And think there's faith among the Turks,
And hope for e'en the Brahmin.
Harmless my mind is, and my mirth,
And kindly is my laughter;

I cannot see the smiling earth,

And think there's hell hereafter."

Jack died; he left no legacy,
Save that his story teaches :-
Content to peevish poverty;
Humility to riches.

Ye scornful great, ye envious small,
Come follow in his track;
We all were happier, if we all
Would copy JOLLY JACK.

IMITATION OF HORACE.

TO HIS SERVING BOY.

PERSICOS odi,

Puer, apparatus ;
Displicent nexæ
Philyrâ coronæ :
Mitte sectari,
Rosa quo locorum
Sera moretur.

Simplici myrto
Nihil allabores
Sedulus, curo:

Neque te ministrum

Dedecet myrtus,

Neque me sub arctâ

Vite bibentem.

AD MINISTRAM.

DEAR Lucy, you know what my wish is,-
I hate all your Frenchified fuss :

Your silly entrées and made dishes
Were never intended for us.

No footman in lace and in ruffles

Need dangle behind my arm-chair; And never mind seeking for truffles, Although they be ever so rare.

But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
I prithee get ready at three :
Have it smoking, and tender and juicy,
And what better meat can there be?
And when it has feasted the master,
'Twill amply suffice for the maid ;
Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
And tipple my ale in the shade.

OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW

FACES.

THE KNIGHTLY GUERDON.*

UNTRUE to my Ulric I never could be,

I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie,
Since the desolate hour when we stood by the
shore,

And your dark galley waited to carry you o'er :
My faith then I plighted, my love I confess'd,
As I gave you the BATTLE-AXE marked with your

crest!

*"WAPPING OLD STAIRS."

"Your Molly has never been false, she declares,
Since the last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs ;
When I said that I would continue the same,

And gave you the 'bacco-box marked with my name.
When I passed a whole fortnight between decks with you,
Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew?
To be useful and kind to my Thomas I stay'd,

For his trousers I washed, and his grog too I made.

"Though you promised last Sunday to walk in the Mall
With Susan from Deptford and likewise with Sall,
In silence I stood your unkindness to hear,
And only upbraided my Tom with a tear.

Why should Sall, or should Susan, than me be more prized ?

For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne'er be despised.
Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake;
Still your trousers I'll wash, and your grog too I'll make."

When the bold barons met in my father's old hall, Was not Edith the flower of the banquet and ball? In the festival hour, on the lips of your bride, Was there ever a smile save with THEE at my side?

Alone in my turret I loved to sit best,

To blazon your BANNER and broider your crest.

The knights were assembled, the tourney was gay!

Sir Ulric rode first in the warrior-mêlée.

In the dire battle-hour, when the tourney was done,

And you gave to another the wreath you had won! Though I never reproached thee, cold. cold was my breast,

As I thought of that BATTLE-AXE, ah! and that crest!

But away with remembrance, no more will I pine That others usurped for a time what was mine! There's a FESTIVAL HOUR for my Ulric and me: Once more, as of old, shall he bend at my knee; Once more by the side of the knight I love best Shall I blazon his BANNER and broider his crest.

THE ALMACK'S ADIEU.

YOUR Fanny was never false-hearted,
And this she protests and she vows,
From the triste moment when we parted
On the staircase of Devonshire House !
I blushed when you asked me to marry,
I vowed I would never forget;
And at parting I gave my dear Harry
A beautiful vinegarette !