees from flow'r to flow'r still rove,
And linnets warble through the grove,
Or stately swans the water love,

So long shall I love Peggy.
And when death, with his pointed dart,
Shall strike the blow that rives my heart,
My words shall be when I depart,
Adieu, my lovely Peggy.

MY KATHLEEN DEAR.

THE morning was fine, and the month was July, The sun in the east it illumined the sky,

When I first met my Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.
She milked a dun cow, which ne'er offered to stir
Though wicked she was, she was gentle to her,
So sweet was my Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.

She sung a new ballad, and when her voice thrilled, You'd swear the whole garden with music was filled, So sweet sung my Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.

As she sat at the door one fine afternoon,
To hear thre cuckoo and to look at the moon,
Oh! chilled was iny Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.

She caught a sad cold which fell on her chest,
And Kitty is now (though I'm not) at rest,
For I weep for my Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.
The bird of all birds that I love the best

Is the robin that in the church-yard buildsit's nest,
For it seem to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on
Kathleen,

My dear little Kathleen-my Kathleen dear.

He was so bad, he took to's bed,
To conclude, I'll tell ye he is dead,
And she's got her match to her bed,

Ri tiddle lol, &c.

GREGORY RED TAIL.
OH! Gregory Red Tail is my name,
You've heard it, sirs, before;
And, if you'll listen to me again,
I'll tell you a great deal more;
I married a maid from Billingsgate,
I thought her charms divine,

But a flat fish, soon, she made of her mate,
Oh! she's a dab at the oyster-line.

Oh! the oyster, the oyster,
She's a dab at the oyster line.

She dipped her gills in morning purl,
Alas! I had no control;
And, if I only spoke one word,
She threatened to mill my jowl.
Alas! a terrible life I led

With this bullocking rib of mine,
And I cursed the day that I was wed,
Or got into the oyster-line.

Oh! the oyster, &c.

The very first week that we were wed,
The truth I must declare,

I found Sam Dab with her in bed,
My eyes how it made me stare.

I showed him fight, but he played so rough,
These peepers he closed of mine,

He pommelled my sconce, and he gave me enough,
To be sick of the oyster line.
Oh! the oyster, &c.

But I'll be quits with this Jezebel yet,
There's sweet Polly Plaice and Ï,
We'll play her a game will make her fret,
But for damages I wo'n't try.

If I go to the lawyers, I know very well,
They'll spin me wastly fine,

They'l swallow the oyster and tip me the shell,
For they're all in the oyster-line.
Oh! the oyster, &c.

FAITHFUL POLL.

(Dibdin.)

WOULD'ST thou know, my lad, why every tar

Finds with his lass such cheer,

'Tis all because he nobly goes,

And braves each boisterous gale that blows, To fetch from climates near and far

Her messes and her gear.

For this, around the world Jack sails,
While love his bosom warms;

For this, when safe and sound come back,
Poll takes him to her arms.

Ere Poll can make the kettle boil
For breakfast, out at sea
Two voyages long her Jack must sai!,
Encountering many a boisterous gale;
For the sugar to some western isle,

To China for the tea.

To please her taste, thus faithful Jack
Braves dangers and alarms,

While, grateful, safe and sound come back,
Poll takes him to her arms.

Morocco shoes her Jack provides,
To see her lightly tread;

Her petticoat, of orient hue,
And snow-white gown in India grew;
Her bosom Barcelona hides,

Leghorn adorns her head.