Quake at the Pantomime he loves to cater, To clench the fact, Myself, once guilty of one small rash act, Quite in a hurry, Felt all this flurry, And spiritual scurry, From prompter's bell, A hissing at some dull imperfect dance There's no denying I felt in all four elements at once! My head was swimming, while my arms were flying? Thrice welcome, then, for this peculiar use, For this shall dramatists, when they make merry, Drink -"Perry!" Perry, whose fame, pennated, is let loose To distant lands, Perry, admitted on all hands, Text, running, German, Roman, For Patent Perryans approached by no man! Pluto shall call thee to his gloomy bower, Shall stand the Parian, Perryan, periwigged Perry, NUMBER ONE. VERSIFIED FROM THE PROSE OF A YOUNG LADY. It's very hard!—and so it is, to live in such a row, – And witness this that every miss but me has got a beau. For Love goes calling up and down, but here he seems to shun; I'm sure he has been asked enough to call at Number One! I'm sick of all the double knocks that come to Number Four! That Number Three I often see a lover at the door ;And one in blue, at Number Two, calls daily like a dun, — It's very hard they come so near, and not to Number One! Miss Bell, I hear, has got a dear exactly to her mind, — By sitting at the window-pane without a bit of blind; But I go in the balcony, which she has never done, Yet arts that thrive at Number Five don't take at Number One! 'Tis hard, with plenty in the street, and plenty passing by, There's nice young men at Number Ten, but only rather shy; And Mrs. Smith across the way has got a grown-up son, But, la! he hardly seems to know there is a Number One! There's Mr. Wick at Number Nine, but he's intent on pelf, And though he's pious will not love his neighbor as him And here I've got my single lot on hand at Number One! My mother often sits at work and talks of props and stays, And what a comfort I shall be in her declining days: The very maids about the house have set me down a nun, The sweethearts all belong to them that call at Number One! Once only when the flue took fire, one Friday afternoon, Young Mr. Long came kindly in and told me not to swoon: Why can't he come again without the Phoenix and the Sun ? We cannot always have a flue on fire at Number One! I am not old, I am not plain, nor awkward in my gait - Eight: I'm sure white satin made her look as brown as any bun But even beauty has no chance, I think, at Number One! 354 LINES ON THE CELEBRATION OF PEACE. At Number Six they say Miss Rose has slain a score of hearts, And Cupid, for her sake, has been quite prodigal of darts. The imp they show with bended bow, I wish he had a gun! But if he had, he'd never deign to shoot with Number One. It's very hard, and so it is, to live in such a row! And here's a ballad-singer come to aggravate my woe ; — O, take away your foolish song and tones enough to stun There is "Nae luck about the house," I know, at Num ber One! LINES ON THE CELEBRATION OF PEACE. BY DORCAS DOVE. AND is it thus ye welcome Peace, From mouths of forty-pounding Bores ? O, cease, exploding Cannons, cease! Lest Peace, affrighted, shun our shores ! Not so the quiet Queen should come; She asks for no triumphal Arch; No Steeples for their ropy Tongues; She wants no Noise of mobbing Throats Why this Parade of scarlet Coats, When War has closed his bloodshot Eye? Returning to Domestic Loves, When War has ceased with all its Ills, No need there is of vulgar Shout, Bells, Cannons, Trumpets, Fife and Drum, To let us know that Peace is come. O, mild should be the Signs, and meek, Lo! where the Soldier walks, alas! With Scars received on foreign Grounds Shall we consume in colored Glass ; The Oil that should be poured in Wounds? The bleeding Gaps of War to close, THE DEMON-SHIP. "TWAS off the Wash the sun went down the sea looked black and grim, For stormy clouds with murky fleece were mustering at the brim ; Titanic shades! enormous gloom! as if the solid night Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light! |