For you I would weave Songs that never were wove, And deeds I'd achieve Which no man yet achove, And for me you never should grieve, as for you I have grove.

I'm as worthy a catch As ever, was caught.

O, your answer I watch As a man never waught, And we'd make the most elegant match as ever was maught.

Let my longings not sink; I would die if they sunk.

O, I ask you to think As you never have thunk, And our fortunes and lives let us link, as no lives could be lunk.

_A. W. Bellow._

LOVE'S MOODS AND SENSES

Sally Salter, she was a young lady who taught, And her friend Charley Church was a preacher who praught!

Though his enemies called him a screecher who scraught.

His heart when he saw her kept sinking and sunk, And his eye, meeting hers, began winking and wunk; While she in her turn fell to thinking, and thunk.

He hastened to woo her, and sweetly he wooed, For his love grew until to a mountain it grewed, And what he was longing to do then he doed.

In secret he wanted to speak, and he spoke, To seek with his lips what his heart long had soke; So he managed to let the truth leak, and it loke.

He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode, They so sweetly did glide, that they both thought they glode, And they came to the place to be tied, and were tode.

Then, "homeward" he said, "let us drive" and they drove, And soon as they wished to arrive, they arrove; For whatever he couldn't contrive she controve.

The kiss he was dying to steal, then he stole: At the feet where he wanted to kneel, then he knole, And said, "I feel better than ever I fole."

So they to each other kept clinging, and clung; While time his swift circuit was winging, and wung; And this was the thing he was bringing, and brung:

The man Sally wanted to catch, and had caught-- That she wanted from others to s.n.a.t.c.h, and had snaught-- Was the one that she now liked to scratch and she scraught.

And Charley's warm love began freezing and froze, While he took to teasing, and cruelly toze The girl he had wished to be squeezing and squoze.

"Wretch!" he cried, when she threatened to leave him, and left, "How could you deceive me, as you have deceft?"

And she answered, "I promised to cleave, and I've cleft!"

_Unknown._

THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE

An Austrian army, awfully array'd, Boldly by battery besiege Belgrade; Cossack commanders cannonading come, Deal devastation's dire destructive doom; Ev'ry endeavour engineers essay, For fame, for freedom, fight, fierce furious fray.

Gen'rals 'gainst gen'rals grapple,--gracious G.o.d!

How honors Heav'n heroic hardihood!

Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill, Just Jesus, instant innocence instill!

Kinsmen kill kinsmen, kindred kindred kill.

Labour low levels longest, loftiest lines; Men march 'midst mounds, motes, mountains, murd'rous mines.

Now noisy, noxious numbers notice nought, Of outward obstacles o'ercoming ought; Poor patriots perish, persecution's pest!

Quite quiet Quakers "Quarter, quarter," quest; Reason returns, religion, right, redounds, Suwarow stop such sanguinary sounds!

Truce to thee, Turkey, terror to thy train!

Unwise, unjust, unmerciful Ukraine!

Vanish vile vengeance, vanish victory vain!

Why wish we warfare? wherefore welcome won Xerxes, Nantippus, Navier, Xenophon?

Yield, ye young Yaghier yeomen, yield your yell!

Zimmerman's, Zoroaster's, Zeno's zeal Again attract; arts against arms appeal.

All, all ambitious aims, avaunt, away!

Et cetera, et cetera, et ceterae.

_Unknown._

THE HAPPY MAN

La Galisse now I wish to touch; Droll air! if I can strike it, I'm sure the song will please you much; That is, if you should like it.

La Galisse was, indeed, I grant, Not used to any dainty, When he was born; but could not want As long as he had plenty.

Instructed with the greatest care, He always was well bred, And never used a hat to wear But when 'twas on his head.

His temper was exceeding good, Just of his father's fashion; And never quarrels boiled his blood Except when in a pa.s.sion.

His mind was on devotion bent; He kept with care each high day, And Holy Thursday always spent The day before Good Friday.

He liked good claret very well, I just presume to think it; For ere its flavour he could tell He thought it best to drink it.

Than doctors more he loved the cook, Though food would make him gross, And never any physic took But when he took a dose.

Oh, happy, happy is the swain The ladies so adore; For many followed in his train Whene'er he walked before.

Bright as the sun his flowing hair In golden ringlets shone; And no one could with him compare, If he had been alone.

His talents I cannot rehea.r.s.e, But every one allows That whatsoe'er he wrote in verse, No one could call it prose.

He argued with precision nice, The learned all declare; And it was his decision wise, No horse could be a mare.

His powerful logic would surprise, Amaze, and much delight: He proved that dimness of the eyes Was hurtful to the sight.

They liked him much--so it appears Most plainly--who preferred him; And those did never want their ears Who any time had heard him.