Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Trifles.

THE RIDDLE,

Addressed to four Ladies. Guess, gentle ladies, if you can,

A thing that's wond'rous common, What almost every well-bred man,

Presents to every woman.

A thing with which you've often play'd,

Betwixt your thumb and finger, Though, if too frequent use be made,

"Twill spoil you for a singer.

It's what weak dames and old abuse,

And often spoils the stronger; In short, 'tis rhetoric lovers use, When they can talk no longer. It is pill or potion now,

Just as you're pleased to make it; Raises the spirits when they're low, And tickles when you take it.

The Answer by the Ladies.
To guess your riddle, gentle Sir,
Four dames in council sat;
So various their opinions were,
That great was the debate.

One said, 'twas music play'd with skill,
That caus'd all this emotion;

A second said, it was a pill,

A third, it was a potion.

The fourth was quite amaz'd to hear,
The ladies talk such stuff;
Told them the case was very clear,
And took a pinch of snuff.

Wrote on a Pane of Glass, by BURNS. Curst be the man, the poorest wretch in life, The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife, Who has no will, but by her permission, Who has no sixpence, but in her possession, Who must to her, his dear friend's secrets tell, Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than h-ll. Were such the wife had fallen to my part, I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart.

GOOD TRADE.

At Highgate, by salubrious air, Had thriven butchers, bakers; But since a doctor settled there, None thrive but undertakers.

On the Marriage of Mr. Henry Weaver, to Miss Margaret Ruby.

The web that he wove caught her heart,

'Twas Hymen bid Henry to smile;

[blocks in formation]

For here behold a single rose, Without a Thorn to harm you.

HENRY.

The wonder's common, as you'll find,
When with the world you mingle,
For 'tis indeed without a thorn,
But then, you know, it's single!

Verses.

Lines addressed by a POET to his Fire. Thou genial element o'er which I bend, Sometimes relax'd to vacancy of thoughtThou seem'st in solitude a cheerful friend, With many a meditative moral fraught. When choak'd with ashes, I beheld thee fade, Nor genial airs awake thy sleeping fires, I think how genius, in misfortune's shade, In the dark mist of poverty expires.

TO ROSA, WITH A RING.
By D. M.

Rosa, when lengthen'd years shall sever
My fate from thine, my charming fair,
Look on that little ring, and never

Forget who 'twas that placed it there. Like mine, then let thy mem'ry linger

(As age looks back on days of youth) Upon the hour when first thy finger

Received this pledge of love and truth. And when I know not where to find thee, And thou art distant far from me; O then still let that ring remind thee Of him who only lives for thee.

TO AMANDA.

G. G.

Amanda, tho' now in youth's confident pride,

And blooming in beauty's array,

My vows, my predictions, my tears you deride, And triumph in arrogant sway;

Yet ah! when thy gold waving ringlets shall turn,
And fall in grey ruin around,

Nor longer thy cheek's rosy lustre shall burn,
But pale sickly wrinkles abound:

When rouge, paint, and patches, shall only attest
The flight of your primitive bloom,
And every look of your glass suggest
The spinster's disconsolate doom-

You'll cry, as my vows you attention engage,
Too late to avail of their truth,
"O! why has not youth the discretion of age,
H.
Or age the attractions of youth!"'

THE ROSE.

The beams of the morning the tears had not dried, Which night had distilled on each flower, When Venus, with Cupid, that rogue, by her side, Sought the sweets of her eglantine bower.

But alas! they were gone, for some insolent elf Had dar'd to profane the retreat;

And a rose tree, the goddess had planted herself, Lay broken and dead at her feet.

With a frown on her brow, tho' a smile lurk'd beneath,

To Cupid, in anger she said,

"Thou mischievous urchin! 'tis thou art the this, For blushes thy forehead o'erspread.

The rose from its stem thou hast wantonly tor-
Its leaves are of zephyrs the sport,
And to punish thy frolics, which long I have borne,
Thou banished shalt be from our court!"

