Or when up the river, almost sure to diskiver that beats all to shiver, the sweet Guadalquiver; Or seeing death-fetches if the toothache one catches, making picturesque sketches of the houses of wretches; Or with loud double knocks brings from Eber's a box to see "Box and Cox," or pilfer one's locks to mark their new stocks; Or whilst you are singing a love song so stinging, they vow they'll be swinging, or in Serpentine springing, unless to them clinging, you'll go wedding-ringing, and for life mend their linen. Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage, How the Gentlemen Do After Marriage. II! then nothing pleases 'em but everything teases 'em, Then they're grumbling and snarling-you're a "fool," not a "darling;" Though they're rich as the Ingies, they're the stingiest of stingies; And what is so funny, they've never got money, Give five guineas for lunch off real turtle and punch; Each week a noise brings about, when they pitch all the things about; Now bowing in mockery, now smashing the crockery; To hear the door slam to, to be called simple ma'am too; Or "my Lord Duke" intends to send you home to your friends And allow ten pounds a quarter for yourself and your daughter; Though you strive with all your might you can do nothing right; While the maids-the old song-can do nothing wrong. "Every shirt wants a button!" Every day they've cold mutton; They're always a flurrying one, or else they're hurrying one, or else they're worrying one; Threatening to smother your dear sainted mother or kick your big brother; After all your fine doings, your strugglings and stewings-why "the house is in ruins!" Then the wine goes like winking, and they cannot help thinking you've taken to drinking; They're perpetually rows keeping 'cause out of the housekeeping they're in bonnets their spouse keeping; So when they've been meated, if with pies they are not treated, they vow they are cheated! Then against Ascot Races and all such sweet places they set their old faces; And they'll never leave town, nor to Broadstairs go down, though with b le you are quite brown; For their wife they unwilling are, after billing and cooing her, to stand a cap from the milliner-e'en a paltry twelve shillinger; And it gives them the vapors to witness the capers of these bowers and scrapers, the young linen drapers; Then to add to your woes, they say nobody knows how the money all goes, but they pay through the nose for the dear children's clothes; Though you strive and endeavor, they're so mightily clever, that please them you'll never, till you leave them forever-yes! the hundredth time sever-"for ever-AND EVER!" Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage, HEN we two parted WH In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss: Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this!-Lord Byron. YOUNG Rory O'More; or, Good Omens. UNG Rory O'Moore courted Kathleen Bawn; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, [about; "Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry. "Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way "Indeed then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go; Sure I dream ev'ry night that I'm hating you so!' "Och! says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear, For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear. "Och! jewel, keep drhaming that same till you die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie! And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've tazed me enough; Sure, I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste." Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, And he kissed her sweet lips- don't you think he was right? "Now, Rory, lave off, sir-you'll hug me no more,That's eight times to-day you have kissed me before." "Then here goes another," says he "to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More. -Samuel Lover. Or when up the river, almost sure to diskiver that beats all to shiver, the sweet Guadalquiver; Or seeing death-fetches if the toothache one catches, making picturesque sketches of the houses of wretches; Or with loud double knocks brings from Eber's a box to see "Box and Cox," or pilfer one's locks to mark their new stocks; Or whilst you are singing a love song so stinging, they vow they'll be swinging, or in Serpentine springing, unless to them clinging, you'll go wedding-ringing, and for life mend their linen. Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage, How the Gentlemen Do After Marriage. II! then nothing pleases 'em but everything teases 'em, Then they're grumbling and snarling-you're a "fool," not a "darling;" Though they're rich as the Ingies, they're the stingiest of stingies; And what is so funny, they've never got money, Give five guineas for lunch off real turtle and punch; Each week a noise brings about, when they pitch all the things about; Now bowing in mockery, now smashing the crockery; To hear the door slam to, to be called simple ma'am too; Or "my Lord Duke" intends to send you home to your friends And allow ten pounds a quarter for yourself and your daughter; Though you strive with all your might you can do nothing right; While the maids-the old song-can do nothing wrong. "Every shirt wants a button!" Every day they've cold mutton; They're always a flurrying one, or else they're hurrying one, or else they're worrying one; Threatening to smother your dear sainted mother or kick your big brother; After all your fine doings, your strugglings and stewings-why "the house is in ruins!" Then the wine goes like winking, and they cannot help thinking you've taken to drinking; They're perpetually rows keeping 'cause out of the housekeeping they're in bonnets their spouse keeping; So when they've been meated, if with pies they are not treated, they vow they are cheated! Then against Ascot Races and all such sweet places they set their old faces; And they'll never leave town, nor to Broadstairs go down, though with b le you are quite brown; For their wife they unwilling are, after billing and cooing her, to stand a cap from the milliner-e'en a paltry twelve shillinger; And it gives them the vapors to witness the capers of these bowers and scrapers, the young linen drapers; Then to add to your woes, they say nobody knows how the money all goes, but they pay through the nose for the dear children's clothes; Though you strive and endeavor, they're so mightily clever, that please them you'll never, till you leave them forever-yes! the hundredth time sever- -"for ever-AND EVER!" Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage, But this is the way they go on after marriage. 139 Rory O'More; or, Good Omens. NG Rory O'Moore courted Kathleen Bawn; e was bold as the hawk, and she soft as the I in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, [about; be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry. er lip, but a smile in her eye; icks, I don't know, in throth, what I'm sed till I've put on my cloak inside out." ys Rory, "that same is the way heart for this many a day; Kathleen, "don't think of the like, k on he loves I'll be bound"- ou don't let me go ; aat I'm hating you so!' me I'm delighted to hear, conthraries, my dear. "Och! jewel, keep drhaming that same till you die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie! And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've tazed enough; Sure, I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes and baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste." Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, "Now, Rory, lave off, sir-you'll hug me no more,- A Wedding. W The Epithalamion. AKE now, my love, awake; for it is time; The rosy morn long since left Tithon's bed, All ready to her silver coach to climb; And Phoebus 'gins to show his glorious head. The merry lark her matins sings aloft; The thrush replies; the mavis descant plays; Ah! my dear love, why do you sleep thus long, For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring. My love is now awake out of her dreams, And her fair eyes like stars that dimmed were With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams, More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear. But first come, ye fair hours, which were begot, In Jove's sweet paradise, of Day and Night; Do make and still repair; And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian Queen Help to adorn my beautifulest bride: And, as ye her array, still throw between Some graces to be seen; And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing, The whiles the woods shall answer, and your echo ring. Now is my love all ready forth to come And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom, The joyful'st day that ever sun did see Lo! where she comes along with portly pace, Her long, loose yellow locks, like golden wire, And, being crowned with a garland green, Natheless do ye still loud her praises sing Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath ruddied, |