456 FUGITIVE LINES ON PAWNING MY WATCH.
The winding horns like rams'!
The meeting sweet that made me thrill,
The sweet-meats almost sweeter still,
No "satis" to the "jams!"-
When that I was a tiny boy
My days and nights were full of joy,
My mates were blithe and kind!
No wonder that I sometimes sigh,
And dash the tear-drop from my eye,
To cast a look behind!
FUGITIVE LINES ON PAWNING MY WATCH.
"Aurum pot-a-bile: "Gold biles the pot. - FREE TRANSLATION.
FAREWELL then, my golden repeater,
We're come to my Uncle's old shop;
And hunger won't be a dumb-waiter,
The Cerberus growls for a sop.
To quit thee, my comrade diurnal,
My feelings will certainly scotch;
But O! there's a riot internal,
And Famine calls out for the Watch!
O! hunger's a terrible trial,
I really must have a relief—
So here goes the plates of your dial
To fetch me some Williams's beef!
As famished as any lost seaman,
I've fasted for many a dawn,
And now must play chess with the Demon,
And give it a check with a pawn.
FUGITIVE LINES ON PAWNING MY WATCH.
I've fasted, since dining at Buncle's,
Two days with true Perceval zeal -
And now must make up at my Uncle's,
By getting a duplicate meal.
No Peachum it is, or young Lockit,
That rifles my fob with a snatch;
Alas! I must pick my own pocket,
And make gravy-soup of my watch!
So long I have wandered a starver,
I'm getting as keen as a hawk ;
Time's long hand must take up a carver,
His short hand lay hold of a fork.
Right heavy and sad the event is,
But O! it is Poverty's crime;
I've been such a Brownrigg's Apprentice,
I thus must be "out of my
Folks talk about dressing for dinner,
But I have for dinner undrest;
Since Christmas, as I am a sinner,
I've eaten a suit of my
I haven't a rag or a mummock
To fetch me a chop or a steak;
I wish that the coats of my stomach
Were such as my Uncle would take!
When dishes were ready with garnish
My watch used to warn with a chime
But now my repeater must furnish
The dinner in lieu of the time!
My craving will have no denials,
I can't fob it off, if you stay,
So go and the old Seven Dials
Must tell me the time of the day.
Your chimes I shall never more hear 'em,
To part is a Tic Douloureux!
But Tempus has his edax rerum,
And I have my Feeding-Time too!
Farewell then, my golden repeater,
We're come to my Uncle's old shop — And Hunger won't be a dumb-waiter, The Cerberus growls for a sop!
Alas! when in Brook Street the upper
In comfort I lived between walls,
I've gone to a dance for my supper;-
But now I must go to Three Balls!
WHAT'S life but full of care and doubt,
With all its fine humanities?
With parasols we walk about,
Long pigtails and such vanities.
We plant pomegranate trees and things,
And go in gardens sporting,
With toys and fans of peacock's wings,
To painted ladies courting.
We gather flowers of every hue,
And fish in boats for fishes,
Build summer-houses painted blue-
But life's as frail as dishes.
Walking about their groves of trees,
Blue bridges and blue rivers,
How little thought them two Chinese,
They'd both be smashed to shivers.
WRITTEN ON THE NIGHT OF MY MISTRESS'S GRAND ROUT.
O PEACE! O come with me and dwell
But stop, for there's the bell.
O Peace! for thee I go and sit in churches,
On Wednesday, when there's very few
In loft or pew·
Another ring, the tarts are come from Birch's.
O Peace! for thee I have avoided marriage—
Hush! there's a carriage.
O Peace! thou art the best of earthly goods
The five Miss Woods.
O Peace! thou art the Goddess I adore -
There come some more.
O Peace! thou child of solitude and quiet-
That's Lord Drum's footman, for he loves a riot.
O Peace!
O Peace! thou wert for human comfort planned -
That's Weippert's band.
O Peace! how glad I welcome thy approaches-
I hear the sound of coaches.
O Peace! O Peace! - another carriage stops —
It's early for the Blenkinsops.
O Peace! with thee I love to wander,
But wait till I have showed up Lady Squander,
And now I've seen her up the stair,
O Peace! - but here comes Captain Hare.
O Peace! thou art the slumber of the mind,
Untroubled, calm and quiet, and unbroken
If that is Alderman Guzzle from Portsoken,
Alderman Gobble won't be far behind;
O Peace! serene in worldly shyness—
Make way there for his Serene Highness!
O Peace! if you do not disdain
To dwell amongst the menial train,
I have a silent place, and lone,
That you and I may call our own;
Where tumult never makes an entry-
Susan, what business have you in my pantry
O Peace! but there is Major Monk,
At variance with his wife-O Peace!
And that great German, Vander Trunk,
And that great talker, Miss Apreece;
O Peace! so dear to poets' quills —
They're just beginning their quadrilles
O Peace! our greatest renovator;
I wonder where I put my waiter —
O Peace! - but here my Ode I'll cease;
I have no peace to write of Peace.
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