Full as an egg was I with glee,
And happy as a king:

Good Lord! how all men envied me!

She loved like any thing.

But false as hell, she, like the wind,
Chang'd, as her sex must do;
Though seeming as the turtle kind,
And like the gospel true.

If I and Molly could agree,

Let who would take Peru!
Great as an Emperor should I be,
And richer than a Jew.

Till you grow tender as a chick,
I'm dull as any post;

Let us like burs together stick,
And warm as any toast.

You'll know me truer than a die,
And wish me better sped;
Flat as a flounder when I lie,
And as a herring dead.

Sure as a gun she 'll drop a tear

And sigh, perhaps, and wish,
When I am rotten as a pear,
And mute as any fish.

REMINISCENCES OF A SENTIMENTALIST.

THOMAS HOOD.

"My Tables! Meat it is, I set it down!"-HAMLET.

I THINK it was Spring-but not certain I am—
When my passion began first to work;
But I know we were certainly looking for lamb,
And the season was over for pork.

'Twas at Christmas, I think, when I met with Miss Chase,

Yes for Morris had asked me to dine

And I thought I had never beheld such a face,

Or so noble a turkey and chine.

Placed close by her side, it made others quite wild

With sheer envy, to witness my luck;

How she blushed as I gave her some turtle, and smiled As I afterward offered some duck.

I looked and I languished, alas! to my cost,
Through three courses of dishes and meats;
Getting deeper in love--but my heart was quite lost
When it came to the trifle and sweets.

With a rent-roll that told of my houses and land,
To her parents I told my designs-
And then to herself I presented my hand,
With a very fine pottle of pines!

I asked her to have me for weal or for woe,
And she did not object in the least ;-
I can't tell the date-but we married I know
Just in time to have game at the feast.

We went to

it certainly was the sea-side;
For the next, the most blessed of morns,
I remember how fondly I gazed at my bride,
Sitting down to a plateful of prawns.

O, never may memory lose sight of that year,
But still hallow the time as it ought!
That season the "grass" was remarkably dear,
And the peas at a guinea a quart.

So happy, like hours, all our days seemed to haste,
A fond pair, such as poets have drawn,
So united in heart-so congenial in taste-
We were both of us partial to brawn!

A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride,
But then Death-I ne'er dreamt about that!
O, there's nothing is certain in life, as I cried
When my turbot eloped with the cat!

My dearest took ill at the turn of the year,

But the cause no physician could nab;

But something, it seemed like consumption, I fear—
It was just after supping on crab.

In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed,
Still her strength and her appetite pined;
She lost relish for what she had relished the most,
Even salmon she deeply declined!

For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt,
While her form it grew wasted and thin;
But the last dying spark of existence went out,
As the oysters were just coming in!

She died, and she left me the saddest of men,
To indulge in a widower's moan;

Oh! I felt all the power of solitude then,
As I ate my first "natives" alone!

But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks,
And with sorrowful crape on their hats,

O my grief poured a flood! and the out-of-door folks
Were all crying-I think it was sprats!

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.

A PATHETIC BALLAD.

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,

And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,

And the Forty-second Foot!"

THOMAS HOOD.

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, they're only pegs:

But there's as wooden members quite
As represent my legs!"

Now, Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went up to pay his devours,
When he devoured his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes,
Your love I did allow,

But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now!"

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!

For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call I left my legs,

In Badajos's breaches !"

"Why then," said she, "you've lost the feet

Of legs in war's alarms,

And now you can not wear your shoes

Upon your feats of arms!"

"O, false and fickle Nelly Gray!

I know why you refuse :

Though I've no feet-some other man
Is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death;-alas
You will not be my Nell !"

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray,

His heart so heavy got,

And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot!

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And, as his legs were off-of course,
He soon was off his legs!

And there he hung, till he was dead
As any nail in town-

For, though distress had cut him up,

It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse,

To find out why he died

And they buried Ben in four cross-roads,
With a stake in his inside!

NO!

No sun-no moon!

No morn-no noon

THOMAS HOOD.

No dawn-no dusk-no proper time of day—

No sky-no earthly view—

No distance looking blue

No road-no street-no "t' other side the way"—

No end to any Row

No indications where the Crescents go