I never saw thee, lovely one,- It is not often that we cross But if we meet in distant years, MY AUNT. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! Long years have o'er her flown; I know it hurts her-though she looks Her waist is ampler than her life, My aunt! my poor deluded aunt! Her father-grandpapa! forgive He sent her to a stylish school; 'T was in her thirteenth June; And with her, as the rules required, "Two towels and a spoon." They braced my aunt against a board, They laced her up, they starved her down, They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, O never mortal suffered more In penance for her sins. So, when my precious aunt was done, Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche, Tore from the trembling father's arms For her how happy had it been! To see one sad, ungathered rose COMIC MISERIES. JOHN G. SAXE. My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room a-blaze, Don't think yourself a "happy dog," For all your merry ways; But learn to wear a sober phiz, Be stupid, if you can, It's such a very serious thing To be a funny man! 344 You're at an evening party, with You're talking deep philosophy To edify a clergyman With suitable discourse,— You think you've got him-when he calls A friend across the way, And begs you'll say that funny thing You said the other day! You drop a pretty jeu-de-mot Who likes to give you credit for The clever thing he hears, And so he hawks your jest about, The old authentic one, Just breaking off the point of it, By sudden change in politics, While every body marvels why Your mirth is under ban, They think your very grief "a joke," You're such a funny man! You follow up a stylish card That bids you come and dine, And bring along your freshest wit You're looking very dismal, when And wonders what you 're thinking of, You're telling to a knot of friends A fancy-tale of woes That cloud your matrimonial sky, And banish all repose— A solemn lady overhears And tells the town the pleasant news: My dear young friend, whose shining wit For all your merry ways; But learn to wear a sober phiz, Be stupid, if you can, It's such a very serious thing IDÉES NAPOLÉONIEN NES. WILLIAM AYTOUN. The impossibility of translating this now well-known expression (imperfectly rendered in a companion-work, "Ideas of Napoleonism"), will excuse the title and burden of the present ballad being left in the original French.-TRANS LATOR. COME, listen all who wish to learn How nations should be ruled, From one who from his youth has been In such-like matters school'd; From one who knows the art to please, Improve and govern men Eh bien! Ecoutez, aux Idées, Napoléoniennes ! To keep the mind intently fixed On number One alone To look to no one's interest, To how, or what, or when- To make a friend, and use him well, Of all that makes him useful, and Napoléonienne. To sneak into a good man's house And seem his children's friend- To gain your point in view-to wade Through dirt, and slime, and bloodTo stoop to pick up what you want Through any depth of mud. But always in the fire to thrust Some helpless cat's-paw, when Your chestnuts burn-c'est une Idée To clutch and keep the lion's share To kill or drive away The wolves, that you upon the lambs May, unmolested, prey To keep a gang of jackals fierce To guard and stock your den, While you lie down-c'est une Idée Napoléonienne. |