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TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE.

“Rien n'est changé, mes amis.”—Charles X.

I HEARD a sick man's dying sigh,

And an infant's idle laughter,
The Old Year went with mourning by-

The New came dancing after !
Let Sorrow shed her lonely tear,

Let Revelry hold her ladle;
Bring boughs of cypress for the bier,

Fling roses on the cradle ;
Mutes to wait on the funeral state;

Pages to pour the wine;
A requiem for Twenty-Eight,

And a health to Twenty-Nine !

Alas for human happiness!

Alas for human sorrow ! Our yesterday is nothingness,

What else will be our morrow ?
Still Beauty must be stealing hearts,

And Knavery stealing purses ;
Still cooks must live by making tarts,

And wits by making verses ;
VOL. II.—8

While sages prate and courts debate,

The same stars set and shine; And the world as it rolled through Twenty-Eight,

Must roll through Twenty-Nine.

Some King will come, in Heaven's good time,

To the tomb his father came to ; Some Thief will wade through blood and crime

To a crown he has no claim to;
Some suffering land will rend in twain

The manacles that bound her;
And gather the links of the broken chain

To fasten them proudly round her;
The grand and great will love and hate,

And combat and combine ;
And much where we were in Twenty-Eight,

We shall be in Twenty-Nine.

O'Connell will toil to raise the Rent,

And Kenyon to sink the Nation;
And Sheil will abuse the Parliament,

And Peel the Association ;
And the thought of bayonets and swords

Will make ex-chancellors merry; .
And jokes will be cut in the House of Lords,

And throats in the County Kerry;
And writers of weight will speculate

On the Cabinet's design;
And just what it did in Twenty-Eight

It will do in Twenty-Nine.

John Thomas Mugy, on a lonely hill,

Will do a deed of mystery;
The Morning Chronicle will fill .

Five columns with the history;
The jury will be all surprise,

The prisoner quite collected,
And Justice Park will wipe his eyes

And be very much affected;
And folks will relate poor Corder's fate

As they hurry home to dine,
Comparing the hangings of Twenty-eight

With the hangings of Twenty-nine.

And the Goddess of Love will keep her smiles,

And the God of Cups his orgies ; And there'll be riots in St. Giles,

And weddings in St. George's; And mendicants will sup like Kings,

And Lords will swear like lacqueys; And black eyes oft will lead to rings,

And rings will lead to black eyes;
And pretty Kate will scold her mate,

In a dialect all divine;
Alas! they married in Twenty-Eight,

They will part in Twenty-Nine.

And oh! I shall find how, day by day,

All thoughts and things look older ;
How the laugh of Pleasure grows less gay,

And the heart of Friendship colder;

But still I shall be what I have been,

Sworn foe to Lady Reason,
And seldom troubled with the spleen,

And fond of talking treason ;
I shall buckle my skait, and leap my gate,

And throw and write my line;
And the woman I worshipped in Twenty-Eight

I shall worship in Twenty-Nine.

(JANUARY 1, 1829.)

SONG FOR THE FOURTEENTH OF FEB

RUARY.

BY A GENERAL LOVER.

“ Mille gravem telis, exhaustå pene pharetra.”

APOLLO has peeped through the shutter,

And wakened the witty and fair ;
The boarding-school belle's in a futter,

The two-penny post's in despair;
The breath of the morning is flinging

A magic on blossom, on spray,
And cockneys and sparrows are singing

In chorus on Valentine's Day.

Away with ye, dreams of disaster,

Away with ye, visions of law,
Of cases I never shall master,

Of pleadings I never shall draw!
Away with ye, parchments and papers,

Red tapes, unread volumes, away!
It gives a fond lover the vapors

To see you on Valentine's Day.

I'll sit in my night-cap, like Hayley,

I'll sit with my arms crost, like Spain,

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