The simple shepherd's love is still The herdsman roams the vale- I yearn for that brisk spray--I yearn To feel the wave from stem to stern Uplift the plunging keel; That merry step we used to dance On board the Aidant or the Chance, The ocean toe and heel.' I long to feel the steady gale My thought, like any hollow shell, It is no fable-that old strain Methinks I see the shining beach; I spy the grim preventive spy ! And there they float-the sailing craft! The sail is up-the wind abaft The ballast trim and neat. Alas! 'tis all a dream—a lie! A printer's imp is standing by, To haul my mizzen sheet! My tiller dwindles to a pen- ODES. ODE TO N. A. VIGORS, ESQ.,1 ON THE PUBLICATION OF “THE GARDENs and menaGERIE OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY." "Give you good den.”—SHAKESPEARE So Mr. V.,—no Vigors-I beg pardon— And your Menagerie-indeed, 'tis bad o' me, In Brute-on street, Or ever wandered in your "Bird-cage Walk." Yet, I believe that you were truly born There is a sort of reason about rhyme Are quite prophetically made to chime; |