But the smile chased the frown, as he made this reply,

"Dear mother, if banished from you, With the rose, the first cause of my crime, let me sigh,

And mingle my tears with its dew."

“Tell me where 'tis conceal'd? since thy guilt is confest,

Say, where do its beauties now_fade?" "Transplanted, the rose blooms on Emily's breast,

And the dew to her lip, I convey'd!"

THIS BLOOMING ROSE. This blooming rose at early dawn Expanding drank the dew,

1 pluck'd the flower, tho' sharp its thorn, Because it look'd like you.

But gazing on thy beauteous face,

The likeness fades to view; Nor in the rose thy blush I trace,

Its charms must yield to you.

Printed and Published for the Proprietors, by J. WHITE, 41, Holywell-street, Strand, and may be bad of all Booksellers.

TICKLER MAGAZINE.

No. 7. VOL. II.]

LONDON, SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1820.

Anecdotes.

A JUVENILE HERO.

THE following affecting Anecdote is introduced in the work ascribed to Louis Buonaparte, on the Government of Holland:During the fatal explosion of the Orient,

the conduct and death of the young Ca-abi

anca were deserving of remark. This boy; whose age did not exceed thirteen, displayed the utmost activity. Stationed among the guns, he encouraged the gunners and sailors, and when the firing happened to be impeded, in the heat of the action, through excess of zal and agitation, he restored order and tranquillity by a coolness which was quite astonishing for his age; he made the gunners and alors sensible of their inadvertencies, and took care that each gun was served with cartridges suited to its calibre.

He did not know that his father had been mortally wounded; and when the fire broke pat on board the Oricat and the guns were abandoned, this courageous child remained by himself and called loudly on his father to tell him if he could leave his post, like the rest, without dishonour. The fire was makng dreadful ravages, yet he still waited for his father's answer; but in vain! At length an old sailor informed him of the misfortuus of Casabianca, and told him, that he was or dered to save his son's life by sarrendering, He refused, and ran to the gun-room. When he perceived his father, he threw himself upon hin, held him in his close enbrace, and declared that he would never quit him. In vain his father entreated and threatened him; in Fain the old sailor, who felt an attachment to his captain, wished to render him this last service. I must die-1 will die with my father! answered the generous child. There is but a moment remaining,' ooserved the silor; I shall have great difficulty in saving myself;-adien! The flame reaching the powder, the vessel blew up with the young Casabianca, who in vain covered with his bly the mutilated remains of his father, Such is what the old sailor related to General Kleber and Louis, on landing at Alexandria."

[ocr errors]

A DOTING HUSBAND.At the time when FREDERICK MOUL, was engaged in translating Lelonging, a servant came to tell him, that his

[PRICE 6d.

wife, who had long been in a declining state was very ill, and wished to speak to him.

66

Stop a minute, stop a minute," said he, " I have but two sentences to finish, and then I will be with her directly." Another messenger came to announce, that she was at the last gasp; "I have but two words to do, answered he, "and then I'l fly to her." A moment after word was brought to him, that she had expired. "Alas! I'm very sorry for it," exclaimed the tranquil husband, she was the brief funeral oration, he went on with his best wife in the world!" Having uttered this

work.

A RESPECTABLE character having long fi gured away in the gay world at Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that city, the victim of severe and unforeseen misfortunes. He was so indigent, that he subsisted only on an allowance from the parish. Every week a quantity of bread was sent to him sufficient for his support, and yet, at length, he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him. He went: "Do you live alone?" said the curate; "With whom, Sir, answered the unfortunate man, "is it possible I should live? I am wretched, you see that I am, since I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the world."-" But, Sir," continued the curate, "if you live alone, why do you ask for more bread than is sufficient for yourself?" The other was quite discon erted, and at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had a dog, The curate did not drop the subject. He desired him to observe, that he was only the distributor of the bread that belonged to the poor, and that it was absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog. "Ah, Sir" exclaimed the poor man, weeping, and if I lose my dog, who is there then to love me?" The good pastor, melting into tears, took his purse, and giving it to him, take this, Sir," said he; this is mine-this I can give."-

66

VALUE OF A BOX ON THE EAR.

