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COMPOSED AT ROTTERDAM.
I GAZE upon a city, - a city new and strange;
Fogs are falling down ;
Autumn's doing brown.
By the gusty thieves,
Getteth short of leaves.
Swallows, as they flit,
Notices to quit.
Weep by turns, and laugh—
Cold, and most perverse —
Sure will pinch us worse !
LOVE. 0, LOVE! what art thou, Love? the ace of hearts,
Trumping earth's kings and queens, and all its suita ; A player, masquerading many parts
In life’s odd carnival ; — a boy that shoots,
A gardener, pulling heart's-ease up by the roots;
O, Love! what art thou, Love? a wicked thing,
Making green misses spoil their work at school ; A melancholy man, cross-gartering!
Grave ripe-faced Wisdom made an April fool ? A youngster, tilting at a wedding-ring? · A sinner, sitting on a cuttie-stool ? A Ferdinand de Something in a hovel, Helping Matilda Rose to make a novel ? 0, Love! what art thou, Love? one that is bad
With palpitations of the heart — like mine — A poor bewildered maid, making so sad
A necklace of her garters — fell design A poet, gone unreasonably mad,
Ending his sonnets with a hempen line ? 0, Love ! - but whither, now? forgive me, pray ; I'm not the first that Love hath led astray.
FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN.
AN OLD BALLAD.
A carpenter by trade;
That was a lady's maid.
They met a press-gang crew;
Whilst Ben he was brought to.
Enough to shock a saint,
'T was nothing but a feint.
“Come, girl," said he, “ hold up your heaa
He'll be as good as me;
A boatswain he will be.”
And taken off her elf,
A coming to herself.
She cried, and wept outright: “Then I will to the water side,
And see him out of sight.” A waterman came up to her,
“Now, young woman,” said he, “If you weep on so, you will make
Eye-water in the sea.” “Alas! they've taken my beau, Ben,
To sail with old Benbow ;”. And her woe began to run afresh,
As if she'd said, Gee woe! Says he, “They've only taken him
To the Tender-ship, you see;" “The Tender-ship,” cried Sally Brown,
“What a hard-ship that must be ! “O! would I were a mermaid now,
For then I'd follow him ;
And so I cannot swim.
The virgin and the scales,
And walk about in Wales."
Now Ben had sailed to many a place
That's underneath the world;
And all her sails were furled.
To see how she got on,
Whose Christian name was John. “O, Sally Brown, 0, Sally Brown,
How could you serve me so ?
But never such a blow!”
He heaved a heavy sigh,
And then to pipe his eye.
But could not, though he tried ;
His pigtail till he died.
At forty-odd befell :
The sexton tolled the bell.
A VENETIAN STORY. BIANCA ! — fair Bianca ! — who could dwell
With safety on her dark and hazel gaze, Nor find there lurked in it a witching spell,
Fatal to balmy nights and blessed days ?