A GENTLEMAN from Gascony travelled, as it is customary with his countrymen, with a purse as light as his temper. As Le passed through a village, and felt the pangs of hunger were not so easily smoothed by tasting the cool breeze beneath the shade of a few trees, the shelter of which he had sought

he entered into conversation with a clown, who informed him of every thing that had passed among the villagers. One piece of intelligence filled our weary wanderer with joy, and set his brains to work. The inn-keeper of the place had been condemned the day before to pay ten crowns damage to a tradesman, whose ears he had unluckily boxed in a fit of passion. Our hero repaired immediately to the inn; and settling himself in the best room, ordered a plentiful dinner. Three days were thus spent in pleasing excursions through the neighbouring fields, when his bill amounted to six crowns, and he prepared to take his leave. The landlord came to demand his money, and wish a prosperous journey to his seigneurie. "My dear fellow," exclaimed the Ciascon, "I have not got a single farthing, but be so good as to box my ears and give me the change, for you know that is worth ten crowns, and I owe you no more than six."

How Frederick, King of Sicily, was reproved

by an Apothecary of Palermo.

KING Frederick, of Sicily, was a man of a noble and generous mind. There lived in Palermo, in his time, an apothecary called Master Matthew, who was accustomed to bring the king every year a present of apples and citrons, in the season, which his majesty always received graciously. On these occasions he was very particular in combing and arranging his hair, tying it in a sort of bagwig, and putting on a clean neck-cloth. He continued these annual visits when far advanced in years. On one of these occasions, as the old man was tottering along with his present, in his usual trim, the king's porter, diverted with the odity of his appearance, began to make sport of him, and to pull the tail of his wig: in which pastime he was soon joined by his companious. One pulled one way, and another the other, and the old man's hair was presently about his ears. He managed, however, to make his way through them, and in this state presented himself before the king. "What is the matter now, Matthew," said his majesty, "how is it that I see you in this trim?" ""Tis your majesty's pleasure," replied Matthew. "How can that be?" asked the king.

66

66

"Does

your majesty know the best story in the Bible?" said Matthew. The king, who was very well versed in Scripture, replied, "There are a great many good stories in it, but which is the best I really cannot say." With your majesty's permission I will tell you," rejoined Matthew. By all means," said the king; My "let us hear." Then said Matthew, lord the king, the best story in all the Bible is that of the Queen of Sheba, who hearing of the wonderful wisdom of Solomon, came to visit him in his dominions, and found it even to execed her expectations: with such

[ocr errors]

admirable order was every thing conducted." Here the old man stopped. "Well," said the king, what is the drift of this?" "Sire," replied Matthew, "if the Queen of Sheba thought Solomon the wisest of men for the reasons I have mentioned, she would, on the same account, think your majesty the greatest of fools: since, at the very gates of your palace, an old man like me cannot pass without insult.”

The king, says the story, forgave the freedom of the remark for its justice, dismissed his porter, reformed his household, and ever after kept his menials in better order. So powerful an effect, says the Novelist, had the saying of an old man, and so necessary is it that men of this sort should sometimes be found. • Spirit of the Magazines."

[ocr errors]

JERED II. Caliph of the Saracens, pas sionately loved Ababa, one of his mistresses, and was afterwards so affected with her death, that he would not leave her body, which he caused to be conveyed into his chamber, where he incessantly was looking on her, until the offensiveness of the smell, and the repeated remonstrances of the Prince, his brother, ob liged him at last to permit her to be buried.He nevertheless could not refrain from order ing her to be taken from her tomb, and he conceived so much grief in continually be holding her in that condition, that he lost both his senses and his life some days after. C-s-t.

Ballad.

SARAH I—,

THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE,

A Ballad, by the Author of the new popular
TRAGEDY of VIRGINIUS.

SHE listens ""Tis the wind!" she cries,
The moon that rose so full and bright,
Is now o'ercast-she looks-she sighs-
She fears 't will be a stormy night.
Not long was Anna wed-her mate,
A fisherman, was out at sea-
The night is dark-the hour is late-
The wind is high-and where is he?
O! who would love--O! who would wed
A wandering fisherman-to be
A wretched, lonely wife, and dread

Each breath, that blows when he's at sea!
Not long was Anna wed-one pledge
Of tender love her bosom bore;-
The storm comes down-the billows rage-
It's father is not yet on shore.

O! who would think her portion blest,
A wandering seaman's wife to be;
To bug the infant to her breast,

Whose father's on a stormy sea!

The thunder bursts-the lightning falls;
The casement rattles with the rain,
And, as the gusty tempest bawls,
The little cottage quakes again.

She does n't speak-she does n't sigh-
She gazes on her infant dear-
A smile lights up the cherub's eye,
Which dims its mother's with a tear,

0! who would be a seaman's wife?
O! who would bear a seaman's child;
To tremble for her husband's life;

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

PREVIOUS to the late general election, a noble Lord delivered an address to his consti

toents at Sheilieid, in which he recapitulated Lis Parliamentary conduct in the last Session relative to the agricultural and commercial interests of the county he represented. A plain honest looking farmer in a state of inebriation, interrupted his Lordship, by observ ing, "wheat was not dear enough,' be," replied his Lordship, "but you afford a convincing proof of the cheapness of barley," A convulsive laugh followed the retort.

that may

The KING'S ARMS, and the KING'S HEADIn the reign of Louis XII. two young men of fashion, being at a grand masquerade in Paris, recognised his Majesty, notwithstanding the disguise which he had assumed, walking with

66

his arm round the waist of one of his mistresses. Availing themselves of this discovery, one of the young men said to the other, It is intolerably hot in this crowded room; I wish we were in a cooler situation: Suppose we adjourn to the King's arms." "No," replied the other, " that will not do, the King's Arms are full; but if you think proper, we will retire to the King's head, for that I believe is quite empty.

THE celebrated Abbe Galliani, author of several popular works, being at a public dinner, was inadvertently led into some severe, but just animadversions, on the character of an absent lady. A favourite of the lady, who happened to be at the other end of the table, warmly took up her cause, and rudely cried out to the Abbe-" You hold there, very insolent discourse! If I were near you, I would reward such impertinence with a box on the ear; and you may regard the blow as actually given! And I Sir," said the Abbe, who always spoke with astonishing volubility, “If I were near you, would seize the sword of my next neighbour; because I do not in consequence of my profession, as you well know, wear one myself, and I would run you through the body! You may therefore consider yourself us dead! " Behold," continued he, coolly addressing himself to the company, "an affair of honor dispatched in due form! Let us now resume the conversation."

48

A CERTAIN Prince, not at all beloved by his subjects, being present on horseback one day, while a great quantity of gold was conveying to his treasury, asked a man who seemed to be observing the carriages with great attention, "what he would give to be possessed of the contents of them. "I have nothing to give, may it please your Majesty," replied the countryman. "But what would you part with," demanded the Prince. "I would part-with every thing," returned the countryman," but

PEACE OF MIND, AND A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

turned away confounded. This satire was pointed, and the Monarch

Correspondence.

To the Editor of the Tickler Magazine. SIR-I have been somewhat surprized by a letter in your Magazine of the present month, signed by J. HOWARD, in which he states, that "while Lord Byron was resident at Mitylene, he distributed near 500 copies of the Old and New Testaments among the poorer inhabitants; raised from distress numerous families, &c." I had thought that every lite

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »